“We follow a different road than the Catholic church,” I explained to our language helper, Yusof, as we sat together in our living room. “You see, in the early centuries, there were people who followed the true path laid out in God’s books, the Taurat, Zaboor and Injil.” I approached our white board and began drawing a picture of a straight road. “But some of them forsook that true path and began to follow another path that went contrary to God’s word.” I drew a fork in the road and a second road branching off on a tangent. “Many began to worship idols and Mary. These false worshippers began persecuting those who followed the true road. Many who followed the true road had to run into the mountains and hide so those who followed the false road wouldn’t kill them. Those who followed the false road also persecuted the Muslims in Jerusalem and Palestine.” I sent up a silent prayer to God for the right words. “But Yusof, there has always been a group who have followed the true path. We belong to those who follow the true path. Do you understand what I am saying?” I looked into his eyes for some kind of understanding.

He nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

We first met Yusof a few months after we arrived in our village. He didn’t seem like the typical Great River Muslim. He didn’t wear a goatee like many of the older men. He was clean-shaven, wore western-style clothing and had a cell phone covered in gaudy, fake jewels. When he smiled, his silver teeth sparkled. Along with the big ring on his finger, they gave the impression that he was made up as much of metal as anything else. Later, we discovered that his daughter and son-in-law live in the States and send money back to help support the family. Along with this income and what his family makes from his humble coffee shop, Yusof has plenty of time on his hands to cruise around the village on his motorcycle.

Yusof has led an interesting life. During the war years, he fled with his wife and children across the border into a neighboring country and was hired by a provincial governor to play soccer. When he was living in a refugee camp, he took up being a witch doctor on the side. “People would come to me,” he said between laughs, “and I would make a mound of rice and place an egg with a chick in it on top of the rice. I would light a candle and say a few chants, and then I would advise the people.” From the big grin on his face, I could tell he found it comical that he and an egg could possess such wisdom.

In God’s providence, Yusof became our language helper and has become a very dear friend. It has become obvious to us that he has a strong faith in God. He is one of the few here whom we feel comfortable talking with at length about God. Please pray that God will use our friendship to impress Yusof with the need to follow the true road, Jesus Christ.

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