There was a long pause.
Then David said, “Well, Dr. Birjandi, I respect you a great deal. I really do. I disagree with you in this case, but I have the utmost respect for you, even love for you because of how much you have cared for my soul.”
“I want what is best for you, my son.”
“I know, and that’s why I need to tell you something.”
“What is that?”
“Well, it’s true that for most of my life, I refused to even think much about my soul, much less take care of it. But I want you to know, those days are gone.”
“What do you mean?” Birjandi asked. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying the main reason I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the past few days is not because of the war,” David explained. “The main reason is because the other night I got on my knees and repented of my sins and asked Jesus to save me.”
At that, Birjandi’s tone changed entirely. He laughed with evident joy, so loudly that David wondered what the man’s students must be thinking of this strange phone call they were probably overhearing.
“That is the best news I have heard in a long time, my friend. I’m so happy for you! Everything will be okay for you now. No matter what happens, nothing can separate you from the love of Christ! Bless you, my young friend! Now please, tell me everything. Tell me how it happened.”
And David did, grateful for Birjandi’s joy and excitement at his decision but hoping in the end he could still persuade his friend to say yes and arrange a meeting with the Mahdi.
It didn’t happen.
20
Hanna Nazeer was only twelve years old, but he had been looking forward to this moment since the age of seven. He could still remember the cold winter night five years before when he had knelt beside his bed with his mother and father and prayed to receive Jesus Christ as his Savior and Lord.
Hanna was not from a Muslim background. His parents were Orthodox Christians, as were all four of his grandparents before them, and all eight of his great-grandparents before them, and so forth going back at least two centuries. Still, Hanna insisted to his family and friends that he had not placed his faith in Christ simply because of his Christian heritage but rather because he truly believed. And now, to demonstrate that faith, he wanted to be baptized, just like the Lord Jesus was, just like Saint Paul was — indeed, perhaps in the very place where Saint Paul was baptized.
Hanna and his parents and his two younger sisters walked briskly through Bab Sharqi, the Eastern Gate, and soon arrived at the Chapel of Saint Ananias at the end of Straight Street in the Old City. They were a few minutes early, but there was already a small crowd. Amazed as he counted at least sixty people who had come for the ceremony, Hanna held his father’s big, calloused hand with his own left hand and held one of his sister’s small, smooth, dainty hands with his right as they squeezed through the mass of bodies to find the priest making final preparations at the front of the cavern-like stone sanctuary.
“Ah, finally, you are here,” exclaimed the priest. “Welcome, welcome. You have attracted a bit of attention here, Brother Hanna, haven’t you?”
Feeling shy amid all the attention and a bit warm and even claustrophobic with so many people crammed into so small a space, Hanna smiled awkwardly and looked down at the freshly swept stone floor. He hadn’t anticipated any of this. He’d never really thought about what would happen or how. All he knew was that he wanted to be baptized, and where better than the church built directly over the ancient home where Ananias was used by God to heal Saint Paul from the blindness he’d received upon seeing Jesus on the road to Damascus — the same house where Ananias had befriended and encouraged the Pharisee-turned-persecutor who would go on to be the greatest of the apostles?
“Do you realize, my friend, that you have now been adopted into God’s family?” Birjandi asked.
“Yes — it’s amazing,” David replied.
Birjandi hoped his young friend’s disappointment over his own lack of cooperation on intelligence matters would be mitigated by his enthusiasm over David’s decision to receive Christ. “But do you truly realize that you have been adopted by God himself?” Birjandi pressed. “That all your sins have been forgiven? Do you realize this?”
“I’m trying to, Dr. Birjandi,” David replied. “It’s still all so new to me.”
“I will pray for you, my son,” Birjandi said. “That’s all I can do for you now. I wish it were more. But this is my pledge — to pray without ceasing for you at this critical hour.”
David thanked him, and then the line went dead.
“That was a marvelous phone call!” Birjandi told the young men when he had hung up the satellite phone. “A dear friend has given his life to Christ.”
“Yes, we gathered as much,” Ali replied, smiling. “That’s so exciting, and we want to hear all the details. But first, we’re wondering: why was he trying to get you to go see the Mahdi?”
“That I cannot say, my friends,” Birjandi demurred.
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid that’s just between him and me.”
“But who is this friend, and what’s his interest in your going to see the Mahdi?” Ali asked. “Given your side of the conversation, he must have been quite adamant.”
“That is not for you to know,” Birjandi replied. “I don’t want you to speculate, and I would ask you not to repeat to anyone what you’ve just heard.”
Birjandi realized his cryptic answers were only making his disciples more curious, so he tried to get the conversation back on track. “Let us continue our study of the prophecies,” he said. “Open your Bibles to the book of Revelation. There is something I want to show you.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Ibrahim said. “I respect you enormously, Dr. Birjandi. We both do. You know that. And we respect your privacy in certain matters, to be sure. So we won’t ask you any more about this friend who certainly seems to be working with — or for — a foreign government. A government that might be able to bring down the Mahdi and this evil regime that is leading our country to destruction. A government that perhaps the Lord wants to prophetically use to set into motion the liberation of the Persian people. Nevertheless, we won’t ask you about him, as incredibly eager as we are to understand how he might be able to help us. But still, I need you to clarify what you told this friend about meeting with the Twelfth Imam. You said he is a false messiah, correct?”
“Yes.”
“But the Mahdi is a man, a human being, flesh and blood, correct?”
“Yes, of course.”
“He’s not God.”
“No.”
“He’s a person, like you and me?”
“I suppose. In a manner of speaking. Why?”
“If you have access to him, shouldn’t you try to share the gospel with him? Shouldn’t you try to save him?”
“I cannot save anyone, my son. Only God can do that.”
“Yes, of course, but you know what I mean. Isn’t Muhammad Ibn Hasan Ibn Ali a soul worth sharing the Good News of Christ’s love and mercy and forgiveness with?”