“So, you speak English? Tell me then: ‘How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood”? With a gleaming smile, our new friend and Guide for the Day, Mohamed (not his real name), was eager to show off his English language ability. I laughed and replied, “No, no, you have it all wrong: ‘The sixth sick sheik’s sixth sheep’s sick’. The smile diminished but a little, as Mohamed tried to form his lips and tongue around the syllables. He chuckled, “I think you will need to write that one down for me”. We became instant friends.
My wife and I were to spend this day exploring the ancient Roman ruins of Leptis Magna, two terrifying and hair raising hours by car ride east of Tripoli. Our driver, Kateem (name changed), was just slightly this side of sane behind the wheel. It is a refreshing time for one’s prayer life, to be found hurtling along at ninety miles per hour, in a strange, sandy land. The car’s stereo pulsed with hypnotic Arabic music. Our windows were down because the air conditioner sputtered weakly, making zero difference in the hot, arid Saharan atmosphere. The hot wind whistled through the car as the tires squealed, struggling to maintain contact with the road. We barreled along at breakneck speed, all the while Kateem shouting explanations about the Libyan countryside. We saw a lot more sand as we dodged in and out of traffic that seemed as bent on defying death as we were. We breathed sighs of relief and thanks to God when we finally arrived in the parking lot of Leptis Magna. Mohamed met us in the parking lot and escorted into the wonderland of the two thousand year old ruins. We became acquainted with Mohamed near the magnificent Arch of Septimus Servius. We had fun discussing tongue twisters.
The three of us strolled through the long, marble colonnaded streets and market areas of the well preserved ruins. One could imagine the chariots of the Roman Legion intermingling with the population of sandaled market goers, and the toga covered shop keepers. You could almost hear a pin drop, as we stood near the now silent, old baths, and the huge gladiator arena.
Mohamed wore his Indiana Jones hat with authority; he was well trained in the history of these ancient relics. We would spend more than four hours with our guide and new friend, and there was a relaxed air of camaraderie between us. We walked together, chatting, listening, the morning moving on... then we stood before something unique. A massive Byzantine Church, whose earliest foundations dated from the Third to Fourth Centuries A.D., towered in front of us, looking nearly intact. Mohamed took care to explain all he knew of this old house of worship dedicated to Jesus Christ.
We went inside the old church, and marveled at its fifteen centuries old walls and porticos, and at the nearly intact altar area. Near the back we came to the baptistry; deep, and needing steps to get in and out. It was in the shape of a cross. We pulled out our cameras, taking several photographs from different angles. We made excited comments, feigning nonchalance, saying what a wonderful testimony to early Christianity this baptistry was. The three of us leaned on the high walls of the millennia and a half old structure with our elbows, first looking at the fine piece of old stone work, then at each other’s faces.
Quite suddenly, Mohamed’s demeanor changed. The boyish enthusiasm vanished, and with a serious look he said to my wife and me, “Tell me of your faith. How is your church different from other churches”? We were well out of ear shot of any other tourists; we’d not seen any for over an hour. There were no “official” ears listening in; we were free to talk uninhibitedly.
Taking a breath I began: “Mohamed, we teach there is One God, in Christ Jesus. He alone is Deity. When a person acknowledges this and repents of his sins, we baptize that person in the Name of Jesus Christ”.
Mohamed looked at me, and as though he was typing the words deeply into his brain, he spoke aloud the words, “So, you baptize in the Name of Jesus Christ”. “That’s right”, I repeated, “We baptize in the Name of Jesus”.
Then, again, just as suddenly, Mohamed said with a loud voice “Let me sing you a Gospel Song”! In a fine voice, he sang for my wife and me:
“You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be”.
We have no idea how he is dong since the fighting began. We pray for his safety. We pray one day we may return to Libya to develop more of this friendship. We pray his tongue twisters give way to “stammering lips and another tongue”.
The two hour car ride back to Tripoli was just as hair raising, and we prayed through again. But we were happy in the knowledge that Seed had been planted.
**A big 'Thank You' to our European/Middle East correspondents (names withheld for security reasons) for this article.
Please continue to PRAY for war torn Libya...and all our missionaries around the world. They need and desire your prayer. It is much appreciated! Thank you.
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