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Imagine you're a mother living and working in another country than your own. Suddenly, your husband becomes addicted to drugs, derailing your marriage into a divorce. Because of your faith in Jesus, you're arrested and even deported, not allowed to take your children with you. Your whole world falls apart.
This isn't just a thought exercise. This is exactly what happened to Mariam*, a Christian woman in the Middle East. We can't tell you which country she lives in (or her real name) because she could still be in danger for her faith. She still cannot be with her children because she decided to turn away from Islam and follow Jesus. Mariam has been through so much because of her faith. And yet, her faith is what she continues to lean on. Here is her painful and powerful story.
A stable life, a stable family
"Pray that I will be reunited with my children again, and that we can lead a normal Christian life without fear or persecution."
Mariam*, Middle Eastern believer
Open Doors partners recently visited Mariam at her home to listen to her story. It takes five minutes of walking through a very crowded bazaar to get to the building where Mariam lives. When we meet here, there is a sort of warmth and light radiating from her face. It seems impossible that she's so joyful, knowing what Mariam has gone through.
Her apartment is very small, yet cozy; upon entering, you first see a small sitting area and kitchen. She also has one small bedroom. She doesn't have much furniture, but it is a very homey place. She immediately starts making tea and offers some sweets she made. Like most Middle Eastern people, Mariam is incredibly welcoming and hospitable.
Mariam is in her mid-40s, and has a friendly face and curly hair. The fatigue shows, but she smiles as she tells her story.
She was born into a Muslim family, and she and her family were always devout Muslims. "We had a good and happy life in the city we were living in," Mariam remembers. The place they lived wasn't their home country—they had fled decades ago due to a security situation. But in their new nation, her father had found work and did well.
Mariam married when she was still a teenager—a common practice where she lived. She and her husband had four children and a good life. "Everything was going well for us," she says. "My husband was working, and I was busy raising our children. I was happy."
Even after her parents died, her family's life was fairly stable. They lived near her in-laws, and everything seemed to go well for several years.
And then, her husband started watching Christian TV shows. She asked him about it, and he assured her that he was "just curious."
"Slowly I noticed my husband change," she says, "and he got more into Christianity."
Eventually, Mariam's husband became a Christian. But not surprisingly, he couldn't find a church where he could be baptized. In the Middle Eastern region where they live, most of the official churches don't want to baptize converts because they fear the consequences. In many Middle Eastern countries, conversion is often illegal. Mariam had no idea the man she married had converted.
A couple of months after his conversion, her husband confessed to her that he had become a Christian. "I was shocked and for a minute just sat there. I did not know what to say or how to react," she remembers. She told him that she wanted a divorced, that she couldn't live with him anymore. "He said he would do whatever I asked," she says.
Mariam took her children and went to her uncle's house. She didn't tell him what happened, only that she wanted a divorce. "I cannot live with him anymore," she told her uncle.
But God wasn't done with Mariam.
"One day out of the blue, after several weeks staying at my uncle's, I had this inexplicable feeling in my heart that I should go back home," she says. "My uncle was surprised but did not stop me, so I returned with my kids." She started asking her husband about Christianity and what made him choose to convert, so he started telling her about Christ and then suggested some TV shows she could watch. She started to learn more.
"Everything I saw was new and surprising for me," Mariam says. "I was raised as a Muslim, and Christianity was completely different; it was very difficult and confusing for me in the beginning. I asked [my husband] about how prayer is done and how to fast. I still prayed in the Muslim way because this is the only way I knew.
"One sunny day while I was putting down my youngest (who wasn't talking yet) for a nap, to my great surprise, she started shouting 'Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.' This was a turning point for me," Mariam continues with tears in her eyes. "Ever since that moment, I decided to give my life to Jesus completely, and it has been more than a dozen years since then and I have not regretted it."
Mariam's family went to a local church, and they were active members. Everything was good again.
Sadly, it wouldn't last.
The years passed, and Mariam started noticing another change in her husband. But this time, it wasn't because he was watching television. He had started going out alone—and had begun using drugs.
The area they lived in was a completely Muslim neighborhood. When the neighbors found out about her family's conversion from Islam, they spewed insults and levied threats. The situation became so dangerous for Mariam's family that they had to move. Their pastor found them another place closer to the church. Even in their new home, Mariam's husband's addiction worsened and, sadly, their marriage ended in a divorce. Mariam took the children and moved into an apartment.
In the Middle East, women who live on their own without a husband or male to protect them are often extra vulnerable. Mariam was no exception.
Fortunately, she could lean on her church community. "The pastor was very kind to me and offered me a job at the church cafeteria; it was a very hard time for me, but I had the joy of Christ in my heart," she recalls. "Although my husband and I were separated, he would still visit and check on me and the kids. I spent almost all my time in service of the church, and my children with me—after school, they would immediately come to the church."
Also with the church's help, Mariam spent more time studying the Bible and began ministering to other women who were also converts from Islam. Many of them were very young; she often felt like she was their mother. Some had run away after their families had threatened to kill them. They had no jobs and no other place to go.
Mariam started helping the women rent apartments in her same building; the landlord didn't know she was a Christian. She only brought women she knew to the apartment and made sure she was comfortable with the risk of helping them get housing.
The risk was very real. "One day, we got a very big scare," she says. "One of my close friends from church called me and said that the police had come to my house and destroyed it, searching for me and my kids."
Mariam was terrified the police would come directly for her. She gathered her children around her and told them that if anyone asked them, they were to say they had not converted and were not Christians.
"We hugged each other and prayed until morning; we were living in enormous fear," she says. "Out of fear, everyone from the church cut contact with me after this." Later, they found out that the government was asking about another woman, not her. And for a while, all was normal again.
One day, one of the women Mariam worked with in the church brought a recently converted girl to the apartment Mariam had helped her rent—despite Mariam's rule about not bringing anyone to the building she didn't know.
"I was shocked," Mariam says. "I met the girl, and I wasn't comfortable with her being there because she was the daughter of well-known people in that [area]. I knew they would look for her and did not want to put the others at risk. For that reason, I decided to let her live with us in our own apartment."
Later, the police came to Mariam's apartment looking for the girl. They asked for Mariam's passport and identification but did not do anything to Mariam that day—they just took the girl back to her parents.
"I realized that the apartment had become a danger for me and my children," she says, "so I decided to move somewhere else and also not go to church for a while."
When she did return, she found out the pastor who always helped her had taken his family and fled the country without telling her. She felt alone and helpless. "But I felt God's presence with me every step of the way," she adds tearfully.
Eventually, Mariam's ex-husband also passed away. She had no one. Because of the incident with the girl in her apartment, all of her church friends had abandoned her. They were afraid the police would come to them, too.
"I had no one to turn to," she says. "I was alone with my children, with our future unknown and no one but God on our side."
The day Mariam had always feared finally happened. The police came to her door. They had found out about her conversion. In the house, they interrogated her. Then they searched the house and found her Bibles... and arrested her.
"I just asked for a minute to say goodbye to my children and talk to them so they would not be scared," she says, crying at the memory. "I gave them a hug and told them not to fear and keep their faith and that everything would be alright."
Mariam was jailed and questioned about her life and conversion. "I did not lie to them," she says. "I was not afraid, although I should be. I have experienced all kinds of psychological and physical torture along with harassment. But I could feel God strengthening me and talking through me."
Her children brought a lawyer and went to see her. "I was able to see and speak with them for a brief moment that day," she says.
Then she was taken to another prison. "We were 55 women in one tiny cell, and the women were all criminals," she recalls. "It was some of the hardest days of my life. I was literally going through hell, but through it all God was faithful and He was always with me."
Even in prison, Mariam never stopped believing. She ministered to the women who were with her. After four days in that prison, she was told that they would expel her from the country and return her to her native country—a place she hadn't lived in decades. "It came as a shock to me—all I could think about was my children," she says. "I somehow had to let them know. I had to take them with me, to protect them!"
The day she was deported, Mariam's children came to see her. But she was already in the police car and only saw them from afar. When they saw her, they ran to the car, passing the armed guards. "I asked the police guard if I could just step out and hug my kids goodbye—he agreed," she remembers. The memory is clearly painful—she can barely speak through her tears. "I gave them one final hug and told them that I would find a way back to them, and that they should keep having faith. When the car was leaving, I saw my kids running after the car screaming, 'Mom, Mom.' It broke my heart."
The kids were not allowed to travel without an adult, so they had no way to join their mother in the other country.
When Mariam returned to her native country, she reluctantly called relatives and lived with them. But her conversion was known there, too. "They put me under house arrest," Mariam says. "They beat me and humiliated me because of my conversion."
Eventually, she fled from their home to another area where no one knew her. To this day, Mariam has not seen her children face to face. One time, she says, everything was arranged for her to visit them, "but at the last minute, the authorities refused."
"I was everything to my kids, their only family," she says. "Their life is very difficult now; the oldest children work. They all live together. They got very sick when I left; they were in shock, and they all still suffer from mental health issues and PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder)."
Mariam now has a small clothing shop, and she is doing all she can to bring her children back to her.
Although she misses her children, she continues her walk with the Lord. She is very active in her church and is part of a women's group. She's also a Sunday school teacher. Both programs are supported by Open Doors through our local partner. She supports herself with the money she makes from her small business.
Mariam asks you to pray with her. "Please pray for me," she says. "Pray that I will be reunited with my children again, and that we can lead a normal Christian life without fear or persecution."
When our time with Mariam was over, she insisted on escorting us outside to the car—just like a mother would do for her children. As she said goodbye, she gave hugs and then she turned back and headed to work, ready to face another day with the world on her shoulders... choosing to surrender it all to God.
*Name changed for security reasons