They call me Abd al-Haqq

In my neighbourhood they call me Abd al-Haqq.

Arabic “kahwa” (coffee), the vehicle for many God-conversations I am privileged to have here.

It started because some of my friends couldn’t remember my name; others couldn’t pronounce it. One guy was calling me “Android” and another was calling me “Mustafa.” It was finally settled one morning when the guard from my son’s preschool definitively stated that I should be called “Abd al-Haqq.”

Abd al-Haqq means “servant of the Truth.” That is who I am.

“But Abd al-Haqq, I can never be a Christian like you.”

Dabir sighed, slightly exasperated, after expressing the fullness of his heart. He loves Jesus, but he is a North African, a Muslim.

“Who said you need to be a Christian, like me, in order to follow Jesus?” I responded.

Our community was praying together over six weeks through the story of Peter and Cornelius, Acts 10-11. Herein God reveals the great mystery that we Gentiles have direct access to God through Jesus. We need not go through the socio-cultural gate of Judaism to access the Almighty. We need not first become Jews. We believe the same to be true for our neighbours here—they need not enter through the socio-cultural gate of Christianity to access God through Jesus. They need not become cultural Christians. (Hamdullah—praise be to God!)

This conversation with Dabir re-opened his years-long journey to discover the truth about Jesus and follow him. Our community began to pray for others to come alongside Dabir in his desire, so that we could study the Good Book together in a group.

I met Dabir for a coffee one afternoon and was surprised to find his housemate joining us. After some initial chatter, the conversation turned to spiritual things.

“But did Jesus ever call himself God?” asked Samir, the housemate.

Both of us were stunned to learn that Samir was already reading the Good Book on his own.

From that time, we agreed to meet weekly to read the book of Luke together, seeking to answer Samir’s question and many others still lingering in the minds of my friends. Regardless of their questions, they were both thirsty to know more about Jesus.

The summer months saw us diving into the stories of Jesus each Friday. Months passed and circumstances changed. Samir, though eager to know about Jesus, faced personal struggles due to poor choices, both past and present. But Dabir and I continued to meet, and I saw him maturing in his journey with Jesus.

When we came to Luke 8:16, the parable of the lamp, Dabir wrestled deeply. That next week he called me to check in.

“Abd al-Haqq, I met a guy that I think would benefit from studying with us,” Dabir shared on the phone.

“Wonderful! Let’s talk more at the coffee shop.”

Before meeting, I knew I wanted to encourage Dabir to begin studying with his new friend on his own. This is our greatest desire: that our North African brothers and sisters would be the ones to share the Truth with their own communities. Would he be willing?

I remembered his early words to me: “Abd al-Haqq, I am where I am because of so many who have poured into me over many years.”

Over coffee, I gently reminded him of these words and asserted: “Dabir, I am not the one with all the answers. You know the answers are in the Good Book, and you’ve found many of them already. Will you search for answers alongside your new friend?”

“Yes, I will.” (Hamdullah—praise be to God!)