God is working in many ways!

God is working in many ways!

(Translated from Pashto.) “What does this verse mean?” (When David committed adultery with Bathsheba) “Bathsheba is a name. This psalm was written after David and Bathsheba committed adultery.” “Bathsheba and David committed adultery?” “Yes, and Nathan came and said this is not good, God will bring punishment. So David was very sorrowful and wrote this psalm.” “Was Bathsheba a woman?!” Ah, how sweet and pure seeing the Word read for the first time with fresh eyes! And in funny ways, that is like thinking Bathsheba was a man’s name. Pray for “Sirbaz” as he continues to open up and unpack the Psalms, not quite willing yet to read the other books. He then reads the account of when David and Bathsheba sinned, and Nathan confronts him-confessing he has doubts about it, as he believes prophets are sinless and this passage unearths a lot of sin in David’s life.


I have just arrived back in Pakistan from my trip to Kurdistan, having had an encouraging time with the Iraqi believers there. Imagine a city cradled in the mountains of the Kurdish-controlled region of northern Iraq, churches dotting the landscape with the freedom provided by the Kurdish forces. A group of people gather in an upper room church-some Arab, others Kurdish or other minority groups, the American they so graciously allowed to join. It was beautiful to see God worshiped and Jesus proclaimed freely right there in the Middle East, and to witness three people get dunked in the worshiped kiddy pool positioned in the back of the church. It was a refreshing time. To my great surprise, Kurdistan is a lot more similar to Central Asia than to the Middle East, though it is in Iraq. Similar clothing, mannerisms, dress (the traditional Kurdish attire looking like the Pashtun quli and partoog but with the quli tucked in instead of hanging down to the knees), and language so similar that, to my surprise and delight, I had a whole conversation with the guard at an art gallery who somehow understood my Pashto and I somehow understood his Kurdi. It was like speaking to the far-off, long estranged cousin of the Qandahari dialect of Pashto speakers. I thank God for the privilege of going and meeting these people face to face. They begged me to stay there and continue working with them. I told them in my very broken, mostly forgotten Arabic that my heart is in Pakistan.

On the way there and back, I had an overnight layover in Dubai.

On the way there, I contacted my Yemeni friends back in Michigan to see if there were any relatives there. Most were either in a different city in the UAE, or just single men, so they did not deem it a good connection, so I resolved just to sleep in the airport. As I was at the airport in Islamabad, I got a message from my old Yemeni coworker that Mohammed would pick me up at the airport. Upon arrival, I found Mohammed in his classic white throat and an even more classic welcoming Arab attitude of being willing to go out of his way to welcome guests. He took me to some very fancy resort hotel and started registering me. I was at a loss as to how I would pay for such a top-quality hotel, and I asked how much it would be. He said it was a gift to me, that his company gave him two free nights at that brand of hotel every month, and he told the staff to let me stay there since I didn’t have a place. He brought me signature Arab style chicken and rice as well as snacks to take back on the plane, and returned in the morning to take me to the airport after I indulged in an extremely fancy breakfast buffet with every imaginable Arab, American, French breakfast cuisine. So I had a luxury stay in Dubai-all thanks to the hospitality of the Yemeni community. On the way back I did not want to bother Mohammed again, and it was only 12 hours, albeit another overnight, so I decided to just sleep in the airport. I had some Iraqi currency a fellow worker gave me, so I exchanged it for a dirham, seemingly just enough to get a taxi to the downtown area and back so I could see more of the city before I left. In very stereotypical fashion, I found a Pakistani taxi driver- I had heard before that all taxi drivers in Dubai are Pakistani- and headed for the Dubai Mall which is next to Burj Khalifa (the world’s tallest building), a seemingly good place to roam around. He was from Punjab, and also in stereotypical Punjabi fashion, he scammed me out of all the money I had on me and demanded I give him more in Pakistani rupees, since I ran out of Dirham. I knew he was lying about the price, but he insisted on not letting me get away without overpaying. I saw that a taxi from the airport to Dubai mall was 40 dirhams. He charged me 140 dirhams, leaving me with no money left for a taxi back. A stark contrast of the Punjabi culture against the more hospitable and friendly Arab culture. I meandered around for a while, then decided to go back to the airport via the metro bus which charges $1-2 dollars to take travelers with layovers from the airport to the mall and back. By now it was 12:00am, but the bus was 24 hours away. Apparently, the bus decided to close that day. So I found myself sitting on the floor of the closed bus station in the middle of Dubai without money for a taxi back, watching people flow out of the Dubai Mall. Around 1:30am a police officer came and asked me where I was going. I said the airport. He asked why I didn’t take a taxi, and I explained I did not have money for one. The police officer called a taxi over and ordered him to take me to the airport. It was amazing to see God’s provision for both times I was there: once in a resort hotel by Mohammed from Yemen and once in a taxi from the UAE police! Needless to say, I had a great trip from Dubai to Kurdistan and back to Dubai. Upon my arrival back in Islamabad, I got to rest from my many travels for a few days, hanging around with the Afghan woman downstairs as her husband was out of town for a funeral and the American family I am staying with was also out of town. She insisted on staying back instead of going to the funeral because I would be alone if she left, very heartfelt. I didn’t speak any English for about two days straight, definitely a win in my language learning.
 
Please pray for the rest of my time before university starts again. Pray for things to line up as I go back soon for my sophomore year. Pray for the inhospitable living conditions there as they were promised to be improved but has shown no fruit yet. Pray for the change of relationships as many of my hostel friends graduated, and a new batch is coming for first-year students. Thank you for praying! How can you join in God’s plan for people? Keep praying!⁩
 
Kendall Freeman
July 19th 2024