by Andrew Arnold

Hamzah was born and raised in a 100% Muslim family and community. From childhood, religion pervaded every part of identity, culture, and the rhythms of everyday life. Did everyone truly follow the teachings deeply? Maybe, maybe not. But one thing was certain: they lived fully within Islamic tradition. One of the strongest, most memorable, and most anticipated traditions each year was Eid al-Adha.

For young Hamzah, Eid al-Adha was not only about worship. It was a big village event—a day when everyone gathered, visited one another, and shared food. From early morning, the sound of takbir (“Allahu akbar”) filled the air. People wore their best clothes. By the mosque and in open fields, sacrificial animals were prepared.

But if you asked little Hamzah what he was most excited about, his answer was simple: eating satay. Beef satay. Chicken satay. Gulai. Soup. Dishes that appeared in abundance only on that day. It was a day of open houses. People came in and out of neighbors’ homes. Laughter, conversation, and shared stories filled the atmosphere. For Hamzah as a child, Eid al-Adha meant togetherness, community, and belonging.

As he grew older, his understanding began to deepen. He started to see a profound spiritual meaning behind the festivities and traditions. Eid al-Adha commemorates the obedience of Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham)—a servant of God (Allah)1 who was willing to offer what was most precious in his life, in total submission to Allah. In Islamic tradition, this story portrays surrender, faith, and trust in God.

The Meaning of Idul Adha
The Eid al-Adha sacrifice is not merely the slaughter of an animal. It symbolizes obedience to Allah, a willingness to give one’s best, care for others, and an awareness that life does not fully belong to us. Beneath it all lies something even deeper—a human longing to draw near to God.

Now, after becoming a follower of Isa Almasih (Jesus), Hamzah sees Eid al-Adha through a broader lens. He no longer sees only ritual; he sees the hearts behind it. He sees the desire to give, the longing to obey, and communities strengthening one another. Yet through the words of the prophets, he has come to understand something deeper – that God desires more than sacrifice. As Hosea proclaimed, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgement of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hosea 6:6).

Joining In
In recent years, the Holy Spirit moved my heart to participate—not as an observer, but as someone who shares in this social and spiritual occasion as a messenger of Jesus.2 I started with a simple step. I contacted the mosque committee and asked, “How can I participate?”

They were surprised. A Christian wanting to contribute to the sacrificial offering? But their surprise turned into encouragement. They felt respected. They felt seen. They even offered practical advice. They said, “It’s better to join others and contribute toward buying a cow. The reward is greater.”

I smiled at that familiar language, bypassed the opportunity to dispute their theology of reward, and joined.

A few days later, the committee contacted me again. They told me that the portion of the sacrifice I contributed would be given to one particular family—let’s call them Family A. Not long after, that family contacted me. With deep gratitude in their voices, they said, “This year, our family was able to offer a sacrifice. We are so thankful.”

The moment was simple. No stage. No publicity. No photos. But in that moment, I saw God’s love flowing. Through these simple actions, our relationship with our neighbours has grown much closer. They know we are Christians, yet there is no sense of resistance or hostility toward us.

In fact, they warmly greet us with “Merry Christmas” when we celebrate. They have also become open to prayer—four families have personally asked to be prayed for in the name of Isa (Jesus). The neighbourhood leaders have shown us increasing respect, even referring to me as “Pastor” when we meet in person and in our WhatsApp group. One neighbour shared this profound acknowledgement: “I like it when you pray for me, because I believe your prayers will be heard more than mine—you are more devoted.”

In our neighbourhood, Eid al-Adha has become more than a tradition. It has become a bridge—a bridge between faith and community, between differences and friendship, between giving and receiving. This is one practical example of how we can be involved during Eid al-Adha—not as outsiders, but as fellow human beings living side by side.

What can we do during this season?

Pray
The Hajj pilgrimage is one of the most significant spiritual journeys in a Muslim’s life and is closely connected to Eid al-Adha. During the Hajj, one central ritual is the sacrifice of an animal, commemorating Ibrahim’s willingness to offer his son in obedience to God. This same act of remembrance is what Muslims around the world participate in during Eid al-Adha. In this way, both the Hajj and Eid al-Adha point to a shared theme: surrender, sacrifice, and the desire to please God. Every year, millions travel to Mecca for the Hajj with a deep sense of reverence. Many save up for years to afford this trip. Some wait their entire lives for this opportunity.

When Eid al-Adha reminds you of the Hajj taking place, picture:

• Millions of people gathered in one place with hearts turned toward Allah (as they have heard him described)
• Prayers whispered in many languages
• Tears of sorrow for their sins
• Deep reflection about life, death, and eternity.

This is a powerful reminder that human hearts long for meaning, forgiveness, and closeness to the Creator.

Hamzah’s story offers deeply relevant insight into this. Like many who long to draw near to God, he once saw sacrifice primarily as something he must offer. But through his journey, he began to see a deeper reality—that beyond human sacrifice lies God’s desire for mercy, relationship, and a transformed heart. The same longing expressed in the Hajj and remembered in Eid al-Adha becomes a bridge to a greater question: What has God provided so that we can truly come near to Him?

1) We can pray:

• that many Muslims would receive fresh vision and clarity about their lives.
• that those performing the Hajj would encounter the True God in deeply personal ways.
• that in moments of vulnerability and surrender, the True God would meet them with truth, peace, and purpose.
• that Muslims would receive dreams, insights, and spiritual awakenings that draw them closer to Him.

2)  Build friendships and ask thoughtful questions
Rather than beginning with theological debates or discussing differences in interpretation, start with relationships. Focus on listening before speaking. Explore themes such as:

• The importance of sacrifice.
• We as humans have a deep desire to draw near to God.
• Giving is often connected to worship, gratitude, and devotion.
  
  You can begin with simple, sincere questions such as:

• What does Eid al-Adha mean to you?”
• “What do you most look forward to during this celebration?”

As you listen, you will hear stories:
Stories about family gathering together.
Stories about saving and preparing for sacrifice.
Stories about prayer and devotion.
Stories about faith and hope.

When we listen well, we communicate respect. And meaningful conversations often grow naturally from there.

3) Be present and care
Tell your Muslim friend or neighbor: “Happy Eid al-Adha! May this time bring you and your family peace, joy, and abundant blessings.”

Then ask, “How can I pray for you during this celebration?” This simple yet powerful question opens the door—not only to genuine relationships, but also to meaningful spiritual ministry.

God’s love flows through us as we choose to be present in people’s lives. Through this relational presence, His love becomes visible and tangible. In these moments, we also have the opportunity to show God’s love and gently point people to Jesus.

Eid al-Adha provides an opportunity for us to appreciate shared values—obedience, sacrifice, community, compassion, and a love that crosses boundaries.

When one family called to express their gratitude, I was reminded that we do not need a big stage to demonstrate God’s love. We simply need to be present, to care, and to give with a sincere heart. Often, the people we long to reach are more drawn to our love than to our theology.

Through moments like Eid al-Adha—amid satay, laughter, and togetherness—God may open doors we never imagined: doors of friendship, understanding, and faith.

Endnotes

1. In many languages, such as Arabic, Indonesian, and Malaysian, “Allah” is the word used by Christians for the God of the Bible as well as the deity worshipped in Islam – the Creator of all things and Judge of all people. This is the case in the native language of both Hamzah and myself. This can serve as a helpful bridge for spiritual conversations in these languages. Unfortunately, readers in English often assume an ontological difference between “Allah” as the god of Islam as distinguished from “God” (more precisely, “Yahweh”) as the God of the Bible. I invite English readers to not stumble at this article’s use of “Allah” and “God,” as interchangeable, as has been the case for all Hamzah’s life – both before and after coming to saving faith in Christ. 
2. Some Christians may feel uneasy about contributing to an Eid al-Adha sacrifice, framing the concern as participation in a sacrifice to another god. However, this objection oversimplifies a complex theological issue: both Muslims and Christians, as monotheists, refer to the one Creator God, yet hold significantly different teachings about God’s character and actions. See, for example, Dudley Woodberry’s “Do Christians and Muslims Worship the Same God?” In light of that complexity, I consider this a “disputable matter” in the sense of Romans 14, and I respect those who would prefer to refrain. After prayer and consideration of relevant Scriptures, I felt led by the Holy Spirit to connect with the local community in this way—as a bridge-builder and a concrete expression of God’s love.

This article was first published by lausanne.org  and is used here with permission.