I have a security-guard friend named Teber. I met him just two weeks after we landed in Turkey, and I was still nervously trying to understand my new Islamic world. Before arriving, I had been coached that there might be secret police watching me. As Teber helped me fill out some forms, he leaned over my shoulder and whispered, “Are you an evangelist?” That question caught me by surprise and left me suspicious about who he was! Three years of friendship since then have proved to me that he is a man of honest intent.

One day, another security guard, Ahmet, invited me to play volleyball. Upon hearing this, Teber sternly warned me, “Be cautious, my friend. Not all of us guards are the same.” This made a strong impression on me.

Sometime later, a Turkish Adventist friend and I were at a cultural festival two hours from home when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and looked into the face of Ahmet. Warning bells went off in my head as I smiled as warmly as I could. We talked for a bit. He then followed my Turkish Adventist friend and me around while we pretended to be interested in some rugs and tried to shake him off our trail with a heavy dose of mundane.

While I was talking about rugs, I noticed my Turkish Adventist friend was over visiting with a conservative Muslim woman. She was telling him with great sadness about her cancer. My friend came over and said to me, “She would like you to pray for her.” I was surprised. Under this tent were several people, including the woman’s father and Ahmet. What should I do? Jesus was undercover for most of His ministry. But a few times, He was forced to reveal His divinity for the good of those He met. As this potential agent of the secret police watched, I went over to the woman, bowed my head and started praying. Everyone milling around in the rug sellers tent went silent. When I finished, the father was tearing up, Ahmet was gone and the woman was beaming. How could I do anything less for my Lord?
—Barnabas Hope

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