A consistent tendency among Christian leaders—often with the best intentions—is to elevate MBBs into leadership positions far too quickly. Perhaps it’s because their stories inspire.
By Dr. Tim Orr
Over the years, I’ve walked alongside many Muslim Background Believers (MBBs) as they begin their new life in Christ. Their testimonies are often powerful, and their hunger for truth can be infectious. There is something beautiful—almost miraculous—about seeing someone come out of deep-rooted religious systems and walk into the freedom of the gospel.
But I’ve also seen something troubling.
A consistent tendency among Christian leaders, often with the best intentions, is to elevate MBBs into leadership positions far too quickly. Perhaps it’s because their stories inspire. Or because they can defend doctrine with a sharpness born of former opposition. Or because we’re eager to show that the gospel “works”—even among Muslims.
But good intentions don’t negate spiritual immaturity. And charisma doesn’t equal calling.
Scripture warns us plainly:
“He must not be a recent convert, or he may become conceited and fall under the same judgment as the devil” (1 Timothy 3:6).
The principle here isn’t just about how much time has passed since conversion. It’s about what kind of formation has taken place. What depth has been cultivated about whether the character of Christ has been shaped in the inner life?
And it’s a warning we ignore at our peril.
For believers coming out of Islam, there’s a dual challenge. They’re learning gospel truth for the first time and unlearning deeply embedded theological frameworks, cultural assumptions, and relational dynamics that shaped their view of God and self for years.
It’s not just about knowing new things. It’s about learning to see the world differently. And that kind of transformation doesn’t happen in a year. Or two. Sometimes not even in five.
Some MBBs grasp doctrine quickly—sometimes, impressively so. I’ve met former Muslims who can explain the Nicene Creed, unpack the five solas, and argue for penal substitutionary atonement better than some seminary students.
But heart transformation is not the same as intellectual precision. A creed on the lips is not the same as Christ reigning in the heart. And that’s precisely where the danger lies.
Let me tell you about Alan (name changed).
Alan was bright, articulate, charismatic, and the convert who turned heads. He could quote the Reformers, debate Calvinism, and argue circles around most Christians when defending the faith. To many, he looked like a poster child for what successful evangelism among Muslims should produce.
Early after his conversion, Alan was invited to teach, lead Bible studies, and be praised at conferences. People saw a story of triumph: a Muslim who had found the truth, embraced sound doctrine, and could articulate it powerfully.
But what they didn’t see was what lay beneath the surface.
Alan hadn’t been discipled—he had been platformed. His knowledge had outpaced his character. And his theology, while accurate in words, was still wrapped in the emotional and intellectual framework of his former Islamic worldview.
I saw it most clearly in a tense conversation about prayer.
Alan insisted that prayer was simply a way to align ourselves with God's predetermined will—that it didn’t affect anything. When I gently pushed back with Scripture—Philippians 4, James 5, Matthew 7—he grew defensive—not just intellectually but emotionally. He accused me of Roman Catholicism, prosperity theology, and even manipulation. His tone wasn’t just sharp; it was combative.
But what struck me wasn’t the debate. It was the spirit behind it. His theology had the sound of Calvinism, but the spirit of Sunni fatalism. He hadn’t let Scripture shape his understanding of God—he had imported his old Islamic view of a distant, controlling deity into his new Christian framework.
For Alan, prayer was a submission to a decree, not communion with a Father. It was a resignation, not a relationship. He had swapped the terms, but not the trust.
The tragedy was that no one had ever slowed him down long enough to see it.
This wasn’t just a theological issue—it was a spiritual one. Alan’s defensiveness and self-righteousness, and out of that, his need to be always right, and his inability to receive correction, revealed someone who hadn’t yet been formed in Christ's gentle, gracious character.
He didn’t need a platform. He needed a pastor.
He didn’t need an audience. He needed a mentor.
He didn’t need applause. He needed accountability.
But instead, he was given a microphone.
And that’s what happens when we confuse gifting with godliness, assume that doctrinal accuracy equals spiritual maturity, and let a compelling story or theological sharpness blind us to the slow, quiet work of Christ-like formation.
The result isn’t just burnout or disillusionment. Sometimes, it’s pride, sometimes it’s spiritual abuse, and sometimes it’s theological arrogance dressed up as orthodoxy.
And sometimes, tragically, it’s a return to the spirit from which someone was supposedly delivered.
At the heart of these rushed evaluations lies a deeper spiritual issue: the gospel is no longer central.
I’ve seen it repeatedly—not just with Alan but others like him. Their understanding of salvation is intellectually orthodox. They can quote Romans 3, explain justification by faith, and affirm Christ’s imputed righteousness. However, they default to something else entirely when living the Christian life.
Rather than depending on the Spirit and abiding in Christ, they sanctify themselves by the flesh. They don’t boast in the cross—they boast in their conversion story, their doctrinal precision, their ability to debate others, or their victory over Islam. Their confidence is no longer in Christ’s righteousness, but in their own.
And this is not a new temptation. Paul warned the Galatians with stunning clarity:
“Are you so foolish? After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to finish by means of the flesh?” (Galatians 3:3)
MBBs are particularly vulnerable here. Coming from a religious system rooted in works and merit, many have an instinct to prove their sincerity and show that they’ve changed. Pressure gets multiplied in Christian settings that reward intellectual assent and platform gifted speakers.
Instead of resting in the gospel, they run.
Instead of walking in grace, they strive.
Instead of humility, there’s subtle spiritual pride.
The danger isn’t just burnout—it’s a distorted Christianity in which the cross fades into the background and performance takes center stage.
And that’s why gospel-centered discipleship is non-negotiable. MBBs—and all believers—must be reminded daily that the Christian life isn’t just about believing the gospel once. It’s about living in light of it every day, boasting only in Christ, resting only in His finished work, and growing, not in self-confidence, but in childlike dependence.
So if you’re a pastor, missionary, or ministry leader working with MBBs, hear me on this:
Don’t rush the process.
Muslim Background Believers need time. They need to be unformed before they can be reformed. They need to detox from religious systems that may have taught them fear, shame, manipulation, and hierarchy, and be retrained in the ways of grace, love, humility, and truth.
They need spiritual fathers and mothers who walk beside them, correct them, cry, pray with them, and lovingly challenge them. They need people who will model what it means to follow Jesus, not just in belief but in posture, tone, and spirit.
Elevating someone prematurely is not a gift—it’s a burden.
It’s not an affirmation—it’s a setup for failure.
God is not in a hurry. And neither should we be.
Let’s take 1 Timothy 3 seriously.
Let’s prioritize character over charisma, formation over function, and faithfulness over flash.
The church will be better for it.
And so will the precious MBBs entrusted to our care.
Tim serves full-time with Crescent Project as the assistant director of the internship program and area coordinator, where he is also deeply involved in outreach across the UK. A scholar of Islam, Evangelical minister, conference speaker, and interfaith consultant, Tim brings over 30 years of experience in cross-cultural ministry. He holds six academic degrees, including a Doctor of Ministry from Liberty University and a Master’s in Islamic Studies from the Islamic College in London.
In addition to his ministry work, Tim is a research associate with the Congregations and Polarization Project at the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture at Indiana University Indianapolis. His research interests include Islamic antisemitism, American Evangelicalism, and Islamic feminism. He has spoken at leading universities and mosques throughout the UK—including Oxford University, Imperial College London, and the University of Tehran—and has published widely in peer-reviewed Islamic academic journals. Tim is also the author of four books.