He was Felli and Hami’s only son. They had three daughters, and one son. Life was hard in Afghanistan, but they all had each other… until they didn’t. One moment they were a family of six, the next they were a family of five.
Felli dreams about her son still. She is haunted by the idea that he is alone, that she cannot get to him, she cannot comfort him. But it is she who needs comfort.
She saw the Taliban kill him in front of her eyes. How does a mother un-see something like that?
How do we comfort someone in that place, in a place where even now, some three years later, the wounds are so fresh, the pain so deep?
We were led into their home today, on Good Friday, to sit and visit. There were ten of us in all, and she scrambled to gather snacks and make tea, borrowing from neighbors in the refugee camp where she keeps house for her brood.
On Good Friday, of all days, we were confronted with this mother’s pain. We were not the first Christians to reach her. Her husband now searches his Farsi-German New Testament for answers. They’ve seen the Jesus Film, and they are intrigued by Jesus and earnestly want to know Him.
But on this day we were given an opportunity to love this Mom and the rest of her family through their pain. We prayed, we declared the goodness of God in their sorrow, and we told them again of a God who willingly laid down the life of His own Son so that they, and their late son, might have eternal life.
We are going back to this family’s humble flat to celebrate Easter this Sunday. We will bring food and fun, we will bring flowers and small gifts for the children, and we will bring the good news of a risen Savior to a Muslim family that so needs His embrace.
This Easter season, say a prayer for Hami and Felli, and say a prayer for all of the refugees here in Berlin. They need this resurrection to be true, just as we do.
One thought on “Good Friday”
I’m so glad that you could share comfort with Felli. How fitting for Good Friday- the day that Mary lost her son before her eyes. This year I kept coming across this in books and on blogs- that Good Friday delivers it’s own powerful hope to all, not just Sunday. It tells us that we are not alone in our pain- that He chose to come feel what we feel, physically and emotionally- betrayal, rejection, false accusation, abandonment. And it delivers the hope that that pain will not always be. I just read a story yesterday in Kate McCord’s “Why God Calls Us To Dangerous Places”- a story of an Afghan mother who lost her sons, and how Kate became as Jesus in that moment to comfort her. I’m grateful you are being Jesus to Hami and Felli. (Fwiw, McCord’s book is pretty good. I hear “In the Land of Blue Burqas” is even better.)