The Cost by Ali Husnain

Author:Ali Husnain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2016-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

IS THIS HOW I DIE?

“Jesus, if it’s really you, would you help me?”

It felt a little odd to be talking out loud like this, my words half-whispered in case anyone overheard, but it also felt strangely right.

The roof quickly became my sanctuary. I began talking to Jesus as if he were right there, standing on the top of the house with me. I was spending more and more time on my own up there, retreating from the confusion that always seemed to accompany any Islamic customs—visits from the mureed, prayer at the mosque, ceremonial fasting.

I used to spend my days on the rooftop flying kites, chasing that sensation of flying. But now I spent them searching for peace. And there among the cushions and shade, the vines that grew overhead, and the unrivaled views over the crowded streets that spread out before me like a spider’s web, I found it.

I developed a routine, which always started with my lying down and recalling in as much detail as possible the events of that night back in England. And when I reached the part where Jesus appeared in my dream and spoke to me, I tried extra hard to savor every moment of the experience. I let the words he spoke flood right through me, recalled the way the light felt upon me, and heard his voice call to the deepest parts of me.

Having bathed in these memories again, I would then pray. I prayed for Aunt Gulshan’s health, for my studies, my future, and the well-being of my family. If any of my mureed had asked me to pray for them in the days before, I would pray for them as well. And this time I wouldn’t forget, because now I was praying to Jesus. Though I knew nothing more about him than what he had told me in my dream, something within me knew he was the only one to whom I should be praying.

These moments became precious to me. I would end them by standing and staring out across the rooftops. I’d see kites racing through the sky and listen to the shouts of children both celebrating and despairing at the battles taking place in the clouds above them. I remembered the days when as a child I would have joined them, though I knew all that was behind me now.

I never knew how desperate I had been for peace until I found it in these moments. But when I came back down, I found the contrast between this newfound calm and the Muslim faith increasingly wide.

Throughout my childhood in Pakistan, my favorite time of year was always Eid. After the hard month of Ramadan, where like everyone I fasted during the day and ate only at night, I always appreciated the chance to celebrate. Eid was like Christmas and Easter rolled into one, a unique time of feasting and generosity, of charity and unity.

My first Eid after I arrived back from England took place shortly after I got my motorbike.

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