Some decisions require considerable thought, while others are pretty much instinctive. The theme of this week’s postings is “How Could We Not?”
God’s love for Muslim people is undeniable. Will you join us as we ask God to help us love them like He does?
You are cruising the aisle at Walmart, maybe in the greeting card section, and you look up from what you are reading to see a veiled woman coming your way. Her veil tells you she is Muslim.
We at Say Hello really love what we get to do. Here’s a brief look into who we are and what makes us so happy!
Christian women get to know Jesus, but most Muslim women have never once heard that He loves them. As Say Hello helps Christian women worldwide step into friendship with Muslims, they are also initiating Muslim women’s journeys to Jesus.
We exist because Muslim women need Jesus. Islam’s gender-specific faith practices mean that our most appropriate interactions with them should be woman to woman and man to man. It follows that Christian women hold Muslim women’s best if not only hope for belief in Christ.
Would you prayerfully consider how God might use you to help Muslim women know the truth about Jesus? Together, our hello can mean Heaven to them.
Click below to read more about how the Say Hello team is making an impact and how you can join us.
Today marks the beginning of the holiest month of the Islamic calendar. For the next thirty days, Muslims worldwide will fast from sunup to sundown. At Say Hello: Serving Muslim Women, we recommend this article from Influence as a springboard for Gospel-centered conversations with your Muslim friends and neighbors. You will learn vital tips for sharing your faith with a Muslim, whether during Ramadan or any time of the year.
I’m in a South Asian neighborhood in the Bronx, New York, looking out the window of a great city church into the face of a very large mosque, which sits just across the street. At this time of day, it’s mostly elderly-looking men in loosely fitting ethnic attire who enter its gates. A few veiled Muslim women, one or two with kids in strollers, have walked past but not gone in.
“I can’t pray today”—these words still ring in my ears. Our families were walking together in the park as the evening Islamic prayer call sounded. Prakash looked longingly at the nearby mosque when suddenly a large bird appeared and relieved itself on his hand. In a moment of horror, Prakash held up his hand and cried out, “Now, I can’t pray. I can’t pray today! I am not clean. I am not clean enough to pray.” As a devout Muslim, the bird feces had rendered his prayers ineffective. Our excursion in the park was cut short that day; Prakash needed to find a way to make himself clean again.
I never thought much of Ash Wednesday before, since in my denomination the Lenten ritual of having the sign of the cross caressed into one’s forehead with symbolic ash isn’t really practiced. I’ve never thought it was heresy or anything; in fact, aside from casual conversations I may have had with friends who wore their ash crosses home from church on Ash Wednesday, I never really thought of it much at all.