In a country where religion was imposed rather than chosen, faith was always part of Layla's life. It was simply the way things were. Her family prayed, followed traditions, and dressed modestly, though not too strictly. She wore a veil, but some of her hair always showed. As a child, she longed to know God, to understand Him beyond rituals and rules. By her teenage years, she had grown deeply committed. Her religious teachers weren't just mentors; they were guides on her spiritual path. At one point, she even considered wearing a full covering, believing it would bring her closer to God.
When Layla began nursing school, her search for answers intensified. Questions multiplied in her mind: If God was loving, why did life feel so difficult? Why was there so much suffering around her? The answers she received never truly satisfied her heart. Doubt gradually took root. Her prayers became less frequent. Her faith didn't disappear, but it no longer felt connected to any specific religion. She simply believed in God, without knowing exactly what that meant.
As years passed and graduation approached, Layla felt increasingly lost. Life seemed empty and meaningless. Her country's economic situation was steadily worsening, and her relationships lacked depth and purpose.
Then came an unexpected turning point. A teacher from her childhood reached out to her. They met just days before Layla's graduation, and during their conversation, one word changed everything: Christianity. Layla had never considered it before. In her world, it had never been an option. But suddenly, it stood before her as a possibility.
Around the same time, she discovered an Instagram page sharing Bible verses in her language. These words spoke to her soul in a way nothing else had before. She couldn't explain why, but she kept reading, drawn to something in these passages. Without telling anyone, she began messaging the page administrators. It felt like a door was opening, even if just slightly.
One day, her teacher invited Layla to her home, where she met Babak, the teacher's son. There was something different about him. It wasn't just his words but his actions that impressed Layla. He carried a sense of peace that she found magnetic. Over time, they grew close and began a relationship.
During one of their conversations about faith, Babak told her, "When you have a Father, you have everything."
These words resonated deeply within her. Yet alongside this connection, fear arose. This path was dangerous in her country. It was unknown territory. Still, she began studying the Bible secretly. As pressure and fear intensified, she withdrew. She isolated herself, a process made easier by the COVID pandemic. Staying home and distant became her refuge, but also deepened her sense of being lost.
Then something seemingly small changed her direction. Her father invited her to join him on morning walks. Simply walking, talking, and being outside in nature lifted her spirits, though she couldn't explain why. She started keeping a gratitude journal, writing down things she appreciated each day. Initially, she wasn't trying to reconnect with God—she was just searching for light in the darkness. Yet gradually, her heart began to directly praise God for everything in her life.
One night, without planning to, she whispered a prayer: "God, I want to give You my heart. I want You to enter it. But I'll let you decide when."
After that moment, something shifted within her. She began observing the people around her who lived this faith—noticing their kindness, their peace, their love. It wasn't their words that drew her in, but their actions.
When Babak invited her to a prayer meeting, she went despite her uncertainty. There, she made a surprising discovery: the Instagram page she had first encountered while searching for God was actually managed by this house church. Suddenly everything connected. This wasn't just words on a screen. It was real people, a real community. And she couldn't ignore it any longer. God had found His way into her heart. During this time, she also found lasting comfort and peace in Babak, who would become her husband a few months later.
One Sabbath, gathering her courage, she sat beside her mother and revealed everything. She expected anger or rejection. Instead, her mother listened with an open heart. A week later, she told her father. His reaction differed—not rejection, but fear. Fear because in their country, being a Christian wasn't merely forbidden; it was a crime. Pastors caught practicing could be killed, and church members could be imprisoned for years.
But Layla had already made her choice. Shortly after, she was baptized—a new beginning in her spiritual journey.
Today, Layla and Babak live in another country where they can freely share their faith. They spend their days as living testimonies to God's love.
Layla works with the Follow-Up team at TransMedia Group MENA, responding in her native language. Whenever someone messages the Hope Channel with questions or doubts, she is the compassionate voice answering them. She understands their hesitation and fear of discovery because she once walked in their shoes.
Often, those seeking God are too afraid to acknowledge it openly, knowing the harsh consequences they might face from authorities. But Layla knows how a prayer can bring peace to troubled hearts, how a Bible verse can illuminate lives with hope.
She patiently studies the Bible with those brave enough to take the risk. Layla recalls a recent experience: "A woman contacted our Hope Channel social media platform with many questions about religion. She had realized she'd been lied to her whole life and was determined to find the truth, but she approached my answers with deep skepticism. Sometimes I didn't know how to address her doubts, so I prayed to God, and as always, He guided me to the right words. He also gently reminded me that I was once like this woman - searching, questioning, eager to find God but afraid to trust."
Layla trained as a nurse, but now she sees healing differently. Not just through medicine, but through friendship, through life-changing conversations, and through a community where faith isn't just believed—it's lived.
She doesn't know what the future holds. But she knows she isn't alone.