2023. Asia.
I walked inside the mosque through a large, ornate stone archway and into a dark hall. I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and saw rows of carpets lining the wall in front of me. Following the group I was traveling with over spring break, I stopped at the edge of the carpet to take off my shoes, listening to the reverent murmurs of worshipers and curious whispers of tourists.
I stepped through another smaller archway onto thick carpet and kept my eyes low as I walked into the main room of the mosque.
Room was too simple a word to describe what I saw.
The ceiling stretched taller than the room was wide and faded paintings whorled across the arched expanse, telling stories I didn’t know across it. Hundreds of delicate, warm lights rested above my head in chandeliers strung at a regular ceiling height, contrasting the awe of the domed ceiling with the intimacy the sparkling lights provided at a comfortable height. It was as if the lights were an anchor to the wanderers that looked above, reminding them to keep themselves grounded on the plush carpet instead of getting lost in the awe of the expanse above.
I treaded forward and stopped behind a quiet crowd.
A sound echoed throughout the expanse and I looked around. The sound wove between the people and lights, turning into golden vibrations and leaving moans and echoes in small places. The thread of sound turned into a song, lilting and dancing through sharp turns of the melody and wavers in the voice that spun the noise.
The call to prayer rang out throughout the mosque, bringing a hush to the already quiet crowd inside the building. Men turned to the front, opposite where I had entered moments before, and walked through an opening in a fence that I had not seen earlier that divided the floor. They walked to the front of the mosque and kneeled to pray in growing rows of other men. Women turned to the side of the room and tucked themselves behind a corner, kneeling in prayer on the plush carpets beneath them.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. In the back of my head. In my feet that gripped into the carpet in just my socks. The air was heavy and moved only when more men rushed past me to join the praying rows at the front. I stood there, unable to move, absorbing the sharp turns and wails of the sound of the call to prayer and watching people pray to a god I did not know.
Lessons from Another Land
This past March, I was able to visit a country in the Middle East with a group of friends over spring break. During the week-long trip, we visited a mosque, and as I walked out of the mosque afterward, I took a deep breath of cool air and realized a few things.
The first was that in order to understand people, you must first understand why they think they have been born on this earth and respect their heritage. For some, it is to become powerful and rich. For others, it is to eat well and travel often and try not to worry about what comes after their bones settle into dust. For more, it is to try to enjoy the little free moments of their life while keep the respect of their family and friends, constantly battling the pressure of society, their community, and their own mind.
The second thing I realized was that there are so many people in the world who are fervently searching for the truth among their gods, but they have no opportunity to learn the truth about Jesus. When I returned home to the US, I also realized, like a slap on the face, that there are so many people in the US who know about Jesus but don’t care about what he means for their lives.
“I know all the things you do, that you are neither hot nor cold. I wish that you were one or the other! But since you are like lukewarm water, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth!” - Revalation 3:15-16, NLT
The third thing I realized was that there is no place I could go that would bring me away from my God (Psalm 139:7.) While I had been inside the mosque and for a few hours after, I was unable to form a prayer to my God, Yahweh, Jesus. The moment the call to prayer rang out in the mosque, I had cast the eyes of my heart upwards, searching, calling to the God I knew so well while surrounded by the words of a foreign one, but I couldn’t form a prayer. My head felt so quiet. Praying felt like trying to use a phone without a signal.
My hands were shaking as I walked away from the mosque and I realized that I was unable to remember any Bible verses I had ever memorized. I tried not to panic. I took a deep breath. Then a little flame ignited in my soul, burning small yet warm, and the words of hymns that I had sung countless times flooded my head. The melody of Amazing Grace swirled around my head, bringing a whisper of warm sound back into my empty head and breaking apart the sharp threads of the call to prayer to shape the sounds into a life rope. I felt a whisper of life. My God was there.
The final thing I realized is that God had given me peace in his presence and the curiosity to learn about what other people believe. As I get ready to embark on this new journey to Thailand and learn about, care for, and honor the people there, I am excited to bring my curiosity with me.
I hope to learn more about the gods and the people of the world and bring the life and truth that I have experienced Jesus to be as a life rope to those who are looking.