The Olive Tree
A farmer once told me, “You don’t grow an olive tree by yelling at it. You sit with it. Water it. Shade it. Sometimes you say nothing for a season. But in ten years, you’ll eat oil from that tree—and your grandchildren will too.”
That’s how we disciple here: not with urgency, but with endurance. Not with pressure, but with presence.
What Urgency Often Misses
Discipleships are often packaged in booklets, courses, timelines. The assumption is that growth is linear and fast. But in Muslim-majority settings, the journey of discipleship is not a sprint; it’s a pilgrimage through hidden valleys.
A Muslim-background believer (MBB) doesn’t just change their mind—they change their identity, community, sometimes even their name. To disciple someone here is to walk them through loss, anchor them in new family, and build resilience against fear. That cannot be rushed. And it cannot be outsourced.
Noor’s Quiet Flame
Noor, a woman from a Gulf country, came to Jesus through an online Bible study. She had never touched a printed Bible. Her father was a respected imam. When she confided in a Western mentor, the first response was, “Great! Let’s baptize you, join a church, and share your story on video.”
That nearly destroyed her.
She was not ready to be exposed. She wasn’t even ready to tell her mother. What she needed was someone to walk with her silently through her internal earthquakes: Who am I now? Can I still fast in Ramadan? What do I tell my cousin who noticed I stopped going to the mosque?
Today, after four years of slow, steady discipleship in a secure, female-led online group, she is quietly discipling three other women. No video. No platform. Just faithfulness.
Principles from the Field
Here are some hard-earned insights that shape how we disciple in Muslim-majority lands:
1. Identity Before Activity
We focus first on who they are in Christ—not what they should do. Shame, fear, and uncertainty cling tightly. We help them learn to stand as sons and daughters before they ever speak as witnesses.
2. Story Over System
Muslims come from an oral, narrative-rich world. Discipleship through storytelling—especially stories of the Prophets and Jesus—is far more effective than a bullet-point theology lesson. Walk with them through Abraham’s hospitality, Joseph’s suffering, or Peter’s denial and restoration. Let the Spirit disciple through the stories.
3. Safety is Discipleship Too
For MBBs, physical and digital safety must be considered part of spiritual care. Teaching someone how to securely store Scripture, avoid surveillance, and discern who to trust is part of equipping them to stand. The shepherd guards before he teaches.
4. Community is Essential, Not Optional
Islam is a communal religion. Isolation crushes many MBBs. Small, trusted spiritual families must form quickly—not just for support, but for identity reinforcement. This is why we emphasize small groups that meet in homes, online, or behind closed shop doors.
5. Honor Their Past While Pointing to Christ
Don’t rush to erase every Muslim tradition. Many cultural forms—hospitality, prayer rhythms, fasting, reverence—can be redirected to Jesus. When you disciple someone, you’re not Westernizing them. You’re helping them re-root in the Kingdom soil, without tearing them from their cultural DNA.
An Invitation to Western Partners
If you’re discipling MBBs or supporting those who are, here’s how you can walk wisely:
- Be present without pushing. Let them set the pace.
- Offer truth in story, not just doctrine. Let Scripture breathe.
- Honor the risk they take every day. You may celebrate baptism; they count the cost.
- Resist the urge to “platform” testimonies. Protect their anonymity like your own life.
- Fund the slow work. Don’t just invest in numbers—invest in depth, in leaders, in long-term roots.
The Discipler as a Midwife
A discipler is not a CEO or a curriculum coach. They’re a midwife. They watch. They wait. They pray. They whisper truth while the soul is being born into a Kingdom it cannot yet see fully. They wipe tears. They never rush.
And when that believer finally stands—scarred, but smiling—it is a miracle worth every hidden hour.
The Basin and Towel 