A couple years ago, I took a mission trip to a closed Muslim country. My team spent the first part of the trip as tourists to establish our story for being there. We spent the second half of the week in the city to do street evangelism. We were armed with a smart phone, gospel videos in Arabic, and hope that someone might come to faith.
On the first night we were set loose, we were in a restaurant waiting for our table when a law student in his early 20s came over because he wanted to practice his English. We will call him Ahmed.
We had been warned by a missions worker on the ground that it was likely that the first local we met would attach himself to us for our whole trip. In their culture, it was a matter of honor for their whole society that we, as foreigners, have a great experience. In God’s providence, that week was Eid al-Adha, the second and greater of the two festivals celebrated by Islam. It’s the equivalent of Christmas in the States.
That night, Ahmed ate dinner with us, the next day
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