Why I Left Islam for Christianity

Why I Left Islam for Christianity: The Inspiring Journey of Aisha Abubakar

I was born under the golden sun of Mogadishu, Somalia, into a devout Muslim family. My name is Aisha Abubakar, named after one of Prophet Muhammad's wives. From the earliest moments of my childhood, Islam was more than a religion—it was my identity, my culture, my world.

My parents raised me in the Quranic traditions. I learned to recite verses in Arabic before I fully understood their meaning. I wore the hijab with pride, fasted during Ramadan, and never questioned the teachings that were handed down from generation to generation. My life was structured, obedient, and deeply religious. But in the quiet corners of my heart, questions began to whisper.

It began when I was seventeen. My younger brother fell gravely ill. We prayed fervently at the mosque. My mother recited surahs day and night, and my father offered zakat to the poor. But nothing changed. One evening, as I sat beside my brother’s hospital bed, I whispered a simple prayer—not in Arabic, but in Somali, my mother tongue: “God, if You are real, show me who You are.”

A few days later, a nurse at the hospital, an older woman from Kenya named Miriam, noticed the sorrow in my eyes. She gently handed me a small book—*The Gospel of John*. She didn’t say much, only, “Read this when you’re alone. And ask God to speak to you.”

Out of curiosity, I opened it. The words struck me like lightning:  

**“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”**  

I couldn’t stop reading.

Every word pierced my heart with a strange, unfamiliar hope. Then I came to this:  

**“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”**  

For the first time in my life, I felt seen—known—not by a distant deity, but by a loving, personal God.

My journey to Christ was not a single moment, but a thousand small encounters: dreams where I saw a man in white calling my name; a peace that washed over me as I read the Gospels; and a deep, unshakable sense that Jesus was not just a prophet—He was the Son of God, the Savior of my soul.

Accepting Christ meant more than changing my beliefs. It meant risking everything. My family disowned me. I was called a traitor. Threats followed me everywhere. But I held onto the words that had transformed me:  

**“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”** (Matthew 11:28)

In Jesus, I found more than rest—I found life.  

I found forgiveness.  

I found identity not rooted in fear, but in love.  

I found a Father who runs to embrace His lost daughter.  

And I found the courage to live in the light, even when the shadows of persecution surrounded me.

Today, I serve in East Africa, sharing the Gospel with other women who, like me, are searching for truth beneath the veil of religion. I tell them: **Jesus is not a religion. He is a relationship. He does not condemn you; He calls you by name.**

My name is Aisha Abubakar.  

I was a Muslim.  

Now, I am a daughter of the King.  

And I have never been more free.