My name is Mary.

I’m now 17 years old.

But on September 15th, 2018, when I was just 11, something happened that changed not only my life, but an entire royal family.

That day, Jesus used a small Thai girl to heal a dying Saudi prince.

This is my testimony.

I grew up in a small Christian village in the mountains of northern Thailand, where the sound of roosters crowing at dawn mixed with the gentle hymns my mother sang while cooking rice over our wood burning stove.

Our house was simple, built on stilts with bamboo walls and a corrugated metal roof that drumed beautifully when the monsoon rains came.

Every morning before the sun rose, our family would gather on woven mats for prayer time.

Father would read from our worn Thai Bible, his calloused hands turning the pages carefully, and we would sing worship songs that echoed across the valley.

My father was known throughout our province as one of the most skilled construction foremen in the region.

His reputation for honest work and exceptional craftsmanship had spread far beyond our village borders.

When international contractors needed someone they could trust completely, they called my father.

He had learned his trade from his own father and every beam he placed, every foundation he poured was done with the same precision and integrity that he brought to his faith.

Mother always said that father built houses like he built his relationship with God with patience, dedication, and an eye for perfection.

Our daily routine revolved around faith and family.

Every evening after father returned from work, his clothes dusty and his hands rough from handling concrete and steel, we would gather again for prayer.

Mother would teach me Bible stories while she mended our clothes or prepared meals.

She had a gift for making the ancient stories come alive, describing how God used ordinary people like Moses the shepherd, David the shepherd boy, and Mary the young virgin to accomplish extraordinary things.

She would look at me with those knowing eyes and say, “Mary, our God delights in using the small things of this world to confound the mighty.

” The opportunity that would change our lives came through a phone call on a humid Tuesday afternoon in August 2018.

Father had been recommended by a previous employer to work on a special construction project in Saudi Arabia.

The contractor needed someone with his specific skills for a highsecurity government project and they were offering compensation that seemed impossible to our family.

The amount they quoted was more than father could earn in 3 years in Thailand.

That night, our family held the longest prayer meeting of my childhood.

Father spread the job offer papers across our small wooden table and we discussed the implications of such a move.

Mother worried about taking me away from my school and friends.

Father concerned himself with the spiritual challenges of living in a nation where Christianity was forbidden.

I was excited about the adventure but scared about leaving the only home I had ever known.

We prayed for hours asking God for wisdom and direction.

Have you ever had to hide the most important thing in your life? That’s what we prepared to do.

Father explained that in Saudi Arabia we would have to keep our Christian faith completely private.

There would be no church services, no public prayers, no Christian music playing in our home.

We would have to worship in secret, read our Bibles behind closed doors, and never speak openly about Jesus Christ.

For a family that had built their entire life around open worship and community faith, this felt like preparing to hold our breath underwater for an indefinite period.

The decision came after 3 days of fasting and prayer.

Father believed God was opening this door for a purpose we couldn’t yet understand.

Mother felt peace about protecting our family’s spiritual life while serving in a foreign land.

As for me, I was 11 years old and trusted my parents completely.

If they believed God was calling us to Saudi Arabia, then I would follow.

Our preparations took weeks.

We sold most of our possessions, keeping only essentials and a few precious items, including our Thai Bible, which mother carefully wrapped in cloth and hid deep in our luggage.

The village held a farewell celebration for us and the entire church community prayed over our family asking God to protect us and use us for his purposes in the Middle East.

The flight to Riad was my first time on an airplane and I pressed my face against the window watching Thailand disappear beneath the clouds.

Everything felt like a dream as we flew over countries I had only heard about in geography lessons.

When we finally landed in Saudi Arabia, the heat hit us like opening an oven door.

The airport was unlike anything I had ever imagined.

Massive, gleaming, filled with people in flowing robes speaking languages that sounded like music.

Our first weeks in Riyad were overwhelming.

The workers compound where we lived was clean and modern compared to our village home, but it felt sterile and lonely.

The other international workers kept to themselves, mostly, creating small communities based on their home countries.

Father left early each morning for the construction site, and mother and I spent long days trying to adjust to the heat, the different foods, and the complete absence of familiar sounds.

The hardest part was maintaining our faith in secret.

We whispered our prayers, sang hymns so quietly they were barely audible, and read our Bible only when we were certain no one could see us.

Mother created a small prayer corner in our bedroom, hidden behind a curtain, where we could kneel together for morning and evening devotions.

The loneliness was overwhelming sometimes, and I missed the freedom of worshiping openly with our church family back home.

But father’s reputation for excellence followed him even to Saudi Arabia.

Within months, his supervisors were praising his work to their close superiors.

His attention to detail, his ability to solve complex construction problems, and his natural leadership skills caught the attention of palace officials who oversaw government construction projects.

Soon he was being assigned to increasingly important and prestigious projects, working on buildings that would house government offices and diplomatic facilities.

More importantly, our family became known throughout the compound and among the palace staff for our integrity and reliability.

In a place where trust was precious and carefully earned, our consistent honesty and hard work opened doors that would have remained closed to others.

Palace managers began requesting father specifically for sensitive projects, knowing that his work could be trusted completely and that our family could be counted on to maintain confidentiality about everything we saw and heard.

None of us could have imagined that this reputation for trustworthiness would soon place us at the center of a crisis that would test our faith beyond anything we had ever experienced.

The call came at 11:47 p.

m.

on September 15th, 2018.

I remember the exact time because the digital clock beside our bed cast its green glow across the room when father’s phone rang, jolting all of us from sleep.

In our small quarters, every sound traveled, and mother and I sat up immediately when we heard father’s voice changed from sleepy confusion to sharp attention.

He was speaking in broken Arabic mixed with English, and I could hear the urgency in the caller’s voice, even through the phone speaker.

Father hung up and turned to us with an expression I had never seen before.

His face was pale in the dim light, and his hands were already reaching for his work clothes.

“They need me at the main palace immediately,” he said, his voice tight with tension.

Something has happened to the young prince.

They want the whole family to come.

Mother’s hand flew to her throat, and I felt my stomach drop.

In all our months in Saudi Arabia, we had never been summoned to the main palace, especially not in the middle of the night with such desperation.

The ride through Riyad at midnight felt like traveling through a different world.

The usually busy streets were empty except for security vehicles and the occasional late night traveler.

Our escort, a palace official whose name we never learned, drove in complete silence, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

Through the car windows, I watched the city lights blur past, each one seeming to ask the same question that pounded in my heart.

What could be so urgent that a construction worker’s family was being summoned to help with a royal crisis? When we arrived at the main palace, I was overwhelmed by its sheer size and grandeur.

Even in the darkness, the building seemed to glow with an otherworldly magnificence.

Golden lights illuminated ornate architectural details that spoke of centuries of power and wealth.

Guards in crisp uniforms stood at attention, their faces serious and alert.

This was not the construction area where father normally worked.

This was the heart of one of the world’s most powerful monarchies.

The palace corridor seemed to stretch endlessly as we followed our escort deeper into the building.

Our footsteps echoed on polished marble floors that reflected ornate ceiling lights like mirrors.

Priceless artwork lined the walls, and every detail spoke of wealth beyond imagination.

But despite all the beauty surrounding us, there was an unmistakable atmosphere of crisis hanging in the air.

Palace staff moved with urgent purpose, their usual composed demeanor replaced by barely controlled panic.

The contrast between the palace’s normal dignity and the current chaos became more apparent as we approached the royal family’s private wing.

Servants rushed past us carrying medical supplies, their faces etched with worry.

I could hear hushed conversations in Arabic punctuated by what sounded like orders being given and received.

The very air seemed thick with tension and fear, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.

When we were finally brought to the royal family’s private medical wing, the scene that greeted us was unlike anything I could have imagined.

The normally untouchable royal family stood before us in their most vulnerable human state.

The king, who I had only seen in photographs looking regal and composed, was pacing the room with his hair disheveled and his traditional robes wrinkled from hours of worry.

His face carried the raw anguish of a father watching his child suffer, and all his power and authority seemed meaningless in the face of this crisis.

The queen sat beside a medical bed, her elegant features stre with tears she had stopped trying to hide, her hands clasped and unclasped in her lap, and every few moments she would reach out to touch the small form lying motionless on the bed.

When she looked up at us, her eyes held a desperation that transcended all barriers of culture, religion, and social status.

In that moment, she was not a queen.

She was simply a mother whose child was dying.

The young prince, who appeared to be close to my own age, lay unconscious on the medical bed, surrounded by the most advanced equipment money could buy.

His skin had a grayish palar that made him look like a figure carved from marble, and his breathing was so shallow it was barely visible.

Monitors beeped and flashed around him, but their electronic symphony seemed to be playing a durge rather than offering hope.

Even to my 11-year-old eyes, it was clear that this child was slipping away from life.

The international medical team that surrounded the prince looked as defeated as I had ever seen adults look.

These were clearly world-renowned specialists flown in from the finest hospitals in Europe and America.

But their expensive suits and prestigious degrees meant nothing in the face of this mysterious illness.

They huddled in small groups, consulting charts and test results with expressions of complete bewilderment.

Their whispered conversations carried words like inexplicable and impossible and nothing in the literature.

Ask yourself this question.

What do you do when human knowledge reaches its limit? When the best minds and most advanced technology in the world stand helpless before a problem that defies every logical explanation.

That was exactly the situation we walked into that night.

And the desperation in the room was so thick you could almost taste it.

The prince’s condition was medically impossible to explain.

According to the medical team, he had been perfectly healthy that morning, participating in a palace ceremony celebrating a diplomatic achievement.

Eyewitnesses said he had been laughing and playing with other children just hours earlier.

Then, without any warning or apparent cause, he had suddenly collapsed during the ceremony, falling unconscious so quickly that those nearby barely had time to catch him before he hit the ground.

Every conceivable test had been performed.

blood work, brain scans, heart monitoring, genetic screening.

Every advanced diagnostic tool available to modern medicine had been employed and every single test came back normal.

According to medical science, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the prince.

His body showed no signs of disease, infection, trauma, or dysfunction.

Yet he lay there unconscious, unresponsive to any treatment or stimulus, slowly fading away despite having no identifiable illness.

Traditional healers and respected religious leaders had already been consulted without success.

The royal family had called upon every resource available to them, from ancient folk remedies to cuttingedge experimental treatments.

Nothing had made any difference.

The prince continued his mysterious decline, and the medical team was quietly beginning to use words like, “Prepare for the worst.

” The palace manager, who had called our family, approached father with a look of desperate hope mixed with embarrassment.

This man who normally carried himself with the dignity befitting his position in the royal household was clearly grasping at straws.

“Your family,” he said in careful English, “has a reputation among the staff for spiritual strength and integrity.

We have heard that you know of other ways to help people in crisis.

” The question hung in the air like a challenge to everything we believed about God’s power and our willingness to risk everything for faith.

Father’s hands trembled slightly as he looked from the unconscious prince to the desperate royal family to the baffled medical team.

Mother moved closer to him, and I felt her hand find mine.

We all understood that this moment would define not just the prince’s fate, but our own destiny as well.

In that sterile medical room, surrounded by wealth and power and human knowledge that had reached its absolute limit, our small family from rural Thailand faced the most important decision of our lives.

Would we risk everything to serve the God we claimed to trust completely? The weight of that moment pressed down on me like the heaviest blanket I had ever felt.

Standing in that opulent medical room, surrounded by people whose wealth and power could reshape nations, I felt smaller than I had ever felt in my 11 years of life.

The king’s desperate eyes moved between my parents and me, searching for some spark of hope that his advisers had promised might exist in our simple family.

The queen’s silent tears continued to fall as she maintained her vigil beside her dying son, and I could see her lips moving in what I assumed were prayers to Allah.

The medical team stepped back slightly, creating a space around the prince’s bed that felt both respectful and skeptical.

These were men and women who had dedicated their lives to science and evidence-based medicine, and their body language clearly communicated their doubt that a Thai construction workers family could offer anything their expertise had missed.

Some watched with barely concealed impatience, while others observed with the detached curiosity of researchers witnessing an interesting experiment.

None of them expected anything meaningful to happen.

My parents stood frozen for what felt like an eternity, and I could practically hear their internal struggle.

Everything they had taught me about faith was being tested in this moment.

We had always believed that God could heal the sick, that Jesus still performed miracles, and that prayer had real power to change impossible situations.

But believing those things in the safety of our village church was vastly different from acting on those beliefs in front of Saudi royalty, international medical experts, and palace guards who could end our lives with a single command.

Father’s face was pale and I could see sweat forming on his forehead despite the air conditioned coolness of the room.

Mother’s hand found his arm and they exchanged a look that contained an entire conversation.

They were weighing the risk of revealing our Christian faith against the possibility that God might want to work through us in this moment.

In Saudi Arabia, openly practicing Christianity could result in imprisonment, deportation, or worse.

Yet, here was a dying child and a family desperate enough to ask for spiritual intervention from foreign workers.

The palace manager cleared his throat softly, breaking the heavy silence.

“Your family,” he repeated, his voice carrying both hope and uncertainty.

We have heard that you have special spiritual practices that might help when medicine cannot.

His careful wording revealed that he knew we were different somehow, but he was giving us room to respond without fully committing to anything specific.

The invitation was there, but so was the danger.

Then, cutting through all my fear and confusion, I felt something I had never experienced before.

It started as a warmth in my chest, like drinking hot tea on a cold morning, but it quickly spread throughout my entire body.

The sensation was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of peace that seemed completely out of place given our circumstances.

The worried faces around me came into sharper focus, but somehow the fear that had been paralyzing me began to dissolve.

Look inside your own heart right now and try to imagine what it feels like when God speaks to you directly.

Not through a sermon or a Bible verse or another person’s testimony, but directly into your spirit with such clarity that you cannot doubt the source.

That’s what happened to me in that moment.

Without audible words, I understood with absolute certainty that God wanted me to approach the prince.

Not my parents with their greater spiritual maturity and life experience, but me, an 11-year-old girl who still sometimes forgot to brush her teeth without being reminded.

The instruction felt both terrifying and completely natural.

I had grown up hearing stories of Jesus healing children, laying hands on the sick, and performing miracles that confounded the wise and learned.

In Sunday school, those stories had seemed magical and distant, like fairy tales from another world.

But standing in that medical room, I suddenly understood that the same Jesus who had walked on water and raised the dead was present with us, ready to demonstrate his power through the most unlikely vessel imaginable.

My legs began moving before my mind fully processed what was happening.

I took a small step toward the prince’s bed, then another, and suddenly I was walking across that marble floor with a confidence that definitely was not coming from my natural personality.

The royal guards tensed visibly, their hands moving instinctively toward their weapons, unsure whether this small foreign girl posed some kind of threat to their unconscious prince.

The medical team’s conversations stopped abruptly as they noticed my movement.

Some of them exchanged glances that clearly communicated their disbelief at what they were witnessing.

Here was a child completely untrained in medicine, approaching a critically ill patient in the presence of some of the world’s leading specialists.

Their professional skepticism was written across their faces, but something kept them from intervening.

The king raised his hand slightly, a gesture that froze the guards in place while giving me permission to continue.

His face showed a mixture of desperate hope and protective father instincts, waring with each other.

The queen looked up from her son’s bedside, her tear stained face reflecting surprise and a fragile hope that maybe somehow this unexpected development might bring the miracle they had been praying for.

Father started to follow me, but I turned and gave him a look that somehow communicated that this was something I needed to do alone.

Mother’s hand covered her mouth and I could see her lips moving in silent prayer.

They understood somehow that God was orchestrating this moment in a way that transcended their parental instincts to protect me from such enormous responsibility.

As I reached the prince’s bedside, the reality of what I was about to attempt hit me with full force.

This was not a Sunday school story or a youth group testimony.

This was a real child, the son of one of the world’s most powerful families, dying from a condition that had baffled medical experts from multiple countries.

If nothing happened, our family would likely face consequences I was too young to fully understand.

If something did happen, the implications would ripple far beyond anything any of us could imagine.

The prince looked even more fragile up close.

His breathing was so shallow that I had to watch carefully to see his chest moving at all.

His skin had an almost translucent quality that made him appear ethereal, as if he was already halfway between this world and the next.

The monitors surrounding him continued their electronic symphony, but the numbers and graphs meant nothing to me.

All I could see was a sick child who needed Jesus to touch him.

I reached out my small hands and placed them gently on the prince’s forehead, just as I had seen my pastor do when praying for sick people in our village church.

His skin was cool and dry, and I could feel the faint pulse of life that still flickered within him.

The room around me seemed to fade away as I closed my eyes and began to pray, speaking directly to the Jesus I had known and loved since childhood, asking him to demonstrate his power in this place where his name was forbidden to be spoken.

The moment I began to pray, something extraordinary happened that I still struggled to find adequate words to describe.

As my small hands rested on the prince’s core forehead, I felt a surge of warmth that seemed to flow from somewhere deep within my chest down through my arms and out through my fingertips.

It was not the kind of heat that comes from fever or physical exertion, but something alive and purposeful like electricity made of pure love and power.

I prayed first in Thai, the language of my heart, speaking to Jesus as naturally as I would speak to my earthly father.

Jesus, I whispered, this boy is dying and his family is so sad.

Please show them who you are.

Please heal him like you healed the children in the Bible stories.

Let everyone here see your power.

The words flowed out of me with an urgency and clarity that surprised me, as if someone else was helping me know exactly what to say.

Then remembering where I was and feeling bold in a way that definitely was not my natural personality, I began to pray in the broken Arabic I had learned during our months in Saudi Arabia.

My pronunciation was poor and my grammar was probably wrong, but I spoke Jesus’s name clearly and loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear.

In that moment, I was no longer thinking about the consequences of proclaiming Christ in a Muslim nation.

I was simply a child asking her savior to save another child.

The warmth flowing through my hands intensified, and I felt the prince’s skin temperature begin to change beneath my touch.

What had been cool and clammy was becoming warm and normal.

But more than the physical change, there was something happening in the spiritual atmosphere of the room that was unmistakable.

The heavy oppressive feeling of death and despair that had dominated the medical wing began to lift, replaced by something that can only be described as the presence of heaven touching earth.

The first sign that something miraculous was occurring came through the medical equipment.

The monitors that had been showing irregular, weak vital signs suddenly began displaying stronger, more consistent patterns.

Heart rate, blood pressure, and brain activity all showed marked improvement within minutes of my prayer beginning.

But the medical team’s attention was not on their machines.

They were staring at the prince himself, whose physical appearance was changing before their eyes.

Color began returning to the prince’s face like watching a black and white photograph slowly transform into full color.

His lips, which had been pale and almost blue, became pink and healthy.

His breathing, which had been so shallow it was barely detectable, deepened and became regular and strong.

The grayish palar that had made him look like a marble statue was replaced by the warm golden skin tone of a healthy child.

Then his eyes opened.

Not the confused, unfocused look of someone awakening from unconsciousness, but clear, alert, and completely aware.

The prince looked directly at me with eyes that held an expression of wonder and recognition that took my breath away.

His first words spoken in perfect English with a voice that was strong and clear sent shock waves through the entire room.

“I saw him,” the prince said, his gaze never leaving my face.

“I saw the man in the white robes who told me he loved me.

He said his name was Jesus, and he sent you to bring me back.

” The absolute conviction in his young voice left no room for doubt or alternate interpretation.

He was not confused or hallucinating.

He was reporting an encounter that had been as real to him as the room we all stood in.

The medical team erupted into controlled chaos as they rushed to examine their patient, who had just experienced what could only be called a resurrection.

Doctors who had been preparing the royal family for their son’s death were now taking readings and running tests on a completely healthy child.

Every machine confirmed what their eyes were seeing.

This was not a gradual improvement or a temporary rally, but an instantaneous complete healing that defied every law of medicine and biology they had studied.

The queen’s reaction was the most dramatic.

She had been sitting in numb despair beside her son’s deathbed, and suddenly she was holding a vibrant, healthy child who was sitting up and speaking normally.

Her sobs of grief transformed into cries of joy and disbelief as she pulled her son into her arms, checking his face and hands over and over again to convince herself that this miracle was real.

The king stood frozen in place, his face cycling through expressions of shock, joy, confusion, and something that looked like fear.

As one of the most powerful men in the world, he was accustomed to controlling situations and finding logical explanations for everything that happened within his sphere of influence.

But what he had just witnessed completely shattered his understanding of how the world worked.

The prince’s next words created an even deeper impact on his parents.

Still speaking in that clear, confident voice that contrasted sharply with his previous unconscious state, he looked at his father and said, “The man in white told me that there is only one true God, and his name is Jesus Christ.

” He said that he died so that people like us could live forever with him in heaven.

Have you ever seen adults struggle to process information that challenges everything they believed about reality? That was what I witnessed in that medical room as the prince continued sharing details of his vision.

He described seeing Jesus with nail scars in his hands and feet, being surrounded by light brighter than the sun, and feeling more love than he had ever experienced in his young life.

He spoke with the authority of someone who had seen ultimate truth firsthand.

The medical team was frantically re-checking all their equipment, running new tests, and trying to find some scientific explanation for what they had witnessed.

But every test confirmed the same impossible conclusion.

A child who had been dying from an inexplicable condition was now completely perfectly healthy.

There were no gradual improvements, no partial recoveries, no medical interventions that could account for such dramatic and instantaneous healing.

Dr.

Harrison, the lead physician from John’s Hopkins, finally spoke what everyone in the room was thinking.

In 30 years of medicine, he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

I have never seen anything like this.

According to every diagnostic tool we have, this child was dying an hour ago.

Now he is healthier than most children his age.

This is medically impossible.

The prince looked at me with eyes full of gratitude and recognition as if we shared a secret that none of the adults around us could fully understand.

Thank you, he said simply, for letting Jesus use you to save my life.

Then he turned to his parents with the serious expression of a child who has experienced something that has changed him forever.

I want to follow Jesus, he announced.

The man in white said that anyone who believes in him will have eternal life.

The silence that followed his declaration was deafening.

In the heart of one of the most powerful Muslim nations in the world, a young prince had just proclaimed his faith in Jesus Christ in front of witnesses who would carry this story for the rest of their lives.

The implications of his words would ripple far beyond that medical room, setting in motion changes that none of us could have anticipated.

Standing beside that bed, my hands still warm from the power that had flowed through them, I finally understood why God had brought our family to Saudi Arabia.

It was not just to heal one sick child, though that would have been miracle enough.

It was to plant a seed of faith in hearts that had never been exposed to the gospel and to demonstrate that Jesus Christ is Lord over every culture, every political system, and every religious tradition that tries to deny his sovereignty.

The hours following the prince’s healing passed in a blur of whispered conversations, intense family meetings behind closed doors, and careful questions that carried the weight of eternity.

The king and queen dismissed the medical team and most of the palace staff, keeping only a few trusted advisers present as they grappled with what they had witnessed.

The prince, now sitting up in bed, eating his favorite foods with a healthy appetite, continued to speak about his encounter with Jesus as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

For 3 days, our family remained at the palace as honored guests while the royal family processed the implications of what had occurred.

During this time, I watched the king transform from a man who had built his identity around political power and religious tradition into someone wrestling with questions that challenged everything he had believed about God, truth, and eternity.

He would sit for hours listening to his son describe the vision, asking detailed questions about what Jesus had said and how it felt to be in his presence.

The Queen’s transformation was equally dramatic but manifested differently.

She became intensely curious about Christianity, asking my mother countless questions about our beliefs, our worship practices, and our understanding of salvation.

Mother, who had always been gifted at explaining complex spiritual concepts in simple terms, found herself conducting informal Bible studies in the Queen’s private chambers, using our carefully hidden Thai Bible to share the gospel with Saudi royalty.

The prince himself became the most enthusiastic evangelist any of us had ever encountered.

With the fearless honesty that only children possess, he told everyone who would listen about his encounter with Jesus.

He described the nail scarred hands, the overwhelming love he had felt, and the clear message that salvation comes only through faith in Christ.

Palace staff who had known him since birth were amazed by the mature spiritual understanding he displayed, as if his brief time in heaven had given him insights far beyond his years.

The moment that changed everything for the royal family came during a private conversation between the king and prince on the fourth day after the healing.

I was not present for this discussion but the prince later shared with me what had transpired.

His father had asked him directly whether he truly believed that Jesus was the only way to God.

Knowing that such a belief would have profound implications for their family’s position in Saudi society and the Islamic world, the prince’s response, delivered with a simple conviction that only children can possess, was what finally broke through his father’s remaining resistance.

Father, he had said, when you are dying and someone saves your life, you belong to them forever.

Jesus saved my life so I belong to him now.

And he told me that he wants to save your life too and mother’s life and the lives of everyone in our family.

That evening, the king requested a private meeting with my parents and me.

We gathered in his personal study, a room filled with religious texts, historical artifacts, and portraits of his ancestors who had ruled this land for generations.

The weight of family legacy and religious tradition hung heavy in the air as he struggled to voice the questions that had been consuming his thoughts since witnessing his son’s healing.

Your Jesus, he began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words.

He has power over life and death.

He healed my son when all the wisdom and technology of the world could not.

But if I acknowledge him as Lord, what happens to everything I have been taught about Allah and Islam? What happens to my responsibilities as a Muslim ruler in a Muslim nation? Father’s response was gentle but clear.

He explained that Jesus did not come to destroy people’s lives but to save them.

that he offered forgiveness and eternal life to anyone who would believe in him regardless of their background or previous religious affiliation.

He shared how our own family had found peace and purpose in following Christ and how that faith had sustained us through every challenge we had faced, including the courage to pray for healing in a hostile environment.

The turning point came when the king asked to hear directly from me about what had happened during the healing.

As I recounted the experience of feeling God’s power flow through my hands and witnessing the prince’s instantaneous restoration to health, I saw something shift in his expression.

The skepticism and caution that had marked his features for days was gradually replaced by a dawning recognition of truth.

I have seen enough, he said finally, his voice filled with quiet determination.

The God who could heal my son through the prayers of a small girl is the God I want to serve regardless of the consequences.

The queen, who had been listening silently throughout our conversation, reached for her husband’s hand and nodded her agreement.

“We have seen the power of Jesus with our own eyes,” she added.

How can we continue to deny him when he has been so merciful to our family? What followed was the most extraordinary Bible study I have ever witnessed.

For the next several days, our family worked with the royal family to help them understand the basics of Christian faith.

We explained concepts like sin, salvation, grace, and forgiveness using examples and illustrations that made sense within their cultural context.

The prince with his newfound spiritual insight often contributed observations that amazed the adults present.

The decision to fully commit their lives to Christ came after a week of intensive prayer and study.

The royal family understood better than anyone the enormous risks they were taking.

Converting to Christianity could cost them their throne, their wealth, their relationships with other Muslim leaders, and potentially their lives.

Yet, they had witnessed something so powerful and encountered someone so loving that they could not deny the truth any longer.

The secret baptism ceremony took place in the palace’s private indoor pool just before dawn on a Tuesday morning.

Only our family and two trusted palace staff members who had also come to faith were present as witnesses.

Watching the king, queen, and prince disappear beneath the water and emerge as new creations in Christ was one of the most moving experiences of my life.

The joy and peace that radiated from their faces confirmed that they had truly encountered the same Jesus who had healed the prince and called our family to Saudi Arabia.

I’m asking you, just as one believer to another, can you imagine the courage it took for them to take that step? They were not just changing religions.

They were embracing a faith that could cost them everything they had known and valued in their earthly lives.

Yet they did it willingly because they had experienced firsthand the love and power of Jesus Christ.

The ripple effects of their conversion began immediately.

Other members of the royal family noticed the dramatic changes in their demeanor and outlook.

Palace staff observed their new patterns of behavior, their different responses to stress, and their obvious joy and peace.

Carefully and discreetly, the newly converted family members began sharing their faith with trusted relatives and close friends, always being cautious, but never hiding their newfound love for Jesus.

Within months, a small but growing network of believers had developed within the palace walls.

Secret Bible studies were conducted in private chambers.

Prayer meetings were held in secure locations and baptisms took place in hidden areas of the royal compound.

The gospel was spreading in one of the most unlikely places on earth carried by people whose conversion would have been considered impossible by any human standard.

Now, 7 years later, as I stand before you as an 18year-old woman, I can see how that miraculous night in September 2018 was not an ending, but a beginning.

The prince, who is now 19 and preparing for his eventual role in leadership, has never wavered in his faith.

Despite the enormous pressures and expectations placed upon him, his commitment to following Jesus has only deepened with time and he has become a source of quiet strength and wisdom for other believers within the planet royal circle.

The transformation I witnessed in the prince over the years has been remarkable.

He pursued his education with renewed purpose, studying not only traditional subjects required of royalty, but also diving deep into Christian theology and biblical studies through carefully arranged private tutoring.

He learned to read Greek and Hebrew so he could study the scriptures in their original languages.

And his understanding of God’s word became profound beyond his years.

Yet, he never lost the childlike faith and wonder that had characterized his initial encounter with Jesus.

What amazes me most about the prince’s journey is how he has managed to maintain his Christian identity while navigating the complex political and social expectations of Saudi royal life.

He has learned to be wise as a serpent but innocent as a dove, finding ways to live out his faith authentically while protecting both himself and the growing community of believers around him.

His influence has been subtle but powerful as he has consistently advocated for policies of mercy, justice, and religious tolerance wherever his position has allowed him to do so.

The king and queen’s faith journey has been equally inspiring to witness.

They have faced pressures that most Christians will never experience, maintaining their public roles as Muslim leaders while privately growing in their relationship with Jesus Christ.

They have learned to pray without ceasing, finding moments throughout their busy days to connect with God and draw strength from his presence.

Their marriage has been transformed as they have learned to love each other with Christ’s love.

And their family relationships have become a testimony to the peace that comes from knowing Jesus.

Over the years, I have watched them make countless small but significant decisions that reflect their Christian values.

They have quietly redirected resources toward humanitarian causes, implemented policies that protect the vulnerable, and used their influence to promote peace and reconciliation in regional conflicts.

While they cannot openly proclaim their faith, their actions speak volumes about the transformation that has taken place in their hearts.

The network of believers that began with our two families has grown in ways that none of us could have anticipated.

Palace staff members, extended royal family members, government officials, and even some religious leaders have been drawn to investigate this faith that produces such obvious fruits of love, joy, and peace.

Each new believer becomes part of a carefully maintained community that provides mutual support, spiritual growth, and protection in a hostile environment.

Bible study groups meet in rotating locations throughout the palace complex and in the homes of trusted believers.

These gatherings are characterized by intense hunger for God’s word and passionate worship that must be kept quiet but burns with authentic devotion.

New believers are carefully discipled, learning not only the fundamentals of Christianity but also how to live out their faith wisely in a context where discovery could mean death.

The baptisms continue to take place in secret locations.

Each one a celebration of victory over the powers of darkness.

I have had the privilege of witnessing dozens of these ceremonies over the years.

And each one moves me to tears as I see the joy and freedom that comes when someone steps into new life in Christ.

The courage of these new believers knowing the risks they face is a constant source of inspiration and challenge to my own faith.

My own understanding of God’s purposes has been completely reshaped by these experiences.

What began as a simple healing miracle has become a comprehensive education in how God builds his kingdom in the most unlikely places through the most ordinary people.

I have learned that miracles are not just about supernatural interventions, though those certainly occur, but about the ongoing work of transformation that God accomplishes in human hearts and communities.

The calling on my life has become clear through these years of witnessing God’s work in Saudi Arabia.

I am preparing for full-time ministry, specifically focusing on cross-cultural evangelism and serving persecuted Christians around the world.

My experiences have shown me that the gospel truly has power to transcend every barrier.

And I want to spend my life taking that gospel to places where it seems impossible for it to take root.

But perhaps the most profound lesson I have learned is about the nature of God’s love and his desire for relationship with every person on earth.

Look inside your own heart right now and consider whether you truly believe that God loves the Saudi king as much as he loves you.

Do you believe that Jesus died for Muslim royalty with the same passion that he died for you? The miracle I witnessed was not just about healing a sick child, though that would have been wonderful enough.

It was about God’s relentless pursuit of every human heart, regardless of religion, culture, politics, or social status.

The challenges facing our believing community in Saudi Arabia remain enormous.

Every day brings new risks, new pressures to conform, and new opportunities to compromise our faith for the sake of safety or convenience.

Yet the believers I know there have discovered something that makes every risk worthwhile.

A personal relationship with the God of the universe who loves them unconditionally and has prepared an eternal home for them in heaven.

As I share this testimony with you today, I am acutely aware that there are believers around the world facing persecution, imprisonment, and death for their faith in Jesus Christ.

The royal family in Saudi Arabia represents millions of secret believers who cannot openly worship, attend church, or share their faith without facing severe consequences.

Yet, their quiet faithfulness and hidden worship may be more precious to God than the comfortable Christianity practiced in nations with religious freedom.

The prince recently taught me something that captures the essence of what God has done through that miraculous night 7 years ago.

Mary, he said, when Jesus healed my body, that was wonderful.

But when he healed my soul and gave me eternal life, that was everything.

Now I understand that we were not saved just for our own benefit but to become part of God’s plan to reach every person in our nation and beyond.

This perspective has shaped how our believing community views their role in Saudi Arabia.

They understand that they have been strategically placed by God in positions of influence, not for their own comfort or advancement, but to be salt and light in a society that desperately needs the hope of the gospel.

They are not trying to overthrow the government or create political revolution.

They are simply living out the love of Christ in ways that create opportunities for others to encounter the same Jesus who transformed their lives.

What will yours be? That is the question I leave you with today.

As I conclude my testimony, God is still in the business of performing miracles, transforming lives, and using ordinary people for extraordinary purposes.

He is looking for men and women who will say yes to his calling even when it seems impossible, dangerous, or completely outside their comfort zone.

The same Jesus who healed a Saudi prince through an 11-year-old Thai girl is present with you right now, ready to work through your life in ways you cannot imagine.

The question is not whether God has the power to use you because he absolutely does.

The question is whether you will make yourself available to him trusting that his love is strong enough to sustain you through whatever he asks you to face.

This is my testimony and I pray that it will inspire you to write your own story of faith, courage, and obedience to the God who turns impossible situations into opportunities for his glory to be revealed.