Everybody has a story. Everybody is on a journey. Everybody is seeking the ultimate truth. Everybody is looking for the ultimate purpose in life. I wasn’t exempt either until I finally found what I was looking for. Where do I start? It’s kind of a long story, and the last thing I want to do is bore my readers with the details. So, without further ado, let’s get straight to the point.
I’m Persian by descent, from Tehran, the capital of Iran. I was born and raised in a devout Muslim family—the Shiite sect of Islam, to be specific. The name my parents chose for me was the name of the founder of Islam, Mohammad. Like everybody else, I learned and practiced Islam, and at the time, it seemed like the only legitimate religion in the world. This was mainly because of how people are indoctrinated by the mainstream media, schools, and the lack of free speech; almost all Islamic states in the world are pretty isolated. I could never completely believe in everything written in the Quran. I always had philosophical and theological questions that were left unanswered. I remember how the idea of eternal conscious torment was something I could never grasp; I couldn’t understand how and why God would send people to a place called Hell instead of punishing them and then ending their existence. I couldn’t see how the traditional Hell—one that even the majority of Christians seem to believe in—could be a just punishment.
Apart from my questions, I always found following the Sharia almost impossible and often found myself guilty of breaking its rules repeatedly. But I didn’t give up until I moved to Australia to study. After I arrived, I gradually broke more rules, and within a year, I decided to let go of Islam completely and become a Deist. In case you don’t know, Deism is the belief that there is most definitely a God/Creator, but that all religions are man-made and untrustworthy. I felt pretty comfortable with that position and made all sorts of friends. Deep down, I still knew what was right and wrong, and I often found myself doing what was wrong. Feeling guilty before God is a very unpleasant experience, as you all know. No matter how much you suppress the truth, there will come a time when you can’t suppress it anymore, and the convictions can sometimes be crippling. In my conversations with God, I would often point the finger at Him, asking, “Why did You create me? Why do You let me live? Why don’t You just end my life? I feel like I can’t be who You want me to be; You expect too much from me!”
Anyway, I graduated from university, found a job, and was waiting for my permanent visa when a movie about the Bible caught my attention. I decided to watch it. I have to admit, the movie touched me profoundly; it was as if God was speaking to me through it. At the time, I had many convictions in my heart—not for breaking the Sharia, but for breaking the very basic laws of morality that I believed were written in my conscience. I was also dealing with a worsening physical injury. The movie broke me down into tears. All of a sudden, I was madly in love with Jesus. I knew He was different from anyone else in history. But that wasn’t enough, was it? Surely, I needed to research and determine how much of this movie was based on historical facts. What could I really know about Jesus?
The idea of Jesus being called the Son of God was troubling to me, perhaps because I had been strictly taught by the Quran that it’s blasphemous to associate a partner with God or call Jesus the Son of God. Beyond that, the idea of God having a Son went against almost everything I believed about God and His unity.
So, I started extensive research. I watched a couple of debates, and after the second one, it was almost as clear as day that Islam was wrong on many levels—it just didn’t make sense. Islam seemed to steal from the Bible, which it considers corrupted, to make its case. Whether the Bible has changed or not, Muslim apologists in these debates seemed dishonest, often taking verses from the Bible out of context to support their arguments. But that wasn’t enough for me. I read parts of the Bible, and its words deeply affected me. I became confused as hell. On one hand, Islam seemed like a cult; on the other hand, something was holding me back. I thought to myself, “If Islam is a cult, then perhaps all religions are cults. Or perhaps there’s no God at all?”
As soon as the thought of atheism arose, a voice yelled through my conscience, as if I was speaking to myself, saying, “You know that God is real. Regardless of what any religion says, you can’t deny Him.” I found myself talking to God, saying, “God, I can’t say You don’t exist. Among all the people in history who have claimed to be sent by You, I’m finding it hard to say Jesus was a phony. Please help me, God. I can’t know what the truth is. I’m lost, and words can’t explain how desperate I am. I’m certain that I cannot know the truth unless You reveal it to me.”
Immediately after this conversation, I stopped crying. A profound peace came over me, and I somehow knew that Jesus is the way. I decided to follow Him immediately. It may seem like a hasty decision since I hadn’t read the whole Bible yet, but I trusted my intuition. The experience of God’s presence was real—it was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life.
That night, I had the strangest dream. I was being beaten by an evil character who threatened to kill me if I didn’t return to Islam. Crying and yelling, I declared that I had made my decision and would never go back to Islam. When I woke up, I realized I had never experienced such peace. It was as if a demon had left me.
Of course, the journey wasn’t easy. I encountered intellectual and emotional challenges, faced good arguments against Christianity, and grappled with doubt. But every time I prayed, I felt reassured of the truth of Christianity. Through this process, God also taught me how to intellectually address those arguments, and I plan to document some of that in this blog.
