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Time in the ICU Posted on 12/31/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

Dear Friends, I am not writing myself but have a very special friend typing for me. However, consider that your sister Maaria is doing the typing. I am so sorry for not being in touch over Christmas and writing to you as promised. For some reason God saw fit for me to be in the intensive care unit of a hospital here in my city. The day after Christmas I needed to go in and before I knew it a procedure as routine as ever decided to get complicated. It started with severe pain which meant I could not write to you for some time before that. So here I am in bed, hardly of any use to anyone, disappointed that I am missing the 'birthday parties' and so many carol services and some weddings of precious friends. Why when I was so excited did God choose to let me go through this pain I do not know, and to be honest now I do not think that is very important. All I know is that I had the cakes and cookies ready and made the kiddies tableau on the 24th at the on 'Birthday Party' for Uncle Hameed's daughter. Sadly while I was 'under' in the hospital's Intensive Care Unit I was unaware that Tabassum and her family are in grave danger and that while there was one birthday party going on with some of the brethren here in Pakistan, she was in hiding. The family did not tell me, because under General Anesthesia I do not think I would have been very guarded. But I know I was thinking of you all when I was coming out from under GA and was thinking how to be in touch with you and ask you to pray for all those nurses who were around me. There was a time when all the nurses in Pakistan were Christians. Well almost all. But around me there were about 12 nurses swarming around the place of whom only a few were Christians. The only reason I knew they were Christians was because they were complaining about not having Christmas leave. But here is when I wanted to share my hurt with you most. They were wanting their Christmas leave but they were so mixed up. Their language and their conversations gave away that they had lost something essential and beautiful from the Christian faith. The singular uniqueness of Khuda, the Persian word for God. The signular uniqueness of Yahweh the creator God who was so easily replaced in their speech by the word 'Allah' the Muslim name for God. The name given to a 'spirit deity.' I will elaborate on this later but it broke my heart how those who were the primary care givers and ministers of love and healing in hospitals and through their faithful work shared Jesus and His healing with so many dying and sick people were today in such a state of confusion in terms of their identity. I focused my thoughts and mind and heart on praying for them. To be honest it was not only because I was saddened for them but also because I knew that if I did not focus on anything the pain and the anesthesia was making me see things and I was certain I saw Uncle Hameed and Samuel (an old friend of Uncle Hameed's) standing at the foot of my bed. But thankfully I could not talk much. Apparently I did preach the Gospel to my surgeon and then when I was coming out from anesthesia and my mum giggled about it I winked at her. I have no recollection of it, but I guess it made Christmas worthwhile. I do remember that the last thing he asked me before I went under was 'What did you do yesterday?' So he asked for it. And I guess you cannot arrest someone who is under anesthesia!

Trading Ashes in for Beauty Posted on 12/18/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

Hadayyat has been in pain every day since the shooting. The criminals were let off by the police & still live in the same locality as Hadayyat. He is on fire for Jesus & lives for Him. Since the shooting he has not been able to keep a job. His insides are fragile with all those tubes. He needs to be so careful not to injure himself. We lost contact with him. Then last week on the third day of Eid he turned up with Sheeda his wife. His wife has been doing cleaning jobs in peoples' homes. But he is concerned for her. Like thousands of other Christian ladies she has fallen victim to abuse. One of the homes she worked in had been particularly hard on her. The lady of the house worked & the man of the house was home while she was cleaning. The situation had been particularly horrendous one day when his wife came home. Even though she humiliated Sheeda & made her feel as though she was the one who had seduced the man, Sheeda left with insults about the loose morals of Christian women & the stinging imprint of the lady's hand on her cheek, but her 'honour' still intact. Sheeda was once again without a job, but at least God had saved her from the immiment rape. Sheeda & Hadayyat live the life of millions of Christians, living the lives of people who suffer for their faith every day. Because she was not a Muslim woman her honour did not amount to the honour of a Muslim woman. Since honour is measured in terms of sexuality & gender, it was acceptable for the Muslim employer to rape Sheeda, a Christian woman. Again the stereotype of Christian is morally loose which is the equivalent of what they see in movies. Many of your brothers & sisters will have a cold Christmas this year carrying with them physical scars of the wounds for Jesus, others will weep silent tears over the emotional wounds and fears. Their Christmas tree will be a weeping willow growing at the side of a dirty drain. Will the adornment on their tree be tears & weeping? Hadayyat's tree is adorned with a smile that covers his face, eyes that sparkle as they did when he was a young 18 year old, a heart that sings to the Lord. When I look at his wife I see the same. Quietly in the other room she admits to Amma all those things she ponders sometimes in the dark of the night. 'I do weep, I do cry when I think of some of those horrible things that happened, they do pierce me with fear but then I weep because God chose to protect me and keep me safe. Then I weep because He who was born on the first Christmas day bore the cross for me and then I laugh because He by His Holy Spirit tunrs my weeping to laughter.' She was not just saying these words. She meant everything she said as she untied a small bundle. A bundle of beautiful things she made over the last year. Last Christmas we took her to my tailor & all the odd bits of silk & beads that he had left over he had let her have. Over the last year she used the silk & the beads & made Christmas decorations from a magazine I had given her. Crocheted bells & baubles, sparkly tree decorations, sotckings, angels & a little nativity scene. I smiled as I looked at the detail in Mary's face, it reflected the joy & love in Sheeda's face. She had sold most of her wares. What beautiful things! My Christmas presents were sorted. I would pay her after Amma, Dadi, Sheeda & I finished our steaming cup of tea & Christmas cake. God does take care of His people by giving each one a skill & a blessing. Sheeda was using hers. God would help Hadayyat with his. Amen.

Sona Mundi Posted on 12/16/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

On the third day of Eid, after two really precious days of witness among our Muslim friends and neighbors, the bell rang yet again early in the morning. Sufya, the young lady who comes in and helps with the cleaning sometimes, was rolling the vacuum past the front door when she squealed with joy and called out for me to come and see who was at the door. Hadayyat, her cousin who I have known since I was a little girl. He used to be the driver for our neighbors when we lived in another part of the city. They were a Muslim family. Hadayyat was their only Christian helper, so when he found out that we lived next door he would find his way over every evening and sit with Dadi and Sharifaan and have a Bible study. Since then Hadayyat has been like a family member. He could not work there much longer after we moved house because his father went home to be with Jesus and they had to move from their residence. When they moved it was too far to come out every day and he had to leave his job. Over the years God has used him to start a fellowship group in his area and although it was not financially rewarding he was able to do some part time driving for people while planting a Church for a small pocket of believers in a very depressed, poverty stricken area where the majority of the people were Muslims. The resistance these brothers and sisters faced was unmistakable. For years this small pocket of Christians have lived in this area called "Sona Mundi" which was a market town known for its meat shops and butchers. They had never had a church nor had they much in the way of fellowship. Their main hope had been for survival and that they had struggled for. Their homes in every way testaments to their poverty and their fear of being displaced but only pathetic signs of their Christian faith in a faded picture of a blond haired blue eyed Jesus over some old person's bed or a small cross tied like a charm to a child's writst along with a black thread to cast off the evil eye of the devil. Hadayyat had moved to the area because of the cheap housing. He had taken his family there and though he had thought it was because hard times had come on him, in time it became evident it was to assist the pastor and be a strength, comfort and inspiration to him and the people in the area. The Lord used the Pastor and Hadayyat to minister His hope to these people and start cleaning up the syncretism which had become so much part of the identity of our brothers and sisters. Suddenly the Christians of Sona Mundi were becoming aware of the truths of the Bible. It began to matter to them that they were Christians and that their bodies were the temples of the Holy Spirit. The first to come to the Lord and give his life for service was the liquor dealer. This made the Muslims in the area angry because it was through him that they gained access to alcohol (those who drank that is). This was the beginning of the Sona Mundi Church. With bootleggers, robbers, swindlers and even prostitutes. No wonder there was so much resistance to this church. That is why two Christmases ago angry Muslim men came into their newly constructed church building asrmed and opened fire. The first one to stand up and stop them from bringing down the cross on the alter was Hadayyat and he was the one who took the bullets which nearly ended his life. For that act, Hadayyat, a once tall and strong young man stands before us reduced to skin and bones. Inside him there is a network of plastic tubes and he is on medication to keep him alive. I will tell you mor

Eid Ul Azha (Part 2) Posted on 12/11/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

It was our neighbor from across the road who had come over. Mrs. Shakir is in her fifties and has young girls who we never see. They are strict Muslims and observe strict Pardah which means they wear the whole regalia! The black abbaya (or coat) and the scarf and veil. So when they come to see us at Eid it is our only chance to connect with the family. Mum and I are the only ones who speak with them as they do not like to speak with men who are not from their family. I will tell you about them later. When I signed off last time I was telling you about Fakhir and Abby, and Fakhir asking Abby whether he eats the meat or not and I mentioned that Abby was very honest and told him we do not. However, he also explained to Fakhir that because of the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus he cannot agree with the idea of placing sins on an animal & being forgiven through that, nor does he feel he needs to copy Abraham who was willing to sacrifice his son in obedience to God. Fakhir even once discussed this with Baba (my father). They had a long conversation about the sacrifice of Jesus. At the end of the evening when Fakhir left & Abby & Baba were talking, they both pointed out the confusion that Fakhir himself as a 26 year old Muslim faces, about why he partakes in this ritual, who it is about & whether it gives him any guarentees. The Bible tells us that it was Issac who God told Abraham to sacrifice, however, the Quran claims it was Ishmael. It left Fakhir thoughtful but also developed a deep respect between him and Baba. Pray for us as we continue to want to shine in these ways, know and discern God's will. By eating this meat we will not become Muslims, nor will we come under spiritual bondage but we are in the world not of the world so we have to be very careful. Neena & I were talking after Fakhir left. We remembered when Uncle Hameed first became a Christian. As a new Christian who had come out of Islam it was hard for him to understand how we could even accept it. The spiritual battle of conversion had been so great that he had for a season had to separate himself completely from all such activities in order to keep himself & develop a new Christian identity. 1 Corinthians 8 is clear about not letting our freedom become a stumbling block & so we had to learn many things in those days about our freedom & the need for discernment in how to use it. But our God is Immanuel (God is with us). With Christmas coming up there are so many reminders of Immanuel & He walks this road with us & gives us His wisdom, His love, His grace & His strength. Pray that we would never walk away from Him in our own lack of wisdom.

Eid Ul Azha (Part 1) Posted on 12/10/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

Early Monday morning in the midst of the smell of toast & butter & pots of tea, in walked Fakhir, Abby's best friend, wearing his stiffest starched white Shalwar Kameez. 'He cleans up well,' we laughed. In his hand was a bag which we were all familiar with. He always comes first thing on the Eid ul Azha morning. Early in the morning after Eid Prayers with his family he partakes in the Islamic ritual of sacrificing a goat or a lamb (some families sacrifice a camel or a bull - it is always a male animal.) The ritual involves placing their hands on the animal, laying their sins on the animal & then slaughtering it. Who is able to place their hands on the animal is a criteria which varies from one person to another. As a family we have never turned anyone away or refused to take the meat our neighbors & friends bring us. If we were to do that the door to evangelism & loving would close immediately. We do not eat the meat, however, we do cook it & make a huge pot of rice & meat so when beggars & gypsies come around knocking for an Eid offering, we give them a plate of food. It nourishes them & they appreciate the care. Sometimes it has allowed Sharifa to get into some interesting conversations with them & share our understanding and comfort in the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus' life on the cross. As Paul says we know who our God is & that there is no other God (1 Corinthians 8) so we are not threatened by their ritual but if for witness sake we do not turn Fakhir away on Eid morning then for witness sake we must also take this opportunity to demonstrate our faith in the ONLY sacrifice. Fakhir knows we do not eat the meat. He brings it to share his love for us & show us that we are special to him. We take it to show our respect, but when he asked Abby if we eat it, Abby was very honest with him. He told Fakhir that if he had gone to his house to visit & had been served the meat, he would not refuse it as it has no spiritual hold over him & cannot affect him as he is covered in the blood of Jesus, the blood of the final sacrifice that brings eternal forgiveness. Got to run, I will get back to you with the rest of this blog soon, but another friend from across the road has come with meat and halwa, so I have to go and say hello and wish them for Eid. Will get back to you.

A Cry From the Heart Posted on 12/09/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

'Maaria, please talk to Rufus about getting married and letting me find him a girl.' The plea of a mother's heart that rang in my ears all night. I could not sleep all night. Poor Auntie Veena, she is so concerned about Rufus and his future and as a good mother she feels she wants to see him settled, she feels the way that will happen will be to get him married. But then when I turned to Rufus (one of my best friends since childhood, but also like a big brother) I saw a cry in his eyes that said 'Maaria talk to me later and try to understand my heart.' I joked it off and waited for his mum to leave. Will you pray for Rufus? He has been a member of the youth group. Some years ago his dad went to be with the Lord. Rufus and his sister Noreen were in college at the time. Rufus quit immediately and took a job in a call center where numerous Christian kids have been flocking for jobs. Call centers have sprung up all over Pakistan and India and have been quick money for many young people. However instead of using it as a stepping stone they have not been able to progress. As Christians they have been kept at these positions of handling calls from around the world and dealing with custmoers, but no managerial skill has developed, only in very rare cases. Rufus, like 1000s of other Christian kids in these jobs has had to work every strange and inconvenient shift. Working nights and Sundays and losing all semblance of the disciplined day, with late hours and daytime sleeping hours he has grown far from Church and aches for fellowship but is deperate for the money. The situation made him the man of the house, he had to take care of his mother and sister. He had to make sure they could continue to pay the rent and not put the entire burden of living on his mother's teacher's salary. But no matter how hard he worked his salary did not make the rent, so very soon they had to move from the house they grew up in into a smaller flat owned by a Christian lady. Auntie Veena is grateful that they are in a Christian environment but as a Pakistani young man Rufus is conscious that he wants to give his mother and sister a home where they will have the privacy that ladies need. He wants them to have some of the comforts of space and quietness. The cramped living they have right now and the drug addicts in the next building worry him very much. 'Maaria, I have moved with Mama and Noreen 3 times now. I feel so concerned about them. It is not that I do not want to get married but I have responsibilites. I have to make sure that I can move them to a safer home with more light and space. I want to save so that I can make sure when Noreen gets married she can take something of a dowry with her and not be embarrased in the home of her in laws. I want to take care of her so she is well educated. Who knows what the future holds Maaria.' I agreed with Rufus. I knew what he meant and how he felt. My heart ached for him. Abba had tried to arrange a job for him in a bank through a friend but as a Christian Rufus had been treated bery badly and has suffered majorly for his faith. I have sent you a cry from the heart of Pakistan's Christian youth. Trapped by managers and salaries, odd shifts and fear of homelessness and refugee status. This Christmas Rufus and his mum and sister will spend it with their cousins in Islamabad the capital of Pakistan. Family, that is the greatest gift of all for us here in Pakistan.

Another Day Posted on 12/06/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

There is nothing nice about waking up at 4:30. I just could not sleep. I had tossed and turned in bed next to Dadi and for fear of waking her up I got up and went into the backyard through the kitchen door. All I could think of was Tabassum and her family. I slipped out when the Imams in the 6 mosques around my house were all calling out to faithful Muslims saying Allah is great and reminding them it was time to bow before that great Allah. It starts with one, then seconds later another Mullah joins in, a fraction or even a milli second later there is another Mullah singing the same words with reverence and out across the miles. Before you know it there is a resounding sound of reminders to men and women and children who belong to the Ummah (the Islamic Brotherhood) to arise and remember their God. In another country. Away from their beloved homeland- a land they love but a place they fear. Imagine that dichotomy. Perhaps many of you have never had to think about that. My parents were Christians and my grandparents were Christians. I have the fragile protection of a vulnerable thread of Christian heritage that I can trace to before 1947 when Pakistan was born. It was only after 1947 that it became problematic to convert from Islam. My paternal great grandmother converted from Islam before my Dadi was born and she married a convert from Hinduism. It was toward the later end of the British Raj and stirrings of religious communalism were beginning to become serious and prone to violence. They both suffered from knowing Jesus but dadi and my other grandparents have always dwelt on the Victory of their conversion and the joy that they converted. Dadi says though it was difficult they were still considered ‘Indian’. Today things are so difficult. Westernism has been woven into the whole idea of Christianity and on converting from Islam one has not only rejected Allah and Mohammad and committed the act of Apostasy but also treason because in essence you are seen as adopting the morality and values of the West. That is what our sister Tabassum is going through. A loss of community and identity. The Church has got to be her family now and needs to be the place where she can find refuge and forge a new identity. But the Church is put on a tight rope by the government, Islamic Extremists and the intelligence agencies who think that all Christians are involved in Western Agendas. The lives of hundreds of Christians are put at risk if a local church invites a convert from Islam into their midst. What were we to do? That was why we had to support Uncle Hameed when he sent her and her family away to another country. The Imams in the mosques were silenced in time, the chirping of birds had taken over the early morning sky where stars still mustered up their final twinkle as a beam of gold light struck the darkness of night changing it, beginning another day for many. Another day for Tabassum and her family, another day of hiding from authorities, another day of wishing they had a home of their own and another day of wanting to proclaim that they are Christians and Jesus is their Lord. Another day of simply wanting to wear a cross around their necks – another 4 calls to prayer from surrounding mosques to remind us and them that they have turned their backs on Allah and his prophet and they are no longer part of the brotherhood, but no solace in feeling part of the Church in Pakistan – because that thought brings the guilt that their baptism put a priest’s life in danger. Another day for you to pray for your bro

May We Flavour, Bless and Brighten Posted on 12/03/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

I told you that we collected my cousin Neena from the airport. Neena is about 3 years older than me and left some years ago after she got married to a Pakistani with a green card. She has come back for her sister in law's wedding. Neena and I are very close and when she comes home we spend as much time together as possible but this time she will be busy with her in laws who live quite a distance from us. She will stay in her husband's family home to help with wedding preparations. But for now she is with us. What a joy at having our favourite cousin home. It is time to get baking for Christmas. We have been busy with the cleaning of the fruit and things for the cakes and they have been soaking. Having her home after all these years is great. Dadi is in her element. Neena had hardly sat down with a glass of Mango tea and Dadi asked 'How long will you stay with us before you go off to those people?' She said it with such jealousy. Neena and I laughed as she asked Dadi to enjoy her homecoming before the accusations. Neenu, my little sister, snuggled in between Neena and myself, enjoying the attention from her big sisters. That was before Jonny pulled her braids til she yelped. It was such a beautiful moment for Dadi. Four of her six grandchildren around her making her feel like the most important woman in the world. Amma smiled at Daadi. The world is changing so fast that Amma aches when Dadi reaches out to the world for familiarity and finds none. So to see her revel in those she knows who love her gives some reprieve. Another one of those moments when we can remind ourselves of the blessing of family rather than be bogged down by dwelling on the violence of Mumbai in India or the sad news that is coming through the news channels that one of the suspects belongs to my country. I know my people are not known for much other than terrorism, but sometimes I think that is used against us. Anyone who wants to cause trouble and be a fundamentalist uses a Pakistani identity to do their dirty work. Neena and I were talking about it later when we went to bed. She was sharing her embarrasment when people in the West stereotype our identity. 'Mazu,' she said using the name she gave me as a little girl, 'do you really think this will cause war and that this person was a Pakistani and that more Pakistanis were involved and will continue to be involved?' I could give her no assurance. We were both desperate to believe that this was not true, that the Pakistani idenity is not synonymous with terrorism. Our earlier moment at Dadi's feet is not something exclusive to our home. Pakistani's are also about family, those of us who are Christians know that we are also about faith in Jesus and keeping the family together and safe. We give people joy as well, not just grief, we give people comfort, not just the trouble that makes them weep. We prayed into the night. We prayed that our witness would be honouring to the Lord. That even though we have many weaknesses, the world would see our strengths too and that those in Pakistan who are mislead would be saved and their eyes be set on the One who would change the desires of their heart. They would desire life and wholeness not death and destruction as Christ creates a new heart in them. It is a long road, a long journey; but we fell asleep assured that the role of Christians in being light and salt would not go unseen nor would it fail to flavour. Pray that we would flavour, bless and brighten our country and many would see Jesus and be changed.

The Tension is High Posted on 12/01/2008 12:00 AM   |  EMail to Friend   |  View Comments (0)

Last night I was at the airport. I went to collect my cousin coming into Pakistan from the States. Waiting at airports is always fun - not. Jonny, Abby and myself got to the airport in plenty of time to be able to find a place close enough to the railings so when she came out she would see us immediately among the masses of people. Women are given way as most men and women avoid any physical contact so many of us girls take advantage of that and with our 'goofiest' expression we needle our way to the front and end up at the railing. I even wear Shalwar Kameez to the airport because inevitably the throngs of people will encircle you and 'touching' is something that is bound to happen. I had Jonny and Abby behind me so I felt safe otherwise it is not uncommon for someone to 'accidentally' touch you. It starts a riot every single day at airports. Men who are not used to seeing women venture out of their homes, suddenly see all kinds of women from all types of backgrounds. Many of these men are not accustomed to seeing women without their head covered and women in jeans or some in crop pants and tight shirts is shocking to them! It is even shocking to me. I love my country but it can be rather schitzophrenic sometimes. Extremely religious and fundamental at times, pure and pious at others and extremely liberal at others. However it is those of the liberal nature that I fear more than the staring Pashtuns from the conservative Northern cities of Pakistan. I may not appreciate their staring or their deliberate attempts to crash into ladies in the street but I know where I stand with them. The Liberals are more like a ticking time bomb, waiting to go into a sudden fit of extremism and swap their modeling and acting careers for an Islamic Koranic teaching job. While I waited for Neena I stood on tip toe over the railings to see if I could see her come into the baggage lounge. No signs for very long but plenty of interesting conversations. There is stress in peoples' voices and in their thoughts. The airport was always like a 24/7 festival. The coming and going of families, locals and foreigners, the ceremonious welcome and farewell all added to a flavour that was distinctly 'airport!' Today all that has changed. There is tension in peoples' lives. There is stress over the goings on across the border in India. Though we know war is not in the air as the internataional news media would like us to believe, none the less, there is stress and concern because allegedly one of the terrorists involved in the Indian tragedy is a Pakistani. There is sadness etched in people's faces. The riots in Karachi have got them dreadfully worried. People are talking about phone calls from family in Karachi and some from Mumbai, each one brings more bad news. Abby and I looked at each other. Jonny was busy making sure we did not lose Musa (the driver). Abby's best friend Daood is a Christian in the army. There are a number of Christians in the ranks, men who need so much prayer in these days. Daood assured Jonny there wasn't a likelihood of war as troops are needed on the western front at the Afghan border. He had called earlier that day for prayer. He said that in his battalion he is the only Christian and misses fellowship so much. Just as I reached out to hold Abby's hand we heard a squeal. Jonny had found Neena and she was making her way out. This is a hard week ahead. Please pray for us and for our country and for those who are lonely Christians in lonely places. We have never needed your prayers more.