This year I am engaging in Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting. Being an ordained Christian minister I know this raises many questions and for some, concerns. I want to take the opportunity to explain why and how I am doing this, and in the conversation that follows in the comments section, I can further answer any questions.

Allow me to state my ‘credentials’ and therefore my starting point first. I am an ordained minister in the Wesleyan Methodist Church of New Zealand. I would describe myself as evangelical. If I was to distil my most basic foundational beliefs I would turn to the Apostles’ Creed, and the Nicene Creed, and I would affirm every article therein. I am not a minister who recites these on Sundays merely as lip service because it is the practice of my church (incidentally, it is not the practice of the local church that I attend) as some do, I hold to them voluntarily because they represent the core story of my faith. I identify with the Protestant stream of the Christian faith through the tradition of the Wesleyan movement. I hold to basic Wesleyan understandings of theology. By most measures I would be described as holding to an orthodox faith.

I state this to demonstrate that I am a deeply committed Christian. I am not doing this to become Muslim.

I am also geared towards what many would describe as ‘mission.’ My basic orientation is towards how my faith and the story that sits at the core of Christianity, interacts with the world around me. I am constantly asking how my faith and the story I love has relevance for people who look at the world and live with a very different lens from me; people who are ‘different’ from me.

I allow myself to be challenged to engage the world around me through what I understand of Jesus, who challenges the worst of who I am and compels me to not give into some of my weaknesses when it comes to interacting with others. He compels me to go beyond the community that is like me and to make people who could be considered ‘other’ part of my community.

Too often we hold those who are different from us at a distance. At its worst this can lead to degrading others who don’t fit our image of what life is supposed to be and the results can be ugly. Many of the violent conflicts we see around the world are the result of this and poor ideologies give voice to, and perpetuate that ugliness.

Jesus, for his time, pushed the boundaries. He ate with tax collectors, gave room for prostitutes, he put his hands on lepers, and he allowed the outcasts to touch him. He was accused of being a friend of sinners for it. Breaking down the barriers can be a messy, dangerous space. I’d rather be at risk of completely stuffing it up because I endeavoured to love with abandon and see God at work in the places many would deem unlikely, than to be safe, only ever knowing a world where God is restricted to a box we place him in.

With all that in mind, we come to Ramadan.

ISIS is plastered all over our headlines now, and because of it much of the world is understandably gripped with fear. Often our only engagement with Islam is through headlines and stories of violent extremism. For many, this has become the lens through which they understand the millions around the world who call themselves Muslim. Muslims are often seen and talked of as either violent people who want to take over the world, as less overt shades of that if they don’t engage in violence, or they’re talked of as not being ‘true’ Muslims if they talk about peace.

Too often, when it comes to difference, we, from all sides, tend to engage in conversations and media that confirm our already established bias. It’s understandable, but I want something more. I don’t want ISIS with its violence against anyone who does not bow to its ideology (including Muslims) to set the tone and define the narrative by division and conflict. So I’ll take a risk to try and push against their hate. Maybe I’ll stuff some things up in the process, but I feel a need to try as best as I can see how.

This year I read some stories about Muslims engaging in Lent, the annual Christian practice of prayer, fasting, and charity in the lead up to Easter. It’s the most significant time of year for me. Lent and Easter tell the central story of Christianity and call us back into union with God, accepting his grace and mercy, evident in the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. It’s important in a world full of distractions, busyness and noise that can often take over. They were doing it so they could better understand Christians and build bridges.

I also know of a couple of Christians who have engaged in Ramadan every year now for a number of years, and they do so with that same motivation.

I look at what’s going on in the world around me and I see a choice. In my lifetime the world is never going to be full of people living in peace and harmony because we all see things exactly the same way. There will always be difference. We can contribute to the barriers that are often established because of difference, or we can be part of pulling them down and learning to embrace and give space to each other even with our differences. I want to be part of the latter while remaining true to who I am.

Rather than trying to find everything I think is wrong with Islam, I want to find contact points and spaces of agreement. I want to find where relationships can be built and friendships established, because once someone is a friend it becomes much harder to demonise them. I want to see my Muslim friends with the eyes of God. Standing at a distance discussing Islam only through the lens of headlines won’t achieve that. So I want to step into their lives.

In the practice of Ramadan I see a lot of commonality; things that we can link hands through. I see contact points. The central practices are prayer, fasting, charity, and living a life that honours God. These are practices I can engage alongside my Muslim brothers and sisters without compromising anything of who I am.

In the traditions and practices of Ramadan I see thankfulness, a conscious turning towards God, a humble embrace of life, and an intention of opening one’s self to being shaped towards a better humanity more reflective of God. These are areas where I can engage my own faith.

In terms of what I will be practicing, the Muslim friend who will act as my guide through Ramadan has been very accommodating. We have talked of remaining true to my own faith and not compromising myself. He has been both gracious and merciful around my intent.

Allow me to talk through what my own rhythm will look like during the time of Ramadan (it’s worth mentioning that I will be doing it for the first couple of weeks, but during the latter half I have a family holiday so will not be doing it during my holiday).

My day will begin (as it usually does) with a time of quiet solitude in silence, prayer and scripture reading (the Bible). I will have breakfast half an hour before sunrise, giving thanks to God for the gift of life I have, evident in the food I eat.

Until sunset I will fast from all food and liquid and I will engage the Divine Hours using the work of Phyllis Tickle (her Pocket Edition of the prayers of the Divine Hours – a Christian rhythm) throughout the day as I do from time to time already. This will draw me into the practice of praying with a rhythm reflective of the Muslim practice of praying 5 times each day.

I will break the fast half an hour after sunset each day. Most days I will do this at home with my family, giving thanks, as we usually do at meal time, for the food.

I will choose to break the fast with my Muslim friend a few times during it. I will have the option of doing this at the mosque with others. When at the mosque I will engage my own prayers either alongside them or at the back. I will always remain true to my own core beliefs.

Through Ramadan I will read the Qur’an, with the intention of reading the whole thing. This is something I have done before (I’ve read the writings of many religions from a desire to have a first-hand awareness rather than relying on what others say), but not during Ramadan. I will also be reading the Psalms in the Bible, and the Gospel of Luke.

In doing this I hope to build bridges and friendships. I hope to break down barriers. I hope to link hands around practices and orientations towards life that we share.

In life I could choose to point out everything I think is wrong with that which is different from me. It would be easier and I would have less questions to answer, but I want something better. I follow the one who was not concerned with his reputation, the one who stepped into places that others considered taboo, the one who embraced those that others scorned. He ate in their homes, he broke bread with them, he touched them and was touched by them. I’m not comparing Muslims with lepers, but in the eyes of some that might as well be the case. I’m sure it’s the same on their side of the fence.

I don’t expect to be perfect in this. I will probably (accidentally) offend both Christians and Muslims in the process (I’m sure that doing it as I am doing it, already will), but I would rather take a risk in an attempt to love, instead of doing nothing and allowing the barriers and the violence to grow. If I lose things in the process, so be it. I am sure I will gain a lot as well.

If you identify as Christian or Muslim, I ask that you would pray for me; that God would draw me nearer to him, that I would experience something of the grace and mercy of Christ, and that friendships would be formed that demonstrate the beauty of love that crosses boundaries and breaks down dividing walls. May this humble action do something to undermine the violence of our world and continue to etch away at the edges of me that do little to reflect Christ.

If you have any questions, feel free to use the comments to ask. I will do my best to answer. I will have to defer to Muslims to answer specific questions about Ramadan, but I am happy to talk about my intentions, understanding, and anything related to my faith.