I once shouted, “Jesus can do nothing! Jesus is nothing!” full of conviction. My arranged marriage was a complete failure. My husband left me trapped in his parents’ home while he chased his business dreams and another woman in Canada, and my mom was in pitiful shape after she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. As a young, energetic female growing up in the Middle East, I had done everything right in the eyes of a society built on Allah. How could I expect to get to heaven?

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I thought my mother had lost all sense when I realized she was tuning in to a Christian satellite television program. She went as far as calling the pastor to ask him questions and seek whatever misguided advice he would give. Eventually, she repented to God and said the prayer of salvation. My spirit was defeated when I recognized my mom would be going to hell; apostasy is punishable by death according to Islamic Law. Her talk was incessant as she pleaded with me to talk with the pastor. Reluctantly, I picked up the phone.

“I’m going to kill myself, and your Jesus cannot do anything for me,” I said. We argued for at least half an hour before he clearly gave up.

“You said it yourself, Allah has done nothing for you. Give Jesus just one chance,” he said. “You can always kill yourself next week.”

Early the next morning, I woke up to an alarming sight—mother was walking! Immediately I told her we needed to visit the hospital because something was clearly wrong. After checking the results of the blood work and the MRI, the doctors had one answer.

“This is a miracle. There is no MS in her body,” they said. “What Imam do you pray to?”

“It wasn’t an Imam,” I said. “It was Jesus.”