A big deal (and the lure of something forbidden)

As I confessed in an earlier post, I began life as a heathen. Well, so do most kids, but my parents didn’t remedy it by introducing me to any sort of religion or good literature. When we moved to Saudi Arabia soon after I turned twelve, however, I witnessed Muslims stopping whatever they were doing five times a day to prostrate themselves in prayer. That got my attention. What was the big deal? 

I was intrigued but not tempted to become a Muslim—I didn’t want to have to wear a veil (I didn’t know then that much of what the women there endured was due to patriarchal dominance and had little to do with the truth and beauty of Islam). My choices were limited, though, as it’s against the law in Saudi Arabia to practice any religion other than Islam. And then it dawned on me—Christianity, which felt like background noise in the States, was forbidden and dangerous here. My teen self found this irresistible. Becoming a Christian would be the perfect act of rebellion.

There was just one problem. I knew nothing about it. Knew nothing about God. Here was this BIG DEAL, and I was on the outside looking in. I couldn’t exactly sneak down to the corner church since there weren’t any. Like Claire in my YA Beloved Daughter series, all I had were stairs to the roof and a wide open sky. From my roof, I could hear the muezzin from the local mosque calling the faithful to prayer. Calling, chanting, taunting me with words I didn’t understand. I would stand there listening, yearning for something beyond myself that I couldn’t describe or contain. 

I wanted in.