Sovereign Over All: Trouble in Tangier

Psalm 24:1

The earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains, the world, and all those who dwell in it.

I was in Spain a couple weeks ago exploring the city of Málaga as a viable living option to be my home and jump off point into North Africa, the Middle East, as well as Central and Southeast Asia. I don’t want to base my conclusion off of only one experience, but I must say I was not impressed. Due to circumstances out of my control I missed my last flight from Madrid to Málaga. I made some phone calls and was on the next flight. In the process they lost my luggage. They found it that night and said they would deliver it the next day. I was eating at a restaurant when I was notified that it had been delivered. When I returned to my accommodations I saw that it was the wrong suitcase. Long story short, they delivered the correct suitcase and took the wrong one back. Hopefully that person got their stuff back.

Anyway, another reason I wanted to visit Southern Spain was to meet a contact who lives a few hours away. My contact had received some New Testaments in Darija, the Moroccan dialect of Arabic and graciously said I could have some. I went to meet him and visited him and his family. They were so kind and welcoming, and hospitable. They fed me and hosted me for the night. Mr. M showed me a little bit of the town. We visited a Moroccan restaurant at sundown where the Muslims were breaking their fast. We enjoyed a simple Moroccan Iftar meal consisting of hirira, a hearty Ramadan soup, chebakia, a sweet pastry that pairs well with the savory soup, as well as dates, naturally, and a boiled egg. And of course the Moroccan mint tea! One of my favorites.

Several months ago in mid to late 2025 I spent a couple months in Morocco. While there I was able to meet and fellowship with some missionaries as well as some local believers. I enjoyed learning some of their culture and language. When I returned home, I tried to find some Moroccan Bibles to take to Morocco for my brothers and sisters in Christ, as well as those who would come to faith after reading God’s Word. This is what lead me to Mr. M. I would like to add an interesting little tidbit. I don’t know all of the nuances, but suffice it to say, because Darija is a common language or a “street” language, to have a holy book written in the language of the common people is virtually unheard of. To my understanding, to have a full Bible in Darija has been a 30-year project with the Old Testament being completed only recently.

I figured while I was so close to Morocco and the proud new owner of over 60 New Testaments I would reach out to my contacts in Morocco and we would plan for me to bring them into the country. To keep things short, I finally made it to the port city of Tarifa, Spain, and set sail upon a ferry for Tangier-ville port in Tangier, Morocco, with books in tow. I divided the 60+ books between a suitcase, a duffel bag and my backpack. I not only did this to be less conspicuous, but also to distribute the weight. Books are heavy! To be honest, I don’t know all the ins and outs of religious freedom in Morocco but as far as I know, Bibles are welcome as long as they are not in Arabic. Whoops…lol. The government also prohibits the distribution of non-Muslim religious materials and bans proselytizing. It is illegal to “shake the faith” of a Muslim. But the call is to go…

Now the moment of truth had come. Nearly 5,000 miles by plane, bus, BlaBlaCar, and ferry, as well as nearly $2,000 spent, all culminating to where I was. The only thing separating me from freedom was 10’ of conveyor and x-ray scanner. With both body and books bathed in prayer, and the assurance that God’s will will be done, I stepped up to the conveyor. I set my backpack on first, hoping to quickly disinterest them from serious inspection of my other bags. I put the remaining bags on the conveyor and walked through the body scanner, all the while looking rather tired and unenthused, which I was. Everything seemed to be going well as the luggage emerged from the scanner and I nonchalantly gathered it up. I donned my gray backpack and set the black duffel atop the green suitcase and started for the exit. Just then I heard those dreaded words, “Sir, I’m going to need you to step over here.”

My heart sank as I complied, trying to play it off by announcing that I have a prosthetic knee as the reason the body scanner buzzed and I was being summoned. But no… they were only interested in my bags. They commanded me to set my bags on the table and empty out the books. I tried to hide any signs of fearful surprise with confusion, which slowly morphed into irritation as I begin asking them why they were doing that in my broken Spanish. The answer I kept receiving was “please wait.” I’m not sure if they were telling me to wait or if the Lord was telling me to wait through them. There were at least four policeman around me, two at the table stacking my books and making remarks to each other, one manning the x-ray monitor, and the other filing people through the body scanner. At one point an officer donning a prominent black mustache came over. Surely he was in charge, ha ha. I really don’t know. I tried to decipher the ranks of the men around me but to no avail. It seemed each officer was on the phone with someone different, commenting on the haul they just uncovered.

At one point they asked me if I had any USBs. I told them no. And they obviously didn’t find any. Apparently, USBs are a popular smuggling medium there? Finally, a couple of the officers repacked the books into my suitcase, and we zipped everything up, and we waited. We waited until the rest of the passengers from the ferry had all been cleared. I think they did this to see if anyone was with me, but it was just the two of us, Jesus and myself.

After everyone had left they escorted me to Customs. There the interrogations started again. I mainly dealt with two gentlemen, customs officers, who were curious as to who gave me the books, and where I was taking them. The first guy seemed rather stern, and I was trying to hand it back to him, with respect, of course, asking why I wasn’t allowed to bring these into the country. I mean they have religious freedom right?! The whole time I was just praying that the Lord would soften their hearts. I had no idea what would come of this, but I knew the Lord was with me, and I knew people were praying for me, even at that very moment, and so I just trusted in the Lord. Don’t give me wrong. It was very nerve-racking, and in many parts of the world this kind of work is very dangerous. People are imprisoned or killed for this very thing. There was one guy, who if I may say so, just seemed like a real sleaze bag. I hate to say that, but I just did not get a good feeling from him. He would not talk to me directly, but he wrote down everything I was telling the other agents.

In another moment of transparency, I kind of had a feeling this would happen. In God’s sovereign providence, in my daily Bible reading leading up to this trip I was in the book of Daniel. I’m sure all of you are aware of the events that take place in the first portion of the book of Daniel. It starts off with Daniel being kidnapped and renamed and educated that he may serve the king. After that we read about the four in the furnace, as well as Daniel in the lions’ den, and so I had a feeling that I was reading these passages at the proper time, because the Lord would orchestrate a circumstance in where I would recall those passages and the verses within, and claim them as my own, as I sought the Lord’s protection and provision in the event of being discovered. And so it was, and so it happened. I found myself in the proverbial lions’ den. Another verse that came to mind was Psalm 23:5 where David says, “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” Indeed the Lord had prepared a table before me in the presence of my enemies, and this table was in the form of a 5‘ x 3‘ off white computer desk, belonging to a Moroccan customs agent. But I also want to reiterate that he is not the enemy, for Paul reminds us that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness, in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12) and Islam has a powerful grip, especially in that part of the world.

It was hard to keep track of the time spent but I believe I was with the police for 30 minutes and then with the customs agents for about 30 minutes. It definitely seemed a lot longer. But now after the questioning, processing, and documenting, it was time for the verdict to be handed down. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I think it went as well as it could have given the circumstances. I was allowed to take the books back to Spain, but I could not take them into Morocco. That was definitely a bummer, but it is better than the alternatives, which could have consisted of them being confiscated, or potentially destroyed, or me in handcuffs. Praise God for His mercy, even with the hard hearted. I had bought a return ticket to Spain, but I had not given a specific time and so they suggested I go and enjoy Tangier for a few hours before going home. I wasn’t sure if they sincerely wanted me to enjoy Tangier or if they wanted to see where I would go and who I would visit and they would have someone tailing me. I had to take the rest of my luggage with me so I didn’t go far, but I walked around for a few hours and returned to port. I didn’t know how long it was going to take to reclaim my books so I went a little early. And I must say I wasn’t too thrilled about having to deal with customs again lol. So I made my way through security and then branched off into customs where they had my books boxed up and ready to be repacked. I was told to count them as I packed them to confirm that everything was there and accounted for, and I also had to sign a document saying I had received all that I had brought, as well as stamp it with a thumbprint. The ink pad for the thumbprint wasn’t working, so I did not have my thumbprint documented. I’m not sure if that will have any significance in future trips to Morocco, but I thought it was interesting. The main customs agent with whom I dealt did tell me that “next time one or two will be okay, but not that many.” Now I don’t know if he meant that and I can hold him to his word, but Lord willing, we might see. I was also glad he said “next time” because he made it sound like I could come back, that I wasn’t being kicked out permanently, so praise the Lord for that as well.

I got everything loaded back up and was ready to go. But apparently, I had gotten there too early. There was too much time in between me having the books back and the ferry leaving port. I think they were afraid I would double back into Morocco with the books now that they were released back into my custody. So, with that being the case, I had to sit in customs until it was time to go. Let me tell you, that was a lot of fun (sarcasm). There were officers moving to and fro, and I’m sure many were commenting on my presence. I heard one officer say the word “smuggler” in his Arabic accent. At one point a French-speaking man who had his drone confiscated came in to reclaim it. I can only imagine what he thought of me as I sat there in time out with the whole of the customs personnel. Finally, they deemed my time there sufficient in that I could safely be on my way without the possibility of the books entering Morocco.

I was handed off from customs back to the police, and an officer escorted me essentially almost all the way to the ferry with my passport in his hand so that I would not turn around. When he handed me my passport, I kindly placed my hand on my heart and said "shukran" (thank you) and climbed aboard the ferry and made my way back to Tarifa.

My what a long story... If you’ve made it this far I just want to say thank you and ask you to keep praying for our persecuted brothers and sisters around the world as well as those without religious freedom. I don’t get paid to do this, but it is the burden and calling placed upon me. So to wrap up this part of the story, I made it back from Tarifa to Málaga and then from Málaga back home. I almost missed my flight out of Madrid and was running through the airport to make it on time. So like I said, I was not that impressed with Spain and I don’t know if it would be a viable jump off point if I have to deal with that every time lol. After those events, naturally, I was disappointed that after all the travel and money spent and prayer and pleading that we would be able to take the books into Morocco that it did not happen. Also, during this time is when the US and Israel went up against Iran and all the chaos that has erupted as a result. While in Tangier I sat on a bench and pulled out my English Bible which they let me keep, and I was reading through Psalm 23 reciting the verses I had recalled while in custody and then I read 24:1 which says “The earth is the Lord’s, and all it contains, the world, and all those who dwell in it.” It was and is a beautiful reminder that God is in control and knows what He is doing. In His infinite wisdom He ordained that the books not make it in, and He has ordained the chaos of the world to come to pass that His good and perfect will be done. And it says, “those who dwell in it.” The people. You and me. The police officers who stopped me. The Muslims I passed who were praying, etc. They all belong to the Lord. We all belong to the Lord (not in a salvific sense of course, but we are all His creation), and that’s just comforting. Psalm 24 ends with the reminder that God has secured the victory. The Divine Warrior enters heaven triumphantly! Islam and the other dark forces don’t stand a chance. “Lift up your heads, O gates, and be lifted up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in! Who is the King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O gates, and lift them up, O ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in! Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts, He is the King of glory.” (Psalm 24:7-10)