When I was about twelve years old, we moved to a part of my country where we were among the town's few Christians. My country of origin is Iran, and Bibles are banned there. We have a number of Christian immigrants who are allowed to practice their own brand of Christianity, but this privilege is not extended to those who convert from the mainstream religion of the country.
At the time that we moved to this town so that my father could work with Christian missionaries this strict fundamentalism had not taken root to the extent that it has now. People seemed to be more tolerant of Christians like us. There were still many, however, who could not tolerate our conversion to Christianity and who were antagonistic toward us. My sister and I had become accustomed to the hatred that was sometimes directed at us as a result of our Christian faith. It was not uncommon on our way to school for a window overhead to be opened and people to spit on our heads. However, our trust in the love of God was so strong that the persecutions we went through made us only stronger in our Christian faith, and we were saved from many hateful and harmful attacks.
My sister and
I had become
accustomed
to antagonism.
