The Rev Dr Alan C. Clifford
Unlike London, Birmingham, Bradford and other English cities, Norwich has a very small Islamic community. However, Muslims are not that difficult to see from time to time, especially in the city centre. That said, I had an extraordinary encounter with a Muslim mother and her four children in a very unusual location on the evening of 14 April 2015.
Having made a pastoral visit in the city in the late afternoon, I had an Elders meeting at 7.45. This involved a ‘longish’ walk from Northumberland Street made easier by a short-cut through the large Earlham cemetery. Normally closed at 6 pm, one small entrance was padlocked. However, I noticed the Dereham Road main gate was still open. Having seen a jogger on the inside cemetery path, and the evening being fine, I thought there would be no difficulty in making my way to the Earlham Road exit on the other side, half a mile away. As I approached the Crematorium in the centre of the cemetery, discomfort in my right foot suggested a welcome rest on a seat beside the main access drive. So, I sat down, enjoyed the quietness and spent some time in prayer for the lady I’d visited and for the meeting I was about to attend.
As I finished praying, a lady of African origin and her four children – one in a pushchair, the others with little scooters – appeared from my left. The mother’s attire indicated that she was a Muslim. I said ‘hello’ as they passed, making their way to the main Earlham Road exit. After a few more minutes, I too continued my walk to the exit, only to find the mother somewhat perturbed that the main gate was locked. She had taken the children for a walk through the cemetery so the little one in the pushchair might fall asleep. So, we were all unable to get out! The time being after 7 pm, I too expressed concern. I told the lady that I was a Christian pastor and that I had a church meeting at 7.45. No one could be seen and neither of us had a mobile ’phone to contact anyone. The only option was to seek another exit that might not be locked. So I suggested we made our way around the perimeter path, hoping at least that the entrance I had used might still be open.
As we walked hastily, I asked the children’s names, and how long the family had been in Norwich. The answer was six years since they left Nigeria. What a bizarre situation this was. A Muslim family locked in this large city cemetery with a Christian pastor! I then embraced the opportunity to speak to the mother about Christ. Hoping she might be happy to hear this, and not knowing how committed she was to her Islamic religion, I started with my personal testimony. I told her that, as a teenager, I had trusted in Jesus my Saviour who died for my sins on the cross.
I was disappointed. This was a feisty lady. Her immediate response was to question my belief that Jesus had actually been crucified. Her sharpening tone told me that she was a thoroughly-convinced Muslim who had no sympathy with traditional Christian beliefs. With no way of escape, we were now ‘locked in debate’, literally and metaphorically! I continued to affirm my faith in the truth of the Bible about the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, that He was the Son of God and only Saviour of the world. The more I testified, the more she contradicted me.
With increasing hostility of tone, the lady said that “Allah does not have a son.” “But God does,” I insisted, “and you reject Him because you think we speak biologically instead of metaphorically.” Appealing to the Qur’an, the mother said that they do accept Jesus. “We call him Isa.” “Yes, I know. I have studied Islam,” I replied. I then said, “The Qur’an is false in what it says about Jesus, and that it blasphemes Him by claiming He was only a prophet, and inferior to Muhammad.” I added that while the Quran affirms His virgin birth, it fails to see the significance of this, that He is God-made-man.
Evidently this lady had never heard her faith questioned. She was disturbed that I wasn’t the type of Christian who looked for common ground and played down differences. She burst out with, “I never thought I would hear such things!” Clearly, she knew ‘her stuff’ about Islam. But she realised I knew ‘my stuff’ about ‘her stuff’. When I asked her why her religion was one of hatred and death, she challenged me. “Where is that in the Qur’an?” “The death of infidels by beheading is taught in Sura 8:12,” I said. “Not now,” she argued. “Tell that to IS,” I replied. “And you promote your religion by violence,” I added. “We only fight back when we are attacked,” she insisted. “How different is Christianity, a religion of love not hate,” I said. “Christ says we must love our enemies, not kill them.”
Having been ‘locked in debate’ for an intense ten minutes, we were now by the ring-road entrance to the cemetery. Greeted by a rather forbidding gate, the large padlock gave us no hope. Then, I suddenly noticed on the left of the gate that one of the bars in the cast-iron railings was missing. So there was just enough space for an adult to squeeze through. I realised that in His gracious providence, God had provided ‘a way of escape’, and an opportunity for me to help this ‘imprisoned’ family. I made my exit through the gap. I then helped the older children through, followed by their scooters. Next, having lifted the pushchair over the railings, I helped the mother and her little one through the space and onto the pavement. We were all free!
Before saying ‘farewell’, I said to the relieved lady, “You see, it’s Jesus who alone can set us free. God bless you all.” As I hastened away to my meeting, two of the children chased after me on their scooters as far as Earlham Road. As I turned to tell them to wait for mummy, they gave me such happy smiles. I wonder what they made of this strange episode, and the things they heard while locked in a cemetery and helped to freedom by a Christian pastor. I pray that they – and their parents – might eventually know more of Jesus and less of Muhammad.
Dr Alan C. Clifford
