MY JOURNEY TO ISLAM

Salahdin


I have been asked repeatedly by many different people how I became a Muslim… what lead me to Islam? I believe that is a valid question, so I will give as detailed an answer as I can muster, starting at the very beginning, going up to today, insha Allah.


When I was a small boy I used to go to church to escape my step-mother. I don't remember the kinds of churches we would go to (I took my sisters with me most of the time), but I remember the people always being really nice to us. My step-mother, however, was in the habit of beating my sisters, my brother and me without cause. In fact, she was so relentless that there were many nights we wouldn't get any sleep at all because she would beat at least one of us all night long… yelling at whoever was being beaten so loud that the rest of us would tremble in our beds, praying that we would not be next. During these moments, when I prayed… I prayed to GOD. I didn't pray to Jesus… I prayed directly to God. I remember crying and saying something like… "Please Jesus, don't be mad at me, but I'd like my prayer to go directly to God so He gets it right away. I'm sure you're really busy and this is important, so please let God hear my prayer." I'd pray for the torment to stop. It lasted for three years.

The last year of this trial was the end of my 5th grade year in school. My brother and my sisters had been removed from the home, but I remained… locked in the attic most of the time when I wasn't being a slave to her every whim; such as having to give her nightly massages until she fell asleep… myself being so tired I could hardly focus on my pain. I tried to let my father know what was going on, but I was severely disappointed when one of my sisters was being beaten in the kitchen and my father elbowed me slightly (you know… the little nudge someone gives when they smile and sinisterly point something out), and he snickered and pointed at the kitchen. My heart sank. My own dad was in on the pain. He was my protector! Oh God… I didn't have a protector....on earth. I still remember the moment vividly. I pray to Allah now that my own son never, ever feels that way, ameen.

At night or whenever I was confined to the attic, I would talk to God, always letting Jesus know (or so I thought) that I wanted God to hear me, not him. I felt at that time that surely God must be my only protector. God was the only reason I was alive and He was watching over me. He had a purpose for me and I was only being tested. YES, I felt this as a small boy, as Allah is my witness. I remember carrying on conversations with God (no He didn't answer back… but I sure did a lot of talking to Him). I know He heard me though. He took my brother and sisters away first because I prayed that they would be safe… I didn't pray for myself until they were gone and then I started praying for myself.

After finishing 5th grade Allah made my father divorce my step-mother and I was taken in by my generously loving uncle and aunt far away from my step-mother. I cried for hours when they came to get me. I remember my cousins trying to cheer me up because they thought I was sad that I was leaving my "mom" and dad. I never did tell them that I was crying because I was finally relieved of my suffering. I still cry today when I think about it.

While living with my aunt and uncle we went to church occasionally, but nothing really sticks out in my mind. The entire year I was simply relieved and happy. I didn't even care if my dad called or came to visit. I was just happy to be where I was. During this year, I went for walks in the woods and would talk to God about how happy I was and that I loved Him for helping me.

I stayed with my aunt and uncle for one year then moved to my grandmothers. My grandmother lived on a small garden type farm out in the country. While I lived with her, we went to a Baptist church that one of my uncles was the preacher at. I remember a lot of singing and a lot of fun times with arts and crafts and games and the lectures always being about Jesus. When we would pray, the person leading the prayer would always end the prayer with "In Jesus name we pray, amen." When they would say this, I would always say (to myself… not out loud because it would have caused problems), "No offense dear Jesus, I know you understand that my prayers go straight to your dad. Thank you, amen,". They were good times. I thanked God regularly for letting me live with my grandmother and all my loving cousins and aunts and uncles. I still smile when I think of those wonderful times.

Then my dad got married again. By this time, I was in 8th grade and was forming my own opinions about everything. My dad came to get us and we all moved back in with my dad and my new step-mom. We were a happy family for about 6 months, from what I can remember. My step-mom knew of the physical abuse we had all suffered and I believe she felt that we had gone through enough physical pain, but surely we could stand some more psychological abuse! Once again we slowly became slaves. The first one to run away was my brother. He ended up on the other side of the country and then found our birth mother and lived with her. This left me and my two sisters and my step-brother.

I didn't really attend any church for a couple years. My church was the woods. I found solace in going for LONG walks in the woods, discovering new plants and talking with the animals that I would see. I would tell the animals to not be afraid of me… I wouldn't know how to hurt them. Most of the time, squirrels, rabbits, deer and birds would come very close to me… but not close enough to touch… just close enough to let me know that they somehow knew they were safe with me. At least that's how I felt. And of course… I talked to God.

When I was 17 I finally had enough of the abuse and I ran away as well. I ended up many states away; searching for my mother. However, she had moved to a different state and thus, my search was in vain. I returned to my hometown and moved in with a friend and his parents. It was now my senior year in high school and all I had to do was make it through that one last year and I would be off to the military.

My drinking began at this time and I wouldn't stop drinking heavily for many, many years. I didn't go to church, but when someone would say things against God (such as using His name in vain) I would get really angry and almost start fights with the person who disrespected God. But that's about as religious as I would get.

Once I was in the military I found a new way of life that was utterly satisfying and fulfilling to me. It was still the Cold War and I was in the "fight" to take out commies! Those atheist bastards had to die! I was young and drunk… what can I say? When I wasn't drinking, partying, whatever… I would do a lot of reading. I read history books mainly. But there was an occasional religious book thrown in for good measure. I studied all forms of Christianity, from Methodist to 7th Day Adventist. I learned about Judaism (but wasn't happy that they didn't recognize my dear friend Jesus). I studied Buddhism… but never understood the whole concept of praying toward a little statue… I mean… meditating toward a little statue. I looked into Hinduism… and was utterly (no pun intended) confused!!! I shied away from Islam because I was told they were satan worshipers; which I bought into because the pictures we saw were women all dressed in black and men who kept shouting out some made up gods name. What can I say? I was drunk and ignorant.

Then came the fall of the Soviet Union and the threat of the commie horde. I went to Berlin to tear down the Berlin Wall and the party was definitely on! Man did we celebrate our victory! America was THE superpower and I had a hand in it! It was the best of times… yet to become the worst of times.

Saddam Hussein came next… that Islamic dictator who wanted all the oil for himself and who was willing to kill all sorts of his own people in order to keep himself wealthy. Within a few months of our Cold War victory we were gearing up to fight the infidel satan worshiping desert dwellers.

This was quite alright with me. I felt I had learned everything I could about Europe and my history. I was very happy to learn about the desert people and this crazy religion that was getting so many people worked up into a frenzy. So, I went to the library on Base to check out books about Islam. I couldn't find any! So, I went to the bookstore on Base. They didn't have any either. I searched everywhere but couldn't find anything. It was almost time for me to go to the Gulf to fight Saddam and his mad army and I was desperate for knowledge, so I asked God to give me a book about Islam. Lo and behold… I found a Pickthall version of the Qur'an and a book describing Islam. I bought them and read them immediately. I was FLABBERGASTED!!! Everything I was told about Islam was false! They actually talked about Jesus and the Immaculate Conception in their holy book! I was stunned and shocked and taken aback all at once. Why was I lied to about these people who called themselves Muslims? There had to be a reason… but the reason wouldn't surface for me for many years. Suffice it to say that I was now an ardent supporter of Muslims.

While helping the Kurds in Northern Iraq and South-eastern Turkey I came in contact with a lot of Muslims… and a lot of ignorant Americans. I remember one night when we were sitting around in our GP Medium tent, drinking beer and talking about things only men talk about; a Turk Captain came into the tent to join our discussion. One of the other soldiers asked why the Turk Captain worshipped satan. Before the Captain could respond I shot back at the soldier in defense of Muslims, letting the soldier know just about everything I had learned about Islam and Muslims and even going so far as to inform the soldier that Islam was not at all that different from Christianity. The Turk Captain was so impressed with my limited knowledge that the following day he brought me a prayer rug, a kufi and a Qur'an (written in Arabic and Turkish… no English). He told me about cleaning myself before I read the Qur'an and a few other things. I thanked him and let him know that I appreciated everything, but I would in no way ever be a Muslim, but I would die fighting to protect Muslims from ignorance. I still remember the look on his face. He smiled that smile someone gets when they KNOW something that we are denying to be true… you know the smile… I tucked my presents into my duffle bag and went to grab a beer with my boys.

After the war, I went back to Germany with my bag full of prayer rugs, lamps, hookahs and other goodies. I hung up the prayer rugs on my walls, lit the lamps for comfort lighting and went about being my self-indulgent self. It would be several years later that I would even consider Islam again. In the meantime, however, I stopped eating pork and I defended Muslims whenever I had the chance… even fist-fighting with drunken idiots at bars over the issue.

Finally, in 1998 I was going through some boxes of old belongings I had tucked away in the garage and I came across the Pickthall Qur'an I had read many years earlier. A smile came to my face when I noticed that it was stored with my Turkish/Arabic version of the Qur'an as well as the gifts the Turk Captain had given me. I sat down at my workbench and started reading the Pickthall version again.. I can't remember what part I came to that made me cry… but there, in my garage, I started crying and couldn't stop. I remembered seeing the Kurds put their faces on the ground and worship God. I didn't know what else to do. I hadn't really talked to God for several years. I just took for granted that He was always with me and He was watching over me. I felt guilty for not talking to Him… and that made me cry more. I threw myself down on the floor of my garage, put my face on the floor and cried to God to do with me whatever He wanted and I asked Him to forgive me for not talking with Him sooner. I asked Him to forgive me if I upset Him in any way and asked Him to guide me wherever He wanted to lead me.

Several days later, I met a brother named Ibrahim who broke it all down for me in ways that I could easily understand. He was an American convert and he was also in the habit of asking "why?" to just about everything… so he pretty much had the answers before I asked the questions. Allah sent Ibrahim to me… this I am sure of, humdulillah.

Well, in the meantime… I had been doing some things I shouldn't have been doing… I was still in the military, but I was very dissatisfied with what I was doing. I felt like a slave to a cruel master. I wanted out… but I still had more time on my present "sentence"(enlistment) than I wanted to serve. So… I started smoking marijuana. I smoked enough to get myself kicked out, but not enough to go to jail for… or at least I thought. However, the military had other ideas and considered me a blemish to their beloved service and thus decided to put me in jail for a little while before kicking me to the curb with a Bad Conduct Discharge. I didn't sell marijuana. I didn't grow it. I didn't even give it to anyone. I just smoked it! I swear!

Am I bitter about the whole affair? Not at all. Honestly, it was a blessing in disguise because my new friend Ibrahim gave me a new version of the Qur'an that I could easily understand and I was able to read it in jail… finishing the Qur'an in English for the second time in my life.

I didn't know how to pray this entire time… I just knew how to talk to God. So I read and I talked and God was my only solace.

When I got out 4 months later, I went to the Imam at the local masjid and asked him if I could be a Muslim. He asked me if I believed in one God. I said, of course, I always have. He asked me if I believed that Muhammad was the last messenger of God. I said, "Sure". He told me to take a shower and come back. I did. He told me to say; "Ash-shahadua La illaha illa Allah. Ash-shahaduan Muhammadu rasulullah." I did. He said… you're Muslim. I said thank you and went home. I haven't stopped studying and learning since then, humdulillah. I believe I become a better Muslim every time I pray... but I ask Allah to protect me from arrogance, ameen.

So, now… I've been asked what brought me to Islam? What made me a Muslim? My answer is emphatically… Allah. Allah made me who I am and I am grateful to Him. I will never be able to thank Him enough for saving my life over and over again. He is my only protector, my only guide, my only Master. I willingly submit to His will… He is the one and only God who has no need for anything or anyone… but I need Him, I thank Him… I love Him. Thank you Allah for making me Muslim and allowing me to worship You! Ameen.



Things I like about Islam:

1. Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) was sent as a mercy to all mankind and jinn.

2. Prophet Isa (pbuh) is the messiah and is coming back. Mary conceived Jesus by the Will of God... not as Jesus' father, but as a God who does what He wills.

3. That the lives of other Prophets are explained in better detail... such as, John the Baptist was also the result of an immaculate conception (his parents were too old and his mother was barren in the ovaries), Issac was the result of an immaculate conception... his mother was also barren. Adam and Eve were both immaculately created... there were no other humans before them.

4. There is only One God, the God of Abraham, Moses, Jesus, AND Muhammad peace be upon them all.

5. Islam teaches cleanliness of all sorts of things not even considered in other religions!

6. I have more than 1.6 BILLION brothers and sisters alive today... not to include all those who have come before and who will come after, insha Allah.

7. No silly idols! No worshipping of a man!

8. Allah has provided us with the prayer as a benefit for us... with exercise, stretching and meditation all a part of our 5 times a day self-discipline that no other religion compares to.

9. We are obligated to do certain things such as; forbid what is wrong and do what is right... how much more beautiful can a religion get than that?

10. We are told certain things that are bad and are told certain things that are good... such as; don't drink, don't eat pork and don't kill anyone AND Do feed the poor, do fight the oppressor no matter who "he" is or where "he" is, and do worship the one and only true God.



There are many other things I love about Islam... but that pretty much sums it up for me... May Allah guide us all to Paradise, ameen.




[With kind permission of the author]