This year Easter fell during the month of Ramadan, and I was reminded of my connection to both of those faith traditions.
I grew up Baptist. I was genuine in my faith but didn’t proselytize. I let my light shine through the way I lived my life: kind words and deeds, no judgment, tithing, etc. Still, I became known as “Mother Teresa” because of my goody-goody behavior. (And also, perhaps, from my occasional inclination to boss around my siblings.) I didn’t mind it. In fact, during late adolescence when sweaty, covetous palms made it harder to hold onto my sainthood, I appreciated the reminder of that moniker even more.
In college, I had what was probably a typical experience: my world expanded. I learned and questioned, came into my own, examined things I’d taken for granted, and changed religions. I became Muslim. I had some mild militant tendencies to begin with, but I didn’t join the Nation of Islam. I took my shahada (declaration of faith) in April of 2003 and became a Muslim.
Islam is a fully integrated religion. When thoroughly practiced, it can affect every aspect of your life. I didn’t know all that. I just knew that one of my best friends in college was a Muslim and that all the sisters I met in the Muslim Student Association were on point. (The brothers were aight, too, I guess). I just knew that the adhan (the call to prayer) sounded so beautiful, and Jumu’ah (Friday) prayer made me feel warm and connected. I just knew the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), seemed like a really relatable, stand-up guy, and that Jesus (peace be upon him) got mad love in the Qur’an.
As a curious Christian, I found comfort in all of it. After all, I didn’t come to Islam because I was fleeing the church. On the contrary, I loved my church home. I still visit sometimes when I’m in town. But one Sunday while on summer break from college, I went to morning service like usual, and something had changed.
After the sermon and before the benediction, altar call was a time to entreat God, individually and collectively. The small, devoted congregation of my tight-knit, storefront church stood in an oblong circle holding hands. Praying for our church family, the community, the sick and shut-in —I was with all of it…until the end. “In Jesus name we pray,” said the pastor, “Amen.” But I wasn’t sure. The Qur’an said that God needs no intercessor. The Qur’an said that Jesus, (peace be upon him) was surely a beloved prophet but he was still a man. The Qur’an said never to assign partners to God. The congregation repeated after our pastor, “Amen.” But I kept quiet.
At the end of the summer, I returned to school in limbo. I no longer felt connected to my Christian tradition, but I wasn’t ready to commit to a new faith. What if I was just intrigued by the newness of it—the community and the narrative(s) and the fact that my boyfriend was on a similar path? (No, there are no boyfriends or girlfriends in Islam. Clearly, I had a long way to go.) Some people get peer-pressured into drinking or recreational drugs. I was not about to become Muslim because my friends were doing it.
It was a rough few months. I went about my days regularly, but internally I was in shambles. I was sad to know that in my heart I was no longer Christian. I had been in the youth choir, a junior usher, a Bible study scholar (I use “scholar” loosely, but still), even more than that—I’d felt close to God. I felt like when I prayed, when I called on God, I got through. How would I pray to God now? If I wasn’t Christian and I wasn’t Muslim, where would my prayers go? How would my call be directed? I didn’t know it then, but I was moving away from God and toward God at the same time. (I mean, God is omnipresent, so that tracks.)
I was preoccupied with achievement and expectation. If I was going to be a Muslim, I wanted to do it perfectly. I wanted to be well versed and pious and all these wonderful qualities. I wanted to be Muslim enough to be Muslim, but I couldn’t wait. Thoughts of death started creeping in. What if I die in this liminal space between faiths? I thought, what will happen to my soul? What if God doubts my commitment and love because I couldn’t make up my mind?
So, one night while my roommate was out, I took my shahada. I stood alone in my dorm, fully covered, barefoot, and facing east with a pamphlet in my hand about how to make Salat (prayer). I read the English in my head and spoke the phonetic Arabic aloud. The following Friday, I went to Jumu’ah prayer with the sisters and said the shahada again—this time with an audience. They gave me a certificate and everything.
Fast forward to today: I do not [yet] wear hijab and my Arabic is rudimentary (and that’s being generous), but I know that God is everywhere including the liminal space of indecision. I still talk to God regularly—sometimes five times or more a day. InshaAllah, my calls are getting through.
Have you come to a crossroads in your life, and how did you navigate making a big change?
Leave a Comment
Khalilah says
Alhumdulilah, what a wonderful journey. Thanks so much for publishing this story
Teresa Leggard says
Thank you for reading Khalilah!
Khadijah Khuwaylid says
This person’s journey is very close to mine. I did not flee Christianity, rather GOD/Allah coaxed me toward the next step after. I have been Muslim for 46 years and never regretted my decision. I encourage her to pray that ALLAH guides and strengthens her to accept all HIS commands and to manifest her faith in all ways. I pray that she will be an example for others to follow to the path of Islam. 🙏🏼♥️🌺🤲🏼
Teresa Leggard says
Ameen.
Thank you, Khadijah.
GwenDee says
Wonderful post of your journey.
Teresa Leggard says
Thank you for reading, GwenDee!
Debra Nasser says
Every single thing about this-every single line is me, my words. Except that it has been over 30 years since I took my shahadah and I have worn the hijaab ever since.
Teresa Leggard says
SubhaanAllah! Thank you for reading, Debra!
Felisicia Williams says
What a beautiful description of your journey! Thank you for sharing. I am a Christian by my religion, but I also embraced your view of God. He is everywhere and he is for everyone. We can go directly to Him. Peace & Blessings!
Teresa Leggard says
Thank you for reading, Felisica! Peace & Blessings!
Evalyne L Bryant Ward says
Thank you for sharing. God bless you on this journey. I have been at many crossroads in my life but it never involved changing my faith. I can’t imagine the internal conflicts this may have caused for you. My crossroads were bearable because of my faith. Again, thank you for sharing. Peace and grace unto you.
Teresa Leggard says
Thank you so much for reading, Evalyne!
Sayida Peprah-Wilson says
This is a powerful piece! My favorite line “but I know that God is everywhere including the liminal space of indecision…”. Yes yes, once we know this we can rest on the arms of God/Allah.
The path to deep connection, past “faith” alone is full with all of these nuances and contrasting/clarifying experiences. Thank you for such a transparent offering. I relate completely.