Why I wear hijab

    

     As-salaamu alaykum! As I considered what I wanted to talk about this week, women’s rights just kept coming to mind. As I am working with some of my fellow sisters on a Ladies’ Night discussing women's rights, it is really no wonder it is on the forefront of my attention. There are many, many rights for women in Islam, and I am looking forward to many more mental meanderings on the very subject in upcoming blogs. This blog post will expand on an earlier Facebook post I authored on this very subject.

  As a woman, who has the right to freedom of religion (constitutionally but more importantly from Allah subHaanahu wa ta`alaa), it is particularly important to me to understand what my own faith has to say about what my rights are and how I as a woman, should be treated. I have never been more impressed with the rights afforded to women than those guaranteed by Islam. I know, I know… some of you are screaming at your computers right now, “what about the Taliban’s treatment of women?” or “Look at this nation, or that one, and how they treat women!” No argument from me that there are examples of female oppression and that they need to be addressed. When I say rights guaranteed by Islam, however, I am referring to what is stated in the Qur’an and Hadith, not how some people interpret or practice Islam.

     This time around I would like to talk specifically about my experiences with the hijab (an arabic word meaning “barrier” or “partition”). It is undeniably one of today's hot topics after all and is touted as one of the most significant visual examples of female oppression. While "hijab" is often used in reference to the female headscarf, it actually refers to the overall modest dress of a Muslim, male or female (that's right gentlemen, in Islam, you must be modest as well). When I began exploring the Islamic dress code, I, like many, focused first on the headscarf. Quickly, however, I found myself taking a second look at my entire wardrobe. I began to examine what I wear, and why.

     In Islam, a man is expected to respect a woman and not look at her or lust after her (unless they are married). She has a right to her privacy and to not be treated as an object. Allah encourages a woman to cover herself, because, let’s face it guys, some of you can’t help yourselves. When a man looks at a woman (who is not his wife) with lust, it is considered a sin, not only in Islam, but Christianity as well. In essence, when we cover ourselves, we do so not only to respect ourselves, but also as a mercy to men- to not deliberately draw a man into sin. If he does so regardless of our efforts, the sin belongs to him. Hey, brother, at least we tried.  

     I also learned, and found very fascinating, that hijab is not just a means of being modest when out and about. it is also a statement of our faith. The Qur’an says “O Prophet, tell your wives and your daughters and the women of the believers to bring down over themselves [part] of their outer garments. That is more suitable that they will be known and not harassed. And ever is Allah Forgiving and Merciful” (Quran 33:59). This simply increased my love of hijab and made my wearing it an even greater honor.

     Just as someone may sport a jersey from their favorite team to declare their fealty to that team, hijab is an outward statement that says I am a woman of faith- that I am a Muslim. While that sentiment certainly exists in the hearts and minds of many women who do not wear hijab, the hijab acts as a clear outward indication of the inward commitment. This is true of men and women. Men are not as easily recognized as Muslim because their dress code is such that western clothing often suffices; however, when a man is identified by his clothing as being Muslim, that bears the same significance. He, like his female counterpart, is sending a message to the world that he dresses to please Allah subHanahu wa ta'alaa.

     The question still remains: am I oppressed by choosing to cover my body when in public or in the company of males to whom I am not related? I ardently argue that I am not.  I have never felt more confident in my life than I do now, since I began dressing in accordance with Islam. Despite what the media and fear mongers say about how I dress, I do not feel oppressed. I feel set free. I don’t know about you but I would much rather have someone’s first impression of me be “Wow! That woman is really religious,” or even an awkward glance and acknowledgment that I am Muslim before looking away than some running internal dialog about my body type, dress size, or whether or not I work out.

     Think of it this way: people display things they want to show off for many reasons. Maybe it is a big house, or a sports car, or a work of art…  But the things that are most precious to them, the things they believe to be most valuable above all their other possessions, they lock in a safe or hide in a shoe box in the back of their closet: Grandma’s pearl necklace, Grandpa's pocket watch, family photos... You get my drift. They are those things that cannot be assigned monetary value because to the individual, they are irreplaceable. My body falls into that category.  It is a gift to me from Allah subHanahu wa ta'alaa and is so precious it is, quite frankly, not available for public viewing.

As-salaamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu! (may peace be upon you and the mercy of God and His blessings!)

Unity

As-salaamu alaykum (peace be upon you), dear brothers and sisters! We live in a time of fear, ignorance, and violence; at least that is what I am told. "If you are not a Muslim, you should be afraid of the Muslim walking down the street...s/he might be a terrorist! If you are a Muslim, you should be afraid of extremists all around you...Muslim or otherwise!" This is a time when Satan is working hard to divide us; convincing each side that he is allied with the "opposition." How easy it is to give up hope and then join more and more people on the road to intolerance and hate.

Last weekend I had the great honor and privilege of attending a potluck at one of the Episcopal churches in our town. It was designed to be an evening of fellowship and communion (in the general sense of the word, not of the “holy” variety). My family was selected to be among a delegation of Muslims to come and represent our faith. It was not only a social interaction, it was one with a purpose.  We would be sitting at a table with Christian families and answering questions about Islam. I already knew what the questions would be; I’ve had to face them before...so I was ready. I was excited.

I arrived that night mentally armed with how I would answer questions such as “how do you feel about ISIS,” “why is there so much violence in the Qur’an if Islam is a peaceful religion,” and “why are women so oppressed?” Mind you, I am not the expert, and I am weary about representing my faith as any sort of authority on the subject. We, along with the other families chosen, were there to represent the rich diversity in the Muslim community. There were faces from Egypt, Morocco, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Palestine etc., and - of course - the United States (that's us!). In other words, we were not there to be experts; we were there to be people - people from a global community who may have very little in common but are bound by a brotherhood and sisterhood that transcends blood and culture.

Arriving at the event.

What I experienced was not at all what I expected. As I said, I came ready to answer a slew of questions. I expected to be challenged with a buffet of arguments...seasoned with a dash of anger or, at the very least, a pinch of apprehensiveness. When I walked in, I was greeted by a pair of middle-aged women with smiles, warm greetings, and name stickers. Just as a woman in a headscarf (called khimaar in the Qur'an) might be seen as the stereotypical Muslim, these two were the stereotypical Christian: shoulder-length hair (styled and sprayed in a way that looks altogether casual and formal), big earrings, modest sweaters and a warm welcoming demeanor that you wish all your neighbors and in-laws had. They commented on the cuteness of our young children and how well they wrote their own names.

We then passed into the large auditorium, which was set up like a formal banquet hall: round tables with white or blue tablecloths and square centerpieces of the opposite color and a long row of tables overstuffed with dishes from 67 Christians and 34 Muslims (if I have my numbers correct). In other words, a cornucopia of culinary masterpieces.

What impressed me, however, was not the decorations, or the food, or the size of the room. It was the people. I was greeted as we put our dish in one of the few dwindling spots on the impressive buffet table by a mother very similar in age and demeanor to myself. She had her two daughters in tow who were similar in age to the children I brought. We took instantly to each other and spent our meal chatting.

So I have painted a picture of your typical potluck dinner, whether at a mosque, church, or local community center. But there was something about this evening that was unique, special. You see, I did not get the smorgasbord of insinuating questions or challenging statements, may Allah, subHaanahu wa ta`aalaa (glorified is He and exalted), humble me for my assumptions. All the data I was armed with sat in my arsenal, gathering dust. As we sat and shared a meal together, we talked about our kids, our families, the pros and cons of the public school system, and yes, we did talk about Islam. Our family and another from our masjid (aka mosque) sat with two families from the church, both of whom were amazed to learn how similar Christianity and Islam actually are. Neither knew that our faith stems from the same father as theirs- Abraham, and that we teach our kids about the great prophets such as Adam, Moses, Noah, and even Jesus, may Allah’s blessings be upon them all.

   

As I moved around the room, getting pictures of the folks at all the tables to share amongst both groups, I had many pleasant, heartwarming conversations, gave hugs, or shook hands. Masha Allaah (it is as God wills), the evening represented exactly what Islam and Christianity are supposed to be to each other- sibling faiths, each originating from our One True Creator. Allaah, subHaanahu wa ta`alaa (glorified is He and exalted), teaches us in the Qur'an to do good to our neighbors, whether they are related to us or not. Prophet Muhammad is recorded to have said that we don't really have faith until we love for our neighbor what we love for ourselves. Jesus, the Messiah, is recorded in the New Testament as saying, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Peace and blessings be upon them both. They didn't teach us to only love our Christian neighbors (if you are a Christian); they didn't teach us to only love our Muslim neighbors (if you are a Muslim)...they taught us simply to love...and that is what I experienced that night, in that room, permeating our hearts. It reminded me of something very important:

"In a world with so much fear, anger, ignorance and hate; there is still hope, love, understanding and compassion. There is still a unifying force among us...the brothers and sisters in humanity...the children of Adam and Eve!"

Christian and Muslim families visit together after enjoying plates loaded

with mama's home cooking... from all over the world!


As-salaamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu! (may peace be upon you and the mercy of God and His blessings!)

Always a Muslim

   

As I recall my past and how I came to be who I am today, one thing is crystal clear to me: I’ve always been a Muslim. When I first realized it I felt a sense of awe, wonder, and more than a little surprise. When I think of the words “I am a Muslim,” I am still awestruck. Yes, in June of 2014 I came to know about and embrace the Qur’an and Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, but I have always been a Muslim.  I’m going to explain this in two ways, both of which illustrate why this is so. First there is my early understanding of Islam and the six pillars of belief. Second is my coming to understand the terms “Islam” and “Muslim.” Early on in my self discovery I would have just said I “feel” like I have always been Muslim, that the Qur’an reflected those words already written upon my heart. After additional study and coming to understand in more depth what it means to be a Muslim I would confirm resoundingly, “I have definitely always been a Muslim.”

So let’s start at the beginning. You can pick up any “Idiot’s Guide to Islam” or do a quick web search on Islam and you will quickly stumble across the six articles of faith. The articles of faith are a compilation, based on the Qur’an and Hadith, of those things a person must believe to be considered a Muslim.  Now, I’ll admit, I understand that there is more to a religion than it’s stated articles of faith. As it was a factor in my early impressions of Islam, I believe it bears a lot of weight in shaping my beliefs and is therefore worth mentioning. To be a Muslim you have to believe in One God, His angels, Revelation from God, the prophets of God, the Day of Judgement, and predestination (God’s will).

Those six requirements are not at all shocking to most followers of monotheistic faiths and I am no exception. If you were to leave out any more details and asked me if I believed in those six articles, I would have told you unequivocally yes, I do. But why then, back in my early 20’s, did I not begin calling myself a Muslim? Upon learning the articles, but prior to learning more about Islam, I already knew it was a religion that originally came from God. I knew I believed in all the articles, yet I did not put much thought into the idea of calling myself a Muslim. I would have compared the six articles to the 8-Fold Path of Buddhism. I see wisdom and truth in each of the steps of the 8-Fold Path and certainly I can see how following it with sincerity would shape someone into a better person, yet I do not consider myself a Buddhist. And so it was with the articles of faith and Islam.

While it is critical in my walk that I had acknowledged the truth to the six articles of faith, there is another reason why I would say I have always been a Muslim. Prior to my knowledge of Islam, the term Muslim had the same definition to me as Christian, Jew, Buddhist, or any other label used to identify one with a specific religion or faith group. What’s fascinating to me about the Arabic word “Muslim”, is that it’s actually very unlike any of those labels as the word itself does not just describe one group of people who follow one faith tenant. As soon as I understood that, I knew that I laughed out loud. I knew at that moment I had always been a Muslim.

When I first explained to a family member the meaning of the word Muslim, I made a mistake that I will seek to not repeat in this blog: forget how uncomfortable people have become with the term. Here I will attempt to be more careful  and certainly more respectful of other’s preconceived notions of what it means to be a Muslim.

The Arabic word Muslim is defined on Google as “a follower of the religion of Islam.” The problem with that definition is that you are defining a word in another language using another word in that language, neither of which is properly explained within the definition. The word “Muslim” actually means, one who does Islam, not one who follows the religion of Islam. Ok… so what does it mean to “do Islam”?!? Seriously! What is the difference? The word Islam is not the name of a religion, although it has adopted that additional usage as a means of delineating between those who follow the Qur’an and sunnah of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and those of other monotheistic and Abrahamic faiths. Islam is an Arabic word that means “submission or surrender” specifically in relationship to God. The actual etymology of the word is so fascinating and beautiful that perhaps it will be something I discuss in a future blog. Suffice it to say, if Islam means “submission or surrender to God” and “Muslim” means “one who submits or surrenders to God” (which by the way, it does) then I have, indeed always been a Muslim.

Perhaps you are still wondering, how on earth can that explanation be seen as offensive? When I first explained it, I made the mistake of including (truthfully) that anyone who meets the above mentioned criteria would be considered, by Muslims, to be a Muslim. If the individual has not been properly exposed to the Qur’an or taught about Muhammad, then Allah subHana wa ta’ala knows best whether his/her heart is sincere for Him and He alone is the judge. Note to self: in today’s tense sociopolitical atmosphere, do not call someone a Muslim (or even allude to it) if they do not identify themselves as Muslim. I can, however, say with certainty that the term has applied to me my entire life, whether I knew it or not.

I write about this because it was very exciting for me to discover. It is something I wish more non-Muslims knew. As a result, I got a little technical and I hope, insha Allah (God willing) to include more and more posts pertaining directly to Islam in the future. For now, being a newbie, I do not wish to spread corruption or confusion about Islam, Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him), or Muslims and I certainly don’t want to present myself as a scholar or even an informational source when I, myself, am just beginning to scratch the surface. May Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala guide myself and any who read my words and may He make of me a light unto others and not a source of confusion. Ameen.

As-salaamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuhu! (may peace be upon you and the mercy of God and His blessings!)

Why Islam?

In my last blog I told the story of how I came to Islam. In it I gave a snapshot of my spiritual walk, from childhood through accepting Islam. It contained bits and pieces of how I felt and what I experienced. What I did not include was a plethora of scripture, scholarly references, historical facts, scientific proofs, or, well, any sort of validation for my beliefs. Certainly I can, and perhaps as time goes on, I will. Insha Allah (if God wills) I will move from the emotional and experiential into the rational and logical. That, however,  is a delicate tightrope to walk as people not only have differing understandings of which texts they consider scripture, but also how to interpret it. Many people see my transition into Islam as being a monumental misunderstanding. It’s not that my intentions are bad, they think, it’s just that I do not have the “proper” understanding of scripture. It then becomes difficult to truly open up and tell my story without getting caught up in discussion over specific verses or being challenged to offer explanations, and so, as you can imagine, I have begun collecting my own anecdotal stories of seemingly fruitless debates and sometimes heartbreaking encounters.

As I previously alluded to, I had come to the conclusion that all the major religions stemmed from Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala but that all, in their unique ways, were flawed. So, why leave one imperfect, albeit beautiful religion for another? Islam, from my perspective, had fit into the same category as all the other religions: Good, beautiful, imperfect. That is, until I came to know what Islam actually is. I knew, even then, I could embrace aspects of one faith or another without embracing the religion as a whole. I believe it even now. Truth can be found all over and for us to recognize that is a gift from Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala. If, however, I was going to completely and fully embrace any faith, why, oh why, would I pick the one faith that seems so controversial in today’s world? How did I, a red-headed, freckle faced, all-American gal who’s roots go back to the Declaration of Independence, discovered the beauty and grace of the Qur’an, Allah’s guidance and promise for us?

Why Islam?

Many times, when I am asked that question, it is followed up with, “well, what about this or that verse in the Bible?” I find myself hopping down this rabbit hole in which I am explaining said verses, offering others to support my argument, discussing the history of the Bible and Christianity, and so on, right away from the path of why I really became a Muslim and down a path of defending my beliefs on Christianity. I know what you’re thinking… Christianity? I thought the question was about Islam. Right? I’m right there with you. In the beginning I found myself trying to use such questions as bridges between the questioners faith and my own, but what I found was that I would be pulled deeper and deeper into a seemingly endless debate. All the while I’m both growing frustrated and watching this person get more and more frustrated with my explanations. Meanwhile, I am thinking, when are we going to start talking about Islam? When do we get to the part where I get to share my love and excitement with you?

In those instances (let me reassure you here they are the exception, not the norm), it boils down to two problems. First, there was never any intention to hear why I really love Islam, only the intention to find out my problem with Christianity so I can be corrected and brought back into the light. I do not blame those few individuals for their efforts. In fact, it is a very humbling experience. I have learned many things through such encounters, including how to see the pain behind their intentions and not to blame them for the pain they cause in return. When you approach religion from the perspective that to deny Jesus’ godhood means eternal damnation truly you want to see everyone embrace the belief so they may be saved from the punishment. While my views on salvation are quite different, I understand. I empathize.

Second, it was not the verses in the Bible that brought me to Islam. It was the verses in the Qur’an. I could tell you the Bible led me to Islam with verses like Matthew 26:39, “going a little farther, he (Jesus) fell with his face to the ground and prayed, ‘My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.’” A beautiful example of Jesus, peace and blessings be upon him, falling in prostration before his Lord and submitting his will to that of our Creator. Or I could quote John 5:30,  “by myself I can do nothing; I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me.” A verse wherein Jesus, peace be upon him, teaches that he seeks only to serve The One who sent him. But honestly, none of those verses were on my mind when I discovered that I am a Muslim. When I opened up the Qur’an and read the words, I found I was home. When I learn about our beloved prophet Muhammad, may Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him, my heart swells and I fall in love. Over and over again. When I recite the words of the Qur’an (though I’m not claiming to do it well) I am reciting a love song to Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala.

How in one blog post is one to explain the beauty of the Qur’an? How does one show the non-believer how Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala teaches us through it as a loving parent does, with guidance and patience? “This is the Book about which there is no doubt, a guidance for those conscious of Allah -” Surat Al-Bakarah 2:2. Throughout the Qur’an, Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala guides us through our daily struggles, both internal and external. The Qur’an is concrete, addressing the reality of this world without hyperbole or idealism. It is historical. It is scientific. It is poetic. It is visual.

When I first began reading the Qur’an, I was awestruck throughout the whole experience of how Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala chooses revelation that speaks directly to the people of the time about a specific instance or event and yet it so perfectly continues to apply to today’s society. Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala, through the Qur’an, meets people where they are and guides them closer to Him. Allah SubHanallahu wa ta'ala does not wait until we are perfect to accept us. He does not set an expectation so high we turn away in dismay, wondering how we will ever be “good enough” to “earn” His grace. He expects us to mess up. That’s part of the beauty of this world. The Qur’an reminds us that Allah subHanahu wa ta’ala created us purposefully, as we are, flaws and all and that He loves us.  

    You see, for me, it is not an internal struggle between whether the Bible is the word of God or the Qur’an. The Qur’an is a stunning, beautiful, artistic collection of the words of Allah SubHanallahu wa ta'ala that does not need to be “held up” against the Bible or any other scripture to determine it’s authenticity.

Until we meet again, as-salaamu alaykum wa rahmatulahi wa barakatu!

As-salaamu alaykum! السلام عليكم

     In June 2014 I was given a gift of self-realization. Allah, subhana wa ta'ala, revealed to me that I am a Muslim. I had identified myself as Christian for the last few years and was perfectly satisfied with that, even comfortable with the fact that I interpreted the Bible differently than most of my Christian friends and family. At the time, I was not "searching" for a new faith and indeed, had you told me I was going to be a Muslim the day before, I would have scoffed at you. Turns out, though, Islam took the truth written upon my heart and confirmed
it. The realization was life-changing to say the least. It brought with it an excitement and zeal, a spiritual "opening" for lack of a better word. I believe our souls are tuned to the truth and mine had found it in brilliant, beautiful clarity. Before I completed reading a translation of the Qur'an for the first time, I already wanted to jump and shout and share the love and light with the world.

     I’m going to start this blog by answering the most common question I get, both by the genuinely interested and the zealously upset. How did I come to Islam? Spoiler alert… if you are not Muslim, there is a possibility you will be offended. I do not intend to offend anyone, but I speak the truth as I know it and seek only Allah’s approval. I do not remember a time in my life when I did not know Allah (whom I will hence forth refer to as "God” because for 32 years that is the name I used for our Creator) so for me it has never been a question about God's existence.

     I remember being a frightened child suffering from night terrors and praying to God to protect me from the shadows about my room. I even chanted a prayer at bedtime to help me fall asleep. Why is this in any way significant to my story? I was raised in an atheist (agnostic at best) household and so God was not taught to me by my parents. I was not surrounded by teachings about God in the early, formative years. I was, however, unceremoniously via mail given a beautifully artistic Bible and a cross-stitched prayer from an aunt I've never met so He was not altogether forbidden from my home. I remember looking at the pictures in the Bible with a sense of wonder at their beauty, but a lack of knowledge as to their significance. Nonetheless, I knew there was a God and that He loved me.

     One night, I was standing in my parents master bedroom brushing my hair in front of my mother's large vanity mirror, wondering over reality. I must have been about seven or eight, perhaps even younger. I asked my father about God and whether or not he believed in Him. His response was simple...I don't know if there is a God or not, but If there is, he can show himself to me and then I will beileve. Now the words may have been slightly different mind you, but it was the message they conveyed that struck me so deeply that I remember the conversation to this day, down to which pair of PJ's I was wearing. I had hoped the Ultimate Something I knew was out there would be explained to me, yet I was left with more questions than answers. To my father's credit, he encouraged us to seek our own truths, to look for our own answers, but did not speak highly of religion.

     As I grew older, I continued praying secretly at night and seeking out more about God, but I struggled with the concept of religion. Religion, was something I had always observed from afar, sometimes playfully dipping my feet in, sometimes turning away in revulsion. To me, it was something man-made, something that fell short of the glory of God. Just trying to wrap my mind around why anything from God could have so many variants and cause so much conflict was mind-boggling. So many discrepancies could only come from man, and who was any man to tell me how I am to worship the One who created me? As a teenager, I was exposed to Christianity through my friends and bought myself a study Bible which I read and studied at night. I had the blessing of reading it cover to cover without any initial biases. I had plenty of people to ask questions to and ask I did. At times the questions were easy and their answers were acceptable. Other times their answers were more complicated or out right nonsensical. Having said that, there was much I found beautiful about it and it brought me at times guidance and inspiration. Still, it was not something I embraced as holy scripture and I did not consider myself a Christian- merely a seeker of truth.

     Nonetheless, Christianity was all around me, in its various (sometimes beautiful, some times not) forms, and it would be an injustice to say it did not play a role in shaping my character and in helping me define and reflect on my beliefs. Two significant things happened in my late teens. My parent's divorce resulted in my Dad's eventual dating and with help from his girlfriend (who would become his wife), he returned to his Christian roots, bringing the faith ever closer to my doorstep. At the same time I left for basic training where every Sunday I chose Christian services over a day folding underwear. Why the Christian service? It was pretty well promoted during the TI's spiel about the options for Sunday afternoon, not just because the secular alternative was laundry, but because they really did speak highly of it compared to the other options. There, I was moved by the beautiful music and encouraging messages of the protestant service. When I returned, I was so alleviated in my spirit by the experience and was further encouraged by my father and a close friend of mine who was Christian, I chose to get baptized. At the time, I didn't even know what it meant other than proclaiming I believed in God and something about accepting Jesus as my Lord and Savior. He was a pretty inspirational dude and clearly important and while I was still formulating my personal beliefs, the concept of a savior was pretty compelling. Yet I still didn't call myself Christian around many people and when I did it felt awkward and embarrassing. Not because I am any sort of scholar or had fundamental disagreements. I was young, headstrong, and, while I WAS a "goody two shoes," I didn't necessarily want people to know that and belief in God was, well, goody-two-shoes-y. In addition, while the concept was beautiful, don't get me wrong,  the whole "religion" thing still left a bad taste in my mouth.

In my early twenties I adopted the believe-but-don’t-respond method in which I continued to acknowledge God’s existence, but not His sovereignty in my life. So I went on with the roller-coaster of discovering “adulthood” on my own terms, justifying that God’s will for me was to be the best person I could be and believe in him without the taint of religion. My reasoning was, God loves me, He MADE me, he put in us these desires, drives, freedoms which religion so callously suppresses. He knows I'm a good person. No all powerful God would really care that much if I cuss, or wear a bikini, or have pre-marital sex. I wasn't hurting anyone! (ahh.. the reasoning of the young!)

A few years into my twenties, I took a History of Religions class, during which I came to the conclusion (although the concept was not actually taught) that all the major religions had so many similar themes in them that it was clear as day to me they all stemmed from one Ultimate Truth. In other words, I literally found God. In all the religions. At once. I slowly began to understand the social, emotional, and spiritual importance of determining what you believe and the role scripture plays in defining and/or fine-tuning those beliefs. I no longer saw religion as a farce, but as an honest striving to not only understand God, but to share that understanding with the world. At this point I believed God was only a motivator, an overseer so to speak, in the creation of such a beautiful variety of beliefs. After all, how could his hand be intimately involved in creating each and every belief system, many contradicting each other?

A dear and beloved friend was the one who, unbeknownst to her at the time, planted the first seed that would ultimately lead me through Christianity.  When my friend, who quickly became my sister, mentioned at work that she was going to church I asked her two questions. First, “are you a Christian?” And second, “Can I come to church with you?” During my “feet dipping” period, I had been baptized. At the time I barely knew that meant anything more than “accepting the love and sacrifice of Jesus” and so spiritually, it was not a significant event, but it gave me the “cred” to go to a Christian church without feeling like an impostor.

Thus started my path through Christianity (note: several years after my baptism). It’s not hard for me to reconcile my beliefs with identifying myself as a Christian. I saw many, many Christians with a variety of beliefs, plenty that were akin to my own. I had already read the Bible as a teenager (another “foot dipping” experience), and I found much about it that was beautiful. From all outside appearances, I was your normal, average Christian. There was just one catch (note, this is where you might get offended). Jesus is not God. Okay, two catches. The Bible is not the word of God. Despite those two distinctions in belief, I was satisfied calling myself a Christian. Perhaps it was the fact that I already saw all religions of having kernels of truth so this one seemed as good as, if not better than, others or that I believed Jesus had been sent by God. So what if I have a couple of disagreements? Many people of many faiths do. I had a few conversations here and there about what I saw as error in belief, but learned to tread very carefully. Even when I spoke with my husband about worshiping Jesus, peace be upon him, I did so with trepidation and was very careful with my words. Imagine my relief when he agreed with me and engaged me in a full discussion on the topic! He also spoke up about not seeing God as a father but trying to nonetheless.

In April 2014 I left for Ft Jackson, South Carolina to train as a Chaplain Assistant in the Air Force. Also attending Chaplain training there was an imam. I vividly remember the first day I saw him because I had actually paid him no notice at all. My friend tapped my shoulder and pointed behind me. The conversation went something like this, “What religion is he” “Who?” “That guy over there with the hat!" "I don't know, but Jewish and Muslim men wear hats like that." "Do you think he is Jewish or Muslim or what?” “I’m not sure but Jewish or Muslim sounds like a good guess to me.” At which point I went back to my breakfast. She was intrigued and carried the conversation on a bit longer before she too accepted that neither of us knew. On that first day, the questions started. Not to me, mind you, but to the imam. We all wanted to know this or that about his faith. One day I proposed to our class that since we all have so many questions, rather than constantly pestering him, we should request a meeting wherein anyone who has a question can ask. The task was assigned to his enlisted partner and the date was set.

At the meeting, before he told us anything about Islam, he gave his own testimony. So many facts were so parallel to my own experience that I was intrigued (not convinced of Islam, but I was listening). He, too, did not believe we should be worshiping Jesus. He, too, read the Bible and gained from it a different understanding than the mainstream. He, too, did not believe the Bible was the word of God.

Oddly, when the first question came, and was about Aisha, Prophet Muhammad’s (pbuh) young wife, I found myself defending the prophet alongside the Imam. There was no reason or need for me to do so except that I didn’t agree that it was a problem given the social circumstances in which they lived. I found myself explaining that it was the custom of that time as it is still the custom in some parts of the world today to marry girls off very young. Whether any hearts were changed by his words or mine are unknown to me, but what was significant to me was my draw to the prophet Muhammad as the imam spoke of him and my quick defense of one of whom I knew so little.

As he spoke of what Islam teaches and about the Prophet himself, peace be upon him, I found my heartstrings pulling. It was actually unimaginable to me that no one else seemed similarly affected. At some point during the discussion, he recited Al-Fatihah, the first chapter in the Qur’an. At the time the words were nothing but sounds, words in an unfamiliar language, yet at that same moment, they spoke to me. I couldn’t have told you what the words meant as he recited them, but I could tell you they spoke to my heart and soul. He asked the room if anyone wanted a copy of the Qur’an and I was one among about a dozen or so who said they did.

Within a few days we all had shiny new copies of the pocket Qur’an. I was not about to throw my hat in without knowing more, but it took me a couple weeks before I approached him and said I would like to talk to him more about Islam. Perhaps at the time he was thinking I just wanted to hammer him with more questions so I could catch him in a controversial one. Maybe he expected proselytizing or debate or simple talk of comparative religion. Either way, he graciously agreed to meet with me a few days later in the public lobby where we were all housed. In the meantime I read the Qur’an and made my notes. I think to his surprise and indeed my own, he didn’t get a barrage of questions about the “sword verses” or women’s rights. Rather I gave him a list of verses that spoke to me and we discussed why they struck me as well as the general history and teachings of Islam.

I began praying in my room 2-3 times a day, prostrating and asking God (as I still referred to Him) to guide me as He wills. I kept up social interactions but spent more and more of my time in my room reading the Qur’an, writing, or praying. While I had always known God existed, that was when I discovered that the words He had written on my heart were indeed reflected in His revelation. It was in June in Ft. Jackson, South Carolina, that I discovered I knew who God was. It was in June in South Carolina that I discovered His will for me.