That's...a Mosque?

I wouldn't have guessed that a run down, crumby, old brick building in the middle of Columbus, Ohio would house one of the most diverse centers of worship (let alone a diverse set of people in itself) I had ever been to!

When my host pulled into the parking lot behind the building, I was really kind of let down at first. I was hoping to see a grand building, with gold capped pillars and impressive architecture to match the feeling of awe that the text of such a religion supports. That feeling of being let down was quickly over run with a question of immediate concern, "Why was this the building of the Mosque?" My host told me that they had to have their Mosque here in order to hide: rocks had been thrown through the windows, cars had been vandalized while worship was going on, etc.

I was really taken aback at the honesty of the answer. My host didn't want to prove a point of any kind, he simply told me the way things were. That was enough for me to quickly soften up and be more receptive of what experience laid before me.

I wasn't sure if I had my cross necklace on or not (at the time, I was not a Christian, but I also loved playing devil's advocate, as I still do). Looking back, that wasn't really mature at all, and in fact, I'd like to point out how stupid and horribly offensive I was, without even mentioning the great hospitality (I had never ate beats before, and they were delicious.)

I met people from all over the world: Egypt, Somalia, Mexico, America, and more from Africa. I was able to  speak to the Imam of the Mosque himself! We were having conversation before the worship and my questions were apparently too tough or deep for the others, so the Imam came over and chatted with me. I am very proud to say that even he immediately recognized I was no beginner and no fool. I won't say what exactly we talked about (I know it had something to do with, if God is all-powerful, couldn't God make it so that I was meant NOT to be a Muslim? And, if God is all-powerful, could God not simply void the Qur'an (assuming it is 100% true) at any moment just because whatever?)

Anyways, the point of my post is to allow me to remember a great story. A story of me sitting on the floor, looking up to many shelves of great golden-bound books and chatting with men from all over the world in an extremely unassuming, simply, and homely rundown building. I certainly left with a new sense of respect for the entire operation and people, and knew inside how grateful I was to have had such an experience (I almost said no!) and that I would never, ever forget that I entered, for a very short time, the world of the oppressed.