These people loved me not because I was useful or because I had earned it, but simply because I was their sister in Christ.

They served me expecting nothing in return.

They gave freely.

They forgave easily.

They loved unconditionally.

This was what Parana had found.

This was why she could not deny Jesus even to save her life.

Um because once you experience this kind of love, this kind of grace, this kind of community, you cannot go back to the emptiness.

You cannot pretend you did not find the truth.

I also began to understand my purpose here.

God had saved me from Afghanistan for a reason.

He had protected me through that dangerous journey for a reason.

He had brought me to this safe place for a reason and that reason was to tell Parwana’s story.

So I started speaking first in my church uh sharing my testimony with the congregation then in other churches as words spread about my story then in interviews in articles in any platform that would have me.

I told people about Parana, about her faith, about her courage, about her death.

Some people asked me if I was angry at God for letting Parana die.

Yes, I was angry for a long time.

I was very angry.

I demanded to know why God could not have saved her.

wh why he could not have softened my father’s heart or helped her escape or done something anything to prevent her suffering.

But over time I came to understand something.

God did not cause Parana’s death.

My father did.

Evil did.

Sin did.

God gave humans free will.

And my father used that free will to do terrible things.

That was not God’s fault.

What God did was walk with Parana through her suffering.

He He gave her strength to endure.

He gave her peace in the midst of horror.

He was with her in that locked room every single day.

And when she finally died, he welcomed her into paradise where she is now whole and healed and happy forever.

That is not the same as preventing her suffering.

But it is not nothing either.

God was faithful to Parana.

He did not abandon her.

He kept his promises to her.

And now she has a crown of life that will never fade.

I think about what I would say to Parana if I could talk to her now.

I would tell her I am sorry I could not save her.

I would tell her I think about her every single day.

I would tell her that I am trying to live in a way that would make her proud.

But I think she already knows all that.

I think she can see me from heaven.

I think she knows I became a Christian too.

I think she knows I escaped.

I think she is proud of me the same way I am proud of her.

I also think about my mother.

I managed to get one message to her through a distant cousin who travels.

I told her I was alive and safe.

Uh I could not tell her where I was or or give her any way to contact me because that would put both of us in danger.

But I wanted her to know I was okay.

I do not know what she thinks of me.

Does she understand why I left? Does she hate me for abandoning her? Does she know I am a Christian? Or does she think I just ran away to avoid marriage? I hope someday I will get to see her again.

Maybe Afghanistan will change.

Maybe it will become safe for me to visit or safe for her to leave.

Uh maybe we will be able to sit together and talk about everything that happened.

Maybe she will understand.

But I also know that day may never come.

I may never see my mother again in this life.

That is a grief I carry every day.

Another loss, another price of survival.

As for my father, my feelings are complicated.

I should hate him.

He murdered my sister.

He would murder me too if he could find me.

He is a cruel man who used religion to justify cruelty.

But I also pity him.

Oh, he is trapped in a prison of his own making, a prison of rigid thinking, of needing to control everything, of believing that violence and domination are the way to serve God.

He thinks he is righteous.

He thinks he did the right thing by killing Paruana.

He will probably never realize the truth.

I pray for him sometimes, not because I want to.

Part of me wants him to suffer for what he did, but Jesus said to pray for those who persecute you.

He said to love your enemies.

So I try.

Okay.

I pray that somehow someway my father’s heart will be softened, that he will come to know the real God, the God of love and grace and mercy, the God who sent Jesus.

I do not know if that prayer will ever be answered, but I pray it anyway because that is what Jesus calls me to do.

My faith now is deeper and more real than it was in those early days.

It has been tested by suffering and doubt and questions.

But it has survived.

It has grown.

It has become the foundation of everything I am.

But I understand now what Parana understood that following Jesus does not mean life becomes easy.

It does not mean you stop suffering.

Christians around the world suffer every day.

They are persecuted, imprisoned, tortured, killed.

But following Jesus means you do not suffer alone.

It means you have hope beyond the suffering.

It means you know that death is not the end.

That there is a kingdom coming where there will be no more tears, no more pain, no more death.

I believe I will see parana again.

I believe she is with Jesus right now in paradise, whole and healed and free.

I believe she is waiting for me there.

And I believe that when I see her again, we will have forever.

No one will ever separate us again.

No one will ever hurt us again.

That hope is what keeps me going.

On the hard days when the memories are too heavy, when the grief feels like it will crush me, when I wonder if a surviving was worth it.

For as I remember that this is not the end of the story.

The end of the story is resurrection.

The end of the story is new creation.

The end of the story is Jesus making all things new.

I am telling Parana’s story because her life mattered, her death mattered, her faith mattered.

She was 16 years old when she died, but she lived with more courage and conviction than most people show in a lifetime.

She could have lied.

She could have said what my father wanted to hear and gone on believing in Jesus secretly.

No one would have blamed her.

Most people would have said that was the smart thing to do, the sensible thing to do.

But Paruana knew that some things are worth dying for.

She knew that truth matters more than comfort.

She knew that faithfulness matters more than survival.

She knew that denying Jesus to save her life would be losing something far more valuable than life itself.

And so she chose to remain faithful.

She chose to endure starvation and suffering and death rather than deny the one who had loved her first.

She chose Jesus.

That choice is beautiful.

It is powerful.

It is the kind of faith that changes the world.

I want people to know about Parana.

I want Christians in free countries to know that there are people like her in the world.

People who are dying right now for the same Jesus they worship comfortably on Sunday mornings.

people who are in prison or who are being tortured who are being killed for their faith.

I want Christians to pray for the persecuted church.

Really pray not just casual prayers but deep persistent desperate prayers for brothers and sisters around the world who are suffering.

Prayers for strength, for protection, for deliverance, for courage.

I want Christians to support organizations that help refugees and asylum seekers, people like me who had to flee everything to survive.

We need help rebuilding our lives.

We need welcome and acceptance and support.

I want Christians to not take their freedom for granted, to use it well, to speak boldly about Jesus while they can, to live faithfully while it is easy, so they will be strong if it ever becomes hard.

But I also want to speak to Muslims.

I want to speak with respect because I was Muslim once.

I know Islam from the inside.

I know that most Muslims are not like my father.

Most Muslims are good people trying to live faithful lives.

But I also want Muslims to think deeply about what happened to my sister to ask hard questions about a system that allows fathers to murder daughters for converting.

About cultures where honor matters more than human life.

about interpretations of Islam that lead to violence and oppression.

I want Muslims to consider whether the god they worship would really want this.

Would really want women treated as property.

Would really want daughters killed for choosing their own beliefs.

Uh would really want fear to be the basis of faith.

And I want Muslims to know about Jesus.

Not the Issa of the Quran who is just a prophet, but the real Jesus.

The Jesus who came to earth as God in human flesh.

The Jesus who suffered and died out of love.

The Jesus who offers forgiveness and grace and eternal life as a free gift.

I know this is dangerous for me to say.

There are people who will be angry that I am saying it but I cannot stay silent.

Paruana did not stay silent even when silence would have saved her life.

I owe it to her memory to speak the truth.

I have been in this country for three years now.

Three years of safety and freedom.

Three years of healing and growing.

Three years of learning what it means to live as a follower of Jesus in a place where that does not cost your life.

I have a job now working with an organization that helps refugees that I get to use my experience to help others who are going through what I went through.

I get to welcome them, support them, help them navigate this new world they find themselves in.

I have friends, real friends who know my story and love me anyway, who sit with me on the hard days, who celebrate with me on the good days, who remind me that I am not alone.

I have a life, a real life, not just existence.

I can go where I want.

I can learn what I want.

I can believe what I want.

Get I can speak freely about my faith without fear of death.

This is the life Parana never got to have.

And I am living it for both of us.

I am embracing every opportunity, every freedom and every joy.

Not to forget her but to honor her, to make her sacrifice meaningful.

Parana’s name means butterfly.

My mother chose that name because she thought it was beautiful.

She had no idea how prophetic it was.

A butterfly starts as a caterpillar, earthbound and limited.

But then it goes through a transformation, a painful process of breaking down and reforming.

and it emerges as something new, something that can fly.

Parana went through her own transformation.

She was born into a life that wanted to keep her earthbound, limited, controlled, but she discovered Jesus and he transformed her.

She became something new, something that could not be caged anymore.

And when she died, she completed that transformation.

She broke free from her earthly body uh from all the limitations and suffering and pain and she flew into paradise into the presence of Jesus into eternal freedom.

That is not a tragedy.

That is a triumph.

I miss my sister every single day.

I will miss her until I see her again in heaven.

But I am not hopeless.

I am not despairing because I know where she is.

I know she is safe and whole and happy.

I know she is with Jesus.

And I know I will see her again.

Not in this life, but in the next.

Not in this broken world at but in the new creation.

Not as we were trapped and afraid and suffering, but as we will be glorified and free and filled with joy.

That is my hope.

That is what keeps me going.

That is why I can tell this story without being destroyed by the grief of it.

Parana died, but death did not win.

Jesus won.

Love won.

Truth won.

Faith won.

And someday when I close my eyes for the last time in this world, I will open them in the next and Parana will be there and we will embrace and we will never be separated again.

Until then, I will live.

I will tell her story.

I will honor her memory.

I will follow the Jesus she loved enough to die for.

This is my testimony.

This is my sister’s testimony.

This is the truth about what it means to follow Jesus when following Jesus costs everything.

May God use this story for his glory.

May it strengthen believers.

May it challenge unbelievers.

May it change hearts and minds and lives.

So, and may we never forget Parana and the thousands like her who have given their lives for Jesus.

May their sacrifice not be in vain.

May their witness inspire us to live faithfully, to love boldly, to follow Jesus wholeheartedly.

This is my prayer.

This is my hope.

This is why I am telling you this story.

Thank you for listening.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for remembering.

And if you pray, please pray for the parwanas of the world.

All the girls and women and men who are facing persecution right now, today in this very moment, pray that they will have courage.

Pray that they will stand firm.

Pray that they will know Jesus is with them.

Pray for the persecuted church.

Pray for refugees.

Pray for the lost and the broken and the suffering.

And pray that Jesus will come back soon.

That he will wipe away every tear.

That he will make all things new.

That is what I am waiting for.

That is what Parana is waiting for in paradise.

Or that is what all of of creation is groaning for.

The day when there will be no more persecution, no more suffering, no more death, no more locked rooms and starving daughters and broken mothers.

The day when Jesus will return and everything will be made right.

Parana is there now waiting in paradise and someday I will join her.

Until then I will keep telling her story.

I will keep living for Jesus.

I will keep holding on to hope because he is worth it.

He has always been worth it.

A Paruana proved that with her life and with her death, may her memory be eternal.

May her faith inspire us.

May her story change the world in Jesus’s name.

Amen.

 

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