The Question That Changed Me

So, like I said, I'm going to start posting stories and things I learned during the trip. I was going to try to start at the beginning and work through the summer in order, but then I changed my mind. I'm just gonna write about whatever stories are most pressing at the moment. Therefore, I'm going to start about 4 weeks into the trip. At this point, we had already spent 2 weeks training and ministering in Baguio City (Philippines), 4 days at an orphanage in Bataan (Philippines), a few days resting and transitioning into Surabaya (Indonesia), and almost a week partnering with a church hosting a youth camp in Borneo (Indonesia).
As week 5 began, we knew we were about to experience the hardest part of our trip. We were headed to the Pesantren. A Pesantren is an Islamic boarding school in Indonesia. The particular Pesantren we visited is a big deal in Indonesia. It's actually it's own city. They house the students in dormitories and they get to choose which of several schools to attend on the campus of the Pesantren. The older students learn their occupation and sometimes even "apprentice" right there in the Pesantren. The Pesantren is self-sustaining so they have many businesses. For instance, they pride themselves over their drinking-water production. The man in charge of the Pesantren is a direct descendant of one of the Islamic apostles who brought Islam to Indonesia. He's very influential and highly respected in the country. He's also well-known and frequently visited by foreign dignitaries, including President Obama.
As you can see, we were not only going to a place where everyone is very different than us, we were also going to a place of importance and prestige - not just anyone could walk into the Pesantren to visit. I was beyond nervous. There are so many feelings and emotions and events I could write about just from those few short days, but that would require more time than any of us have. Eventually, I'll tell more of them, but for now I want to start with the few seconds that were so defining they separated one chapter of my life from another.
It was the day after we arrived at the Pesantren. We had been walking from school to school all morning introducing ourselves to principles and other school officials, asking questions about their schools, and attempting to answer questions about American education and learning English. It was hot. Most of us weren't really sure how to answer their questions or what we should be asking. We were worried about unintentionally offending them. I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable in my life. We had been doing this for a few hours and it was only around 9am when we returned to a school we had visited earlier that morning. We were told there was a new student orientation going on and they wanted us to talk to them.
They walked us into a room and as we turned around, we realized we were on a stage with all these eager faces starring back at us. My mind began to race. "What are we going to say? What are we going to do? We weren't prepared for this?" Looking back, I realized that even though my mind was racing, this was the first moment since we arrived at the Pesantren that I wasn't nervous - at all. I don't really remember how we started. I'm sure we introduced ourselves. We may have sang a song or done an activity. It all blends together after awhile. What I do remember, is the students started asking questions. Somehow, I ended up with the mic. I answered several questions in a row. Some that were directed specifically to me and some that were meant for anyone in the group. It wasn't hard. Things were going smooth.
Then, one young man midway into the crowd stood up. He asked if I was Islamic, and if not, what religion I was a part of. Again, thoughts started racing through my head: "What do I say? How do I answer this? What if they don't like my answer? Can I even be honest here? Am I going to get in trouble? What if I say the wrong thing?" I'm not sure how I was able to think all that and more so fast, but I did. As my thoughts were still racing, I took a deep breath, lifted the mic to my face, and said "No, I am a Christian." The room was immediately silent. The students stopped fidgeting, whoever was presenting next behind us stopped preparing, everyone was looking at me. It was only for a second, maybe two, but it felt like eternity. All of a sudden, someone started to move behind me. I knew there were officials standing back there and my heart started beating faster. He walked to the side of the stage and stopped. The same young man in the crowd asked another question: "Do you want to become Muslim?" I took another deep breath and said "We are here because we want to learn what Islam is all about and see how you do things here." As I completed my sentence, I could feel the tension drain out of the room.
Someone asked another question. I don't remember what it was or who answered it. In fact, I really don't remember much of what we said the remainder of our time there or any of the several other times we ended up in front of a crowd of Muslim students. What I do remember, is feeling proud about my faith. Not in a "I'm better than you way" but in a "I know Who my God is and I'm not going to deny it" kind of way. Often times, we think about how we would react in a particular situation, but we don't really know what we would do unless it actually happened. This was one of those "it actually happened" moments for me and it changed me. The faith I had before that moment cannot compare to the faith I had after that moment. I thought I was sure about my relationship with Christ before that moment (and I was), but the certainty I have now is incomparable. I had no idea God would use a 15-year-old Islamic boy to strengthen my faith when I needed it most.