An update from Jenna
Many minutes have been spent on refugees in the past 2 ½ months I’ve lived in Clarkston, GA and I do hope to tell you how, but for now I’d love mostly to tell you about a very special 120 of them from Wednesday, March 23rd, and the miraculous manifestations that preceded them.
Our relationship began just shy of four weeks ago as two little Muslim girls from Iraq waltzed into my living room as I was cleaning my apartment with the door swung wide. “Can we help you?” There they stood in their little colorful dresses, rich Iraqi voices, dark curly hair, and big brown eyes. “No, but you can come in and have lunch with me!”
And so it began…
These two little firecrackers entered my life the very day after I finished attending a training for Christians on how to effectively reach out to Muslims. It was God’s hand and I didn’t have to do a thing. As we sat and ate, the girls, Fatima and Noor, told me they were throwing a birthday party for their mom and wanted to know if I could help them make the cake. I asked them if their dad was putting it on for her. With a fidgety frankness Fatima responded through her lisp, “He’s dead.” And so I continued, “And your brothers and sisters?“ Her answer was heartbreaking. “They’re dead, all dead. Only me and my sister, I love my sister.”
These girls (only 10 & 8 years old) were throwing a party for their single widowed mom. Quickly sobered, I committed whatever love and time I had. In a matter of moments I was the guest of honor, decorator, baker, coordinator, and newfound friend. We put together crazy decorations, cut out hearts and hand-drawn signs, and planned the whole thing for a surprise just 2 days away. ( :
Fatima saw my Jesus devotional on the kitchen table and asked if I would read her something from it. Dumbfounded I obliged her! Then she asked if she could take it home with her. Again, dumbfounded, “seriously?! Yes, yes!”
As I continued cleaning toilets I peered out to see where she had gone. There she was, sitting at my table, still reading….and reading. I was shocked. I had been praying for God to open up my apartment as a place bursting with ministry and peace. He didn’t even wait for me to get the toilets clean!
I walked to their apartment door and met their mom and picked up the girls to make “tea” which was code for cupcakes for mom’s party! As we baked cupcakes the spiritual talks began, a culture that would define our relationship for the next 3 ½ weeks as we discovered Jesus through M&M pancakes and “Kitchen conversations.”
I will never forget the day they interrupted me from what would have been a restful Saturday morning Sabbath from ministry as they came tapping my doorknocker, then banging on my door, then yelling in my window, and then a lively combination of all three… I held them at the door, determined to protect some space to spend time with Jesus, which is exactly the phrase I told them. “Spend time with Jesus, what do you mean?!! How!?! He is dead.” Oh nutty joy! Before I knew it they had worked their way onto my couch, piled in around me, and engaged me in yet another divine appointed conversation about this Jesus who pursues His little daughters!
“He’s alive, He’s not dead! I can talk to Him and he hears me, He is in this room right now, and I am going to go meet with Him.” “Meet him?!” They responded. “I want to meet Him!” Excited, I explained to them about the resurrection and how I can talk to God anytime I want and spend time with him. After questions about many things they had seen on TV about Jesus healing dead people and sick people, they wanted to know if it was true. it was “on the non-fiction channel,” declared Fatima! I happily responded and told them about Lazarus and that one of the boy students would come over and share the story with them as he had memorized it during our storytelling week in class. They couldn’t wait! It was far past time for them to get back home, as Fatima impatiently pleaded , “MAN! I want spend time with Jesus too; show me how to spend time with Jesus toOo!! Puhlease, please!!” No words for the smile I had. I told them they could come over at 6 that night and we would make pudding and continue answering questions, and I would show them how to spend time with Jesus.
That night the 3 of us girls huddled around the stove on stools and chairs as they took turns stirring. I said “Ok, you wanted to spend time with Jesus, so let’s just talk to Him, He says He hears us, so let’s just talk to Him and ask Him questions and listen for His voice.” And so we did, and He did speak. As the pudding burned a bit, we listened, each taking a turn to ask God a question. As I asked God to show the girls anything that He wanted them to know about Him, Fatima popped open her eyes and said, “I heard Him!” “He said He wants me to know about Him and keep learning about Him and that He doesn’t want me to go to Hell.”
Speechlessness..
Many questions continued to unfold as we frosted cupcakes, made pudding, and our most favorite of all, M&M pancakes. Each time I left a gap, a question without an answer, with a promise to cover it the next time I saw them. I was watching God build a foundation, and I could hardly believe the ways He began to move.
As I walked them back home after pudding Fatima squeezed my hand at the bottom of the stairs to her apartment and prayed, “LORD PLEASE HELP MY MOM TO SAY YES AND LET US GO TO CHURCH WITH JENNA TOMORROW!!” As we waited through the pause of asking her at the door, we heard with raspy directness, “OHHKAYH, YHOU CAN GHO.” Jumping , tugging , shouting!! JOY!!
Here’s where the hinges really come off…..
As we drove to church my friend Amy and I talked with the girls about what they believed about Jesus and what they had learned so far. The girls began to tell me all about the story of Lazarus that my classmate had come over to share with them, and about their favorite stories in the Bible they had been reading so far. We specifically talked about the story of Jesus walking on water, Jesus feeding the five thousand, and Lazarus being raised up. With Bibles on their laps in the backseat, we talked through the themes and truths of Jesus over juice boxes and traffic lights.
As we sat through the sermon (on the second row by special request and bargaining), the preacher taught on, I kid you not, the same three stories by name. My friend Amy and I looked at each other in disbelief as the sermon began to unfold.
I saw the hand of God reaching to these little girls and was held speechless. I leaned over to tell Fatima that Jesus must really want them to know about Him because preachers don’t usually teach on these three stories together at church, and that God was teaching her personally that He wanted her to know Him. After the service Fatima told my friend Amy, “Jesus wanted me to know those stories, I think that’s why Jesus told that man to talk about them for me.” ( :
Faith like a child…
The dreams came quickly to Fatima and they were many. Meeting Jesus in her sleep, hearing His voice tell her that “I loved her” and was “a nice girl,” while riding bikes with me and Jesus, and a few others of beautiful significance.
Our relationship was being woven deeply in Jesus through “kitchen conversations,” resolving tantrums amidst discarded trash and tree needles in the apartment woods, planting seeds in flower pots, M&M pancake lunches after church, and so many other times set aside by God. One night we even had 15 Iraqi and African little girls in my apartment watching the Jesus film ‘Magdhalena” in Arabic as one of the girls translated for us. Little Noor was in tears when they were nailing Jesus to the cross. She just kept saying, “But Jenna He will be alive, you said Jesus is alive, in three days right?!?” She was so concerned, then the sun rose in the movie and she exclaimed, “It’s the third day isn’t it!!” …Oh if I could show you the joy in my heart.
They all clapped when it was over and a few of the Muslim girls stood up and said, “THAT WAS THE BEST STORY I’VE EVER HEARD!! THAT’S MY NEW FAVORITE MOVIE!” It was a 2 day affair to finish the film and many of the girls could hardly wait.
Then a twist, a big one……
Noor and Fatima came over to see me real quick as Fatima told me a big secret her mom told her to tell no one. “We are going back to Iraq on Monday,” she said. I had no idea how to respond. So many emotions were flying around inside of me and immediately the only thing I knew to do was exhort them in their pursuit of Jesus and to urge them to, no matter what they had to leave behind, to take the Bibles they had been given. I was sick with the brevity of time and thankful for all that I had already spent with them. Every interruption suddenly became worth it and nothing mattered but this truth going into their hearts.Priorities…
I, by the girls request, asked to keep them for the week every day after school and basically devote every waking minute to them I could squeeze out. While trying not to let on that I knew the reason, Lamia, their mom, just came out with it. “We gho bhack to Irhhaqh, Mhaunday.” Trying to act shocked I asked if she would be coming back. She said, “Yhes, 2-3 weeks. My FA-ther, Uhh, yes, he is s-hh-hick, you know?!”
Relief!!!
Now I had volunteered my every waking moment to these girls who were coming back in a couple of weeks. I figured Jesus had a reason for it, and I had hoped he’d show me at 7 am when my duties began. ( :
The next day Fatima broke the news to me of another dream she’d had of Jesus that night. “Jesus came to me in my dream again,” she said. “He told me your mother is lying and you are not coming back, you are going to Iraq and staying forever.” Then the test of faith, “Jenna do you believe that Jesus talks to me in my dreams?” Saddened, I answered her, “Yes Fatima, I do.”
Purpose….
The day had come for us to go on our long anticipated “pancake date” at IHOP, a day set aside in prayer for the finalization of the story of Jesus we had been building up to. We had pre-chosen the Jesus books we would bring with us to read as we waited for our lovely little carbalicious creations to arrive at our table; Chocolate milk with whipped cream - strawberry pancake syrup ontop , and the story of Jonah. Things just look different to little girls from other countries. I sure don’t mind.
Fatima said, “I believe in Jesus now.” Repeatedly shocked I responded, “Really? Tell me more about that!” Trying to get Noor to go to the bathroom wasn’t working and finally Noor said, “My teacher said my mom told her we might not be coming back.” Fatima burst at the seams, anxious to finally tell me all that she was holding from Noor. She exploded, “YAH, my mom sat me on the couch last night and told me she was “just kidding” and that we are going back to Iraq and never coming back, JUST LIKE JESUS TOLD ME!” “SO, Now I believe in Jesus!! He was telling me the truth!!”
Redemption….
Just then my mom called—perfect timing. As my mom explained to Fatima my salvation experience when I was 4 years old, I began to talk one-on-one with Noor. By the time my car pulled back into the apartment complex Noor and I had talked through why Jesus was able to do miracles and prophet Muhammed was not able to--her own observation, and why Jesus is the only true way to God and God himself. Things finally began to click on all cylinders with her as she understood that in her heart she could be a follower of Jesus even though culturally she would be going back to live in a Muslim lifestyle within her family and country. This is called contextualization. The moments that followed were nothing short of miraculous as Noor confidently told me that she believed in Jesus as the only God. Terribly excited, I explained to her that the Bible says if we believe in our hearts and confess with our mouths that we believe in Jesus Christ as the only God, we can become followers of Jesus and He will forgive us of our sins and have a relationship with us forever and never be separated from Him. Noor needed no more explanation as she began shouting confessions of faith in Jesus inside of my car, her voice vibrating off my car windows ( : “Jesus I believe you are only God and Lord, thank you for loving me and that you always love me no matter what I do, thank you God, I believe in you!!!”
On earth as it is in Heaven…
We parked the car and put mom on speaker phone as we linked hands over drink holders with Fatima and thanked God for what He had given them. The girls took turns shouting cries of thankfulness to God for loving and forgiving them and gave confident yes’s to each of my questions of faith. The moment was bittersweet as we knew their mom would not be offering the welcoming arms to affirm the weight of her daughter’s decisions. Our rejoicing immediately turned to prayer for their mother. This is a prayer we will continue to plead, that these precious daughters would worship alongside their mother at the throne of Jesus one day in His kingdom.
The words, a father to the fatherless, will never sound the same to me now…these two broken little girls indeed have a living daddy and now they know Him.
A warm body surrendered, the King who speaks. This story should provoke us to more than an amen. He radically gave, that we might radically worship.
His sacrifice is still relevant.
