This weekend, I had a breakthrough—one that quietly unfolded over music, laughter, and the scent of homemade brunch.
My siblings and I spent Father’s Day weekend with our dad. We didn’t go out or make big plans. We stayed in, talked, cooked, played music, danced around the house, and watched movies. It was beautiful, intimate, and simple.
The next day, while sitting by the lake and reflecting on the weekend, something incredible happened.
I started praying for my father.
That might sound normal, even obvious, to some. But for me, it was a radical, healing moment. It was the first time I had ever done it. I prayed for his health. I prayed for the longevity of his life. I prayed with genuine love in my heart—and I was overcome. I wept tears of joy and gratitude.
Because for most of my adult life, I believed I wasn’t allowed to.
Undoing False Teaching: When Love Was Forbidden
I spent 27 years as a strict Salafi Muslim. For those unfamiliar, Salafism is a conservative and deeply literalist interpretation of Islam, closely aligned with the scholars of Saudi Arabia. One of its foundational principles is al-walaa wal-baraa—a doctrine that teaches loyalty and allegiance to fellow Muslims and disassociation or even hostility toward non-Muslims.
In practice, this means you’re taught to love and support those who follow your faith, and to emotionally distance yourself—or even hate—those who don’t.
Yes, including your parents.
Yes, including your Christian dad on Father’s Day.
As a young student, I memorized verses like these:
“O believers! Do not take Jews and Christians as allies. They are allies of one another…” (Qur’an 5:51)
“You will not find a people who believe in Allah and the Last Day loving those who oppose Allah and His Messenger, even if they were their fathers or sons or brothers…” (Qur’an 58:22)
“And the Jews will never be pleased with you, nor the Christians, until you follow their religion.” (Qur’an 2:120)
These verses were drilled into us in context that made their interpretation clear: love is reserved for believers. Anyone outside of Islam—especially Jews and Christians—are either your adversaries or your mission field.
When Hatred Was Framed as Holiness
As a student in Cairo, I remember eagerly listening to cassette tapes from popular Salafi scholars. One tape by Sheikh Muhammad …. was a fiery response to a controversial cartoon of the Prophet Muhammad. The title was chilling: “No—They Are the Pigs and Swine.” It referenced a Qur’anic story where a group of Jews were transformed into monkeys and pigs as punishment.
This kind of rhetoric was widespread in the circles I moved in. In Saudi Arabia, I studied under female students of well-known Salafi scholars like Sheikh U…. I remember clearly one study circle where we discussed how to treat non-Muslim relatives. I asked what felt like a very personal question:
“But what about our parents? Can we love them?”
The answer was unwavering: No.
You could show them kindness. You could be polite. But love? That was reserved only for the believers.
The only acceptable prayer for them was a plea for their conversion to Islam. Nothing else.
I remember one of my Arab friends asking me one time, “Your father’s not Muslim yet?” I said, “no,” feeling ashamed. “You are not making dua/praying for him.” she scolded me.
The Lie Unraveled
Today, I see things differently.
No longer do I believe in a God who commands me to suppress love, especially for the people who raised me, nurtured me, and celebrated me. My father is still a devout Christian. And I’m not praying for him to become something else. I’m praying for his heart, his peace, his strength, and his joy.
And I feel no shame in doing that.
In fact, I feel free.
A Message to My Former Self—and Others Like Me
To the younger version of me who thought loving her family meant betraying her faith—I’m so sorry. You deserved better theology.
To those who are still wrestling with fear and guilt because of the things you were taught in the name of God—keep wrestling. God can handle your questions.
And to my father—thank you. Thank you for being constant. Thank you for your love. Thank you for always seeing me, even when I was taught not to see you fully.
This Father’s Day, I didn’t just celebrate you. I reclaimed you.
And that is the real breakthrough.
Love, Nela
nelajaye@gmail.com
Nela's Nest 
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