*Disclaimer: First and foremost, I wrote this post for myself. I must remind you that I am no teacher. I am simply a human with a soul, sharing my perspectives and experiences with you. We will all be accountable for our actions one day.

It’s 2:19 a.m. and my husband begins his fast for Ramadan in half an hour. He went to bed about 10 minutes before me, but he always waits up for me, which I love. I usually go to bed so late as my mind comes alive at night and I find it easier to write then. I thought I would be done writing for tonight, but I guess I’m not.

I want to have sex with my husband right now, but I can’t. As I said, he is about to begin his fast in 28 minutes. Sex, amongst other things, is something that one has to abstain from when fasting. Which is why I am now on my phone writing this while he has just fallen asleep in my arms. And no, I am not fasting because I am a Christian and he is a Muslim.

Yep, you read that correctly. But just in case you didn’t – I am a Christian and my husband is a Muslim. Why did I marry a Muslim man? It’s not a question I thought I would be asking myself; let alone answering, only nine months into my marriage. But here I am doing just that.

Unfortunately, my answer isn’t as straightforward as, “I couldn’t find a good Christian man so I married a Muslim man.” If only that was the case. In fact, I sometimes wish my husband were Christian, because truth be told, all I ever wanted was a husband who loved God like I did, maybe even more.

I pictured us going to church together, praying together and singing gospel songs together (even though I can’t sing). But I let that picture fade away over the years. Writing about this decision is something I have been itching to write about for years. But I have never been itching to share it. I have often kept quiet on this topic because I don’t feel the need to have to explain my choices in life. So rather than explain this choice, I will try to tell my story, because there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

The reason I am telling it now, is because someone recently asked me if I was planning to convert for my husband and it kind of caught me off guard. Not because this was the first or the second time I had heard such a question, but because it shocks me every time when people genuinely feel they have the right to ask such a question, especially people who are don’t even believe in God!

In hindsight, I know people don’t mean any harm, but the next time someone asks me this question after this article I’m going to politely tell them to piss off. But for now – let me take you right back to the start. And for me it starts with the search of God.

The search for God is a reversal of the normal, mundane wordly order. I have grown up as a Christian my entire life, but I didn’t start searching for him until I was 19 after my I broke up with my ex-boyfriend and my self-worth was shattered.

In the search for God, you revert from what attracts you and swim toward that which is difficult. You abandon your comfortable and familiar habits with the hope that something greater will be offered to you in return for what you’ve given. On this search, I found that I knew not only that there was God, but that I was a child of God.

When I understood and internalized that, I became courageous. People who knew me prior and still know me now could probably attest this. I stopped living to please people, I really did. I started to become honest with my feelings and myself.

And in the vein of honesty, the true reason why I had wanted to marry a Christian guy was because it just ‘sounded’ right. It ‘sounded’ perfect. It looked ‘right.’People would look at us and think we have all our sh*t together. And that feeling of admiration from others – I wanted that. I needed that.

I wanted to be the status quo, but the truth is that when you follow God, there is no such thing as being the status quo. When my husband came into my life, he not only knew this but he understood this and wanted to help me on this journey.

As I have said countless times in previous blog posts, I didn’t look for this love. I really didn’t. I didn’t even think I wanted this love, let alone let alone deserved it.

But God knew I needed this love.

I legitimately don’t believe he would have wanted me to turn it away. Love is very strong, stronger than we can even fathom. Love isn’t something you have to look for; it will find you. You don’t have to run to what you think love is because when it’s genuinely meant for you it will catch you and never turn you lose. This is what happened to me.

It still humbles me that this force that makes leaves and fleas and stars and rivers and you, loves me. It’s amazing. I’m really blessed to have what I have and who I have in my life. I have worked hard to get here. When I say “here” I mean arriving in and to my happiness.

The day I walked down the aisle to greet my husband, I saw God, I swear I did. And I knew I couldn’t turn back. I didn’t want to turn back. I wanted to run as fast as I could to the front to be with my maker.

It’s actually quite remarkable that the picture I once had in my head at the start still manifested in some shape.

Having a love like ours is difficult, I’m not going to lie to you. And I know it will be even more difficult when we have children. But I couldn’t imagine doing life with anyone other than him and God. One day, far from now, when the sands of time threaten to fall no more, I will read my words and I will remember why I married a Muslim man.

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