March 12, 2026
A Call to Prayer
I was sitting on Jen’s balcony just before lunch, iced-coffee in hand, when a familiar sound drifted across the valley — one that made me stop and listen.
The Muslim call to prayer.
The Muslim call to prayer.
[The call to prayer drifts up from this valley to Jenn's apartment.]
If you’ve never heard it in Jerusalem, it’s hard to describe. It rises from nearby mosques and rolls across the hills like an ancient echo calling people to stop what they’re doing and pray.
But interestingly… it doesn’t stop all activity.
Life keeps moving. Cars keep driving. But for practicing Muslims, it’s a signal to pause and turn their attention toward prayer.
Others simply carry on with their day.
If you’ve never heard it in Jerusalem, it’s hard to describe. It rises from nearby mosques and rolls across the hills like an ancient echo calling people to stop what they’re doing and pray.
But interestingly… it doesn’t stop all activity.
Life keeps moving. Cars keep driving. But for practicing Muslims, it’s a signal to pause and turn their attention toward prayer.
Others simply carry on with their day.
And as I sat there listening, one thought kept coming to mind.
Israel is currently at war with a radical Islamic regime in Iran — missiles flying toward this tiny nation — yet that call still rings out across the city.
No one turned it off.
Which struck me as remarkable.
Sitting here on this balcony, I’m reminded again that I’m living in a country where freedom — even complicated freedom — still exists.
Hearing that sound drift up the valley brought back a memory from about ten years ago. I became curious about Islam and started writing down questions and looking for answers. One rule guided the whole process: any question I asked about Islam, I also had to ask of my own faith — Christianity.
When my little “study” was finished, I invited a group of special mom friends — women I had studied the Bible with for years — to walk through it with me. I’ve always believed the best way to really learn something is to commit to teaching it… which basically meant they graciously agreed to listen and help me talk it through. If they happen to read this, they know exactly who they are :-).
One thing we learned was about the Five Pillars of Islam. One of those pillars is prayer. Practicing Muslims pause five times a day — wherever they are — turning their attention toward Allah. Near a mosque, the call is broadcast so people know when it is time.
As we talked about that, I challenged my friends with a small experiment.
What if we tried something similar?
I asked them to set five alarms on their phones throughout the day. Each time the alarm sounded, we would simply pause wherever we were and pray the prayer Jesus taught His followers: “The Lord’s Prayer.” Matthew 6:9–13
Israel is currently at war with a radical Islamic regime in Iran — missiles flying toward this tiny nation — yet that call still rings out across the city.
No one turned it off.
Which struck me as remarkable.
Sitting here on this balcony, I’m reminded again that I’m living in a country where freedom — even complicated freedom — still exists.
Hearing that sound drift up the valley brought back a memory from about ten years ago. I became curious about Islam and started writing down questions and looking for answers. One rule guided the whole process: any question I asked about Islam, I also had to ask of my own faith — Christianity.
When my little “study” was finished, I invited a group of special mom friends — women I had studied the Bible with for years — to walk through it with me. I’ve always believed the best way to really learn something is to commit to teaching it… which basically meant they graciously agreed to listen and help me talk it through. If they happen to read this, they know exactly who they are :-).
One thing we learned was about the Five Pillars of Islam. One of those pillars is prayer. Practicing Muslims pause five times a day — wherever they are — turning their attention toward Allah. Near a mosque, the call is broadcast so people know when it is time.
As we talked about that, I challenged my friends with a small experiment.
What if we tried something similar?
I asked them to set five alarms on their phones throughout the day. Each time the alarm sounded, we would simply pause wherever we were and pray the prayer Jesus taught His followers: “The Lord’s Prayer.” Matthew 6:9–13
My girlfriends were gracious enough to go along with my slightly crazy challenge — which, if you know us, probably wasn’t the craziest thing we’ve done together. So we committed to try it for one week.
That little experiment came back to mind as I sat there listening again.
The call to prayer sounds throughout the city five times daily, beginning early in the morning and continuing until night. Hearing it now reminds me of the rhythm of turning my attention back to God again and again.
Sitting here today, hearing the call to prayer drifting across the valley, I’m struck by something else.
Israel could have silenced that broadcast the moment missiles started flying toward its cities.
But it didn’t.
This nation is tiny compared to Iran — about nine million people facing nearly ninety million. Iran is vast. Israel is small.
Yet here I sit on a balcony in Jerusalem hearing that call continue — a call that lasts three to five minutes.
The call itself isn’t a call to war. It’s a call for Muslims to acknowledge Allah and bow in prayer — a different god than the One I pray to, but still a call to worship.
People outside of Israel often talk about how much of an apartheid state it is. But when a country allows the call to prayer of the same religion that is attacking it right now… that says something about the kind of freedom that exists here.
Israel is complicated.
The population here is incredibly diverse — Jews, Arabs, Muslim, Christian, secular, religious — people from dozens of nations who now call this land home.
Living together isn’t always simple.
But last night I saw a small picture of that diversity in Jen’s apartment. We invited a family over for dinner and a night of games — six adults and five little kids gathered into a space that Jerusalem would simply call a normal apartment.
The place is small, but that doesn’t seem to slow anyone down. People just keep adding chairs, pulling kids onto laps, and making room.
This was our version of fellowship last night.
That little experiment came back to mind as I sat there listening again.
The call to prayer sounds throughout the city five times daily, beginning early in the morning and continuing until night. Hearing it now reminds me of the rhythm of turning my attention back to God again and again.
Sitting here today, hearing the call to prayer drifting across the valley, I’m struck by something else.
Israel could have silenced that broadcast the moment missiles started flying toward its cities.
But it didn’t.
This nation is tiny compared to Iran — about nine million people facing nearly ninety million. Iran is vast. Israel is small.
Yet here I sit on a balcony in Jerusalem hearing that call continue — a call that lasts three to five minutes.
The call itself isn’t a call to war. It’s a call for Muslims to acknowledge Allah and bow in prayer — a different god than the One I pray to, but still a call to worship.
People outside of Israel often talk about how much of an apartheid state it is. But when a country allows the call to prayer of the same religion that is attacking it right now… that says something about the kind of freedom that exists here.
Israel is complicated.
The population here is incredibly diverse — Jews, Arabs, Muslim, Christian, secular, religious — people from dozens of nations who now call this land home.
Living together isn’t always simple.
But last night I saw a small picture of that diversity in Jen’s apartment. We invited a family over for dinner and a night of games — six adults and five little kids gathered into a space that Jerusalem would simply call a normal apartment.
The place is small, but that doesn’t seem to slow anyone down. People just keep adding chairs, pulling kids onto laps, and making room.
This was our version of fellowship last night.
The family we invited over is currently staying in a small ministry apartment here in Jerusalem. They’re sharing it with another family while visiting parents because the place where they normally live doesn’t have a good protected shelter. With sirens and alerts still happening, they could use a little different scenery — and honestly, a little breathing room.
As I looked around the table, I was struck by the diversity in that little room.
A Hungarian.
A German.
A Romanian.
And an American… plus me — the American grandma who just happened to arrive before this war started.
Most of our conversation happened in English, but the kids moved easily between Hebrew, German, and English — sometimes all within the same sentence.
As the evening went on, the apartment filled with the simple things that make life feel normal again.
Kids playing together.
Adults playing games after a good meal around the table.
Outside the apartment, the world is tense. Missiles cross borders. Sirens interrupt sleep — and one interrupted our evening, the siren sending all of us to the mamad ... our protected space.
As I looked around the table, I was struck by the diversity in that little room.
A Hungarian.
A German.
A Romanian.
And an American… plus me — the American grandma who just happened to arrive before this war started.
Most of our conversation happened in English, but the kids moved easily between Hebrew, German, and English — sometimes all within the same sentence.
As the evening went on, the apartment filled with the simple things that make life feel normal again.
Kids playing together.
Adults playing games after a good meal around the table.
Outside the apartment, the world is tense. Missiles cross borders. Sirens interrupt sleep — and one interrupted our evening, the siren sending all of us to the mamad ... our protected space.
But inside that small apartment in Jerusalem, people from different nations were simply sharing an evening together.
Life continuing.
And sometime during the evening, the final call to prayer sounded again across the valley.
I didn’t hear it this time — dinner, kids, and games filled the apartment — but I know it came just the same.
Sirens may interrupt the evening…
but prayer still fills the air.
And in this small, complicated country, that sound is a reminder that freedom still has a voice.
Life continuing.
And sometime during the evening, the final call to prayer sounded again across the valley.
I didn’t hear it this time — dinner, kids, and games filled the apartment — but I know it came just the same.
Sirens may interrupt the evening…
but prayer still fills the air.
And in this small, complicated country, that sound is a reminder that freedom still has a voice.
– Mimsie in Israel
P.S. Thank you to so many of you who have sent comments, texts, and messages. They mean more than you probably realize. And the prayers… those matter most of all. Thank you for praying.
If this update encourages someone else who has been praying for Israel, feel free to pass it along.
If this update encourages someone else who has been praying for Israel, feel free to pass it along.
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10 Comments
All of us in Tennessee are praying for you, your family and friends. John is sharing your blog with us and we are loving hearing about life over there. How blessed we are in the states and so many people don’t realize it.
Thanks for sharing, Alice! We look forward to having you back, however your news are always an encouragement to follow Christ! Love you!!
Praise God for the reminder of the unbroken fellowship that happens amongst believers - Thank you for the reminder of the opportunity we have to pray five times a day. In fact, our brother Paul says pray without ceasing, but the reminders are good and helpful to set parameters in the seemingly overwhelmingly rolling tide of our daily lives.
nLord may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer hallelujah …
Hi there, Alice Ann! I have read every blog post so far and each one makes me think and pray! You write well and carry a wide range of emotions in your words! Only a strong woman of faith could present your current situation in this uplifting and thoughtful way! I do not cease to send up prayers for you and your family there, and I add those you mention along the way! I send my love and a big thank you for your faithful witness! Much love! Ann
Alice, saw your hubby yesterday morning at Krauses with Johnny. At least he is eating well! We all miss you, but love your onsight writings.
We love you.
Thank you for taking the time to write these messages! Still remember a few of us younger moms doing that study with you. :) While I know you're anxious to get home, I know there's probably no other place you'd rather be than experiencing this with Jen and your family there. Love you all and praying for you!
Thank you for sharing updates and in the truest Alice form finding ways to encouraging everyone to run a faithful race towards Christ. Much love from College Station!
As I read your heart in words, it brings memories back. Thanks for sharing a piece of what Father is allowing you to live. My prayers joins the many others expressed in the comments. Jeremiah 29:11-13 has been a pilar to me, so I share.
Thank you for keeping us updated. Give Jen a big hug from me.