The Pastor's Wife Sharon Hamblen
She Came to the Masjid and Stayed! I was exhausted after singing for over an hour after a revival service one night, and my husband was going over the fine points of his sermon at the dinner table.  Then I did it... something that had gotten me into trouble, time and time again, over the last few months.  I asked a question.  Unable to provide an answer, my husband flew into an angry tirade.  I left the dinner table and went outside to be alone, talk to God, and cry.

What was wrong with me?  I was the pastor's wife, for goodness sake!  I was not supposed to have all these doubts and questions...  I was doing all the right things, like reading the Bible and praying.  What was wrong with me?  I talked to God and told Him I didn't know Him at all... but I wanted to.  I asked Him to show me the truth, no matter what I had to lose to get it.  Lightning didn't strike ad God didn't send an angel...  He sent Tarek.

Things had gotten so bad at home with all my doubts and questions that I was going into Christian chat rooms to vent.  The pastor's wife must not confide in anyone at church!  Gossip and troubles start that way.  One day shortly after my talk with God, I met Tarek, the first Muslim I had ever known.  I had to lead him to Jesus!  I sent my objections to Islam; he responded with facts.  It was an unnerving experience, because he seemed to sense my discontent with Christianity.  He sent studies concerning the fallacies in the Bible.  I cringed, as I had already studied many - but there were MORE?  I showed the fallacies to my husband and, when he responded with anger, went to the church's other leadership.  People started talking.  All I wanted was some answers!

This escalated for some months.  Problems at home erupted.  I had no peace.  I had to find God!  Tarek continued sending studies, and I kept objecting to Islam and Christianity!  Something was starting to make sense with Islam though.  At home, my search was causing fury from my family.  I was having trouble even staying in the pew.  Many times I would just get up and walk out right in the middle of the sermon.  I couldn't sit there and listen to what I knew were fallacies.  What was wrong with me?

Tarek challenged me to read the Qur'an.  Sounds easy, right?  Wrong.  I went to the library and their copy was unavailable.  No bookstore in the area had it, and the nearest mosque was ISNA headquarters in Plainfield, IN.  Christians I knew told me that snipers were on the roof there, and they would shoot if you approached the building!  I chanced it.  There I met Habibe Ali, the secretary general's executive secretary, who was sweet to me and gave me the long-awaited Qur'an and other books and pamphlets.

My husband found my pamphlets and some studies that Tarek had sent me on the couch.  He threw them in the fire, yelling that I had brought Satan into the home.  He tore up the house looking for my Qur'an, saying when he found it he would roast it either in the oven or in the fire.  One night after an outburst, I asked him to leave and, surprisingly, he did.  My marriage was over, my family was upset, the church was in an uproar, and rumors were flying that I had become a Muslim.  It was tough.

Finally, I had researched all my questions and realized that Islam was the answer for which I was looking.  I took my shahadah one night and prayed my first prayer: Fajr.  In that moment with my head on the floor, everything I had been looking for with God came to me.  It was a golden moment I can't even describe.  For those who say that Islam and Christianity are closely related, all I can say is I don't see how two things can be so diametrically opposed to each other!

One day Tarek showed me the text that women are supposed to cover.  So I started wearing the scarf.  Everywhere.  My family said I had gone crazy and had accepted a religion geared for men.  I replied that if it were geared for men, women would undress instead of cover up!  After September 11th, wearing the scarf put me further in the line of fire.  I have been yelled at, told to leave the country and "go home" (hmm... I am white and was born in Indiana!)  Outside a gas station, three men yelled that this is THEIR country.  At a bank, a man in line told me that "there ain't gonna be no Moslems here."

I have had to move and, at the same time, deal with my family.  I am the only Muslim right now in a town known for its rednecks.  When I go into a store, I am stared at from the moment I enter until I leave.  In fact, my new landlord was talking about what a great town this is and he said he could prove it to me.  When I asked how, he said: "Well look, that I would rent to someone like you."  Before taking my shahadah, I attended the masjid at ISNA headquarters for Friday prayer and, well, have been in the mosque ever since.  Sometimes I attend prayer in the campus mosque in Bloomington, IN and sometimes in Indianapolis.  There were no snipers and no pressure-only answers.  My old life?  I wouldn't go back to it for anything.  I am staying (and moving forward, insha'Allah).