Sunday, October 3, 2010

Isaac & Ishmael Project - The Ultimate Honor

May 15th 1948

Today I was destined to perform my Ultimate Honor to Allah by strapping “bombs of honor” to my thighs and enter Jerusalem. I was to give new meaning to the “wailing wall.”

In an attempt to stop Israel from being recognized as a sovereign nation the plan was to detonate bombs near the Wailing Wall – knowingly murdering our own people, women and children and then blame Israel for the attack.

I was the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb. If I did not voluntarily walk into the plaza with death strapped to my thighs I would be killed and someone as deceived as I once was would take my place. There was only one thing to do: Perform the ultimate honor and carry out the mission.

At the designated time, I prepared myself. My father met with me.

“Are you ready?” He looked scared. He looked unsure of himself. I’d never seen that before.

I said “I am ready for eternity and ready to lead others there as well.”

My father stepped back and looked puzzled at my boldness. “I thought maybe you would be a scared little boy ready to run and hide, like your mother, but here you are ready to carry out your Ultimate Honor to Allah like a man. God be with you son.” He stuttered the last few words.

I drew a deep breath and replied “Oh He is – I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He cocked his head and rubbed his hand across his bearded chin. He looked toward the plaza and nodded for me to go.

I said, “I love you father, God be with you.” I never saw him again.

As instructed, I made my way to the most crowded area in the plaza. At just the right moment when I was to send anyone near me into eternity I reached where bombs were suppose to be and showed them how to get there. I pulled out Bibles and tracts from the missionaries and shouted; “God is love”. I handed out Bibles and literature to anyone who would take them. I shouted “God is love! God is love! God is love!”

I heard the ring of a rifle. And then from out of nowhere someone grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd. I couldn’t’ see his face but he was wearing the brightest clothes I‘d ever seen. He delivered me to the missionary’s house and strangely enough no one followed.

Today I thought would be my last. Instead: Israel is born. God is alive. Allah is not.

My father has disowned me. My people seek to take my life – they don’t realize they can’t…I’ve already given it.

And I’ve been raised from the dead.

I am Born again!

May 15th 1958

For a decade we’ve handed out Bibles and loaves of bread with a message inside in the shape of a cross:

From: The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.

He has a Son.

His name is



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