Brycen Hopkins

When I was Muslim, I used to ask Christians: “If Jesus was really God, why did He eat, sleep, and bleed like us?” And honestly, I used to ask it with pride like it was some unbeatable argument. But later I realized something: That question was not exposing Christianity. It was exposing my misunderstanding of what kind of God Jesus claimed to be. Because the real question is not: “Why would God become weak?” The real question is: “What kind of God would willingly step into human suffering at all?” Islam taught me about a God who was distant and untouchable. But Christianity introduced me to a God who stepped into hunger, exhaustion, grief, pain, betrayal, blood, and suffering with us. And suddenly His humanity stopped feeling like weakness to me. It became proof of love. If Jesus ate, it means He came close enough to experience hunger beside us. If He slept, it means He embraced the exhaustion we carry. If He bled, it means He did not stand above suffering watching us from a distance. He entered it Himself. Philippians 2 says Christ emptied Himself and took on flesh. Not because He stopped being God, but because He wanted humanity to finally see what God is actually like. And it turns out God is willing to suffer for the people He loves. That changed everything for me. Because every other religion demanded sacrifice from humanity. Jesus became the sacrifice Himself. And no prophet in history ever claimed that.

Let me be honest. I wanted to stay Muslim so badly. Not even because of God at first, but because of the life attached to it. My dad’s businesses were waiting for me. Signed and ready. My mom’s community. Doctors, lawyers, politicians. Connections everywhere. Success was laid out in front of me. There was even an arranged marriage lined up. A doctor. Beautiful future. House. Wedding. Stability. All I had to do was say one sentence: “Yeah, I still believe.” That was it. Keep the money. Keep the family approval. Keep the life. But here’s what ruined it for me: I could not unsee Jesus. Once I really read the Quran and compared it to the Gospel, I couldn’t force myself back into pretending. And honestly, knowledge becomes heavy at that point. Because I didn’t leave Islam to rebel. I left because I could not betray what I believed was true. No business opportunity, no relationship, no comfortable future was worth denying the King who gave His life for me. So yeah, my life would have been easier if I stayed. But when Jesus says, “I am the way,” you don’t answer with, “But the other path feels safer.” You pick up your cross and walk.