Tim’s experience is unique in that he holds six earned degrees. One is a master’s degree in Islamic studies from Islamic College in London, allowing him to study under Muslim scholars.
However, upon closer examination, I discover a spiritual narrative yearning for redemption—a tale marked by profound reverence for martyrdom, a theology shaped by suffering and injustice, and a longing for divine justice through the awaited return of the Mahdi.
It means that the God who created the universe doesn’t merely tolerate us or grant us parole. He brings us into His family. He gives us His name, His inheritance, and His love.
Mohamed Sabry Soliman, a 45-year-old Egyptian immigrant, hurled Molotov cocktails into a peaceful gathering of Jewish demonstrators, using a homemade flamethrower to set several people ablaze.
I’ve heard it dozens of times — maybe you have too. Someone brings up faith or Scripture in conversation, and someone else quickly offers the disclaimer: “Well, I don’t take the Bible literally.”
Burnout isn’t just physical fatigue; it encompasses emotional, spiritual, and deeply human aspects. And for Christians, it brings with it a painful question: Shouldn’t I be stronger than this?
There is a question that finds us all eventually, regardless of culture, education, or belief: Why am I here? It is not merely about career or fulfillment, but about existence itself.
This article calls to recover something ancient and often overlooked: the spiritual language of design, where form becomes faith and structure becomes a sacred witness.
