I found Jesus during Ramadan.

As I sit here on my back porch writing, the hum of my computer is drowned out by the symphony of birds singing mixed with the occasional interruption of a rooster cry.  I find myself giggling as I watch our chickens pluck at the ground and strut back and forth, and my heart is filled with memories of the past few weeks. I haven’t written in far too long, and though there are many adventures I could record right now, I would like to choose something simple, beautiful, and unexpected.

I found Jesus during Ramadan.

Sitting on the floor of our friend Ally’s small house, one circle of the girls, one circle of the boys. Eating beans, fish, chapatti, rice patties, roots, sweet potatoes, and peppered porage with our fingers. No utensils, no plates. Just food, family, Allah, Jesus, and love.

Amazing.

Two white, Christian, American girls, welcomed into the arms of a Muslim family, the beaming face of Ally’s mother as she watches us enjoy her cooking and as she encourages us to eat more and more, the giggling of Ally’s brothers and sisters as they watch Happy stuff her face, the calming peace after the meal as we all sit with full stomachs loving across culture and religion.

This is beautiful. This is love. This is what Jesus is all about. 

I wish America could see this. I wish they would show this on the news.

I serve a God that transcends religion. I serve a God that is love. Love is not limited to Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or Hinduism.

Love is Love, and I just want to be in the middle of it.

Thank you Jesus for Ramadan.