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Murderer to Missionary
© 2006 Called and Sent Magazine. All Rights Reserved.
From murderer to missionary
Believer takes testimony back to his people
By Called and Sent Staff
Local missionary names have been changed.
MINDANAO, Philippines—Eduardo was a murderer. Eduardo was a thief. Eduardo had a record as long as a judge’s robe.
Today, as Eduardo talks about his life, a broad smile reveals how God transformed his murderous past into a courageous ministry to a Muslim community.
‘Hard to imagine how violent it was’
Eduardo grew up Muslim in a city on the southern Philippines island of Mindanao. Eduardo says he was “very young” when he got involved with a rough barkada (street gang) and the drugs and guns that went with it.
In his written testimony Eduardo describes the heartache he put his mother and father through because of his rebellion, which began with his drug use: “Because of this, all my family, my father, mother, my four brothers, three sisters and even all my relatives, did not accept me to come into their houses.”
Then came guns—lots of them, Eduardo says. “It’s hard to imagine how violent it was,” he says. “Once guns are in it, there’s killing.”
The violence only escalated. At age 17, Eduardo joined one of the many Muslim revolutionary groups based in Mindanao. At the rebel camp, Eduardo says, leaders trained him to handle guns and to kill.
“We hated what we wanted to hate, and we could kill whoever we wanted to kill, as long as they were against our ways,” he says.
That ethos drove Eduardo into enough trouble for several lifetimes: robberies, multiple murders, more attempted murders and getting stabbed by a man he considered a friend.
Four times before age 20, Eduardo went to prison; four times relatives bought off the judge and got him out. Following his fourth term, Eduardo decided he’d had enough—he would try to finish his education, sit for his national exam and finally get his college degree. But financial problems dogged him, and his criminal past beckoned.
From killing to keyboarding Scripture
A letter from his father saved him from himself. His dad, though not a believer, had landed a job as a translation assistant for a missions agency working in Manila, 500-plus miles away from his family. He invited Eduardo, who was still living on Mindanao, to join him and take a job keyboarding text into a computer.
Eduardo didn’t have the best typing skills, but he was ready for the change.
“Actually I had already promised myself that I would really go straight,” Eduardo says. “It was timely that my father’s letter came. I couldn’t imagine working with a computer, because it wasn’t in my background. I didn’t even know how to operate a computer.”
But with effort came time with the Bible. The exposure birthed questions in Eduardo’s mind: questions such as, “What if Isa al Masih (Jesus the Messiah) and the Father really are one?” He asked his dad, who didn’t offer an explanation. So Eduardo tucked the questions away—still asking himself, but no one else.
Role reversal
When Eduardo’s dad took a position with a “Jesus” film translation team on Mindanao, the project coordinator also hired Eduardo to be one of the 20 voices used in dubbing the movie’s dialogue.
Eduardo talked for multiple characters. The last character he spoke for was the “good” thief at Calvary who asked Jesus to remember him in paradise. The role hit way too close to home for Eduardo.
“It’s a powerful message when you’re dubbing,” Eduardo says of the role. “You can really feel something within your body. I felt that it was really true. But I kept hiding it. No one knew it.”
The “Jesus” film team on Mindanao also translated testimonies from other followers of Jesus for distribution. Those testimonies prompted Eduardo to secretly seek God more and more, even though he was not yet a believer. “They helped me to really see and to have an idea about believing in Christ,” he says.
Clean slate convinces the seeker
Those testimonies brought Eduardo to a gradual faith in Christ that had begun with his text-entry job in Manila. But he wasn’t forced to make it public until he decided to make good on his vow to finish his education.
He decided to go back to Mindanao and, like his father, become a language assistant for a missionary. About that time a scheduled board examination for Eduardo’s license (degree) came up. To take the exam, though, students must be cleared by the local government (barangay), the police and the National Bureau of Investigation to prove that they have no criminal past. It’s a red-tape speed bump for most; but to Eduardo, it looked like Everest.
“I absolutely did not think they would release any of these,” he says. “Maybe they would release the barangay [records], but never the police or the NBI.”
Eduardo’s dad, knowing how bleak the chances were, told him that completing the course work was good enough for him. But passing the exam meant a great shot at a job in Eduardo’s field. So Eduardo took the problem up with a missionary friend.
Then the missionary cut to the chase: “Do you know Christ?” the man asked. Eduardo said yes, he believed in Christ in his heart, but nobody knew.
“They were shocked,” Eduardo recalls with a grin. “They said they couldn’t imagine that the person they were always talking with was a secret believer.”
The missionaries prayed with their newfound brother about the situation, reminding him of John 16:23: “I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name.”
“And I said, ‘But my bad deeds are all recorded in their books. How is that possible?’” Eduardo says. “And they said, ‘Try it.’”
So he did. Because he had no criminal record with the barangay he was living in, their clearance was nearly automatic. But then he went to the police requesting clearance. They told him to come back the next day. That gave Eduardo 24 hours to think over that Scripture promise and commit to leaving his old ways for good.
“I confessed all that,” he says of his past sins. “I gave it to God, and I promised that if He helped me, not to do it again because I hated all that.”
The next day, Eduardo returned to the police station. They had no record of any of his past crimes.
“I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “But it was there. They showed the proof.”
The NBI experience was a replay: A request to come back the next day, fear, and then a clean report.
“When I got it, I said, ‘Wow!’” Eduardo says. “I thanked him. I said, ‘Now I know that you are. I have no doubts. I will never ask again, who are you?’ I was convinced that he really is.”
Then the icing: Eduardo sat for the exam he had hoped and prayed so hard just to take—and placed third in his exam group. Eduardo’s exam results landed him a job as an announcer with a local radio station, and he went on to pioneer a radio ministry to Muslims based in his old hometown. But that was just the beginning.
The power of testimony and forgiveness
Today, Eduardo and his family live in an all-Muslim village where his wife, Angelina, has a lot of family.
Because their datu (community leader) is a friend and has already given them clearance to work with other organizations professing a belief in Jesus, Eduardo isn’t worried about his welfare. In fact, he’s hopeful. Including Eduardo and Angelina there are four local believers meeting together right now, and they are working with a fifth person who may be close to receiving Christ.
“What I hope is that at least we can form a group of believers who worship Christ,” Eduardo says. “That’s our dream—a group of believers who gather to worship Christ and have their own pastor. There’s nothing like that now.”
Eduardo and Angelina have begun several ministries in their village, including microfinance and a literacy program. The whole idea is to help the community with its needs while using the same kind of testimonies that helped turn Eduardo’s life around—this time their own. And not just his testimony, but Angelina’s, too: Like many Muslims around the world, Angelina came to know Christ after she had a dream about Jesus.
“Our dream is that through this modeling, we will reach the people for Christ,” Eduardo says. “It’s a public service that speaks to them, that this is our relationship to him, to Isa al Masih. I use my testimony, and my wife also uses her testimony to prove that he really is in our lives.”
Those testimonies were put to the ultimate test about three months ago (see sidebar, “Ultimate Forgiveness”). After school one day, Eduardo’s elementary-age daughter was attacked and nearly raped by a group of her male classmates on the school grounds. Instead of asking the datu to fine the families of the offenders, Eduardo and his wife forgave them outright.
This from a man who once swore a blood oath against that friend who stabbed him, in a culture where revenge is all but expected. “If you don’t avenge, you’re not a real Muslim,” Eduardo says. “The whole community will look you down as a coward.”
But even that revenge story has a happy ending:
Several years after the attack, after Eduardo had received Christ, the two former friends happened to see one another. The man walked toward Eduardo. Eduardo turned the other way. The man caught up with him. Eduardo put up his hands to defend himself; but instead of striking Eduardo, the man hugged him, saying, “My friend, forgive me for whatever I did to you.”
Eduardo’s old friend (and enemy) had accepted Jesus, too.
“Our past experience is part of the wonderful love of Jesus to both of us,” Eduardo wrote in a testimony years ago. “And the symbol of this love are the marks of our wounds on our bodies.”
“Although I am less than the least of all God's people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ …” – Ephesians 3:8
 | |
|
Local missionary names have been changed.
MINDANAO, Philippines—Eduardo was a murderer. Eduardo was a thief. Eduardo had a record as long as a judge’s robe.
Today, as Eduardo talks about his life, a broad smile reveals how God transformed his murderous past into a courageous ministry to a Muslim community.
‘Hard to imagine how violent it was’
Eduardo grew up Muslim in a city on the southern Philippines island of Mindanao. Eduardo says he was “very young” when he got involved with a rough barkada (street gang) and the drugs and guns that went with it.
In his written testimony Eduardo describes the heartache he put his mother and father through because of his rebellion, which began with his drug use: “Because of this, all my family, my father, mother, my four brothers, three sisters and even all my relatives, did not accept me to come into their houses.”
Then came guns—lots of them, Eduardo says. “It’s hard to imagine how violent it was,” he says. “Once guns are in it, there’s killing.”
The violence only escalated. At age 17, Eduardo joined one of the many Muslim revolutionary groups based in Mindanao. At the rebel camp, Eduardo says, leaders trained him to handle guns and to kill.
“We hated what we wanted to hate, and we could kill whoever we wanted to kill, as long as they were against our ways,” he says.
That ethos drove Eduardo into enough trouble for several lifetimes: robberies, multiple murders, more attempted murders and getting stabbed by a man he considered a friend.
Four times before age 20, Eduardo went to prison; four times relatives bought off the judge and got him out. Following his fourth term, Eduardo decided he’d had enough—he would try to finish his education, sit for his national exam and finally get his college degree. But financial problems dogged him, and his criminal past beckoned.
From killing to keyboarding ScriptureA letter from his father saved him from himself. His dad, though not a believer, had landed a job as a translation assistant for a missions agency working in Manila, 500-plus miles away from his family. He invited Eduardo, who was still living on Mindanao, to join him and take a job keyboarding text into a computer.
Eduardo didn’t have the best typing skills, but he was ready for the change.
“Actually I had already promised myself that I would really go straight,” Eduardo says. “It was timely that my father’s letter came. I couldn’t imagine working with a computer, because it wasn’t in my background. I didn’t even know how to operate a computer.”
But with effort came time with the Bible. The exposure birthed questions in Eduardo’s mind: questions such as, “What if Isa al Masih (Jesus the Messiah) and the Father really are one?” He asked his dad, who didn’t offer an explanation. So Eduardo tucked the questions away—still asking himself, but no one else.
Role reversal
When Eduardo’s dad took a position with a “Jesus” film translation team on Mindanao, the project coordinator also hired Eduardo to be one of the 20 voices used in dubbing the movie’s dialogue.
Eduardo talked for multiple characters. The last character he spoke for was the “good” thief at Calvary who asked Jesus to remember him in paradise. The role hit way too close to home for Eduardo.
“It’s a powerful message when you’re dubbing,” Eduardo says of the role. “You can really feel something within your body. I felt that it was really true. But I kept hiding it. No one knew it.”The “Jesus” film team on Mindanao also translated testimonies from other followers of Jesus for distribution. Those testimonies prompted Eduardo to secretly seek God more and more, even though he was not yet a believer. “They helped me to really see and to have an idea about believing in Christ,” he says.
Clean slate convinces the seeker
Those testimonies brought Eduardo to a gradual faith in Christ that had begun with his text-entry job in Manila. But he wasn’t forced to make it public until he decided to make good on his vow to finish his education.
He decided to go back to Mindanao and, like his father, become a language assistant for a missionary. About that time a scheduled board examination for Eduardo’s license (degree) came up. To take the exam, though, students must be cleared by the local government (barangay), the police and the National Bureau of Investigation to prove that they have no criminal past. It’s a red-tape speed bump for most; but to Eduardo, it looked like Everest.
“I absolutely did not think they would release any of these,” he says. “Maybe they would release the barangay [records], but never the police or the NBI.”
Eduardo’s dad, knowing how bleak the chances were, told him that completing the course work was good enough for him. But passing the exam meant a great shot at a job in Eduardo’s field. So Eduardo took the problem up with a missionary friend.
Then the missionary cut to the chase: “Do you know Christ?” the man asked. Eduardo said yes, he believed in Christ in his heart, but nobody knew.
“They were shocked,” Eduardo recalls with a grin. “They said they couldn’t imagine that the person they were always talking with was a secret believer.”
The missionaries prayed with their newfound brother about the situation, reminding him of John 16:23: “I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name.”
“And I said, ‘But my bad deeds are all recorded in their books. How is that possible?’” Eduardo says. “And they said, ‘Try it.’”
So he did. Because he had no criminal record with the barangay he was living in, their clearance was nearly automatic. But then he went to the police requesting clearance. They told him to come back the next day. That gave Eduardo 24 hours to think over that Scripture promise and commit to leaving his old ways for good.
“I confessed all that,” he says of his past sins. “I gave it to God, and I promised that if He helped me, not to do it again because I hated all that.”
The next day, Eduardo returned to the police station. They had no record of any of his past crimes.
“I couldn’t believe it,” he says. “But it was there. They showed the proof.”
The NBI experience was a replay: A request to come back the next day, fear, and then a clean report.
“When I got it, I said, ‘Wow!’” Eduardo says. “I thanked him. I said, ‘Now I know that you are. I have no doubts. I will never ask again, who are you?’ I was convinced that he really is.”
Then the icing: Eduardo sat for the exam he had hoped and prayed so hard just to take—and placed third in his exam group. Eduardo’s exam results landed him a job as an announcer with a local radio station, and he went on to pioneer a radio ministry to Muslims based in his old hometown. But that was just the beginning.
The power of testimony and forgiveness
Today, Eduardo and his family live in an all-Muslim village where his wife, Angelina, has a lot of family.
Because their datu (community leader) is a friend and has already given them clearance to work with other organizations professing a belief in Jesus, Eduardo isn’t worried about his welfare. In fact, he’s hopeful. Including Eduardo and Angelina there are four local believers meeting together right now, and they are working with a fifth person who may be close to receiving Christ.
“What I hope is that at least we can form a group of believers who worship Christ,” Eduardo says. “That’s our dream—a group of believers who gather to worship Christ and have their own pastor. There’s nothing like that now.”
Eduardo and Angelina have begun several ministries in their village, including microfinance and a literacy program. The whole idea is to help the community with its needs while using the same kind of testimonies that helped turn Eduardo’s life around—this time their own. And not just his testimony, but Angelina’s, too: Like many Muslims around the world, Angelina came to know Christ after she had a dream about Jesus.
“Our dream is that through this modeling, we will reach the people for Christ,” Eduardo says. “It’s a public service that speaks to them, that this is our relationship to him, to Isa al Masih. I use my testimony, and my wife also uses her testimony to prove that he really is in our lives.”
Those testimonies were put to the ultimate test about three months ago (see sidebar, “Ultimate Forgiveness”). After school one day, Eduardo’s elementary-age daughter was attacked and nearly raped by a group of her male classmates on the school grounds. Instead of asking the datu to fine the families of the offenders, Eduardo and his wife forgave them outright.
This from a man who once swore a blood oath against that friend who stabbed him, in a culture where revenge is all but expected. “If you don’t avenge, you’re not a real Muslim,” Eduardo says. “The whole community will look you down as a coward.”
But even that revenge story has a happy ending:
Several years after the attack, after Eduardo had received Christ, the two former friends happened to see one another. The man walked toward Eduardo. Eduardo turned the other way. The man caught up with him. Eduardo put up his hands to defend himself; but instead of striking Eduardo, the man hugged him, saying, “My friend, forgive me for whatever I did to you.”
Eduardo’s old friend (and enemy) had accepted Jesus, too.
“Our past experience is part of the wonderful love of Jesus to both of us,” Eduardo wrote in a testimony years ago. “And the symbol of this love are the marks of our wounds on our bodies.”
“Although I am less than the least of all God's people, this grace was given me: to preach to the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ …” – Ephesians 3:8