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This is the twelfth and last of a series of articles by Mojtaba Hosseini, an Iranian convert to Christianity who spent more than three years in prison in the southern city of Shiraz because of his membership of a house-church. Mojtaba’s first note from prison explained his journey to faith and the first of his two subsequent arrests; his second detailed his long interrogation; his third explained the desperation and loneliness of solitary confinement and his fourth described some of the dreams and visions he had in solitary. His fifth note described his court hearing, his sixth his first moments in prison, and his seventh his emotions in the moments and days after his release on bail. In his eighth note Mojtaba recounted his year-long trial; his ninth explained living in the constant expectation of re-arrest; and his tenth saw that long-anticipated day arrive. In his eleventh note, Mojtaba recounted an unexpected friendship in prison; and in this final note, Mojtaba talks us through his transfer to the public prison, life there, and his journey since.

So we arrived at the public prison, with a capacity of 3,000 but a population of 8,000, and known for both violence and chaos. 

I had a lot of fear and apprehension in my heart, a feeling like stepping into a dark forest and considering the thousands of dangers I would meet. I took comfort from the words of Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me.”

“Oh, Good Shepherd, be with us and keep us safe,” I prayed. I put my hope in the one for whom even darkness is not dark; even night is as bright as day. Wherever I may go, I knew He would take my hand.

From the very first moment in that place, everything was so strange that it was as though I had entered an entirely new world. The atmosphere was so full of fear, humiliation, anxiety, unkindness, and anger that it felt as though you inhaled these emotions with every breath. 

A huge crowd of prisoners was waiting in the yard to be transferred to their respective wards; the prison was so large that prisoners were transported by bus. 

After the prison officers had noted down our details and the “crime” for which we had been brought to this place, we also waited for our transfer. 

Difficult to breathe

A bus arrived, but the number of prisoners waiting there was so much greater than the capacity of the bus. Nevertheless, and incredibly – I couldn’t believe what was happening at first – the soldiers pushed every single one of us into the bus, while shouting at us and insulting us.

Every seat was full; some people even had to share. There was not a single empty space on the bus; not even in the aisle. We were crammed together so tightly that it was difficult to breathe, and this sense of claustrophobia was only enhanced by the bars over the windows and the fact each prisoner was shackled to another.

My hands were already extremely sore and bruised because of the shackles, but it wasn’t only my body that felt squeezed; inside, too, my heart felt squeezed as I considered the plight of my fellow prisoners.

It seemed as though from the point of the ruthless prison guards, we prisoners weren’t even human; we were no better than animals in their eyes. Otherwise, they surely wouldn’t have treated us so badly. I found solace in considering that my God had also been insulted and humiliated, treated like a worthless lamb to be slaughtered, and yet now He is seated on the throne, King of Kings, Saviour of the world, and He calls me His son.

But these other prisoners were completely lost and broken, sick and oppressed people, who needed the salvation and forgiveness of our Lord Jesus Christ. “O God, our Good Shepherd, come and find and save these lost souls!” I prayed.

It was clear that in this place prisoners were viewed as completely worthless. During the years I spent there, I saw this attitude displayed constantly, experiencing it both personally and in the way other prisoners were treated.

And as the grief and brokenness of the cruelty of that place welled up in my heart, so too did Christ’s compassion and kindness for other prisoners. Sometimes God would give me the strength to smile in that harsh environment, or to comfort someone. Sometimes I would surprise other prisoners with a kind word or generous act, so out of keeping with the environment.

There was even a saying among the prisoners that “in this place, even deer don’t breastfeed their babies”, so love was a strange thing there, and Christ’s love became like a fragrance that permeated the prison.

Above all, the message of the gospel of Christ shone like a light in the darkness and transformed the souls of many prisoners who had been weighed down with wickedness and guilt. God’s mercy poured down like rain in the desert in the hearts of these condemned men, and brought hope.

And to be able to be the mouthpiece of God in that place, telling sinners they were forgiven, or being the hand on a sad shoulder and telling them not to fear because God was with them; to manifest God’s love where it was most needed – hundreds of times – was such an honour.

An ongoing journey

I spent three years of my life in that place – from the age of 24 until I was 27 – and I witnessed God’s faithfulness there every day.

And the stories and testimonies from those days not only encourage and strengthen my soul; I know they also have this impact on the hundreds of other believers who hear them.

I can only describe those days as a long journey but one that I experienced with Christ, who himself was persecuted; and all the wounds I experienced along the way found their meaning in the wounds he experienced, and this brought healing not only to me, but also to others.

I also held on to the great truth of knowing that he rose from the dead, and the victory is his, and that because of this we know where our journey will end. For now, my journey and suffering goes on; after my release from prison, I was forced to leave my country, because after two arrests not only my Christian activities but also normal life became impossible.

Being a refugee was incredibly difficult, far away from family and friends and feeling homesick in a foreign land, with a new culture and language, and having to adapt to a new way of life.

After three years in prison and then forced migration, my journey was certainly far from easy; I spent many days in depression and different struggles. But one day, in prayer, I heard a whisper in my heart: “I know your suffering and pain, but you haven’t had to give up your life.”

And in this moment I knew God wasn’t asking me to die, but reminding me of the joy of my salvation and the new life He had given me, to help me not to live as a victim but as an heir and child of my Heavenly Father.

So now, years later, I, Mojtaba, still declare that your name, my dear Lord Jesus Christ, be gloried forever, that you are the living God who loved me and gave your life for my sins on that Cross, to share with me a new and eternal life and to share your very self.

I am forever thankful to you. 

Amen.

Mojtaba now lives in the UK, where he is training for ordination in the Church of England.

This is the penultimate article in a series by Mojtaba Hosseini, an Iranian convert to Christianity who spent more than three years in prison in the southern city of Shiraz because of his membership of a house-church. Mojtaba’s first note from prison explained his journey to faith and the first of his two subsequent arrests; his second detailed his long interrogation; his third explained the desperation and loneliness of solitary confinement and his fourth described some of the dreams and visions he had in solitary. His fifth note described his court hearing, his sixth his first moments in prison, and his seventh his emotions in the moments and days after his release on bail. In his eighth note Mojtaba recounted his year-long trial; his ninth explained living in the constant expectation of re-arrest; and his tenth saw that long-anticipated day arrive. In this eleventh note, Mojtaba recalls the moment he was unexpectedly joined in his solitary cell by another prisoner of conscience.

After 18 days’ solitary confinement and intense interrogations, at the very moment I needed new hope, the cell door opened and a man wearing a blindfold and prison clothes was pushed inside.

Once he had removed his blindfold, this man appeared shocked to find himself sharing this small solitary-confinement cell with another prisoner: me.

I learnt that this man, a father of a two-year-old boy and husband of a wife who was now pregnant again, had been arrested only because he was a Baha’i. As two prisoners of conscience, whose detention was based on very similar grounds, we soon formed a friendship.

I remember talking with him non-stop for almost three hours that first night. It was as though I had been thirsty for someone to talk to, and our similar experiences created immediate empathy between us. Though we were only together a short time, I really enjoyed the time we shared and remain grateful to God for sending this man to me.

During the day, he worshipped according to his own rituals, and I according to mine. One day, while he was singing one of his songs, I enjoyed the melody and its meaning and, wanting to express my sympathy and respect for him, asked him to teach me the song.

At first he seemed surprised, but he was also very glad to comply, and it was a truly precious experience for both of us as we sang together in that cell, overlooking our different beliefs.

It felt like a symbol of God’s love, which is so opposed to the hatred with which we had been treated by our oppressors, who acted with such violence and enmity, while God sings over us a thousand songs of His love and kindness.

After that, this man also began to sing with me one of the Christian songs that I had been singing, which he also really liked. In these precious moments, we looked at each other and both said how we longed for the same sense of unity – in spite of our differences – in Iranian society; that instead of prejudice, we might live with mutual respect and an understanding of each other’s intrinsic value as human beings. What a beautiful dream, but sadly so opposed to the values of the Islamic Republic.

Although we were together only for a short time, our friendship didn’t end in that cell, and to this day we remain in touch, and always refer back to those days and how thankful we are to God for bringing us together. At the moment I most needed it, this man’s presence gave me renewed strength to endure my captivity.

A few days later, two more people were added to our cell. One was a student, who had been arrested because of his anti-regime activities and speeches, and the other was an old man whose son had left a gun in his home before fleeing the scene.

So now there were four of us in this small cell, which measured around 6×2 metres, with a toilet in the corner. The air became suffocating, and we couldn’t even really walk around anymore.

The public prison

This was the way things were for the next two weeks, until, on the thirty-third day of my imprisonment, the door suddenly opened and my name was called.

As usual, they first blindfolded me, and then took me to another place. And there I suddenly heard the voices of the friends I had been arrested with, and discovered that they were transferring us to the public prison.

It was a strange feeling; I didn’t know whether I should be happy to be rescued from this dark place, or concerned at the prospect of being sent to the terrible prison of Adel Abad.

All of us except for one of the ladies arrested with us were put into one car, and as soon as we left the detention centre they took off our blindfolds and we could see each other’s faces again, 33 days on from the night of our arrest.

Tears of joy welled up in our eyes, and small smiles formed on our lips. I felt a combination of joy and encouragement at seeing my brothers in Christ again, as well as fear and anxiety for what lay ahead. But the power of us being together again was by far the stronger emotion, and gave me renewed courage.

My time in solitary confinement felt much longer to me than it really was – as though several months passed – but it was only the beginning of a much longer journey, which would have its own special twists, turns and difficulties.

It should be noted that, according to Iranian law, every day of solitary confinement should be considered the same as three days’ imprisonment in a public ward, but this rule was never applied in my case.

God had a plan to show me His glory and how He wanted to use me, but given the hardship of the path ahead, if I were to ask, “Lord, where are you taking me, and how do you want to use me?” I probably wouldn’t have chosen the same path. Yet many souls were longing for God’s salvation, hopeless souls trapped in darkness, who needed light to shine on them to bring them a fresh and glorious new beginning.

We can’t always ask God to make the future clear to us, but no matter how dark the road ahead, we can trust in Him and, our hand in His loving hands, step by step move towards a glorious future. And along this road, though the way ahead remained unclear, I witnessed many scenes of God’s amazing work, which would have seemed impossible for me to even imagine but kept on happening as I witnessed to others about my thankfulness to God, our Heavenly Father.

This is the tenth in a series of articles by Mojtaba Hosseini, an Iranian convert to Christianity who spent more than three years in prison in the southern city of Shiraz because of his membership of a house-church. Mojtaba’s first note from prison explained his journey to faith and the first of his two subsequent arrests; his second detailed his long interrogation; his third explained the desperation and loneliness of solitary confinement and his fourth described some of the dreams and visions he had in solitary. His fifth note described his court hearing, his sixth his first moments in prison, and his seventh his emotions in the moments and days after his release on bail. In his eighth note Mojtaba recounted his year-long trial, and his ninth explained living in the constant expectation of re-arrest. In this tenth note, that long-awaiting day arrives.

One winter night in 2012, we had gathered at a friend’s house for our Christian worship meeting, and as usual part of our worship was singing songs that spoke of God’s love, sovereignty and victory, and as we were singing, the doorbell rang and there was also a knock on the door. 

We had continued to sing as the landlord went to open the door, when suddenly about 30 plainclothes agents of the Ministry of Intelligence violently raided the property, while shouting. 

It was a strange moment. I was both in a state of shock, but also telling myself that the moment I had been waiting for had finally arrived. A thousand and one thoughts came to my mind: what would this mean for my mother, my family? It hadn’t been more than a year since my father had died, and now I was definitely going to jail. 

I also thought of the other church members in the room, especially vulnerable ones like the women and children.

The children had actually been in another room with their teacher, but after hearing the screams some had come out and were standing there in shock, and some of them were crying. This was one of the most painful scenes I had ever witnessed, and I know for sure that this awful experience has impacted those children psychologically to this day. 

The atmosphere in the house had become extremely dark and oppressive. It was suffocating, and I felt as though the roof had fallen in on me. The mothers were all in tears, and the children were looking around for their parents but weren’t allowed to join them by the cruel agents, who instead sent them into another room along with one of the agents. 

My younger brother was also among these children, and I was exploding from the inside, and all I could think about was his safety, and the safety of the other children and women. Meanwhile, we were all given pieces of paper, on which were written a number of personal questions and other questions related to our meetings, and one of the agents all the time filmed everybody and everything that happened.

Then I and the other active members of the group were handcuffed, and each of us were taken in separate vehicles to our homes, which they searched, confiscating all Christian items. 

A forbidden faith

On the drive to my home, when I looked out at the city streets, I suddenly felt as though I was a stranger in the place where I had been born, and as if I no longer belonged there. 

Because I wasn’t free. I couldn’t live the way I wanted. And why was it that my way of thinking, my beliefs and my faith were forbidden? How is it possible that you can be arrested and imprisoned without committing any crime, without harming anyone? And actually even when your beliefs mean that you hope and pray for the best of everyone in society – whether your relatives or anyone else.

Well, after they had confiscated the Christian items and books, as well as some of my other personal belongings – all while I was still in handcuffs – they blindfolded me and put me back into the car. And at no point did they show any documents from the court to justify their unjust actions, which were in fact against the law.

As I got back into the car, my mother was unable to speak one word, and only looked at me from a distance, with tears in her eyes and a face on which was etched a thousand worries, prayers, hopes and words. That look brought a pain to my heart that is still with me today. Sometimes I even blame myself for being the cause of all the pain my mother experienced.

But God, in His kindness and grace, comforts me and assures me that the blame does not rest with me, and that it is not my beliefs that have caused my mother’s suffering, but the injustice and oppression of wicked men. And I know too that God is the just judge, and that he responds to injustice and is working everything for the ultimate good of me and my family. All I have to worry about is that I continue to do his will, knowing that one day the time will come for almighty God to bring his own judgement on those truly responsible.

Familiar surroundings

Just like the last time, I was taken to the Ministry of Intelligence detention centre, “Pelak-e 100”, and placed in solitary confinement. 

Even the cell was the very same as the one I had spent three weeks in almost three years previously. And being back there again, it was as if all the pain and memories from my previous experience were being relived, making my renewed imprisonment even more difficult.

The only difference was that this time I knew my chances of being released were much slimmer. I knew very well that by continuing my activities after my first arrest, my re-arrest would mean the implementation of my previous sentence – so at least eight months in prison, in addition to whatever new sentence would be given to me, which would undoubtedly be greater than the first. It was very hard to accept this, and to confront the reality that that my future prospects were lengthy imprisonment and separation from my friends, family, hopes and dreams.

The next morning, without being taken to any court, which seemed very strange, I was told the new charges against me by a female interrogator of the Shiraz Revolutionary Court named Ms Zare.

The charges were: “forming illegal groups” – meaning the house-church meetings – “propaganda against the regime”, “acting against the security of the regime”, and “insulting the sacred”, meaning “blasphemy” and of which I was later acquitted. 

The interrogations started the next day. During the 33 days I was held in solitary confinement, I was taken for at least 10 intense and prolonged interrogations. And this time, the interrogators’ behaviour was completely different. 

They said they used different language to discipline “criminals”, so with ugly insults and death threats, we were all subjected to psychological torture. For example, I remember that during one interrogation they said: “Some of you will be executed, and some of you will be sentenced to 30 years in prison.”

And they were constantly trying to make us suspicious of each other by making up false stories and claims, and saying that they knew everything about our lives.

And afterwards, being taken back to solitary confinement, carrying all the burdens and pressure of those interrogations, was exhausting. In that lonely environment, all those words and threats surrounded me, as well as my worries for my family and the other church members.

It was like an enormous stone had been placed on top of my chest, or that the world had become a small box in which even breathing was no longer easy.

And these days were made even more difficult by not being permitted even one visit or call from a family member.

I decided that I would avoid eating, and instead spend every day in fasting, prayer and worship. And through this I found amazing strength. I had found myself on the frontlines of a war in which I had to fight at all times against my own anxieties, as well as the attacks of the enemies of the Bible.

Then, after 18 days of fasting, when the pressure was at its greatest and I had lost a lot of weight, something happened that made it easier for me to continue to endure my confinement…

This is the ninth in a series of articles by Mojtaba Hosseini, an Iranian convert to Christianity who spent more than three years in prison in the southern city of Shiraz because of his membership of a house-church. Mojtaba’s first note from prison explained his journey to faith and the first of his two subsequent arrests; his second detailed his long interrogation; his third explained the desperation and loneliness of solitary confinement and his fourth described some of the dreams and visions he had in solitary. His fifth note described his court hearing, his sixth his first moments in prison, and his seventh his emotions in the moments and days after his release on bail. In his eighth note Mojtaba recounted his year-long trial, and in this ninth note he explains what it is like to live in the constant expectation of re-arrest.

In spite of all the challenges and persecution that our small Christian community had endured, our fellowship not only didn’t stop, but continued in an even more serious and profound way.

One of the major strengths of our group was the deep intimacy and love between us, forged as a result of the hardships we had been through together. Differences of belief or preferences about particular things no longer mattered; what mattered was our bond as a divine family.

Through Christ I had received a precious and saving faith, but this faith couldn’t last without the help and companionship of my fellow believers – especially during the ongoing wave of persecution and harassment that we experienced at the hands of the Islamic Republic.

During the court process, because of the danger of gathering together in our homes, we met instead in very small groups in public places like parks, or even sometimes just in pairs on the street, or in a car.

Most of the time we didn’t have our mobile phones with us, because we knew the security forces obtained some of their information that way. For this reason, we never used our phones to arrange any meetings or any other Christian activities, and this practice continued even after the trial.

So my day-to-day life had completely changed. Not using technology made communicating and coordinating our meetings much more difficult. For example, to arrange a meeting with someone I had to go to their house, without arranging it first, and then, having got there, I would sometimes just have to go all the way home again because they weren’t home. Or sometimes if we had to cancel or rearrange a meeting, I would have to go to every individual’s home, never knowing if they were even going to be in.

But due to the love of Christ in my heart, and my yearning to meet with other believers – my divine family – these efforts weren’t only challenging but also sweet to me. You would go to any length to see your family, and in the same way members of our church would do anything to remain in fellowship with one another, no matter how hard it was.

The church grows

It was also very interesting to see that, over time, through friends, relatives or acquaintances, many others joined our group who we hadn’t even made a special effort to invite. These were new believers who didn’t have anyone else to have Christian fellowship with, and they needed a lot of support.

In around three years, our group of 20 became a group of 200 – a clear testimony to the way the persecution of the Church doesn’t weaken or destroy it but in fact opens the way for its growth and strengthening. 

For, through it all, it is God himself who is at work, and during persecution he gives a double portion of his grace to his servants. Who can stand against this invisible, omnipotent God?

But while the growth of our church was wonderful and very encouraging, it also brought with it its own anxieties and fears. Eight months of imprisonment were still awaiting us, and we knew full well that the continuation of our group, and its growth, meant we would be going back to prison.

This prompted me to speak with one of the other leaders who had also been sentenced to eight months in prison. He had two children, so I said to him: “The group is growing, as is the threat of our imprisonment. What will happen to your wife and children if we are rearrested? Don’t you intend to stop your activities?”

But he answered my question with questions of his own: “Can you give up testifying to your faith in Jesus? Can you live without serving him? I was dead before I believed in Christ, so what is the fear of imprisonment compared to that? And I know that the One who healed me in this way is also able to protect my wife and children.”

The story of this man’s life was that he had been addicted to drugs for 30 years, and it had seemed as though nothing could free him from this devastating addiction. Just to get to sleep he had to take very strong sleeping pills, and sometimes even these had no effect on him. His life was a dark hell that was also destroying the lives of his wife and children. But one day, when he became acquainted with Christ through a friend, with just one prayer and through giving his heart to Christ, he was immediately freed from the bondage of all those drugs, and he no longer wanted any of them, nor even cigarettes.

His life was miraculously healed, and even his wife and children surrendered to Christ when they saw the beautiful change in his life, and the whole family served Christ with love.

Bound together

My friend’s incredible courage and testimony also strengthened me, and we together pledged to go on serving. On that day, we truly placed all our hope and confidence in the love and grace of the One who had freed us and our families from the darkness of sin and evil.

So once again I witnessed the miracle of Christ’s love in my heart – how he had made us one family – and told my friend that if we were together in joy and praise, we should also be prepared to be together in misery and persecution. For how could I face the day when he would go to prison and I remain free?

Throughout this period of persecution, our being together, our love for each other, and our oneness in Christ were among the most important contributors to the steadfastness of our testimony of faith. When I think about those days, I can only conclude that if my brothers and sisters hadn’t been with me, I wouldn’t have been able to bear the persecution.

Like Paul, I can testify from the bottom of my heart: “For what is our hope, our joy, or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when he comes? Is it not you? Indeed, you are our glory and joy.” (1 Thessalonians 2:19-20) 

And truly, like David, I praise God for this precious gift: “I say to the Lord, ‘You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing.’ I say of the holy people who are in the land, ‘They are the noble ones in whom is all my delight.’” (Psalm 16:2-3)

So with this conscious decision, which was full of risk, we continued our activities with eager but trembling hearts. We had strict security measures, and cut off all communication with people who were connected to churches abroad. But as the number of people increased, things became more difficult to control, and three years later, one winter night in 2012, the moment arrived that we had been waiting for all that time.

That night, a long and difficult journey began in my life, the effect of which remains with me to this day. But I wasn’t alone on this journey. We were together.