Simple Ways to Reach Out to Muslims

CARL MEDEARIS

© 2008 by Carl Medearis

Published by Bethany House Publishers

11400 Hampshire Avenue South

Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

www.bethanyhouse.com

Bethany House Publishers is a division of

Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

Ebook edition created 2012

The material in this ebook is a selection from Muslims, Christians, and Jesus by Carl Medearis.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

ISBN 978-1-4412-6062-8

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

Cover design by Dan Pitts

To Chris.

This book is as much your story as it is mine.

Without you I wouldn’t understand people

or love God like I do.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Two friends have encouraged me for years to write down these thoughts for others to read: Ted Dekker and Floyd McClung. Thank you, dear friends, for believing in me and for pushing me to stop running long enough to sit quietly and write.

Also a huge and special thank-you to my dear friend Samir K. You helped me understand Jesus in new ways and introduced me to the Arab world at a level far beyond my capability. You’re the best.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Introduction

How to Reach Out in Friendship

About the Author

Back Cover

INTRODUCTION

This book began in 1983, when I first went to the Middle East. Back then, the majority of Americans, like me, knew little about the Middle East or Islam. The Reagan administration was in its first term, and Communism and the Cold War crowded the headlines. Baath-party socialist Saddam Hussein had been in power for only four years, and the secular government of Iraq was at war with its Shi’ite neighbor, the Islamic Republic of Iran. The news also brought us occasional stories about the Afghan campaign against Soviet troops, Libya’s Muammar Khaddafi as a top-shelf bad guy, and the Ayatollah Khomeini, who had replaced the CIA-sponsored Shah of Iran. Still, there was little to no fear or suspicion of Islam in the West, mainly because the reality of terrorism was not yet on our doorstep. All was quiet on the Middle-Eastern front.

Until 2001.

As the world watched smoke and ash spew into the Manhattan sky on September 11, 2001, I was (ironically) busy teaching a bunch of students in Kansas City about loving Muslims. In fact, I had just drawn a diagram on the white board showing how we so often think in an us-versus-them paradigm. I was literally erasing the line between the words us and them when someone burst into the room in tears telling us what had happened. The next week, our family returned home to Beirut on one of the first flights out of a deserted Chicago O’Hare airport. For days after our arrival we received a steady stream of visits and calls from friends saying how sorry they were. One friend, Ahmed (not his real name), came by our house, slumped into our couch, and rubbed his face with his hands. “Carl,” he said, “these terrorists have seriously hurt the peace we have worked so hard for.”

“What do you mean?”

“America will go to war,” he said, shaking his head, “and I am afraid that it will not end for years.”

“I know.”

“The West does not understand us. They see an Arab and they feel fear. They hear talk of Islam and they are suspicious. I am afraid that things will spiral out of control and that hatred will grow between my people and your people.” He sighed. “Again.”

“Ahmed,” I said, looking him in the eyes, “we are each other’s people. We are both followers of Jesus, friends of God, and brothers in a way that boundaries cannot take from us.” A tear slid down his face and he tried to wipe it away before I noticed.

My family and I lived in Lebanon from 1992 until 2004. If 9/11 was going to rip the world apart, we were going to do everything we could to stop it. We had worked long to build friendships, and the last thing we wanted was to let them be torn away by international politics, hatred, and misunderstanding.

In 2003, I made two trips into Iraq. The war in Iraq had torn up the status quo by the roots, and my Iraqi friends were practically pleading with us to come over.

It was surreal, to say the least. At the border, we halted at a coalition checkpoint and for the first time in years I heard the Midwestern accent of an American in the middle of the desert: “Welcome to Iraq; may I take your order?” The troops were enthusiastic—GIs doing their job. We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and hit the road again, southbound for Basra.

A few weeks later, my life nearly ended, along with the rest of the team. As we returned north on the route at 160 clicks per hour, we were overtaken by a black Mercedes with one notable distinction: rifles. We were forced to the shoulder and escorted out of sight into the sand, below the lip of a wadi—a dry riverbed. There we were dragged from our vehicle, then lined up in the sand on our knees, hearts pounding and palms sweating.

Let me tell you, when an AK-47 stares at you, you find an incredible capacity for introspection, along with a unique closeness to God.

I asked myself, If I had to do it all over again, would I spend my life in the Middle East, living among Arabs, trying to be a visible expression of Jesus to them?

I had my answer immediately. The Holy Spirit spoke inside of me so strongly that my body trembled. I heard the words I love these people.

That’s when I realized the truth: I loved these Arabs too. But it wasn’t my love that drove me—it was his love for them. I was simply a part of the story.

When my wife and I returned to the United States, we found that everyone wanted our opinions on the meaning of world events. It seemed that almost no one knew what to do, what to say, or even what to hope for.

I began to realize that because so many people were left wounded and vulnerable from the 9/11 attacks, they found it relatively easy to assume terrorism was synonymous with Islam, making it justifiable in their eyes to beat our plowshares back into swords. I know this is an observation that does not include all Westerners, Americans, or Christians. I also know I am treading on sensitive ground with this subject. But the causes of men were falsely aligned with the causes of God, linking our military successes to his will and broadcasting the message that God is “on our side.”

At least that’s how my Arab friends saw it. The Christians are coming. Again.

After we had moved back to the United States, I received invitation after invitation to speak at universities, churches, and other places. I was puzzled by my newfound popularity. One day I realized the truth. It wasn’t me that people were interested in; a thirst had awakened, a desire to become more familiar with this religion called Islam. My ego wasn’t deflated at all. In fact, my heart surged with hope. Many Christians are now choosing the road less traveled, driven to learn about Islam and thirsty to see if there is a way to reach out to Muslims.

In fact, when I’m asked—as I often am—what is the answer to the issues in the Middle East and I answer “Jesus,” I am often mocked as being simplistic, even by my committed Christian friends.

They are looking for a political answer that simply doesn’t exist.

When I can’t make sense of something, I pull everything back to its simplest point, stripping away the confusion and noisy complexities. What matters is what has always mattered:

Jesus.

Maybe you’re reading this book because you want to understand your Muslim friend or neighbor. Maybe you want to go to the Middle East to share Jesus’ love with people. Maybe you’re just curious about what makes a Muslim different from you. In any case, this book—taken from my much more thorough Muslims, Christians, and Jesus—is intended to give you some information to help you befriend a Muslim and some practical tips on how to live a life that’s truly Good News to a Muslim. I cannot hope to speak for every perspective on every issue. I’m not infallible, I’m not the final word on Islam. I’m only a follower of Jesus who loves Muslims.

HOW TO REACH OUT IN FRIENDSHIP

The whole message of God can be summarized in one short sentence: Love God and love people. Eight times in the Bible we are told to “love your neighbor.” It’s one of the most repeated commands. And it’s clear from the teachings of Jesus that our “neighbor” is basically anyone we meet who is in need (which would be everyone).

As Scripture shows, Jesus seems to have a favorable bias toward the “wrong crowd.” I hate to say it, but Muslims probably fit into this category! They’re outsiders here in the West. Wrong religion. Wrong language. Wrong temperament. Sounds like Jesus’ kind of people.

More and more people are finding they have Muslims living near them or working with them. That’s wonderful in so many ways! Muslims will generally be your best neighbors. They’re kind and thoughtful, they like to have fun, and they love good food—sharing it too.

Here I will share five practical thoughts on how to reach out in friendship in the name of Jesus to a Muslim neighbor or co-worker. I’ll illustrate each with a story and leave you to work it out in your own situation.

THOUGHT ONE: HAVE FUN!

Have a good time. This advice is worth the price of this book, actually. It always amazes me how often those of us from Christian backgrounds (especially the more conservatives types) don’t know how to party. In fact, that very word makes some nervous. Part of our excuse is that we’re dealing with a life-and-death topic—our relationship with God. Fair enough.

Sometimes I’ve wondered if I’ve replaced being a vibrant witness of Jesus with cheap, lifeless imitations. A bumper sticker or fish on my car. A large King James Bible on the mantel. A picture of Jesus over the fireplace. And several pretty paintings with verses on them hung in strategic locations around the house so everyone will “know.”

None of these things are bad. But they’re not particularly deep or meaningful to a person walking into your house. What they likely say to the new neighbor is that you’re religious.

What if your house were known on your street (and by your Muslim neighbors) as a party house? If you want to have FUN, go to the Medearises’. They really know how to throw a bash. Great music. Fine food and beverages. Games in the basement. Big backyard with a volleyball net, a fire pit, and a killer barbecue.

The one thing we do have to be careful of is not having alcohol and pork around if there are conservative Muslims. Other than that, the sky’s the limit.

I remember New Year’s Eve 2000. We were at our closest friend’s house in downtown Beirut bringing in the New Year. About one hundred of our best Muslim friends were there. Loud music by a live band was rocking the chandelier. People danced. Almost every guy had a large Cuban cigar in his mouth and plenty to drink—some of which was normally forbidden. At midnight it was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think, but when the noise died down a bit later, my first thought was, Wow. Who would believe this? If someone had told me fifteen years ago that I was going to Beirut to be a witness of the Good News to Muslims, I would not have pictured this!

And right in the middle of that atmosphere, Jesus was being lifted up. In the corners around the room, I saw people talking and praying. Later in the night we “prayed in” the New Year. There was love. Community. Friendship. Stuff of the kingdom. All in the midst of an otherwise fairly wild party (not in inappropriate ways).

Learning point: If you don’t know how to party, get help from someone who does. My friend Samir (the host) has often told me that I brought him an understanding of Jesus and that he brought me an understanding of how to have fun. I’d say that’s true! But you also must know and understand needful boundaries and cultural norms so you don’t offend more people than you win.

THOUGHT TWO: HAVE NO AGENDA

I know, we all have an agenda. Jesus had one. His was multifaceted. To serve. To teach twelve. To live in a way we could see the Father. To love. To die. And it seems the people he met never felt “used” by him. He never left a sinful woman or a blind beggar with a bad taste in their mouth. He looked people in the eye. Stopped during his busy day. Touched the leper and allowed the prostitute to wash his feet. When he healed or delivered people, he usually told them not to tell anyone. I know when I do something really cool, I tell everyone. Hmm.

But what if our “agenda” really is just to do good and serve people? In Jesus’ name, of course. Not to convert them or fix them or save them. Just love them. Sort of like the title of this chapter, “Love Your Neighbor.”

This doesn’t mean we’re not bold or that we don’t share this amazingly Good News we have. Quite the opposite. It’s impossible to keep our mouths shut when our hearts are full. But we should not be in a hurry to “pray the prayer” with them. Or to “lead them to Jesus.” We should simply be willing to be like Jesus, talk like Jesus, and love like Jesus. This means we shovel their sidewalks (which I have plenty of opportunities to do here in Denver); we pick up their kids from school when they need it; we smile a lot and have chats at the mailbox in the afternoons; and whenever and however we can, we bring up the Love of our Life. Not to “get ’em,” but just because.

Possibly the best and worst story I have is this one. Ten of us were in Beirut having a team meeting at our house. We had prayed and worshiped and now were into our “strategy time.” We were talking about how to reach Beirut for God. Then our doorbell rang. It was Hisham. Oh no. He was one of “them.” A Muslim neighbor. One of those people we were strategizing about how to reach.

I kept the door half closed and awkwardly said, “Hi, what’s up?”

Looking around the door and seeing several other friends, Hisham said, “Hey, are you having fun without me?” and walked right in. He greeted the people he knew and asked what we were doing.

“Well, nothing much,” I lied. “Just, uh, praying and stuff. . . .”

So he sat down. Our group didn’t know what to do. We talked to him, of course, but it was obvious we were all a bit annoyed. After all, we had busy schedules and only another half hour before the meeting ended and we could get on with life (reaching Beirut).

Hisham must have felt the tension because he left after twenty minutes. When he was gone, we all felt sick. We knew what had happened, but it was too late to catch ourselves.

Ironically and mercifully, God brought Hisham back the next week at exactly the same time. This time, I invited Hisham in, sat him down, and told him, “You know, many of us have left our countries and families to come to Beirut to see how God might want to bless this city and the nation of Lebanon. Any chance you could help us figure out how God might want to do this?” He was wild with excitement and ended up being one of my closest friends and partners!

If you want to evaluate your motives, ask yourself if you really just want the best for others, or if there’s a hidden benefit in it for you as you “serve” people. Your Muslim friends will be particularly tuned in to any self-serving agenda if you have one. Just love them. It’s enough.

THOUGHT THREE: BE A-RELIGIOUS

This advice to be “a-religious” (in other words, don’t be religious), has bits and pieces of Thoughts One and Two wrapped up in it, but I want to highlight a few things I haven’t yet mentioned.

After a talk I gave at Harvard one day, a Jewish grad student came to meet with me. She walked in loaded and ready for a fight. The first comment from her lips was, “I want you to know that I’m Jewish, and I don’t believe that Jesus was the Messiah.” She sat down with an air of self-confidence that made me feel like a small worm.

“Okay. By the way, my name’s Carl. What’s yours?”

“Melissa. But what do you think?”

“Think about what?”

“About Jesus not being the Messiah,” she said with a bit of exasperation.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’m actually not his defense attorney. You can think of him however you like.”

She looked at the other three people in the room, who all seemed a little shocked by my non-response response. (I guess they were thinking I was on their “team,” and their team didn’t typically answer that way.) I could tell that Melissa was almost hoping for a good round or two with me in the ring of apologetics. She had certain answers ready for the answers she thought I’d give. So, why go there, I thought. That would be no fun at all (which would violate Thought One above).

She pushed. “Well, do you think he’s the Messiah?”

“Actually, it doesn’t matter all that much what I think about such lofty things. I suppose it matters what Jesus thought about who he was, but whatever I think won’t change much of anything.”

Not buying it, she asked, “Okay, so if you did think something about that, what would you be thinking? If you were going to prove to me that he was the Messiah, what’s your best point?”

“I don’t have a best point,” I insisted.

“Well, then, why in the world am I here?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. You came to me. Tell me why you came.”

“I came to talk to you about why Jesus isn’t the Messiah and to hear your points to refute that.” She was getting desperate.

“Oh, sorry. Maybe you got the wrong guy. I’m not really into ‘proving’ things. Maybe we could talk about something else, though,” I said honestly.

She said one last time: “Well, if you were going to give me your best shot about Jesus, what would it be?”

I could see there was a bit of real question in this one, so I answered, “He likes you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s stupid. That’s your best shot?”

“Yep. I told you I didn’t have a best shot, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

She sat there shaking her head, mumbling something about “he likes me.”

And then she started to cry. After a bit, she gathered herself and said defensively, “Well, I still don’t believe he’s the Messiah.” I just smiled.

(Story update: This young woman has since been in a study of the Gospels with a group of friends at Harvard and is close to the kingdom.)

When I say “Don’t be religious,” I have several things in mind:

1. Don’t be defensive. You have nothing to defend. God doesn’t need help with his reputation, and the Bible can stand on its own. The defensive one in an argument is usually the one who is standing on shaky ground. Religious people are defensive.

2. Don’t argue. Just don’t. See what happens the next time someone says something you don’t like or you don’t agree with. Try just not arguing. No matter what. Religious people love arguments.

3. Don’t carry yourself as if you know all truth. We know the One who is the Truth and, as we grow closer to him, we understand more. But how much of Jesus do you know? My guess is, I’m up to around 0.1 percent.

I’ve found that when I feel the need to defend Christianity, I dig myself a deep hole that is hard to escape. Christianity is a religion. I’m not religious. Islam is a religion. Judaism, Hinduism, and Buddhism are religions. Religions fight each other. They bicker and compete and try to win the other into their own. But we don’t do that. We just lift up Jesus. We present him—the Good News. We follow him, love him, and serve him. But he wasn’t very good at being religious either. So as we look to emulate Jesus, we try to stay far from the religious know-it-alls and close to the down-and-out sinner crowd.

THOUGHT FOUR: ADAPT TO THE RELIGIOUS FORMS OF YOUR MUSLIM FRIENDS

This is a tough one. The obvious follow-up question is, “How do we know the difference between what’s Western Christian culture and the good stuff?” Great question. Answer: It’s not easy to tell. Because no matter what we read and hear and believe, our experience supersedes it. As we’re teaching things to our friends “directly from the Bible,” what they’re really picking up is what we do.

The person of Jesus—knowing him and understanding the Father—is the most positive force for change in the world. This is what Thomas Chalmers wrote in his historic sermon, “The Expulsive Power of a New Affection.” Chalmers says that when Jesus is our new affection, prized above all other desires, he becomes a power in us that expels out from us all manner of sinful living. We who follow him have to have faith in him to change everyone in the world. But we may have unconsciously expected Muslims to adapt to our religious practices as well as to delight in Jesus.

A simple example of this would be how we pray. Muslims would do informal prayer probably standing, with their eyes open and their hands in front of them, palms up. Of course we know that “real” prayer happens with heads bowed and eyes closed. But, for as much as I’ve tried to not impose my style, I now see most of my Muslim friends who have come to Christ praying with their heads bowed and eyes closed.

This is not bad, it’s just not the point. We teach who we are. You can see it in different kinds of churches too. Some churches are sure they have to speak loudly with great animation for God to hear. Others are obviously convinced that God can read minds, because you will never hear a peep from them. Some raise hands. Others bend knees. Some preachers speak without notes for an hour while others memorize a ten-minute homily. Some dance. Some would never think of moving. Hard benches. Soft chairs. Choirs. Rock bands. Steeples and stained glass. And some even think they can meet God in homes. And what’s funny is they all back up their cultures with Scripture.

It gets more complicated when you get into questions like “What makes a church?” Elders? Deacons? Senior pastor and staff? Mega-church vs. two or three gathered in a coffee shop? Members voting. Pastors ruling. Breaking bread weekly. Monthly. Baptizing all and often. Dipping, dunking, or sprinkling. All proved by Holy Writ.

And what do you need to believe in order to be “in”? This one’s really tough. I was raised to believe that you needed to say “The Sinner’s Prayer.” Some would say that the prayer is needed, plus a public confession in baptism. Others would argue that those aren’t enough—we likewise need correct doctrine. Which doctrine? Well, theirs of course. Basic things like justification by faith alone. Salvation by grace. Substitutionary atonement. Repentance. And then some say even all that’s not quite enough until you’re baptized in the Holy Spirit.

So, back to the question at hand. How do we know which things are just part of our cultural upbringing and which things are really necessary to be sharing with our friends? Here’s my list of must-share things:

1. Jesus

Not much of a list, is it?

Some would say, “Carl, you have to give us more than that.”

Really? More than Jesus? I would just ask that you share things about Jesus that are true. That are real. That make sense. Things he’s done in your life. Things from the sixty-six books we call the Bible. Those things. Share them in some sort of logical order. Probably don’t start at the end of the story. Allow the story to unfold naturally. For my wife and me, that means:

1. We talk about Jesus in every nonreligious way possible. I often say things like, “You know . . . Jesus. That guy who lived in the Middle East two thousand years ago. You know . . . that guy.” Or I’ll say something like, “I grew up in a conservative Christian home but realized I didn’t like Christianity much as a religion. But I’m afraid I may have thrown the baby (Jesus) out with the dirty bath water of Christianity. So I’m trying to figure out how to get him back and let the rest go.” Or I tell them what I do: I explain that I try to bring reconciliation between Muslims, Christians, and Jews by teaching the principles of Jesus. All fairly non-typical thoughts about our faith and how we express it.

2. We get involved in their lives. This takes (precious) time. We get to know their kids. We invite them around whenever we can. We cancel everything when they call.

3. We would never invite them to a Bible study. Christians do Bible studies. No one else in the world sits around and studies a book. We invite them to a discussion group (which is what we’ve just done with our neighbors). We let others lead. We don’t control it when the group wanders. We’re simply studying this interesting and controversial figure of history—Jesus. I try hard not to sound like a salesman for him.

4. We try to bring in the neighbors on the decision to meet. We’ve been talking to our neighbors nonchalantly about this for months. Things like, “Hey, we should get the cul-de-sac together and talk about this stuff sometime.” When we decided to do it, we went to the other family on the street that we thought would have the most clout and asked them if they’d meet with us. When they said yes, we went to the other families individually over a few weeks and enlisted their support of the idea. We’d say something like, “Hey, Rob, Krista, and we were thinking of having a little discussion group to talk about the life of Jesus. Maybe meet at our house, or wherever, and look at different things about him that we might find relevant to our lives. I don’t know . . . just a thought . . . what do you think?”

5. We remember that these people are worth more than our plans. Therefore, if it doesn’t work at first, just drop it and try again later. Or do something else with the one couple who might come. Or whatever . . . just don’t force your plan.

A STORY OF FAITH

The Basra Sheikh

I jumped out of our rented white Suburban in downtown Basra, Iraq, and yelled, “Who’s in charge here?”

We do this sort of thing.

A crowd formed instantly, and it was quickly apparent that someone named Sheikh Ali was the Big Man in town. By our third minute in Basra I found myself in the backseat of a stranger’s black Mercedes going to meet a man I’d never heard of—the leading Shi’ite cleric of southern Iraq.

Sheikh Ali’s domain was the largest mosque in the city; it easily rivaled the largest church campuses in the States. Among other things, there was a school, a college, a sheikh training center, and housing for the poor.

Sheikh Ali was presiding over a large gathering of other Islamic leaders when we arrived, but in the good fashion of Arab hospitality he immediately stood up when he saw the four of us at the door and left his meeting to greet us.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. A fair question to ask an American in Iraq in May of 2003.

“Well, I’m not very good at it, but I’m trying to follow Jesus, and we’ve come here looking for him. Have you seen him?” (That got his attention.) “We were in Lebanon a few weeks ago praying, and the thought came to us that Jesus might be in Iraq. Two thousand years ago he was always where the religious leaders of his day thought he wouldn’t be. Have you seen him?” I repeated.

The sheikh squinted over the top of his reading glasses, ruffled his beard, leaned toward his friends with a slight smile, and said, “Interesting question. No, we’ve not seen Jesus, but maybe the question should be, If he were here, what would he be doing? ”

I was stunned. Maybe he had a WWJD bracelet. How’d he know that question? And then Sheikh Ali and his under-sheikhs were off and running with the question.

We batted the idea around for about thirty minutes, until they announced with an air of finality, “He’d be helping the children and taking care of the poor. Therefore, if Jesus would be doing that, maybe we should give more attention to the poor and to children—specifically, poor children.” Sheikh Ali looked at me and smiled. “That was a good question you asked.”

I basically said the next thing that came to my mind. “I have some more really good news for you. Do you know that if you were my enemy, that’d be a good thing for you?” I think I was two for two on weird questions!

“How’s that?”

“Well, Jesus clearly says to do three things with your enemies: love them, bless them, and pray for them. He said that anyone can love their friend or brother, but loving an enemy seems to be a higher and more noble thing. So . . . you’re not my enemy, but if you were, that’d be good since I’d basically be obliged by the One I follow to love, bless, and pray for you.”

Sheikh Ali really liked that one. He stood up, pulled his large hand from beneath his long black robe, and said, “Well, then, your enemy I’ll be,” and he burst into a huge grin and hugged me.

Following no set order of progression, I decided to tell them the story of the Good Samaritan, where Jesus once again makes “good” guys look bad and “bad” guys look good. You know it: A man finishes his prayers in Jerusalem and is walking home when he’s beaten up, robbed, and left for dead. Two “good” guys—a priest and a Levite—are too busy doing good-guy things to stop and help. But a “bad” guy—a hated foreigner—stops and spends a lot of time and money helping a stranger.

With the sheikh, I personalized the story and said that if it were set in Basra today, I would be one of the good guys and he’d be the bad guy. In fact, I went so far as to jokingly tell him that if my friends knew I was meeting with him, they’d be praying really hard since he’s the bad guy and I’d need lots of help as the good guy to overcome his badness. He not only got the joke but promised to relay it to others!

In the spirit of the story, he got up and extended his hand and said, “This is my city, and I give it to you and your friends. Whatever you want to do here I’ll help. Come and stay with me. You can store your humanitarian supplies here. I’ll tell everyone that you’re okay and not to mess with you.”

I jumped on this. “See,” I said, “you’re like the Good Samaritan to me. You’re turning the table upside down and treating me like a brother. I came to help you, but you’re helping me.”

(Story update: This man has stayed faithful to his promise and has truly become a man of peace for the city of Basra.)

THOUGHT FIVE: BE YOURSELF

This one is tougher than it looks. It’s amazing how much time we spend being someone else. I’ve done it much of my life. Even in our attempt to be like Jesus, we’re asked to be “like” him in our own skin. We’re all uniquely created to act and think in different ways. It’s part of God’s beautiful mosaic of the world.

One of the things I love most about Jesus is that he wasn’t phony. It almost sounds funny to say it—but he was himself. And he’s not that easy to define. We should also be multidimensional. Deep. Full of integrity and with many sides.

Have you ever noticed that people have incredible phony-o-meters? They can smell a charlatan one thousand miles away. That’s why we don’t like phony salespeople. It’s not that they’re selling us something. The whole world is doing that. And maybe we even need what they’re selling. It’s that they don’t believe in their product. They talk fast. Have way too many facts lined up. And they’re not even sure we really need their product.

We’re automatically suspicious of salespeople because we know it’s their job. They’re paid to convince us. But what if they were doing it for no money? We’d be more apt to buy. Wow, they must really believe in this if they’re doing it on their own time, we’d think.

I was with a friend from Sudan the other day. He was visiting me here in Denver, and we got to talking about the usual stuff. Jesus and . . . well, I can’t remember the other stuff. Our conversation in my pickup truck went something like this:

“Carl, I love introducing you to my other Muslim friends because they always leave feeling encouraged. You’re just so natural with them.”

“Well,” I said, trying to look deep and thoughtful, “I don’t know what else to do but be myself. If I can encourage them and talk about the things that matter most in life, then that’s awesome.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been around a lot of people who are trying to convert me to their way of thinking, and it just turns me and my friends off. Somehow you don’t do that, but we still always end up talking about Jesus and reading the Bible. You’re either good or very sneaky.”

“I’ve tried being sneaky and it just didn’t work for me. I’ve tried being someone else and that didn’t work either. So I thought I’d just be myself and see how that goes.”

Last week I had an all-too-common conversation with a missionary. He wanted my take on how he should approach ministry in his Muslim context. At first, he had gone in with guns blazing, so to speak. He was a “Christian missionary there to convert Muslims.”

He had integrity. He was just being honest. Up-front. Forthright. After a couple of years, though, he realized his message actually didn’t have integrity because no one understood it. (It doesn’t matter what we think we’re saying—it’s what others hear.)

So he changed tactics. He’d be a tentmaker. After all, the apostle Paul made tents. My friend didn’t know how to make tents, but he had taken a business class in college, so he thought he’d start a little coffee shop. (This story is real, by the way, but I’ve had similar exchanges a hundred times and more.)

He worked really hard. So hard that he was exhausted. He now had a clear identity. He wasn’t a Christian missionary anymore; he was now a business owner. A real, legitimate businessman. Of course, he was working seventy hours a week and had no time for his family, let alone his neighbors. And now he’d given up all that “Christian evangelism stuff ” and was trying to be much more “natural” in his new role as a businessman. But he was noticing he hadn’t really shared any part of his faith for a while—partly because he was so busy and partly because he didn’t know how to talk about Jesus without being in a religious role.

His story is the story of so many. My response to him was what I’ve said to so many friends: How about if you just be who you are? Here’s what I mean:

1. Share Jesus only when you want to. Hold on. Don’t freak out. Let me explain. So many of my friends are sharing Jesus because they feel obligated to. I equate that with loving Chris because she’s my wife. What if I love her because I do? Wouldn’t that be better? What if I told her I love her because I do love her, and it’s real, rather than telling her I love her because that’s what I learned at the marriage seminar. Of course the tricky part of this is that I have to actually love her. And I have to want to share Jesus because I love him and because he’s done so much in my life and in the lives of my friends.

2. Do what you’re good at doing. I’m a horrible manager of people. When I try, I hurt them and me. I’m good at thinking. Envisioning things. Getting things going. But I’m awful at keeping them going. I’ve tried on the hats of “businessman,” “humanitarian worker,” “missionary,” and “the guy who hangs out and drinks coffee.” I’ve taken the personality tests. The gift tests. I know what letters I am. ENTP. Hi D. Type A. Messed up, I’d say. Trying to hang out, but really just driven. Point is—if you are a businessperson, do business. If you’re not—don’t. If you live to serve the poor, then be a humanitarian worker with World Vision. If you don’t—don’t.

3. Say what you believe. Because I actually believe this stuff I’ve written, I tell people right up front something like, “I don’t have a religious bone in my body, but I sure think Jesus is awesome. I’m pretty sure you’d like him too if you got to know him.” I even say, “I used to be a Christian missionary, and then I met Jesus. Now I just try to follow him. I find that’s enough.” They have no idea what that means, which is fun, because it leads to great conversations.

BASIC DOS AND DON’TS

1. Never attack the person of Muhammad or the Qur’an. These are the most sensitive areas to a Muslim, and they should be avoided if possible until a real relationship is established.

2. Feel free to visit your local mosque. They’ll love it. Guaranteed. More insights to follow.

3. Try not to use the terms Son of God, Christian, or church. Try to explain each of these by the realities they represent rather than the term or phrase itself. (Again, it’s not that I don’t believe in the realities that these words represent, but the words themselves are unhelpful.)

4. It is important to treat the Bible with total respect. Never place it on the ground. Always open and close it carefully. Muslims are often shocked at how we treat God’s Holy Word. (In the same way, show respect for the Qur’an.)

5. Respect Jesus by using his name with a title. For instance, refer to him as Jesus the Christ (Messiah). This is a term Muslims recognize and accept.

6. In the month of Ramadan, try not to eat on the streets or in front of Muslims.

7. Never walk in front of a praying Muslim.

8. Stand, kneel, or hold out your hands with your palms upward when praying.

9. Women should dress modestly around Muslims. (This is actually a biblical concept too, but Muslims take it more seriously than we do.)

10. Women should not offer to shake the hand of a Muslim man. If he offers his hand, then it’s okay.

11. Never assume you know what a Muslim believes. Always ask him or her.

12. Feel free to read the Qur’an. It’s not a bad book, and it mostly agrees with the Bible.

13. Avoid politics if at all possible. This is always going to be a hot button with a Muslim; you can never “win” this argument.

14. Be aware that pork, alcohol, and dogs are “dirty” in Islam and are to be avoided by Muslims at all times.

15. Avoid showing the bottom of your feet.

16. Never use your left hand to shake or eat with.

17. Express sadness at the state of Western morals and spirituality. Make a clear distinction between the “Christian West” and what a true follower of Jesus looks like.

18. Always offer to pray for your Muslim friend. Muslims have a great deal of respect for prayer and for people of prayer. Pray for blessing on their family, work, and home. Invite God’s Spirit to come and touch them. Pray right then, out loud.

19. Share from personal experience. Tell stories. Be real.

20. Talk about your family and ask about theirs. They are family people.

21. Above all—listen. Be a good listener. You will win the heart of anyone when you listen!

A STORY OF FAITH

An Unfair Advantage

About a year ago I was invited to participate in a citywide discussion hosted by a church on the topic of interfaith dialogue. Several hundred people crowded the hall as the introductions were made. The introductions basically went like this: “The honorable Muslim sheikh, the imam Yusef el Ahmadi, leader of the Colorado Springs Islamic Society.” Then, “The doctor, sheikh, leading thinker, Imam Ali bin Muhammad, president of the American Muslim Society of Imams [and other really important things].” Then came two rabbis: “The rabbi Yossi Guren of the [insert name of synagogue that sounds very important, which I can’t remember]” and “the first lady rabbi in Colorado, founder and president of the [most amazing something that’s ever been started, which I can’t remember].” Finally, they introduced a bishop who was and is immortalized as the Catholic leader of the Colorado Springs area.

Then the host came to me and said—this is no lie—“And finally we have . . . uh . . .”

“Carl. The name’s Carl.” He was obviously embarrassed that he didn’t know my title or my great accomplishments—of which I have neither. So he just said, “Mr. Carl,” and everyone laughed.

Each of us were to respond to two questions that evening. The first was, “How does your religion get you to heaven?”

The two Muslim guys did a fine job articulating the various Islamic views on what it takes to get into heaven, which comes down to the “will of God.” The two Jewish rabbis explained their uncertainty of life after death, and therefore their focus on this life now. The Catholic bishop did well with helping us understand the various interpretations within Christianity of the afterlife and how to get to heaven.

Then it was my turn. I was praying for something significant to say. This is what came out: “Actually, my religion doesn’t get you to heaven.” The other panelists shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, and the host asked if I’d like to explain more.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve just never seen a religion save anyone. All religions are great at laying out some basic rules—dos and don’ts—that are good for our lives, but they don’t really provide hope or any kind of eternal security. It seems religions end up causing more trouble than solving anything.”

“So then,” said the host, “how do you get to heaven?”

This all seemed so basic, but I thought I might as well go ahead and say the obvious. “Well, it’s Jesus. He didn’t start a new religion; he came to provide us a model for life and a way to God. Believing in and following him is the way. He takes us to heaven, not a religion.”

Next came question number two: “How does your religion deal with terrorism?”

The two Muslims felt a little defensive with this question but nicely denounced all forms of terrorism and explained how the Qur’an does not provide a place for it. The rabbis spent most of their time trying to convince the two Muslims that they had clearly misread their own book on the subject. And the bishop talked about mercy mixed with justice.

Me? I said, “I don’t really know. I’m not sure how the religion I grew up in would or should deal with terrorism. But I do have some thoughts on how Jesus might deal with terrorists.” My nerves seemed to be stealing my breath. “Jesus didn’t deal much with the various ‘isms’ of his day. He had an uncanny way of dealing with the people themselves rather than the ideologies they represented. (With the arguable exception of the religious leaders.) So I’m not sure what Jesus would have done with terrorism, but I’m pretty sure we can see how he’d treat a terrorist, because he had two with him in his inner circle of friends: a zealot and a tax collector. A political insurgent and an economic terrorizer of the common folk. What he did with these two was bring them in as confidants. As students. Disciples. And he made them apostles of the early faith.

“It actually seems to me that the worse someone was, the more Jesus liked them. He didn’t just have ‘mercy’ on them in the way we think of it—a sappy, lovey-dovey sort of thing. It was mercy with a bite. A mercy that led people out of where they were and into a new place. This is what Jesus did with the worst of them. He was only hard on one type of folks—people like us.” I looked down the line and smiled. “People like me. Hypocrites and such.”

Right about now I’m sure they were all wondering why they’d invited me. Twenty minutes of questions and answers followed, and then we wrapped it up.

Afterward, I had a small crowd around me asking questions. One lady was more than a little upset with me. “You didn’t even mention the Trinity,” she said.

“True,” I replied, “but it didn’t come up in the course of the conversation. . . .”

“But surely you do believe in the Trinity, don’t you? And there are some other things you didn’t mention that you should have, like the Atonement.”

I knew I needed to tread lightly. Everyone lives in a context, and it’s good to be sensitive to the American Christian context as much as anyone else’s context. So I simply said, “You’re probably right; I believe everything in this book,” and I held up my Bible, showing her that it appeared to be well-read.

Then a young man jumped into the conversation. “I’m a Muslim. I came with the imam tonight.” He turned to the lady who had been speaking with me, and said, “If this man [pointing to me] had talked about theology or doctrine or even Christianity, I wouldn’t have been interested. But he talked about Jesus in a way I’ve never heard before and had never thought of. I thought it was amazing.”

To her credit, she said, “Wow, maybe you’re right. I wonder if I’ve confused my religion with my Savior.”

At that moment, the local imam came up. “Carl, Carl, Carl. You had an unfair advantage.” He was smiling but also wagging his finger in my face. I wasn’t sure where this was going.

“What’s that, sir?” I asked a bit timidly.

“While we were all busy defending our religions and our positions, you simply talked about Jesus. You cheated!” Then he let out a huge laugh, slapped me on the back, and said, “Good job,” before walking away.

I actually wonder if that sums it up. We have an unfair advantage. We know the Creator. We’re friends with the King. We know where truth is found. We know what brings life and what gives life and where eternal life resides. While others are explaining and defending various “isms” and “ologies,” we’re simply pointing people to our Friend. The one who uncovers and disarms. Who leads people right to himself. The beginning and the end of the story.

GETTING TO KNOW THE MUSLIMS AROUND YOU

I often have people ask me how I got such a love for Muslims. My typical answer is, “I don’t love Muslims.” I love Samir and Ahmad and Ali and their families.

It’s a funny idea that we can love a group of people or an ideology or a principle. Jesus seemed to love individual people.

Perhaps you already know some Muslims. You have them as your neighbors, co-workers, or fellow students. And maybe you’ve been a little shy in talking to them, but you know they’re around. I’d guess this will be the case for more and more of us as Muslims grow in numbers through conversion, immigration, and birth.

If you already know a Muslim to some degree—get ready to highlight this—go and talk to him or her some more. Start with something easy like, “Hi, how are you?” And then move on to things like, “Where do you or your family originally come from?” Don’t ask simply, “Where are you from?” Often immigrants are offended by that question since now they’re “from” here. So adding the words your family and originally helps it feel a bit more friendly. If you want to be their friend, of course you’d want to know where they’re from, so just ask.

I think I’ve found another amazing secret to winning people’s trust and their hearts. Food. Not just any kind of food, but good food. And lots of it. If I can be direct, this is a real challenge for Americans. We aren’t great at lavishing hospitality on people. We have been taught to only invite really close friends into our house. And if we do cook them dinner, often we make just enough to feed them—no leftovers is a good thing!

I have never been in a home for a meal in the Middle East where there wasn’t at least twice as much food as needed. That’s a good rule of thumb anyway: Cook twice as much as you think you’ll need for the meal and then save the leftovers for lunch the next day.

Another thing: When Muslims come into your home, give them choices of fruit juice, soda, coffee, or tea. In many Eastern cultures it’s polite to say no several times to an offer. So if you ask them if they want something to drink, they will almost surely say no. Don’t bother asking. Just bring out several cold drinks and offer them around. If you say, “Do you want coffee or tea?” they will say no. But if you say that you have coffee and tea and you’re just asking who wants the coffee or tea you already have, then it works.

It’s really not hard. Just insist that they eat and drink as much as they can hold. Good food. Good beverages. And lots of it.

When inviting your new friends to your home: Just be yourself. We had some Saudi students over a couple of weekends ago, and we served them all apple pie and ice cream for dessert. Not exactly a Middle Eastern dish, but they loved it.

Cook what you know how to cook. Remember, if they’re from India and you decide to cook your best curry dish, it’s not likely to taste like their mom’s. So cook whatever your best dish is. But remember, no pork.

Feel free to say something like this when you sit down for the meal: “Our family has a tradition to honor God by saying thank-you for this food and for you. Do you mind if we do that?” They won’t mind and will actually love it. They will keep their heads up and their eyes open, so don’t let that distract you. In fact, I now typically pray with my head up and eyes open. Make the prayer natural, conversational, and real. I always find this is a highlight of the meal. Don’t be afraid to pray!

Finally, as in all conversation with Muslims, let them know you’re a person of faith. You may not be very “religious,” but you do believe. They will respect this, as they are also people of faith. Let conversations develop naturally. Don’t force things. Be real. Focus on your shortcomings and on their strengths. These are just basic people skills.

When you’re comfortable, you can ask your new Muslim friend if he or she would like to meet once in a while to read the Scriptures together or talk about matters of life and faith. If they have time, they will want to. (Just like almost anyone else in the world.)

Don’t be intimidated by not knowing the Qur’an. Your Muslim friends will feel about the Bible the way you feel about the Qur’an, so you’ll both need to get over your insecurities. Make sense? Admit you’re a dunce in need of tons of grace, and go for it. Try to keep the time focused (at least initially) on areas of agreement. If you’ve read this far, then you know that I think the number one thing we both agree on is Jesus. So focus on him. Maybe do a Jesus reading. Read all the passages about him in the Qur’an, and read the gospel of Luke. No agenda. Just read. The Holy Spirit has the agenda stuff covered, so you can relax and enjoy yourself.

If you don’t know any Muslims but want to meet and talk with some, it’s really quite easy to do. If you’re a university student or live near a university, find out if there’s a Muslim association of some kind and contact them. Many Muslims who study in America are lonely and have never been invited into an American home. Another way to learn about Islam and perhaps make new friends is to shop at a Middle Eastern or Asian food market. Muslims prepare their meat in a way that’s similar to kosher standards. Halal food is tasty and good for you.

One final idea is to call your local mosque or Islamic center (look them up in the phone book under “Mosque” or “Islamic Center”) and tell them you’d like to learn more about Islam and perhaps meet with some folks; ask when would be a good time to come by for a visit. I’ve done this quite a lot, and I’ve had 100-percent-positive response.

When visiting a mosque, there are really only two things to note: women are welcome, shoes are not. Take your shoes off when you go inside—there will be a place by the door to put them. If there isn’t, ask the first person you see what to do with your shoes.

If you’re a woman wanting to visit, you may not be able to go into certain areas, but either they’ll instruct you or there will be a sign that says “Men Only.” Other than that, women are welcome to go into the main building; ladies, you may have to sit on the side or in the back of the prayer area. (In some cases, women won’t be able to go into the main prayer room, but again, just ask or look for a sign.)

FINAL THOUGHTS

Muslims are our friends. They’re nice, likeable, easygoing, balanced people who respect God and others and enjoy life. They love their kids. They’re concerned about the moral decay they see around them. They are pro-life, pro-family, and pro-faith. They work with us, go to school with our kids, shop at Wal-Mart, and eat at McDonald’s. Muslims are allies in many of the local political issues you and I are passionate about. They dream for the same kind of life we dream of. They are friends!

In writing this book I’ve realized that I have two dreams for the reader. The first is that you would see Jesus a little more clearly. That he would become more tangible. More accessible in some way. That following him would be a little less theoretical and mystical and just a bit more practical or real.

Second, I hope that you would see Muslims. Jesus always saw people. He saw the lepers when no one else did. He saw the blind, the beggars, the women, the man who climbed the tree to see him. Jesus saw the seeker before the seeker saw him. Jesus looked for and saw people. And when he would see them—really see them—Jesus would always interact at their point of need.

So what is it that our Muslim neighbors need us to see in them? Maybe that they too were created in the image of God? Or that they are lonely in a foreign country? Misunderstood?

Will we cross the street as the Levite and the priest did or will we take the role of the Samaritan and see a person in need of grace? I think it’s a real question—the answer is in our feet. Which way will they turn?

May we become more like our Master as we follow in his steps.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carl Medearis has thirty years of firsthand experience working and living with Muslims. He is the founder and president of International Initiatives, which promotes cultural, educational, and commercial exchanges between the East and West.

During his twelve years in Beirut, Lebanon, Carl formed relationships in Lebanon, Jordan, Iraq, and Saudi Arabia among businesspeople, parliamentary bodies, and university students. Through his unique approach, he teaches these leaders to live by the principles of Jesus in order to change their nations. He built a community center in downtown Beirut for university students and for several years played a key role in the Lebanese nongovernmental organization Imma, which runs community centers around Lebanon in Palestinian refugee camps, working with and mentoring youth from grade-school age to university students.

In the United States, Carl formed and leads the International Student Leadership Forum on Faith and Values, which convenes in Washington, D.C., and Denver, Colorado.

As an advisor on Arab affairs, Carl travels with members of the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives, as well as senior leaders in international business on trips to the Middle East, helping them understand Arab culture and language and facilitating face-to-face meetings that break down prejudice and stereotypes.

Carl is one of the hosts to the Arab delegation at the annual National Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C., at the invitation of a bilateral committee of members of the U.S. Congress, who seek to discuss issues of peace and reconciliation based on shared beliefs in God and the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

Carl holds a Bachelor of Arts in history and a graduate degree in secondary education. He is a consultant for several institutions and universities and is a sought-after public speaker in the area of reconciliation between East and West.

Carl currently lives in Denver, Colorado, with his wife, Chris, and their three children. For more information, visit www.carlmedearis.com.