Testimony from Halima in Gaza

  "...TO OPEN THEIR EYES, SO THAT THEY MAY TURN FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT AND FROM THE POWER OF SATAN TO GOD, THAT THEY MAY RECEIVE FORGIVENESS OF SINS AND A PLACE AMONG THOSE WHO ARE SANCTIFIED BY FAITH IN ME." ~ ACTS 26:18

Are you silently questioning your faith? 

You are not alone. Jesus Christ is calling - gently, lovingly, and without condemnation. Let this testimony be your first step toward truth, freedom, and eternal peace.

This is a story about how a little girl of just 11 years old faced terrible abuse because she had dreams about Jesus Christ. 

This is a story about a mother who lost everything, lost her husband, lost her home, lost her  community, but who found something more  precious. This is a story about faith that costs everything and GIVES BACK INFINITELY MORE.

Halima: My name is Halima and I am a mother from Gaza. 

I am sitting here today to tell you what happened to me and my daughter, Mariam. Before I start, I want to thank the Encountering Christ channel for giving me this opportunity to share my story. 

I also want to thank the journalist who helped us. She cannot reveal her name because of her work and safety, but she knows my heart will be grateful to her forever. 

She is the reason my daughter and I are alive today. It was her idea for us to share this testimony. 

I was born in Gaza City. 

I grew up there and I lived there my whole life before everything changed.  

When I was young, I married a man named   Ahmed. 

He was a carpenter. He worked with wood, building and fixing things. 

We had a daughter together named Mariam. She was born 11 years ago. 

We were not arich family, but we had enough to survive. We had a home. 

Ahmed had his work. I took care of our home and our daughter. 

We lived like most families in Gaza live with the sounds of conflict around us, with danger, with uncertainty. 

But we tried to make our life as normal as possible for Miriam. 

We sent her to school. We taught her about Islam. We wanted her to have a good life. 

Miriam was a special child. She was curious about everything. She would ask me questions all day long. Why is the sky blue? Why do people hurt each other? What is God? Ahmed would laugh and say she thought about things too much. 

But I loved that about her. She was smart. She was asking real questions. 

Then one day everything ended.  It was the morning. Ahmed had left for his work at the carpenters's workshop. 

Miriam was getting ready to go to school. I was in our kitchen making breakfast. 

Then the sirens started. They were loud, very loud, louder than I had ever heard them before. 

I did not understand what was happening. 

Before l could even think, the ground shook. The whole ground shook beneath my feet. 

There was an attack, a bombing. It happened in our neighbourhood. 

I grabbed Miriam and ran outside with many other people. Everyone was running. There was dust everywhere.

I could not see clearly. I was calling Ahmed's name trying to find him, hoping he was safe, hoping he would come find us. 

We ran and ran. There were hundreds of people in the streets, all running, all scared. 

The buildings around us were falling down. Everything was chaos and noise and fear. 

I held Miriam's hand so tight I thought I might hurt her, but I could not let her go. 

We ended up in a temporary shelter with other people. It was crowded and we were all waiting for news. 

Three days later, someone came and told me about Ahmed.  His workshop had been hit by the bombing. He died there. They said he died instantly.

There were four other men with him and they all died too. I remember falling down when they told me. I was screaming. I could not breathe. Miriam was crying and asking for her father, asking why he was not coming, asking when he would come home.

I had to tell my 11-year-old daughter that her father was dead.  I had to say those words to her. 

After Ahmed died, we had nothing. Our home was destroyed. Our belongings were under the rubble. There was no money coming in. I did not know how we would survive.

The government set up camps for people like us who had lost everything. They  called them displacement camps.

Miriam and I were moved to a camp near a place called Deir al-Balah in central Gaza. The camp was full of white tents. 

Thousands and thousands of tents. All of them were families who had lost their homes. Families who had lost people they loved. 

We were given one tent. That was our new home. Inside the tent, we had two thin mattresses on the ground. That was all. 

We shared bathrooms with many other families. We waited in long lines for food and water. 

The heat in the day was so bad you could barely breathe. At night, it was cold and you needed blankets, but the blankets were very thin. 

Miriam changed after her father died. She became very quiet. She stopped asking questions. She stopped playing with other children. She would just sit and stare at nothing. Her eyes looked old, like an old person's eyes, not like a child's eyes. 

I tried to comfort her. At night, I would hold her close and recite verses from the Quran, praying that God would help her, that God would give us strength. 

About two weeks after we got to the camp, something started happening to Miriam at night.   She started having trouble sleeping.  

One night I woke up because she was moving  around, twisting and turning. Her face looked like she was in pain. She was making sounds, small sounds, not words, just sounds of distress. 

I woke her up gently and asked her what was wrong. 

She said, "Mama, I had a dream. There was light everywhere. So much light I could barely see. And there was a man." 

I told her it was just a bad dream.  I told her to go back to sleep. I recited some verses from the Quran to protect her. She fell asleep again. 

But the next night, the same thing happened. And the night after that, and the night after that. 

Every night, Miriam would have this trouble. Every night, she would move around and make sounds and sometimes say words that I could not understand. 

Every night, I would wake her up and try to comfort her. I was very worried about my daughter. 

She had already lost her father. Now she was having these problems at night. 

I was scared something was wrong with her mind because of all the trauma she had experienced. I did what I knew to do as a Muslim mother. 

I started reading from the Quran before she slept every night. I read the chapters that are supposed to protect people from evil. 

I read Surah Al-Falaq and Surah An-Nas. I read  Ayatul Kursi many times. 

I made an amulet with verses written on it and put it around her neck. I did everything  I knew to do to protect my daughter from evil spirits or demons. 

But nothing stopped the troubles at night. They kept happening every single night. 

The other families in the camp could hear Miriam at night. Everyone lived so close together in the camp, so everyone knew about her problems. 

During the day, people would look at us differently. Some women told me that my daughter was possessed by jin, by evil spirits. 

Other women said that maybe I had done something wrong. Maybe I had angered God and this was punishment. 

Their words hurt me very much. But I was more worried about my daughter than about what people said. 

One morning after a very difficult night, I sat  Miriam down and I asked her to tell me exactly what was happening in her dreams.

I asked her what she saw. I asked her why she was so upset. 

She thought for a long time before she answered. Then she said, "Mama, I am not scared. That is what is strange. I am not scared. The dreams are so bright and so beautiful. They feel different from anything I have ever known." 

I asked her, "What do you see in the light, Miriam?" 

She said, "There is a man. He wears white clothes that shine. His face is very kind.  It is the kindest face have ever seen. He is not angry. He is not scary. He looks at me with so much love. Mama, I feel loved when I see him. But I do not understand what it means. "

I felt afraid when she said this. I asked her, "What is the man's name? What does he tell you?"

She said, "His name is Isa. He tells me he is the truth and the light. He tells me he loves me. He tells me he knows about my pain. He tells me he has been waiting for me. When he speaks, mama, I feel warm inside.I feel like the sun is shining inside my body. I do not know what this means." 

When Miriam said the name Isa, I became very scared. Isa is the Islamic name for Jesus. 

Jesus is who Christians worship. In Islam, we believe that Jesus was a prophet, a great prophet, but not God. We do not worship Jesus. 

So, I do not understand why my daughter was dreaming about Jesus. I did not understand why Jesus was appearing to her and telling her he loves her. 

I told Miriam to stop having these dreams. I told her they were not from God. I told her we would pray more and the dreams would stop. But they did not stop. The dreams got stronger. 

Night after night, I would wake up and hear Miriam saying the name Jesus in her sleep. She would say it over and over again. 

Sometimes she would say other things. She would say the light or he loves me or I am not alone. Every time I heard her say these things, my fear grew bigger. 

The other families started hearing it too. The women began talking more. 

Some of them said my daughter was possessed by a Christian demon. One woman told me directly, "Halima, you must take your daughter to the imam immediately. If you do not, this evil will spread to other children in the camp." 

I was so scared and so confused. I did not know what was happening to my daughter.

 I did not know if it was a sickness or demons or something else. I finally decided to take her to the Imam, the religious leader of the camp.

The imam was an old man with a long grey beard. I told him everything about Miriam's dreams and what she was saying. I told him she kept saying the name Jesus and talking about light and love. 

The imam's face became very serious. He said to me, "Halima, this is very serious. Your daughter is being influenced by dark forces. Christian demons are trying to pull her away from Islam. We must do something immediately before this gets worse." 

He gave me prayers to recite. He gave me water that he had blessed. He gave me incense to burn in our tent. 

He performed a ritual over Miriam saying prayers and verses, asking God to protect her and drive away the evil spirits. 

Miriam sat very still during all of this. She looked confused and scared. 

That night, after everything the imam had done, Miriam had the same dream again. I woke up and heard her speaking softly in her sleep. She was saying, "Yes, I , hear you. Your light is so ." I was desperate. 

The next morning, I took Miriam back to the Imam and told him the dreams continued. His face became darker, more angry.

He said, "The spirit is very strong in your daughter. This will require more powerful intervention. You must leave your daughter with me for one full day and one full night.  I will gather the elders and we will perform the rituals that are necessary to   cleanse her." 

I did not want to leave daughter with him. Everything inside me said no. But I was so SCARED AND SO CONFUSED that I did not know what else to do. 

The imam told me that if I really loved my daughter, I would let him help her. He said this was the only way to save her soul. So I left Miriam with him. 

That night was the worst night of my life. I could not eat. I could not sleep. I could barely breathe. 

I kept thinking about my daughter with the Imam. I kept praying to God to protect her, to keep her safe, to bring her back to me. 

When the morning came I ran to the imam's tent as fast as I could. When I got there, I saw something that I will never forget for the rest of my life. 

My daughter was tied to a wooden post. Her hands were tied behind her back. Her feet were tied together. There were several men standing around her, old men, elders from the camp. They were reciting verses from the Quran. Miriam's face was white. She had been crying. Her eyes were full of fear. I screamed. I asked them what they were doing. One of the men said to me, "Your daughter is possessed by a demon. She speaks the name of the Christian prophet in her sleep. This is possession. We are performing an exorcism. We are driving out the demon. "

I tried to go to my daughter, but they stopped me. I was crying and begging them to let her go. I was telling them that she was just a child, that she had lost her father, that she was traumatized. I was telling them these were just dreams, not demons. But they would not listen. They told me to leave. I did not want to leave, but they forced me to leave. As I walked away, I could hear Miriam calling for me through the tent. My heart was breaking. I could do nothing to help my daughter in my community. You cannot go against the Imam and the elders. They have authority. They have power. If you go against them, you will lose  everything. I went back to our tent and cried all night. I wrapped myself in Miriam's blanket and cried until I had no more   tears. The tent felt empty and enormous without her. The next day, I went back to get her. When I saw her, I wanted to die. She could barely stand up. Her legs were shaking. Her face had bruises on it. Her arms had marks where the ropes had cut into her skin. She had not been given food or water the whole time she was there. The bright, curious child had known was gone. Now there was only fear in her eyes. I held her very gently and I cried. I told her I was sorry. I told her I would never let anyone hurt her again. 

For the next three days, Miriam did not move much. She did not eat. She barely drank water. She would not talk. She would flinch if anyone came near our tent. The life had gone out of her. It was like watching my daughter disappear. 

On the third night, I was broken. I could not help my daughter. Nothing I had tried worked. The imam had made things worse. I did not know what to do. 

I was so desperate that I did something I had never done before in my life. I knelt down on the floor of our tent and I prayed to a god I did not know. 

I said, "I do not know who you are. I do not know if you exist. Allah does not seem to be hearing me. But if there is any god anywhere who cares about a mother and her daughter who are suffering, please hear me. Please help us. Please save my Miriam. If you are real, please show me. Please tell me what is true. 

That night, something happened to me. I fell asleep and I had a dream. But this dream was different from any dream I had ever had. It was so real. It felt more real than reality. 

In the dream, there was light everywhere. Not harsh light, warm light, like sunshine in the morning. And standing in the light was a man.  He wore white clothes. His face was kind. His face showed so much love that I started crying just looking at him. He looked at me and he said my name. 

He said, "Halima." 

I asked him, "Who are you?" 

He said, "I am Jesus. I am the one that your daughter has been seeing. I am the truth she has been hearing. I heard your prayer and I came."

I felt so much peace in that moment. All my fear, all my worry, all the heaviness  I was carrying just went away. I felt love like I had never felt before. It was like every hurt in my body was being healed.

I asked him, "Why would you come to us? We are Muslims. We are not important. Why would you care about us?" 

He said, "Because l love you. Ihave always loved you. Iloved you before you were born. I will love you forever. You are not nobody. You are my beloved daughter. Miriam is my beloved daughter. I came to save you.I came to heal you.  I came to give you hope and life. "

I fell down and I cried.   I said, "I do not understand. We were taught that you are just a prophet, just a man. How can you be here? How can you be speaking to me?" 

He said to me,  "l am the way, the truth, and the life. I am the light that shines in the darkness.  I died for you, Halima . I took all your pain, all your suffering, all your sin on my body so that you could be free.  I came the dead so that you could have life that never ends. Believe in me and you will never be alone again. When I woke up from that dream,  I was  a different person. The fear that had been in heart was gone. I knew for certain that Jesus was real. I knew that he loved me. I knew that my daughter had been telling me the truth. I knew everything I had been taught about Jesus was wrong. 

The next morning,  I went to the imam. I was not afraid anymore. I was not confused anymore. 

I told him, "I am taking my daughter and we are leaving your care. My daughter is not possessed. She has encountered something holy. She has encountered God and I will not allow you to hurt her anymore. " 

The imam was very angry. He said I was speaking blasphemy. He said that now Jesus gotten to me too. He said we were both lost, but I did not care what he said. I took Miriam's hand and I WALKED OUT OF THAT TENT . 

When I got back to our tent, I sat with Miriam and I told her everything about my dream. I told her that I saw Jesus, too. I told her that Jesus was real. 

For the first time in so long, I saw her smile. I saw light come back into her eyes. 

She said to me, "Mama, you saw him too?" 

I said, "Yes, Habibti, I saw him. I felt his love. I know now that he is real. We are to follow him together. We believe in him. No more fear. Jesus has found us. We are safe."   (*Habibi (حبيبي) means "my beloved," "my darling," or "my dear" in Arabic. Masculine form: Habibi (used when addressing a male) Feminine form: Habibti (used when addressing a female)

But things got harder after that. Other people in the camp heard that I defied the Imam. They heard that Miriam and I defied the Imam. They heard that Miriam and I were now believing in Jesus. The camp official said that Miriam was crazy, that   losing her father had broken her mind. They moved us to a different part of the camp, an isolated part, where they put families with problems. We were separated from everyone else. 

People started avoiding us. Children were not allowed to play with Miriam. Women who had been my friends would not talk to me. We were treated like we were dangerous.  We were called crazy. We were alone. But inside I felt peace. Jesus had become real to me. That was more important than anything else. During this time a miracle happened.

A journalist came to the camp. She was American. She worked for an international news network. She was there to document what life in the camp was like. She heard about us, about the mother and daughter who said they saw visions of Jesus and were treated like they were insane. She came to our tent.  She was a kind woman. She had kind eyes. We talked for a long time. Then she said to me, "Halima,  I am  a Christian. I believe in Jesus. And I believe that what happened to you and Miriam was real. You are not crazy. You encountered God." I started crying. 

For weeks, people had told us we were insane. And now here was someone who believed us, someone who understood, someone who knew the truth. 

She prayed with us in our tent. I felt Jesus'sv presence again in that small space. For the first time in weeks, I felt like maybe we were not alone. Maybe we had hope. Over the next days, this  journalist helped us. She had a teham with her. They were all Christians.  They brought us food. They brought us medicine for Miriam's wounds. They brought us Bibles. They taught us about Jesus. They taught us about God's love. They helped us understand what it meant to follow Jesus. 

The journalist told us that she could not leave us in the camp to suffer. She said she had resources. She said she wanted to move us to a safer place where we could be with other believers, where we could learn more about Jesus, where we could start anew. 

And with her help, we left the camp. It was difficult and dangerous, but we got out. She took us to a community where there were other Christians. Many of them were like us, people who had been Muslim and who had encountered Jesus . They left Islam to follow him. They understood our story. 

They understood what we had been through. For the first time since Ahmed died, Miriam and I felt like we had a family again. Miriam is much better now. The fear is gone from her eyes. There is joy there now. She reads about Jesus every day. She learns about what Jesus did and what Jesus said. She tells me that even though she lost her father, even though we lost our home, we found something more important. We found Jesus. We found God's love. 

As for me, I am learning what it really means to follow Jesus. I am learning THAT FAITH IS NOT ABOUT RULES AND RITUALS. It is not trying to earn God's favor. Faith is about a relationship with a God who loves me no matter what. A God who knows every tear I have cried. A God who saw me suffering in a camp and answered my prayer. A God who died for me. 

The journalist is still helping us. She is trying to arrange for us to move to an even safer place. She wants US TO HAVE A COMPLETELY NEW START away from the danger we face here. 

For now, we are with the community of believers. We are learning about Jesus together. WE ARE PRAYING TOGETHER. We are healing together. I do not know what will happen to us in the future. There will be more challenges. There will be more danger. 

We may have to keep hiding. We may have to keep moving. But I also know that Jesus will be with us. The same Jesus who appeared to my daughter in her dreams. The same Jesus who answered my desperate prayer. The same JESUS WHO filled my heart with peace. That Jesus will not leave us. If you are listening to this,  I want you TO KNOW THAT JESUS IS REAL . He is not just a story from the past. He is alive now. He sees you. He loves you. If you are suffering, if you are broken, if you feel alone, cry out to him. He hears the prayers of mothers in refugee camps. He visits children in their dreams. He comes to people who have nothing left but their pain. And he says, "l am here. I love you. " I do not know what my future will be. We may be persecuted more. We may face more loss. But we have Jesus. We have each other. We have a community of believers who love us. And that is enough. That is more than enough. I thank you to Encountering Christ for letting us share our story. And thank you to the journalist who became like an angel sent from God. 

MAY THIS TESTIMONY GIVE HOPE TO SOMEONE WHO NEEDS IT. 

MAY IT STRENGTHEN SOMEONE WHO IS SUFFERING. 

MAY IT BRING GLORY TO JESUS CHRIST WHO SAVED US  AND WHO CONTINUES TO SAVE US EVERY SINGLE DAY.

∆ Please say a prayer for Miriam and her mother in the comment section below 👇. Miriam and Halima need to know that people around the world 🌍 are standing with them, praying with and for them, believing their story. They are still in danger. They still live with fear. Your prayers matter. Your words of support matter. Please leave a prayer, a message   of encouragement, or a word of faith for them in the comments. Hear more stories of how Lord Jesus Christ is changing lives around the world, even in THE DARKEST AND MOST DANGEROUS PLACES.