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"Do you understand the charge against you?"

I struggled to concentrate on the question. The oppressively hot meeting room was packed with university officials dragging heavily on clove cigarettes and snorting out bluish clouds of smoke like restless dragons sizing up their prey. With beads of sweat dotting my forehead, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat trying to quell a threatening wave of nausea.

The rector (president) of the university repeated his question impatiently.

"Do you understand the charge against you?"

"Yes, I do. But I said and did nothing to intentionally offend the tenets of Islam." I spoke slowly, wanting to pronounce each word correctly in the local dialect.

"You are not permitted to defend yourself," shouted one of the university deans. "You are here to understand why it is you are facing ten years in prison and to learn what happens to infidels who spread lies about religion among idealistic students."

Leaning forward in his chair to deliver his vitriolic remarks, the dean did little to hide his hatred for myself and the other two Christians who taught in the predominantly Muslim university in Asia. There was little doubt in my mind that he was the one who had gone to the Islamic leadership of the city and filed the charges against us.

Ten years in a foreign prison. The very real possibility of that struck me with a force that made it difficult to breathe. I felt as if the room was closing in on me and at any moment I might faint.

Why was this happening? I had left a successful career in the United States as a police officer to follow God into full-time missions, and where do I find myself? Facing prison. The irony of the situation pained me.

"Jesus died for us," she shouted to a classroom filled with students just prior to one of my lectures. And when questioned by the accusing dean as to why she believed the lies Christians had told her, she answered confidently, "I believe them because I know they really care about me. Do you care about me?"

Was Herni's acceptance of Christ worth ten years in prison? Yes, of course. But as I stared into the angry eyes of our accuser, I could not help but feel a deep sense of helplessness and despair, and a gripping fear I had never experienced in my years on the police force.

"Give me the grace, Lord," I whispered, "to go through whatever you've planned, and know that it is for my good."

The rector cleared his throat to bring silence, then asked, "Does anyone wish to speak in defense of the accused?"

Surveying the people in the room, I saw many whom I had grown to love and respect over the two years I had worked in the university. Several had come secretly to my house at night, asking questions about the Bible and the concept of a personal relationship with God. Our conversations had been many and intimate, but their avoidance of my eyes told me they would not, could not, speak in my defense.

Although they knew I would never do anything to publicly disparage their beliefs, they could not associate themselves with me now for fear of losing their careers and even their lives. As much as I could, I offered each one a weak smile, acknowledging our friendship and releasing them from any pressure to speak on my behalf.

The rector looked forlorn. He was a kindhearted man and I knew the proceeding was not of his doing.

"Well then, if no one wishes to speak, I … "

"May I be permitted to say something?"

An audible gasp escaped from several in the room and the rector was quick to yield the floor to the man who had made the request. I recognized the speaker as the newly appointed dean of the teacher training division of the university. He hadn't the tenure to assume the position of dean, but the death of the former dean in an automobile accident the week prior to the hearing brought about his sudden promotion and presence in the room.

"As most of you know, I have just completed my Ph.D. from a university in the United States and am now a dean." The man spoke with perfect English when announcing his laudable accomplishment, in an effort I surmised, to establish his right to refute the accusing dean. The florid cheeks of the other proved he had been effective.

"When I arrived in the United States as a new student, I was accompanied by my wife and daughter. As you can guess, I was terrified and my English was not very good. I was afraid to ask anyone a question, so my family and I simply sat in our student housing, convinced I would not pass the program and would return here a failure."

A visible shudder passed through the room as all those in the room imagined the humiliation of receiving the rare opportunity to study abroad and then not succeeding.

"Then one evening, two young men knocked on my door. Without even waiting for me to speak, they told me they understood how difficult it was coming from another country and not understanding the culture and language. They said they would take me around campus and show my wife where to shop and help me in any way they could. And they did. Those two men saved my career, and they didn't even know who I was."

"And then," he continued after a brief pause, "you know what they did? They invited me to a Bible study. They were Christians. And I went to the study with them every Wednesday night for three years."

"Now, isn't it the dream of every professor and dean in this room to attend and obtain a graduate degree from a foreign university? Isn't that your dream, Dean Rahman?"

The speaker stared directly at the accusing dean and waited for an answer.

"Yes," Rahman answered, his voice strained and quivering at suddenly finding himself on trial.

"And who will help you when and if you ever get there?"

He waited for an answer.

"I don't know … I … " Rahman struggled to match the new dean's English, but the words eluded him.

"I'll tell you who will help you. People, Christian people, like this." He pointed a slender finger in my direction and when our eyes met, I detected the slightest hint of a smile.

Turning back to Dean Rahman he asked, "What does it tell them about our faith, if we put them in jail when they're here?"

Bowing politely to the rector, the speaker retook his seat.

The silence in the room was deafening. The rector, seemingly buoyed by the confidence of his new dean, suggested that the whole matter be dropped as a gesture of good will between cultures and no one, especially Dean Rahman, appeared willing to disagree. The meeting was adjourned.

There are moments in life, when God reminds us that we are not alone wandering aimlessly through a perilous life. We are in fact, children of the King, and his ability to care for us shouldn't surprise us, and yet for me at that moment, it did.

When I think of those two college students, two people I will never know this side of glory, I am reminded that no act of obedience to God is ever trivial. My life was protected because those two young men weren't too tired or too busy to knock on the door of a needy Muslim neighbor, and share the love of Christ.

One day, standing around God's throne together, I hope I can thank them face to face.

Interested in befriending a student from another country? Contact International Students, Incorporated (ISI) in Colorado Springs at 1-800-474-8326 or visit www.isionline.org. ISI's mission is to see international students befriended, led to Christ, and discipled. Other organizations like InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, Campus Crusade for Christ, and The Navigators, as well as denominational groups, also reach out to internationals on campus.

A Christian Reader original article.

Copyright © 2000 by the author or Christianity Today International/Today's Christian magazine (formerly Christian Reader).
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