Hassan (former Muslim)
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Testimony of Leaving Islam
I was born in Guyana, South America. My childhood was filled with many disappointments. When I was just five years of age, my parents, who were both Muslim, separated. I was raised by my mother and her family. During visits to my father’s home, an uncle whom I trusted, befriended me, then sexually abused me. When I was nine years old, my brother and I moved to Toronto, Canada. I was home-schooled for four years by a dear Uncle and Aunt. We were then enrolled into Junior High in Toronto. That was when the problems began with racism. A bitterness developed that led to retaliation. I joined a street gang in Toronto, and became involved in criminal activities. Due to gang activities and associations, I was in and out of court and jail for the next five years. At the age of seventeen I had already reached the lowest point of my life. I had destroyed everything of value in my life; my mother’s hopes, and my family’s confidence in me.
I made bad choice after bad choice. Alcohol, bad associations, crude behaviour and outbursts caused me to break down every surrounding wall of love and affection. I destroyed my reputation, lost my chance to graduate from High School, and on several occasions, felt I had no reason to continue living. While on probation, I fled to the United States, and stayed with my Uncle in New York. He was an Assemblies of God Pastor. While in his home, he constantly witnessed to me and introduced Jesus Christ as Saviour. He asked me if I wanted to accept Christ as my Saviour. I said, “No, I'm a Muslim. Jesus is just a prophet.” One day my Aunt asked me If I would listen to a tape entitled “A Divine Revelation of Hell.” I agreed and listened. I wasn’t moved by it at the time. I just listened to the tape to appease my Aunt. I soon decided to go back to Toronto. I could not take anymore of that Christian talk about peace, love and joy. My Uncle drove me to meet the person who would drive me back to Toronto. Before I left his vehicle, he asked me again, “Do you want to accept Christ?” “No way” I replied. “I'm a Muslim, I don’t need Jesus. I have a life to live.” With that he said, “I've just about given up on you.
You'll never amount to anything with this type of life - style. Let's pray and let you go on your way.” While he prayed, I bowed my head and closed my eyes out of respect to him. During his prayer a vision appeared to me, as clear as day and almost touchable. I could see myself in a spiral, going downwards from prison to prison. At the bottom was a pit with bars and darkness. It was damp, cold, and there was only enough space for me to stand upright on my knees. I saw myself crying out, “Whoever you are out there, help me!” Suddenly a large bright hand reached down and lifted me out through the bars. The very moment the hand touched me I knew it was the hand of Jesus. I had never felt such a touch of mercy and love before. At that moment my uncle stopped and said, “The Holy Spirit has led me to ask you one more time, do you want to receive Jesus as your Saviour?” Looking up at him with tears running down my face, I said, “Yes!” Immediately peace began to fill my heart, and I was instantaneously assured of my salvation.
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