By Adam Van Der Stoep

Read in 6 minutes

Published October 28, 2024

The following story is a journal entry of mine from the summer of 2013. I was fresh out of College and had landed a job working for a company that painted lines and symbols on highways and roads throughout the midwest. 

Five days a week, from sun up until sundown, a small crew of us would grind through the dog days of summer laying down fresh coats of paint on the highways and byways of rural America. 

And yes, when the weather was really humid, and the wind somehow failed to blow, we would have to wait… And get paid to watch paint dry…

Good times.

One afternoon, while traveling between worksites in the small town of Durant Iowa, we had a free moment to stop at a gas station. It was a luxury for us to be able to grab something to drink or eat at any point in the day.

But because I was pinching pennies to save for future seminary expenses, I stayed in the work truck. And because I stayed in the truck, I had my very first encounter with a Muslim. The following journal entry reflects my experience.

——

“The highway we parked on seemed unusually dead for that time of the day. I remember thinking that just before I saw him up ahead. 

At first, I couldn’t quite figure it out what I was looking at. But from what I could tell, there was man walking slowly down the sidewalk in my direction. He appeared to be dressed in all black, with some kind of head covering about him. He was carrying a large book or something in one arm and a small sign in the other.

I tried not to stare. 

I really tried. 

But the closer he came the more I could see clearly. He was, indeed, blacked out from head to toe. He was indeed carrying a book and a sign: an exceedingly large copy of the Quran and a message on poster-board that read, “I am a Muslim”. 

I thought, “Wow! This guy looks like he might be fun to talk with!” 

I glanced across the road and noticed that my coworkers were still in the gas station before deciding to hop out of the truck and onto the sidewalk below.

I think I startled him as I landed on the pavement and jumped over the curb by him.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I asked as I swung the door open jumping over the curb. 

Stunned to see this sweaty, stinky, unshaven, highwayman dressed in safety yellow, he had to have been taken back by my appearance and my question.

After his sized me up, he said “oh! Hi. Hi… I unmm… I… I am a Muslim and I am peacefully protesting the mayor of this small town who is an Islamophobe.”

“Oh,” I said, “I’m actually not from around here. I’m just passing through. That’s too bad about your mayor. I’m really sorry to hear that. I am Christian, and my name is Adam. What is your name?”

“Oh… Nice to meet you” he replied cautiously. I think he would’ve shaken my hand if both of his hadn’t been tied up.

“My name is Abdullah (which I knew meant slave or servant of God in Arabic)… Well… That’s my new name… my old name used to be Adam. That was my given name when I used to be a Christian.”

"How about them beans" I thought to myself. 

Another Adam.

“That sounds like you have quite a story,” I said to him. “So you haven’t always been a Muslim? Would you be willing to share that part of your story with me? What led to your change of mind and change of perspective?”

I glanced back to the gas station. From what I could see, the guys were checking out at the register. My time was running out. 

“Well, I used to be a Christian…. I had some friends who are also Christians, but Christianity didn’t make me happy. So I switched.”

“You switched?” I asked.

“Yep. And now I’m much happier. I really enjoy my new community.”

“Oh, okay, thanks for sharing with me” I replied. I wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to respond. 

“I just want to make sure I’m hearing you right. You left Christianity and become a Muslim not because your view of God changed… but because Christianity didn’t make you happy?”

“Yep” he replied.

——

I left that conversation after my coworkers crossed the road and signaled me back into the truck. I wished Abdullah well and encouraged him to pray about his journey, assuring him that I would keep him prayer, too.

All these years later I still think about my time with Abdullah. His response is forever branded into my memory. It makes me wonder...

What is the purpose of religion?

Why are there so many religions?

Are any of them true?

Can we just switch between religions to make our lives happier?

Why should we trust one view of God and/or the world above another?

Questions For Reflection: How do you see the world?

• What is religion?
• In what ways can a religious perspective make someone happier?
• How might a community help (or hinder) how people engage their religious views?
• In what ways are Christianity and Islam similar? In what ways are they different?
• Why should someone trust one religious perspective over and against all the others? Are there good reasons for doing so?