Morocco.​​​

On my 50th birthday in 2015, I spent the day on a beach in Spain with my sister. We gazed out over the sea at Morocco and mused about it being a dangerous place. We decided not to go there.

A lot has changed for me in ten years. Morocco has become a passion rather than a vague threat on the horizon.

I became interested in Morocco after taking a 23andMe gene test, which suggested that my ancestors were of Moroccan-Berber descent. After that, the Moroccans stopped being the people who live over there. I mentally adopted them as family. In 2023, I decided to check them out.

Around the time of my gene test, God was also dealing with me in a very personal manner. He showed me that mission is for all of us and that includes its risks. In fact, risk and spiritual battle are the central themes of mission.

Marrakech was my first taste of Morocco. It was terribly foreign. Monkeys, snake-charmers, rich colours and smells. The heat in August was unbearable. It was a wild untamed mess of humanity, so foreign that my first thought was to go straight back home.

Somehow Morocco captured my imagination and this year I made the trip there twice in eight weeks.

In August, I flew to Agadir. Superficially, I was on holiday, but I spent the week searching for the Church. With God's help, I found it. It was surrounded by heavily armed Moroccan police.

Three weeks later, I was invited on a mission trip.

Morocco comes in at number 21 on the Open Doors persecution list. This suggests that persecution of the church is significant. Ninety-eight per cent of Moroccans are Muslim and those converting from Islam risk jail, as do those preaching to Muslims. Christian missions were closed by the government around 2012 and there are only 7 evangelical churches in the entire country.

The mission was not overtly focused on proselytising but on demonstrating God's love. We also got to share some amazing food and meet some lovely people. We witnessed God, in his perfect timing, opening doors.

If it were camels that I was looking for, this was not the trip. For checking out my Berber ancestors, this was a gift from God. I found a friendly and humble community of simple people. Their attachment to Islam appeared minimal.

The mission had many highlights. On day two, we distributed clothes. On day five we completed the Atlas trek and saw a nomadic community at a watering hole. On day six we sang to the Berbers who didn't understand us, but found us highly amusing anyway.

The one moment that stands out beyond the others was a communion celebration at dawn on the morning of the trek. We broke bread to the demonic sound of the first Islamic call to prayer of the day. As we passed the cup, the power of the Holy Spirit descended and somehow I understood on a deeper level that Islam has and was again defeated. It cannot compete with the love and unity of the Holy Spirit.

Jesus never promised us safety, or a roof over our heads. He never suggested that we would experience a life without risk. He did promise that he would never leave us or forsake us. I think he also suggested that our Christian life should be full of love and adventure. We certainly received so many of those and other blessings on our mission trip.