There is only one Christmas that really sticks out in my mind as being the “best” Christmas I ever had. In a way, I also received the ultimate Christmas present. His name was Andrew.
Andrew had been my best friend from the first few weeks after my family had arrived in Quetta, Pakistan. Andrew was an Afghan refugee, and lived with his father, mother and 3 sisters in a house just down the dirt road from ours. Although we were in Pakistan as missionaries, we couldn’t preach the gospel in an open way. Instead, we showed the Afghans living around us God’s love by living it out.
Andew and I were inseparable from day one of our friendship. He had taken several years of English at a local school, and so he was able to help me learn the local language as I helped him on his English. Because we were so young, Andrew and I rarely spoke of religion, and mostly focused on the things most young people do—and we spent most of our days riding our bikes, playing soccer and studying at school.
It was around December 20th that year, and Andrew and I had just ridden our bikes out to the edge of the village, when Andrew suddenly turned to me and asked, “What does it mean to be a disciple of Christ?” At first I was completely taken back by this random question from my Muslim friend and the expression on my face must have showed it because Andrew quickly explained. “On the back of your shirt, it says, ‘Disciples of Christ’. What does that mean?” I hadn’t even realized I had the shirt on when I left the house; it was an old Bible camp T-shirt. As I began to explain what it meant to him, Andrew’s eyes lit up as he learned of a God who loved him enough to come to earth as an infant, and later die to save him.
By the time I finished talking, tears were running down both our faces. I cried because I knew that Andrew had never known God’s love before, and I wanted him to know it so badly. I looked at my friend and asked if he understood. He nodded with tears still running down his cheeks, and the words he spoke next have stayed with me even until today. “Can I talk to Him?” Andrew asked, “Can I talk to God?” Yes, I answered. You can talk to him now and forever—anytime.
Andrew and I knelt down in the dust as the sun set behind the Himalayas and I watched as my best friend prayed in his own language for God to save him and make him a disciple. When he had finished, the tears hadn’t stopped, but now we both cried out of pure joy. Andrew and I were never the same. We were no longer two friends from opposite sides of the world, different in almost every way—that had all changed. Now we were something else—we were brothers.
Note: The names have been changed to protect the individual’s identity
