Daniel’s Deliverance
It’s been some weeks since we have last posted a story. Our lives have been full of family, a couple of mission trips, the birth of a grandson (!), and an unprecedented heatwave here in our home state. On one particular day, our city was the hottest place in the nation - 117 degrees! Not sure what this looks like for summer, since it has just begun, but we are definitely in for a dry one, Cuddling our first grandson brings such joy and will definitely be the highlight of the year for us! Stories continue to be such a big part of all of our lives and when intertwined with the heart of the Father, they speak of hope and grace. Our dear friend’s story brings us the reality of God at work in the heart of the broken.
My name is Daniel, and I am from the nation of Iran. We are a people whose history stretches back over 2,500 years. You can find mention of my land in the Bible. Iran endured over 25 centuries of monarchial rule, but that ended in the 1970s when a radical revolutionary Islamic regime took control.
Located in the Middle East, Iran is bordered by Afghanistan, Pakistan, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Turkey, Iraq, the Caspian Sea, and the Persian Gulf. We are the second-largest country in the Middle East and the 18th most populous nation globally, with 80 million people. Our land has vast reserves of oil and gas.
Most of our people speak Persian (Farsi), not Arabic. We are of Indo-European ancestry. Over two–thirds of the people are under the age of 30, and over 80% of the population is literate and well-educated.
Ninety to ninety- five percent of the population is Shia Muslims. The government opposes Christianity; Bibles are banned, evangelism and proselytizing are illegal, and convents could face a death sentence. If a Muslim turns to Christ, his family disowns him and possibly reported to the police. But despite this opposition, we are dissolutioned by radical Islam, and many Iranians are open to the Gospel. The Church in Iran, mostly underground, is growing.
I grew up in a Christian family in Iran. We had to be careful, but my parents loved the Lord. We also had foreign friends who were believers.
By the end of the Second World War, a man named Mr. Stead had come to Iran. At that time, Iran was in a crises condition. There was a massive famine, not enough medicine or doctors, and no clean water. Despite those conditions, Mr. Stead decided to stay in Iran and help orphans in a village. One of these orphans was my father. When my father was around three years old, Mr. Stead passed away, and a man named Mr. Haymount took over the responsibility of the orphanage. He treated all the children as if they were his own. (Mr. Haymount is my wife's grandfather.) When my father was still young, Mr. Haymount also passed away in Iran. His remaining family left before the radical Islamic revolution. Because my father became like a son to Mr. Haymount, he was close to his family. After the family left Iran, my father did not see his 'sister' (one of the daughters of Mr. Haymount) again until many years later at a family reunion in Armenia. The reunion was arranged by an Iranian uncle (another one of the orphans).
It was at this reunion that I met other family members for the first time. It was also the first time I saw the woman who would later become my wife. When I saw Anna, I was drawn to her, and I felt in my heart that she would be my future wife. I talked with my father, and before we left the reunion, I told Anna what I was feeling in my heart. As we returned to Iran, I began to pray for God's will concerning this relationship for my future.
Three years passed, and one of my aunts came to Iran from the USA. I told her about Anna. I believe God sent my aunt to Iran at that time. She told me when she went back to the USA, she would talk with Anna and her family.
Anna and I were communicating, and I found out she was in Afghanistan. I learned through her about a discipleship training school she attended. She suggested I apply to do the course in a nearby country. I was praying for God's will. He opened up the opportunity for me to attend a Kurdish DTS. This school would focus on discipleship and ministry among Kurdish people, of which there are thousands living throughout the nations in my part of the world. The training proved to be a massive change in life for me. I want to share my story, which happened many years before this school.
Upon leaving university, I began my job. At that time, I felt very hopeless, and I started to drink lots of alcohol, which continued for some years, and I became very ill. After visiting several doctors, they told me I would need a new liver, and my health was in serious jeopardy.
I began using different medications and treatments. I had horrible pain. When the pain was unbearable, injections of morphine became the norm. It was a rough time, and I became weaker day by day. I could not eat!
One day my mother came to the hospital and brought a Bible. She told me I should pray and talk with God. He loves me and knows why I am so angry. She put the Bible on my bed as she left. I took the Bible and put it on the windowsill next to my bed. I then fell asleep.
It was early morning when I awoke. Everyone else was still sleeping, and it was peaceful. But feelings of hopelessness and depression invaded the peace. I was so tired of my life. Tears came pouring out unexpectedly, and I felt this overwhelming need to talk with God. My parents, family, and various Christian friends were praying for me. I poured out my anguish and pain to God. I believe this was probably the first heart-felt in-depth conversation I ever had with God. I asked Him so many questions and honestly expected answers. It had been a very long time since I had prayed. I asked God to heal and save my life! Taking the Bible my mom brought, I opened to the New Testament and happened upon Matthew 27: 45-47. These were Jesus' last words on the cross. I continued crying and asked him for forgiveness.
Shortly after this time of deep prayer, one of our friends told me about an excellent doctor I should visit. I was able to set up an appointment and see the well-known doctor. After examining me, he told me I only needed surgery to remove my gallbladder. He arranged for me to be accepted at a private and expensive hospital. I was surprised!
I talked with him about the cost of surgery as it was a private hospital. I was not sure I could afford the procedure. He gave me a letter and told me to show it at the hospital, and after surgery, we could discuss the cost. I went to the hospital, offered the letter, and they accepted me for surgery. The very next day, in the early morning, the doctor came to my bed, reassured me, and then wheeled me to the operating room.
Some days after surgery, my family came to the hospital to take me home to rest. When we asked about the cost, the administrators told us the doctor did not ask for any money.
We returned home and I spent some time recuperating. As I felt better, I wanted to go to the doctor and thank him. After waiting in his office, he welcomed me and, smiling, told me I looked so much better.
I let him know how thankful I was to him, but why did he not accept any money? He told me one of my relatives already paid for the surgery. I was shocked and asked him who it was? He then asked me if I was a Christian. I replied I was born in a Christian family and why would he ask this question.
He shared his story. "When I was young, and a student studying in the USA, one Iranian Christian man helped me a lot and paid for some expenses. I was so very grateful in my time of need and wanted to repay him in some way one day. He was one of your uncles." He told me about my uncle because I knew nothing about him! When he saw my last name on the paperwork, he realized I was also a 'grandchild' of Mr. Stead. He knew all about my family and our story.
I was 32 years old when I attended the discipleship program with a missionary training school. Speakers came from other nations to teach on the Bible, the character of God, faith, and the heart of our Father God.
It was an exciting time for me! I was meeting new friends and hearing Biblical truth, which was challenging and insightful. However, during the second week, I experienced an onslaught in my mind and emotions of guilt and shame. These were such deep feelings, and I felt I was not good enough to be there with these other believers in the faith. I decided to talk with the school leader so I could receive permission to leave. Disappointment and anger raged within me because I struggled uncontrollably with major guilt even after six years of being a Christian believer.
As I was deciding to leave the school, I remembered my time back in university when studying to be a journalist. During those years, I was against God and all kinds of religions and becoming very materialistic. I wrote papers against God and religion, attacking and criticizing both publicly. One day in a gathering, I burned a Bible in a demonstration against God and religion.
During my years at university, I had many problems with my family as they were Christian believers. I would argue with them all the time and, in defiance, did everything opposite to what they said. I dishonored the Christian Gospels and the Quran, criticizing verses and denying them. I considered religion to be the reason for all the problems in our world, and I actively tried to change many youth's minds who had any religious connections. I fervently believed this to be my ministry and calling in life and my responsibility towards society to change.
However, in the middle of my time at university, my world fell apart. One of my best friends committed suicide. Even to this day, his parents blame me for his death. We worked together propagating our anti-God literature. After a couple of years of purposefully publishing and vocalizing our beliefs, he became extremely depressed. One day, when I wasn't around, he swallowed forty tablets to end his life.
My friend was one of the best students in the university. I was always there for him but discovered later I was unable to help him. I still remember a few hours before he committed suicide, he looked me straight in the face and asked, "Do you think God exists? " Shocked that he would ask such a thing, I angrily cried, "No!" Hours later, I found him dead on the floor. Grief overtook my life, but also anger and resentment burned deep within me. It was from there that I developed a dependency on alcohol and the health issues leading to the surgery and reconciliation with God.
It was these memories that flooded my mind as I thought about leaving the discipleship school. I had come to faith and salvation in Christ six years earlier. However, I continually felt shame and guilt with this black shadow over my past life, and desperately wanted to leave the school and not face these emotions.
In class, I would listen to the teaching on how much God loves us, how he redeems our past and has a fantastic future ahead of us as we serve him wholeheartedly.
Into this second week, there came a moment I was able to tell the school leader how I was feeling. He suggested I wait before leaving and talk to our current teacher, Mr.Jim, about my struggles. The following day, after sharing extensively in the lectures about God's love and His desire to have a personal relationship with us and not just religion, Mr. Jim gave the students time to share their past if they desired and receive prayer. Difficult and painful as this was for me, I rose and stood before the students to share my past and pain. With a sincere heart and barely able to get the words out, I confessed my past actions and guilt over my friend's suicide. I also told them of my deep regret over burning the Quran and the Bible. It was inconceivable to me that God could and would forgive such actions. I was feeling such a deep depression and despair, but something in me knew I had to be vulnerable to be free finally. Out of my mouth came all the anger, hurt, guilt, and shame. I told them I was not good enough to be at this school, and I wanted out.
Sitting before my fellow students, I began to sob uncontrollably. It was a scary and new experience for me. I hadn't seen many men in my life cry nor be so vulnerable. Mr. Jim put his big arms around me and hugged me. In desperation, I held onto him so hard. I put my head on his shoulder, and he held me so tight. It was an unusual feeling, but I could not let go. It seemed like hours I sobbed without restraint. Mr. Jim prayed for me, being led by the Spirit of God and a father's heart. I cannot adequately explain how I felt at that moment, but something happened deep within my soul. There was a heart connection between Mr. Jim and myself. I felt as if a weight was coming out of my chest. I felt pain on my shoulders and chest begin to lift. After what seemed like hours and Mr.Jim continuing to pray, God gently began to reveal his deep love to me. A Father in heaven was loving and forgiving his son. I genuinely believe a surgery had taken place on my heart spirituality. I could hear the other students and staff praying for me and speaking out words of affirmation, acceptance, and love. I realized later how God, in His mercy and love, had forgiven me and was pouring back into me his love through the hearts and prayers of my new friends.
“For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His love for those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.”
The prayer time ended, and I turned and abruptly left the classroom, literally running to my room. People left me alone as they knew I needed some time to process my experience. Shutting the door and falling on my bed, pain seemed to be racking my body, and I was shaking. The school leader came to my room and said, "Daniel, God is using this time to bring healing to you." It genuinely seemed like I was hearing God speak directly to me. God had forgiven me, and I could honestly and thoroughly feel that forgiveness. The Holy Spirit of God was working in me.
On my bed, turning my back to the room and completely covered with a blanket over my head, I fell deeply into a trouble-free sleep for the first time in years. When I awoke the following day, I was so happy. I felt freedom inside that I'd never felt before. It was a feeling such as I had been reborn. When the class began that morning, I entered and shared with my fellow students what had transpired as I lay on my bed. Smiling and receiving genuine hugs, I knew it was fitting that I had stayed in this place and would continue the school. One person even said it was the first time they had seen me smile during my time there.
I completed the seven-week long school with a sense of wholeness and knowing God had forgiven me. My past no longer would have power over me. God has a plan for my life, and in the years since, I have been discovering what that plan is. I married Anna, and together we are serving God.
I owe my life to God, my heavenly Father. I owe my freedom to His Son, Jesus Christ, who paid the price for me. The wholeness I feel in my life comes from being forgiven and being able to forgive. I have not been the same since I accepted His forgiveness and let go of my past.
