I grew up as a devout Muslim in Sudan. Today, I serve as a bishop among believers from Muslim back-grounds across different parts of the Muslim world. Between these two realities lies a journey marked by prayer, persecution, imprisonment, loss, and unexpected encounters with the faithfulness of God.

Over the years, I have learned that faithful risk is neither recklessness nor fearfulness. It is learning to walk with Christ in obedience, wisdom, and trust. For some Christians, risk is something to be minimized, managed, or avoided whenever possible. For many believers, however, risk is not an occasional challenge but part of everyday discipleship. Here are some of the lessons I have learned along the journey.

The Risk of Prayer

When I was still a Muslim, I witnessed an event that changed my life forever. A close relative of mine became seriously ill (had been in a coma for several weeks) and was admitted to a hospital in Sudan. Two Coptic Christians came to visit him and asked whether they could pray for him.

At the time, I did not realize how much courage their offer required. They were offering prayer for a Muslim who may not have believed in their prayers. They were praying publicly in a hospital. They were praying for healing, knowing that God may heal—but may also choose not to. And they were praying in the presence of Muslims, including members of a more radical family background.

It would have been easier for them to remain silent. Instead, love moved them beyond their comfort zone. They prayed because they loved my suffering cousin and because they believed that Jesus hears prayer and can heal.

Looking back, I often ask myself whether we in the Church still take the risk of prayer. Do we dare to pray for healing? Do we pray for people who are not Christians? Do we pray in public places? Do we pray in situations where we may be misunderstood or rejected? Sometimes prayer itself is risky.

The Risk of Witness

The story did not end with prayer. My cousin recovered and woke up after weeks of being in a coma. But the healing itself was not what impacted me most deeply. What struck me was this: Christians had prayed for a Muslim. And they spoke with God in a language of friendship and intimacy. As a devout Muslim at the time, I knew I would probably not have done the same for them. That experience opened the door to conversations with these Christians that continued throughout the night. Those conversations eventually led me to Christ.

The Christians who prayed that day did not know what God would do with their witness. Witness always involves risk. We risk rejection. We risk uncomfortable conversations. Sometimes we risk relationships, careers, or even our safety. Yet God often works through simple acts of faithful witness. Who knows what may happen when we take the risk of speaking about Christ?

The Risk of Following Christ

For many believers around the world, following Christ carries enormous cost. In my case, my decision to follow Jesus led my family to publicly declare me dead. My father told me, “You are no longer my son.” My family organized a public funeral ceremony to announce to the community that their son no longer existed. Later, I spent weeks in prison.

At one point I found myself surrounded by death, isolation, and despair. Yet even there I experienced the presence of Christ in a profound way. One sentence of Scripture became especially precious to me: “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12). One experience has remained with me ever since. Standing in front of my own grave, overwhelmed by grief and loneliness, I suddenly sensed a touch and heard words that changed everything: “You are standing in front of your own grave—but your grave is empty. And be encouraged: My grave is empty, too.” I knew immediately who was speaking—Jesus Christ himself.

Following Christ does not always make life safer. But it does make us part of a story larger than our own survival. Jesus never promised that discipleship would avoid suffering. He promised his presence within it.

The Security that Frees Us to Risk

Years later, during a visit to northern Nigeria, I sat together with a group of Boko Haram leaders. After they had listened to my personal journey to Christ, they asked me: “How do you know that we will not kill you?” My answer was: “You do not determine the end of my life. The end of my life is not in your hands, but in God’s hands alone.” This was not courage produced by personality or self-confidence. It was the quiet confidence that comes from belonging to Christ.

Perhaps this is one of the deepest secrets of faithful risk: We can take risks because our lives are already held securely in God’s hands. We know that our future rests in God’s hands rather than in our own ability to control circumstances.

Not Every Risk Is Faithful

At the same time, not every risk is an appropriate risk. Faithful risk is not reckless risk. On one occasion, I was already seated on an airplane preparing for departure when a trusted friend in the destination country urgently advised me not to travel. I immediately asked the stewardess to open the doors of the aircraft again and let me leave.

Sometimes obedience means staying. Sometimes obedience means leaving. Jesus himself moved between accepting and avoiding risk. At times, he openly moved into situations of danger. At other times, he withdrew because he knew his hour had not yet come. Wisdom is part of discipleship. The question is not simply, “Am I willing to take this risk?” The better question is: “Is this the risk God is calling me to take in this season and in this situation?”

Faithful Risk Is Communal

One final lesson I have learned is that faithful risk is never merely personal. Sometimes, we think about risk individually: “What am I willing to sacrifice?” However, it is wise to also ask an additional question: “How will my decision affect others?”

My decisions may affect local believers, churches, ministry partners, my spouse, my children, or vulnerable communities around me. There may be risks I am personally willing to take, but it would be irresponsible to impose those risks on others. Faithful risk therefore requires community, accountability, and discernment. Risk is not merely a personal spiritual adventure; it is part of belonging to the Body of Christ.

Encountering Risk Faithfully

Perhaps one of the greatest spiritual risks facing many Christians today is not persecution but comfort. Comfort can slowly make us spiritually passive and less attentive to the voice of God. Faithful risk is not about seeking danger. No, it is about following Jesus wherever he leads.