IT WAS ABOUT THIRTY YEARS AGO
The event that is the essence of my testimony took place within a short period of about forty days in a small town called Trussville Alabama, about thirty years ago.

Before I begin to share my testimony I want to share a few things that are very dear to me. I was very concerned and hesitant about including my testimony in this publication. I only shared it with a handful of people in over thirty years. I believe it is very personal, and it was intended just for me…because no one could ever understand it or relate to it like I can. As a matter of fact I decided against its publication very early during the writing of this manuscript.

It wasn’t until after it was completed and was just a few days away from being printed that I decided to include it. The contents, as you will see, are very painful. I am not so concerned of what one might think of me (which I admit what I did was foolish perhaps even crazy), as much as my concern about shedding any doubt, disbelief, or skepticism about God. Then again who am I to try and protect the name, integrity, and the sovereignty of God? I believe that God has taken a desperate situation of a naïve college student and turned it around to the greatest experience in my life.

I give you my word of honor that I would not trade those days for all the money in the world. I do not speak as a popper who never had any money and is thus clueless of its benefits. I speak as one who owned my own successful business for over 24 years, with access to hundreds of thousands of dollars, as one who enjoyed the good prosperous life.

Today there are many Internet based support groups for ‘completed’ Muslims - The Internet was not even available thirty years ago. You do not have to go it alone. It is not God’s will that you suffer. Jesus already suffered for you. It is not God’s will that you pay a heavy price when Jesus paid it all in full and in advance.

His will is to lighten your burden not add to it. In the eleventh chapter and the 28th verse of the gospel of Mathew Jesus said:

”Come unto me, all [ye] that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

On another occasion Jesus warns his disciples of trials and tribulations that would befall them. He tells them that they must go through these perilous times, but He promises that they will not go it alone…that He will be there with them in the fire, and in the storm, in the solitude, the rejection and the tears.

Which one is it then? Is it a contradiction or a paradox? It does not matter. You are a winner either way. He promises not to put upon you more than you could bear. The apostle Paul considered himself lucky and privileged to suffer for the Kingdom of God and its righteousness.

There is not enough silver and gold in the world for the Apostle Paul to trade for his experiences with the Son of God, the heavenly places he visited, and the revelations he received in order to build and edify the Church of Jesus Christ.

So make yourselves available to the Holy Spirit. Tell Him so. Tell Him to lead and guide you and be with you as you proclaim liberty to the captives, heal the sick, and raise the dead in the name of your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Do these things in the name that is above all names; ‘the name of the only begotten of God, Jesus, ‘the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world.’

The Torah says that the latter rain will be greater than the former rain. Jesus said that greater works than what He did, are awaiting those who are chosen to preach the Good News in these perilous days before His coming, and remember ‘obedience is better than sacrifice.’

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater [works] than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.” (John 14:12)

“And Jesus stood still, and called them, and said, What will ye that I shall do unto you?” Believe Him and trust Him with all your might. Call on Him and do not hesitate to ‘prove’ Him and ‘put Him on the spot’ because when you do, you give Him the opportunity to ‘operate’ in His realm, the realm of power, miracles, and wonders! You put Him in a place where He can perform His Word and vindicate His name and your name! (Matthew 20:32)

“Prove me now herewith, saith the LORD of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that [there shall] not [be room] enough [to receive it].” (Malachi 3:10)

HI MY NAME IS AKEF TAYEM… AND THIS IS MY TESTIMONY
My name is Akef Tayem. I am a Palestinian Arab. I was born in Haifa, Israel, shortly after the Balfour Declaration partitioned Palestine and established Israel as a homeland to the Jewish people, in May of 1948.

My father was a wealthy merchant. He inherited and carried on the family tradition of growing and exporting Oranges, tangerines, and grapes to Great Britain. He was a respected leader in the community, a devout father, and a good Muslim who strictly observed the tenants of Islam.

As the war between Arabs and Jews intensified, my father and mother fearing for the safety of their seven young children, boarded a fishing boat and set out to sea; destination was the Island of Cyprus. The family grew by three more members to a total of five boys and five girls. We found favor in the eyes of the locals; we soon learned to speak their language, Greek and Turkish. Our home was close to a British military base. It was a large room about twice as big as a double garage. All sides were made of tin including the roof. I remember two things distinctly about our home because I dreaded both; the roof, because of the noise the rain made especially during a thunderstorm, and the outhouse, which was about a block away.

The military camp became our playground. Without realizing it and without putting any effort, we soon picked up another language, which was a prerequisite for attending the most prestigious high school on the Island, called the English School.

My brothers and I excelled in sports. My sisters also did well in school and in their careers. My youngest sister mastered nine languages and found employment with the United Nations. My oldest brother, who was a teenager when we arrived in Cyprus, had the most difficulty adopting, especially learning the languages. He couldn't’t be admitted in any local schools because he could not speak any of the local languages.

He taught himself English then enrolled in an American correspondence school. It took him a few years more than normal, but he eventually managed to win a scholarship to Ohio Wesleyan University in Delaware, Ohio. He followed up his Bachelor’s degree with a Masters degree in Mathematics. He got a job as a professor of Mathematics at Ohio Northern University, in Ada, Ohio.

Another of my brothers received his scholarship from Wilmington College. After graduation he earned his master’s from the University of Dayton, in Ohio. He held the high jump record at The English School for about fifteen years after his graduation.

My other brother was the entrepreneur and the artist of the family. While in high school he somehow learned a technique of making three dimensional full color maps true to scale by shredding newspapers and applying dye for color and glue to form the paper-paste. He was selling them to the tourists faster than he could make them. He would also sell recognizable busts of famous people he sculpted on the tips of chalk sticks – the round ones used in schools to write on chalk boards.
My youngest brother founded an import export company with several outlets.

I was the captain of the hockey and the soccer teams. While in my sophomore year I too received a scholarship to attend college in the United States. In my senior year a lump began to appear on my right thigh. Within a few days it grew to the size of a softball. It did not hurt at all. I used to move it by poking it with my finger. At first we thought nothing of it, perhaps a sports injury.

It did not go away and kept increasing in size. It was diagnosed as a tumor. The doctor recommended immediate amputation in order to stop the cancer from spreading to my vital organs and causing my death. A second opinion from a British specialist from the military base convinced my dad to sign the papers authorizing the amputation. It was scheduled to take place three days later.

The day before the operation my mother took me out of the hospital, ignoring the doctor’s warning that I would be dead in a few weeks.

I still remember the little Turkish coffee cup mom used to dip olive oil out of a vase. The largest vase I have ever seen at the time. When I was about six or seven years old, it was as high as I was tall. I found out later it held over fifty gallons of oil. We had two such vases; one held the olive oil, the other held olives aged in olive oil, garlic, and herbs.

Mom would massage the tumor till the cup was empty. She would do this several times a day. She never cried in front me, though I would often hear her sobbing. Many times when I called out to her (I was bedridden) I noticed her eyes would be red. By the third day mom noticed that it began to shrink. She promised me that I would not die.

By about the tenth day the tumor shrunk enough to where I could bend my leg as I began to walk again. A few days later it all went away! About six months later I left my family and my adopted homeland and left for college in the United States.

In my sophomore year I met a girl I was really excited about. She spoke a lot about her Christian faith. I was not interested in religion at the time, my priority was to complete my studies and pass my bar exam. I wanted to be an attorney.

She became unbearable when a ‘faith healer’ set up his tent close to the college campus. She spoke of miracles and healings. I was convinced he was a charlatan prying on naïve people. I was determined to prove that I was right. She was offended by my remarks and decided not to go. I was not about to let her off that easy, besides I wanted to put an end to this. I insisted that we go.

The flamboyant charlatan put a young child with a deformed leg on the stage and said that Jesus was going to heal him. He called out for any agnostics and skeptics, especially students, to come on the stage and get a closer look. I did not hesitate, besides my girlfriend and I were sitting too far away to be able to see clearly. The child was a young boy about six or seven years old. His right leg was in some sort of a leather- brace-support outfit, something I never seen before. His leg was clearly visible through this brace. It was much thinner and shorter than the healthy one. The preacher sat him on a chair and removed the brace. He extended both of the child’s legs by supporting them with his left hand.

The withered leg was about three to four inches shorter. The preacher held a microphone in his right hand as he began to pray. The audience as if on a predetermined queue rose from their seats, extended their hands towards the stage...in an instant that startled me, the withered leg extended itself to the same length of the other leg and just as suddenly as it grew it stopped growing…then as if someone blew air into it, like blowing air into a balloon, the leg ‘puffed’ up and looked just like the healthy one.

It looked as though the incident startled the child too. It took him a few moments to be able to stand on both legs. He took a few clumsy steps, which got better with each step he took…soon after he was running around the tent as the audience edged him on.

It was spectacular and awesome to say the least. When the invitation to accept Christ was given I was among the first to jump from my seat. I had no idea what lay ahead. My family tried to persuade me to pretend it never happened. I simply could not do it. My family disowned me; my dad explained to me why he had to do what he did…I said I understood. Somehow life did not matter any more; there was no one to share it with. The praises, the compliments, and the attention I was so used to vanished so quickly.

I withdrew from society. I just wanted to get away. I got in my van and drove about a thousand miles away, to a small town called Trussville, just outside Birmingham Alabama. I stopped at a little country church on a deserted dirt road, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere. It was around noon Sunday. There were about ten people in attendance.

I asked the minister (An older female lady who was referred to as sister Prince) if I could stay there for a few days. I tried to explain as she kindly interrupted to tell me that I was welcome to stay for as long as I wanted and that I did not have to explain anything to her… “You are in God’s hands…He will take care of you,” is all she said with a smile and an assurance that I so desperately needed.

It was so quite and serene. I felt at ease. I just wanted to be alone for a few days to sort things out, and then I will get back in my van and go back to school again. I would venture deep into the woods to my favorite spot – a reddish white rock that was as wide as it was high, about ten maybe twelve feet. It was flat on top with one side extending about three feet above the other. It looked like a day bed in the sense that I could lie on it and sleep, or I could lean on it and read. It was summer. It was a little warm and a little humid. I loved the solitude. I spent my time reading two books that I brought with me, the Quran and the Bible.

It has been a week since I have been here. I have not eaten anything during this time. It was not because I did not have food or money. The van was stocked with all sorts of canned food, not to mention all the food someone would leave me in covered dishes every Wednesday and Sunday.

I was not fasting or dieting either, I simply had no appetite. The church did not have city water. There was a shallow well at the back whose water was not fit for drinking. That must be why someone left me two gallons of water on Wednesdays and Sundays. I was told there was a shallow stream in the woods with clean and cold drinkable water.

I realized that my lack of nutrients would have its toll on me. I did not worry because I could leave at any time. After a while I lost track of time, I didn’t know how long I have been there, I later figured it out to be between forty two to forty five days. I became too weak to walk to the church, which was about 2-3 miles from the rock. As I was coming up the hill the view of the church and the empty parking lot came in clear view. My van was no longer there. I panicked as the incident knocked me back to my senses. I was ready and determined to leave this place as soon as possible.

I decided to turn back and go look for that stream they told me flowed year round with cold drinkable water. I was hoping it would rejuvenate me enough to make it up the hill and to the dirt road by the church, with the hope of running into a motorist.

As I was walking back I saw something that puzzled me. It still does to this very day. I saw a heart, a human heart that was alive and beating. In it I saw the most hideous and disgusting creeping creatures – a picture scene any horror and gory Hollywood movie producer would envy. I was in total disbelief and angry at God, myself, and everyone else, when I realized I was looking at my own heart. How can this be? I have been living a fairly clean life. I did not drink alcoholic beverages, or do drugs, or smoke. I was honest, I did not deliberately set out to hurt anyone…it simply made no sense. The burden was simply too heavy and God was nowhere to be found!

I found myself weeping uncontrollably as I begged God not to distance Himself from me…He is all I had left. The sun was directly overhead when I made it back to my rock. I was so weak I could barely walk. I picked up the Bible. It was my habit to read loud so I can hear the words. The sound also helped brake the monotony of silence. As I opened my mouth I felt pain in my lips as if my action tore the skin. I felt the blood coming down my chin. I was extremely dehydrated. The skin between my fingers was cracked and tore like a piece of dry and aged paper. I could barely walk. I prayed for rain, it was my only hope…there was not a single cloud in the sky. The trees looked like they were upside down. They looked as if they were hanging from the sky.

The next thing I remember I was about ten feet above my rock looking down at this person that I could not recognize. He was very skinny with sunken eyes and dark skin that looked dry and bruised. He was lying beside an open Bible. The only phrase I could see clearly that stood above the rest was “fear not only believe.”

I then started moving upwards surrounded in darkness toward the sky. I wasn’t aware of how fast or any other details. The only thing I remember was that I had no weight. I had a form but it was without substance. I could put my hand right through my chest if I wanted to.

Soon after, I found myself going through a well-lit area…then back into darkness. This went on two more times. When I came to the third well-lit area I stopped. I stood on what seemed like wool. I realized that the reason I could stand on it is because I was so light, and that if I had any weight, I would fall through.

In front of me, and about ten feet away, I noticed that the form of a man begun to take shape. I knew in a split second that it was Jesus. I do not know how I knew, except that I just did. It was more like a silhouette. I could not make out any features such as color of eyes or hair, but I could make out the outline of a robe and what seemed as shoulder length hair.

He began to walk towards me. He stopped at arms distance…and said “touch me”…the sound of His words came from everywhere, above me, beneath me, from behind me…from every direction. I reached out my right hand and touched Him just below the rib cage…I stopped when I realized that the tip of my fingers actually went inside His chest…the next thing I knew, I was back on my rock and it was pouring rain!

THE FIRE IN MY HAND
I danced my way back to the dirt road. No words can ever describe my experience with Jesus. The local barber, Cecil Cornelius, who was also a deacon of the local Southern Baptist church, asked me what happened to me. I told him. He took me to his pastor. They insisted that I go to the hospital for a check up. I begged them to give me twenty-four hours, and if by then they still wanted me to go, I would.

I took a long bath. They gave me soup and crackers to eat, and let me stay in their guesthouse. They said I slept all day and all night. When I awoke I was a new man, they told me so!

The pastor and his wife asked me to share my testimony at their church. As I was relating the event, I noticed that my right hand, the one that I touched Jesus with, was red, sweaty, and felt very warm. I was bewildered and perhaps even a little scared. The audience noticed my ‘concern’ and so did the pastor, who interrupted me out of concern to ask me if I was all right.

I showed him my hand. He held both of my hands, and commented about how much warmer the right hand was. A few in the audience began coming towards the stage. I was soon surrounded by the whole congregation who wanted to feel my hand.

The most amazing thing happened when a deacon of the church who was in a wheelchair for over thirty years touched my hands. He got up from the wheel chair. He hesitated for a minute or two as people (including myself), tried to come to his aide. He motioned that he did not need any help. Shortly after he began to walk…as if he has never been in a wheelchair.

The word spread. For the next six months I shared my testimony in several churches. I spoke in Baptist churches, Methodist, Assembly, Full Gospel, independent, church of God, Holiness, Ones, and many others.

I came to Dallas in 1978 and started a very successful business. My son, my daughter, and me lived a very comfortable life. They both attended and graduated college. By the year 2001 they were both married, moved out, and pursued their own dreams and carriers.

THIRTY YEARS LATER
It has been about thirty years ago, and I still remember it as if it was yesterday. The resent events in the Middle East brought a burning desire in my heart to reach my Muslims brothers. I wrote this book, which might seem as harsh to some.

Arabs, like Jews, are a proud and stubborn people; after all we are the sons of Abraham. We are not easily awakened from our slumber. It takes something extra ordinary to get our attention.

I believe that God has already started an unprecedented Holy Ghost ordained revival in the Middle East and beyond into all parts of the Muslim world of unfathomable dimensions. It is still in its infancy. God is honoring his chosen…I see the lightning and I hear the thunder. The rain will soon follow!

The irony and paradox of it all is that what started as the worst time in my life turned out to be the best time in my life.

In the year 2000 I started becoming restless. I felt the urgent need to tell somebody, anybody, about the saving grace that is in Christ Jesus. In 2002 the case with Saddam Hussein and president George Bush began to heat up; so has the desire in my soul and the temperature in the palm of my right hand. I shut down by business and spent almost two years working on this book.

PRAY THAT GOD WILL SEND LABOURERS INTO THE HARVEST…HERE AM I LORD, SEND ME.
My request to all that read this manuscript, please pray that the will of God be done concerning it.

I believe it is by God’s providence that it fell in your hands…may God help you apply your talent, whatever it might be, to do whatever is in your power to help me take this publication to my Muslim brothers.

The time is right. The time is now. Today is the hour of Salvation. It is by God’s will and providence that the eyes of the world are once again turned to the Middle East.

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