In part one of this story, Barnabas and several others, while on a backpacking trip in Turkey, found themselves the overnight guests of an interesting character named Nevrut. Nevrut is a wealthy landowner who lives a simple life in the mountains. A faithful Muslim in his 50s, Nevrut serves in a paramilitary unit that hunts and kills PKK terrorists. His prize possession is an expensive sniper rifle.

As Barnabas was about to give Nevrut a Bible, their conversation was disrupted by an unknown man whose allegiance to the Quran left Barnabas wary about how to proceed.

Giving a Bible away in a Muslim country is a delicate matter—as delicate as the skin on one’s neck. The wrong words can stir up a flash of anger in a devout Muslim that can certainly end a friendship and may end a life. After several uncomfortable experiences, I have determined only to give Bibles to people who really want them.

After Nevrut’s dramatic testimony of healing through the power of Jesus, I was sure that even this gun-toting manhunter would be anxious to receive a Bible, and I was eager to give him one. However, this newcomer to our conversation had thrown my mind into turmoil. “Allah is one,” the man said as he entered the room, “and Mohammad is his prophet, and the way of the Quran is the straight path.” His words seemed to slam shut the window of opportunity. Who was he?

Ah, yes. I recalled the night before when the old auntie had said her son, Talip, had lost a leg five months earlier in a logging accident. Surely this was he, clutching a cane, leg extended straight—likely a prosthetic.

I shook his hand, smiled and gave him a warm greeting. Then I added, “Your mother told us of the loss of your leg. May this not come your way again” (a polite Turkish well-wish).

Talip was in his 40s and looked very much like about 20 million other Turks. His swarthy face was decorated with a big black mustache and a mischievous but heartwarming smile. The man was broad-shouldered, and his huge, calloused hands told of years of hard lumberjacking. He began to boast about the Quran and its merits, obviously aiming to convince me of its virtue. He was caught a little off guard when I told him I read the Quran.

Attempting to restrain Talip’s Islamic verbal tide, I asked him to tell me how he had lost his leg. He said, “There is a place in the forest where tradition says the prophet Noah built an altar many years ago. Now the place is under a curse. When anyone goes near it, the prophet Noah brings some accident on the person.”

I wanted to burst out, “Why would the righteous prophet Noah do evil to people?!” But I decided not to waste my credibility arguing this point. Superstition is reality to those who embrace it.

Talip continued, “I was hired to clear some forest land near the spot, and when I stepped on that rock, my foot instantly went numb.” Before I could ask more details, Talip was telling stories of other men who had lost their limbs or lives in the same location. Apparently, demons were working their havoc there.

Nevrut and Talip began to share more Islamic legends. Knowing a direct attack would lead nowhere, I listened carefully for an opportunity to turn the conversation. Talip proudly asserted, “Every child that is born has an invisible mark on their forehead that says, ‘God is one, and Mohammad is his prophet.’”

“A mark on the forehead . . .” I thought. Then, in a flash, the Holy Spirit put a small sermon into my head, and I knew this was my doorway.

In a kind tone, I began, “Gentlemen, I want to talk about that mark. My father taught me to believe in the one true God. He taught me to believe in the prophets . . .”

“Mohammad is the last,” Talip interjected.

“. . . and he taught me about the last days. Do you believe in the last days?” Talip looked at Nevrut and smiled as if affirming that now we were really talking about something true and interesting.
I continued, “We know that in the last days the Messiah Jesus will return. But before that happens, there will be an antichrist and false Christs.”

Both Talip and Nevrut agreed with me and were eager to insert their own knowledge about the subject. Talip said there will be three ways we will know the real Christ when He comes. First, he will have a mustache that is 2.5 meters long. Second, he will walk on water. Third, a certain rock that now hovers over the earth somewhere in Arabia will suddenly fall to the ground. Nevrut affirmed Talip’s third point and said he had written to a local newspaper on this subject, and they were grateful as it helped dismiss some local beliefs people had that Jesus had already come.

Fighting to stay on course, I said, “God says in the Injeel (New Testament) that there will be two different kinds of marks on the foreheads of all people. One will be for the wicked—the mark of the beast—and the other will be called the seal of God.”
Both men then reverently whispered the Muslim mantra: “God is one, and Mohammad is his prophet.”

Pausing for a moment to gather my thoughts and try to build toward my punch line in succinct steps, I said, “Do you know that the Injeel tells us exactly who will receive that final seal of God? I want that seal, don’t you? It is the key to paradise! The Injeel says, ‘Those who keep the commandments of God and have the faith of Jesus will receive the seal of God.’

“You know the commandments of God were the ten laws written by God’s finger. They were given to the prophet Moses and are found in the Tevrat (Old Testament).” Slowing a bit, I encouraged them, “Of course, the Quran tells us to read the Tevrat.”

I was thankful they let me keep going without interruption. Holding up two fingers, I emphasized, “Remember, those who receive the seal of God will have two characteristics. First, they keep the commandments of God. Second, they have the faith of Jesus.” I continued, “The Quran agrees with this, saying that, ‘On the day of Resurrection, those who follow Jesus will be above those who disbelieve’ (Quran 7:55).

“Nevrut, you just told me you have faith in Messiah Jesus, as you experienced His healing.” Both Nevrut and Talip were listening very closely now. I decided to cut to my appeal. “Nevrut, because I see you as a man who loves the truth and wants that seal of God, I want to give you a gift. I want to give you a Tevrat, Zebul and Injeel.” Nevrut’s eyes lit up as he reached out, clasped my hand and pulled me to his chest. He was delighted. He kissed me warmly on both cheeks, his mustache sticking to my unshaven face. He hung onto my hand and wouldn’t let it go.

As I gazed into Nevrut’s appreciative face, the Holy Spirit put an illustration into my mind. “Nevrut,” I said again, “if I were to take your very expensive sniper rifle, break it down into four parts and only give you one part, you would not be happy with that one part. You believe that God has given four holy books. With this gift, you now have the full weapon of God.”

Oh, he loved this. It was clear to him. His tight squeeze on my hand tightened all the more, and he reeled me in for another embrace and kiss.

“Now, Talip, I want to give you a gift, too. I want to pray for healing for the lingering pain in your leg. We knelt around him and laid hands on him. Oh, I wish that I had seen that leg restored at that moment! (Oh Lord, increase my faith to call for such a miracle.) Talip shed a few tears and thanked us.

My little team of student missionaries and I decided to get moving while everyone was happy. Not having a full Bible with me, I took Nevrut’s address and told him I would DHL the treasure to him. With our backpacks loaded, we journeyed toward the mountains on the very road Nevrut had constructed for his lost love 30 years before. He stood for the longest time waving goodbye to us. Just before we left earshot, he shouted, “And remember my book!”

Burak, my Turkish Adventist friend, was overjoyed. He had clearly seen how God had turned a potentially volatile situation into a victory. “Can we ever forget this?” He beamed, shaking his head.

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