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Feeling Alive
By Riley Wilkinson
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| Photo: Riley Wilkinson |
For years I had wanted to leave the town I had grown up in and see the world. I wanted to meet new people, make a difference, and shake the world for God! I was given that opportunity last year.
In preparation, I spent the first half of last year in Kona, Hawaii doing outreach work with a mission group called YWAM (Youth With A Mission). During my time there I heard lots of speakers from all over the world who were on fire for God, and who have seen some crazy stuff happen—everything from the healing of hundreds of people to the starting of over 200 churches around the world.
After the first three months in Hawaii, my four team members and I headed abroad to spend some time doing our mission work—in Pakistan. It was an amazing experience!
When we arrived, we made our way up to a little village called Gilgit. Gilgit is in the same mountain range as K2 (the second highest mountain on earth), so we were completely surrounded by huge mountains that were absolutely breathtaking.
Our original plan was to spend two weeks in Gilgit working with the only church in town. Then we’d spend the remainder of our time in Afghanistan. But we ran into some major passport problems while trying to purchase tickets into Afghanistan from Islamabad, the capitol of Pakistan. We ended up getting stranded for almost another two weeks trying to figure out our passport situation. It was so crazy because almost every single night we would go to bed hearing the sound of gunfire. I didn’t think I’d get used to it, but by the third night I could sleep right through it.
The Encounter
One particular day that stands out in my mind is the day that everyone else in my team had something planned. Some were going shopping while others were going to work on the passport situation. I didn’t really want to do either, so I decided to take the opportunity to explore the city of Islamabad solo. So I put on my backpack and my bandana and headed into the unknown….
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| Photo: Riley Wilkinson |
I had walked for almost a mile when I came upon a local man butchering a goat. I had never seen a goat butchered before so I took a moment and watched. We didn’t speak each other’s language, but I found it interesting to watch something I’d never see while walking the streets of my town back home.
Then I kept walking, just kind of taking in what it was like to be in Pakistan. And as I was walking, a teenaged boy came out of his house and walked on the other side of the small dirt street. He was playing American rap music on his phone, and he kept looking over at me to see if I noticed that he was playing the music. I looked at him, smiled, and waved him over to my side. He willingly came and we started talking. It was a very interesting conversation mainly because he didn’t speak very much English, so there were a lot of hand motions involved.
After we had walked for a little while he looked at me and asked, “Are you in a gang in America?” Laughingly I responded, “Nope…. Wait. Wait. Are you in a gang?” He got very excited. “Yeah, we are called the *Talons!”
He pointed to some graffiti on a dirt wall and then pointed at himself. He proceeded to tell me how he and his gang would get in fights with other Pakistani gangs, and how many people he had fought. I started thinking to myself, “What have I gotten myself into here? God I’m trusting you with this…”
As w kept walking, we got into the subject of sports, and it turned out that his favorite sport is called “Snooker.” The game is similar to pool, but with a bigger table, smaller balls, and slightly different rules. He asked me if I would be interested in coming with him to go play. He said, “Yeah man, we can go to my club to play Snooker. That’s where the Talons play!”
And I kind of felt my heart skip a beat--and I started to pray even harder.
The Christian and the Talons
Before long we stopped at a little doorway that led up a narrow staircase into the clubroom. The moment I entered the room there were about 20 guys who all stood up at the same time. The room was silent as they stared at me. My heart was beating so fast and I thought to myself, “Jesus, I might be seeing you here really soon….” But they all rushed over to me and shook my hand and said “hello.”
They pushed me over to the Snooker table and five guys showed me how to play. As I was learning, one guy came up to me and offered me almost every drug known to man. I told him I wasn’t into that kind of stuff. Then another guy came over and offered me alcohol. This made me more nervous than the drug offer because I knew that if someone who says he’s Muslim offers you alcohol, you’re probably messing with the wrong crowd. Alcohol is forbidden among Muslims. Once again, I turned them down. Next, they offered me guns. And finally, they even offered me their sisters. At that point I was like, “Who in the world have you put me with, God?”
They didn’t speak much English but they knew the “f-bomb” better than almost any American that I’ve ever heard. They used it in every way possible. And although there were twenty of them and only one of me, I started to get really fed up with the way they would objectify women, and make disgusting jokes about them.
So I stopped them and yelled out, “Hey guys! Can I ask you all a question?”
The room went silent.
”Why do you all disrespect women like this?”
The room got so quiet you could have heard my heart beat. And then a guy sitting next to me looked at me and said, “Wow. That is a really good question.”
The Witness
They found out that I was really hungry, so being true to their culture, they were good hosts and went out and brought food. Then we all sat on the roof, eating and talking.
I eventually asked them about their faith, and what they believed. They eagerly started talking at once about the things they must do to be Muslim, who Mohamed was, and what he did that made him worthy to be followed. After they finished, I asked if I could share my beliefs.
I got to tell them all about Jesus!
And they all listened.
After we finished talking, we went back down into the clubroom. I had been there almost three-and-a-half hours, and it was starting to get kind of late in the day, so I told them I needed to get home. But before I left, I asked if I could pray for them. They all kind of looked at each other—then at me—and told me that I could. So I prayed for the whole group of twenty Muslim Talons, that God would bless them and lead them to Himself, and show them His love.
And then I left. The moment I got outside I started thanking and praising God because I could have died if they had chosen to kidnap me or to kill me just because I was a Christian. But I ended up getting to pray for them!
Walking back to where my group was staying, I never felt more alive!
“I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes…” (Romans 1:16).
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