Darkness, sorrows, and tears
could describe the first thirty years of my life.

Even as a child born into a prosperous Iranian family, I did not have a happy childhood. At age twelve in Islamic studies in school, I started searching for what was man’s purpose in life. The religious teachers could not give me answers. I asked them who God was and where he lived. They only told me to surrender and obey the pillars of Islam. I felt helpless.

Finding no convincing answers to my questions, I lost my motivation to go on. At age fifteen, I attempted to take my life with an overdose of drugs. When this failed, I decided to join the freedom fighters, thinking my life would be fulfilled through helping the needy and oppressed and fighting for their rights. This experience was somewhat satisfying, but it wasn’t enough. As I lost relatives and friends to executions and imprisonment during the Iran/Iraq war, deep scars were left on my soul.

My early marriage ended in a Islamic divorce (kholfy) in which I gave up all my dowries in exchange for my freedom and custody of my little daughter. A wounded heart and soul, a new status as a divorcee, and my past political activities left very little hope for a meaningful life in Iran. I wanted to leave everything behind and seek happiness in another country.

No Room for Failure

I left my daughter with family in Iran and traveled alone to Europe and Canada, and eventually ended up in the U.S. I never thought I would come to the United States, since the U.S. was considered by the freedom fighters the blame for all the oppression and poverty that existed in the Middle East. But God brought me to the States, despite my thoughts and plans. Contrary to what I had been told, people in the U.S. were very kind, and I began to feel close to them.

I wanted to bring my daughter to the States with me, but I knew it would take a miracle to get her out of Iran. I talked with lawyers and many other people and they all said it would be impossible—at least through men. I had never been to a church, but seeking a supernatural intervention in my situation, I asked a friend to take me to one. At the church I saw a statue of Mary holding the wounded Jesus on her lap, so I knelt down and said, “I don’t know you, but I know you were a mother and know how I feel. Please bring my daughter to this country!” God must have heard my attempt at prayer because within six months my daughter and I were together, beginning a new life in America.

The new life in the U.S. wasn’t easy for me, though somehow I knew in this “land of opportunity” I could succeed. I learned how to work and raise my daughter on my own. I entered college, got my degree, and became a successful career woman, joining the “rat race” working eighty hours a week. I also got married again to a man whom I loved, and I thought that this surely was the end of my search for happiness and the good life.

The Depression Cycle

But things did not go as well as I expected. My whole life began to crumble around me when my parents refused to approve my marriage and encouraged my daughter to rebel against me and my husband. At age 37, five days after I gave birth to my second daughter, I received the news that my teenage daughter was pregnant. My mind and body crashed at this point, and I went into severe depression. Hospitalized, I was given high doses of anti-depressants and kept on a 24/7 watch by the doctors and nurses. However, nothing alleviated the depression, and I wanted to take my life—and this time I would be leaving behind a husband, two daughters, and a granddaughter!

An Irresistible Drawing

To help bring me out of depression my doctors ordered that I participate in group therapy. One day I noticed some of the patients, instead of coming to the regular large group therapy, were joining a small group which met in a room called “New Life.” I could see through the window that during their therapy session, the patients would bow their heads and pray. For some reason I was drawn to this group, which I found out was a Christian-based counseling program, and I asked permission to join the group, even though I was a Muslim. The only question the counselor asked me was if I recognized the difference between Islam and Christianity. I acknowledged knowing some differences, but wanted to try the group anyway.

The counselor’s interaction with the patients really moved my heart. She treated every patient with love and respect, and truly cared for them, even crying when the patients cried. In the sessions I began to learn about Jesus Christ and the Word of God. My counselor gave me a movie about Christ’s life based on the book of Matthew and I watched it very intensely. I was amazed by Jesus’ character and his life story, so much so that I couldn’t take my mind off him. I wanted to know more about Jesus.

Gradually through the counseling sessions, I began to connect with Christ. I confessed my sins and accepted the forgiveness he offered. I truly wanted him to be Lord of my life. During one therapy session, I saw a vision of Christ in a white robe standing behind the therapist, looking over her shoulder at me. From that time, I felt I was not only listening to the therapist, but Christ was guiding me through her words. After I left the hospital, the Lord led me to a church that was informal, non-denominational, and Bible focused, and I began to be discipled. I still had many questions about the Christian faith, and because of past teachings as a Muslim, some Christian teachings were hard for me to accept. The Lord revealed his truth piece by piece and gently. The Holy Spirit worked in my life directly and through the word of God. I came to see that for a quarter of a century I had been deceived and betrayed by a false religion.

The Solid Rock of Truth

Learning the truth about Islam was both shocking and heartbreaking. When I first read the passage in Genesis about Abraham sacrificing Isaac, not Ishmael, I was shocked because my mother had gone on pilgrimage to Mecca twice, and had told me of seeing the place where (Muslims say) Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice Ishmael. As I was taught that Satan can pose as an angel of light, I understood better how the angelic visitation Mohammad claimed he had could have been of Satan. Also, I questioned the Islamic teaching that Muslims should only befriend Muslims and live in a community of Muslims. If Islam were truly a religion from God—as Muslims believe, why should it not be shared with all people? I had to continually ask the Lord to show me the truth. One day after a Sunday church service, I broke down, shaking and crying, and exclaimed, “I know Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior!”

New Life: A Daring Adventure

Faithfully, my Lord Jesus started healing me and I began to feel better everyday. My doctor feared that I would try to take my life again and suggested that I stay on some level of medication for the rest of my life. But I could not accept this. Now that Christ had become my purpose in life, I have no reason to take my life. The king of glory, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, has healed me completely. He has also provided financially for my family, and I have been able to quit my job and stay home with our daughter. My husband, who has seen Jesus transforming me, has also started his walk with Christ. He is growing in faith through studying the word of God, prayers and following Jesus. Our daughter also has given her heart to the Lord at the age of six.

Life still has its challenges, but it is an adventure for all of us. I praise the Lord because now I know what LIFE is all about. I know that true happiness is to do God’s will. Instead of my life being filled with tension, Christ fills my heart with peace that surpasses all understanding. As I walk with him every day, I can know the fruit of the spirit expressed in Galatians 5:22-23, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.”

I am blessed beyond description because the Lord is using me to bring in a harvest of souls. He has given me a burden to go to Afghanistan to show his love and witness to the Muslim women there. It happened one day as I was watching the news on T.V. and saw three Afghan girls standing beside their war-torn house. Their plight so touched my heart that I knew I must go. I am going with an organization which does short-term trips, and I have the full support of my husband, our pastor, and our church. When I’m in Afghanistan, women who are seeking to know the Lord come to me, and I am able to lead them to Christ. What a blessing! My prayer is that the Lord will continue to use me abroad and in the U.S. I want only to glorify his name in all I do.

MMA currently resides in CA with her family.