My name is Sanala.

I’m 42 years old.

And on July 7th, 2018, I was executed by a COD prince for writing Bible verses on a classroom board.

I died that day, but Jesus brought me back to life.

What I’m about to tell you happened in front of hundreds of witnesses.

This is my testimony of the day heaven invaded earth.

For 15 years, I had walked the marble corridors of King Saud University as Professor Sala, teaching literature and philosophy to bright young minds hungry for knowledge.

To my colleagues, I was simply another dedicated educator who arrived early and stayed late, grading papers with meticulous care.

To my students, I was the professor who made Shakespeare come alive and helped them understand the deeper meanings hidden in classical texts.

But what none of them knew was that I lived two lives.

Professor Sala by day, follower of Jesus in secret.

Eight years earlier, my life had been transformed when I encountered the living Christ through a simple gospel tracked left on my desk by an unknown hand.

That small piece of paper contained words that pierced through decades of religious tradition and cultural expectations, revealing a God who loved me personally and intimately.

The night I gave my heart to Jesus, alone in my apartment, with tears streaming down my face, I knew everything had changed.

But I also knew that in Saudi Arabia, everything had to remain hidden.

Living as a secret Christian in the kingdom meant constantly watching my words, monitoring my expressions, and carefully guarding my heart.

Every morning as I prepared my lectures, I would pray silently for my students, asking God to use even secular literature to plant seeds of truth in their souls.

When they asked profound questions about the meaning of life, suffering, or love, I had to bite my tongue to keep from sharing the hope that burned within me.

The internal struggle was relentless.

I wanted to tell them about Jesus, about the peace that surpassed understanding, about the love that had transformed my entire existence.

Ask yourself this question.

Have you ever felt God pushing you beyond your comfort zone? That’s exactly what began happening to me in the months leading up to July 7th, 2018.

The Holy Spirit’s nudging became impossible to ignore.

During my morning prayers, I would feel an overwhelming urge to be bolder, to share more openly about the faith that had given my life meaning and purpose.

When students lingered after class to discuss the philosophical themes in our readings, I found myself dropping subtle hints about divine love and redemption, dancing right up to the edge of revelation without crossing the line.

My students seemed to sense something different about me.

They would ask why I spoke with such conviction about concepts of forgiveness and grace.

Some wondered aloud why my perspective on human suffering was so different from other professors.

A few even approached me privately, saying they felt there was something peaceful about my presence that they couldn’t quite identify.

These conversations both thrilled and terrified me because I could see their hearts opening to truths I longed to share but dared not speak.

The growing tension in my spirit was matched by increasing concern from my family overseas.

My brother, who lived safely in London after his own conversion years earlier, would call me weekly with worry evident in his voice.

He could sense something changing in me even through our carefully worded phone conversations.

During one particularly intense call, he said, “Sanola, I can hear it in your voice.

You’re planning something dangerous, aren’t you?” My mother, still living in Pakistan, had started having dreams that something was going to happen to me.

Her maternal instincts picked up on spiritual preparations I was making without even realizing it myself.

My family could sense something changing in me, even from thousands of miles away.

They heard it in the way I spoke about my work, in the passion that crept into my voice when I described my students spiritual hunger, in the long pauses when they asked about my safety.

My mother would end every phone call by saying, “Promise me you’ll be careful, my son.

Promise me you won’t do anything foolish.

” But we both knew that following Jesus sometimes requires what the world calls foolishness.

During those final weeks before July 7th, I entered a period of intense spiritual preparation without fully understanding why.

I spent hours each night reading stories of Christian martyrs throughout history.

From Stevens stoning to polycarbs burning to modern believers who had died for their faith in my own region.

Their courage both inspired and convicted me.

I fasted regularly, seeking God’s will for my life and asking for strength to follow wherever he might lead.

Sleep became elusive as I wrestled with growing certainty that God was preparing me for something significant.

I knew God was preparing me for something, but I had no idea what.

The Holy Spirit seemed to be downloading courage into my spirit verse by verse, prayer by prayer.

I memorized entire chapters of scripture, particularly passages about persecution and God’s faithfulness.

Jesus’s words in Matthew 10 about not being afraid of those who kill the body became my daily meditation.

I found myself drawn repeatedly to the story of Shadrach, Mach, and Abednego facing the fiery furnace, claiming their declaration that their god was able to deliver them.

But even if he didn’t, they would not bow down.

The battle wasn’t with the authorities or even with the culture around me.

The real war was happening in my own heart, between faith and fear, between the safety of silence and the calling to speak truth.

Every morning I would look in the mirror and see a man torn between two worlds.

the secure academic who had built a respectable career and the believer who felt increasingly called to risk everything for the gospel.

I spent countless nights on my knees begging God for clarity about his will while simultaneously hoping he wouldn’t ask me to do anything that would cost me my life.

But deep in my spirit, I sensed that something momentous was approaching.

The spiritual atmosphere around me felt charged like the air before a thunderstorm.

God was moving and I was about to discover just how dramatically he was preparing to use one ordinary professor’s act of obedience to shake an entire kingdom.

The morning of July 7th, 2018 began unlike any other day in my 15 years of teaching.

I woke before dawn with an unusual peace flooding my entire being.

A supernatural calm that seemed to emanate from the very throne room of heaven.

During my morning prayers, instead of the familiar wrestling and anxiety that had plagued me for weeks, I felt the distinct presence of Jesus himself sitting beside me in my small apartment.

The Holy Spirit whispered to my heart with crystal clarity.

Today would be the day everything changed.

As I prepared for my 10 a.

m.

literature class, reviewing my planned lesson on metaphorical language in classical poetry, I felt an overwhelming spiritual impression that caught me completely offguard.

It wasn’t an audible voice, but it was unmistakably clear.

I was to write scripture on the classroom board.

My hands actually trembled as I felt the weight of this divine instruction settling into my spirit.

That morning, I felt Jesus himself asking me to trust him completely to step out of the boat like Peter and walk on the impossible waters of faith.

I arrived at the university earlier than usual, walking through the familiar corridors with a strange mixture of anticipation and surrender.

The marble floors echoed with my footsteps as I made my way to classroom 237 where I had taught thousands of students over the years.

Everything looked exactly the same.

The rows of wooden desks, the large windows letting in the desert morning light, the whiteboard that had displayed countless literary analyses and philosophical discussions.

But something in the spiritual realm had shifted dramatically.

47 students filed into the classroom that morning.

their usual chatter and laughter filling the space as they settled into their seats for what they expected to be another routine lecture.

I greeted them with my customary smile, but my heart was pounding with rhythm that seemed to match the very heartbeat of God.

These young minds, hungry for truth and meaning, had no idea they were about to witness something that would change their lives forever.

As I looked at that blank whiteboard, marker in hand, I heard the Holy Spirit whisper with unmistakable clarity, “Write my words.

” The internal wrestling was intense but brief.

Every fiber of my being understood the consequences of what I was being asked to do.

Writing Christian scripture in a Saudi classroom wasn’t just career suicide.

It was quite literally a death sentence.

The kingdom’s laws were crystal clear about such actions and enforcement was swift and merciless.

Have you ever felt God calling you to do something that could cost you everything? That’s exactly where I stood in that moment.

Marker trembling in my right hand.

47 pairs of expectant eyes watching me.

Eternity hanging in the balance.

The rational part of my mind screamed warnings about the danger about my family safety, about the promising students whose education would be disrupted.

But the spirit within me burned with holy fire.

And I knew that obedience to God trumped every other consideration.

With hands that shook from the magnitude of what I was about to do, I began writing John 3:16 in both Arabic and English across the top of the whiteboard.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

Each letter felt like a declaration of war against the spiritual darkness that had held this region captive for centuries.

As I wrote, supernatural strength flowed through my arms and the trembling stopped completely.

The reaction in the classroom was immediate and dramatic.

A silence fell over the students that was so complete I could hear the air conditioning humming and the distant sounds of traffic outside.

Some students instinctively covered their faces with their hands as if hiding from the dangerous words now displayed before them.

Others leaned forward in their seats, their eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and terror.

I watched their faces transform from casual academic interests to the stark realization that their professor had just committed an act that could result in his execution.

One student in the third row, a young man I had always suspected had connections to the religious authorities, quickly gathered his books and rushed toward the door.

I knew without a doubt that he was running to report what he had witnessed.

The ticking clock on the wall suddenly seemed thunderously loud as everyone in the room understood that our time was now measured in minutes, not hours.

But something beautiful happened in those precious moments before the storm arrived.

I began explaining the vers’s meaning, sharing how God’s love transcends religious traditions and cultural boundaries.

How Jesus came not to condemn but to save.

Several students asked questions despite the obvious danger, their spiritual hunger overriding their fear.

A young woman in the front row whispered, “Professor, do you really believe this God loves us individually?” Another student asked, “How can we know if this is true?” For 20 magnificent minutes, that classroom became a sanctuary.

The Holy Spirit filled that space so tangibly that even the most frightened students felt the peace of God’s presence.

I shared my own testimony briefly explaining how Jesus had transformed my life and given me hope beyond anything this world could offer.

Some students took notes not on literature this time but on matters of eternal significance.

As we talked, I knew exactly what was coming.

The student who had left would return with authorities probably within minutes.

Yet supernatural peace filled not just my heart but seemed to settle over the entire room like a protective covering.

I felt like Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane knowing the cross was approaching but completely surrendered to the father’s will.

I used those final precious moments to pray with the students who were willing, asking God to plant the seeds of truth we had discussed deep in their hearts where no earthly authority could uproot them.

Several students approached my desk asking for prayer and expressing their desire to know more about this Jesus I had described.

The fear that had initially gripped the room was being replaced by something far more powerful.

hope.

The calm before the storm was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Every second felt both eternal and fleeting.

Filled with the presence of heaven while anticipating the arrival of earthly judgment, I looked at each student’s face, memorizing their expressions of wonder and newfound hope, knowing this might be the last time I would see them on this side of eternity.

But in my heart, I felt the unshakable certainty that this was exactly where God wanted me to be.

Doing exactly what he had called me to do.

The peace in our classroom sanctuary shattered like glass when the heavy wooden doors burst open with a violent force.

Royal guards in their distinctive uniforms flooded into the room, their boots thundering against the floor as they surrounded my desk with military precision.

My students scattered like startled birds, some diving under their desks while others pressed themselves against the walls in terror.

The same young faces that had been filled with wonder and hope just moments before now reflected pure fear as the reality of our situation crashed down upon them.

Behind the guards stroed a figure that made my blood run cold.

The prince entered with the kind of authority that comes from wielding absolute power over life and death.

He was a man in his early 40s, tall and imposing, dressed in flowing robes that marked his royal status.

His eyes were dark and hard.

The eyes of someone who had never been denied anything he wanted and who viewed opposition as a personal insult.

This prince was known throughout the kingdom for his swift, merciless justice and his particular hatred for anything that challenged the established religious order.

The prince’s reputation preceded him like a shadow of death.

Stories circulated in a whispered conversations about public executions he had ordered for much lesser offenses than what I had just committed.

He had built his standing in the royal family by being the enforcer, the one who dealt harshly with anyone who dared to disrupt the social and religious fabric of his territory.

Recent months had seen him order the execution of three other believers who had been caught sharing their faith and their deaths had sent shock waves through the underground Christian community.

His gaze immediately fixed on the whiteboard where John 3:16 still blazed in both Arabic and English.

His face contorted with a rage so intense that several students whimpered in fear.

The veins in his neck bulged as he stared at those words that proclaimed God’s love for the world.

To him, these weren’t just words on a board.

They were a direct challenge to everything he represented, everything he had spent his life defending and enforcing.

Who gave you permission to corrupt these young minds with your Christian poison? His voice boomed across the classroom with the authority of someone accustomed to immediate obedience.

The question wasn’t really a question at all, but an accusation delivered with the force of a physical blow.

Every word dripped with contempt and barely controlled fury.

He pointed at the board with a trembling finger, his anger making his entire body shake.

I stood slowly from behind my desk, feeling supernatural calm flow through my veins, even as I faced the most dangerous man in the region.

Looking into his eyes, I saw not just anger, but something deeper and more troubling.

I saw a man consumed by spiritual emptiness.

Someone who had filled his life with power and control, but who carried a profound void that no amount of authority could satisfy.

Behind all that rage was a soul crying out for the very thing he was trying to destroy.

Your highness, I replied with a steadiness that surprised even me.

I was sharing the greatest truth ever revealed to humanity.

These words speak of God’s love for every person, including you.

My response only fueled his fury.

His face turned red as he realized I was not cowering before his intimidation.

In his world, people graveled and begged for mercy when confronted with his wrath.

My calm demeanor was an affront to everything he believed about power and submission.

The interrogation that followed was brutal in its intensity.

He demanded to know how long I had been infecting students with Christian teaching.

He wanted names of other believers, locations of secret meetings, details about how I had become a Christian.

Each question was delivered with increasing volume and threats of torture if I didn’t cooperate immediately.

The guards flanked me menacingly, their hands resting on nepens that could end my life with a single command from their master.

“Do you understand what you have done?” he screamed, his voice echoing off the classroom walls.

“You have committed blasphemy against Islam in a public institution.

You have corrupted the minds of our youth with foreign lies.

You have shown disrespect to our laws, our culture, our very way of life.

With each accusation, he moved closer until his face was inches from mine, his breath hot with rage and his eyes burning with the desire for vengeance.

This prince had built his reputation on the blood of Christians.

Over the past five years, he had ordered the execution of dozens of believers who had been caught sharing their faith or even possessing Christian materials.

He took personal satisfaction in making examples of those who dared to challenge the religious monopoly he helped enforce.

To him, Christianity wasn’t just a different religion.

It was a disease that needed to be eradicated with surgical precision.

But something unexpected happened during this interrogation.

As I maintained eye contact with this furious prince, I felt overwhelming compassion for him flood my heart.

The Holy Spirit revealed to me that beneath all his power and rage was a man desperately searching for meaning.

someone who had tried to fill the god-shaped void in his soul with control over others.

His violence against Christians wasn’t just political.

It was personal warfare against the very God he sensed was calling to him.

When he finished his tirade of questions and accusations, he straightened to his full height and delivered the verdict I knew was coming.

There will be no trial, no delays, no appeals.

You have committed blasphemy in front of witnesses and the penalty is death by public execution.

His voice carried the finality of a judge pronouncing sentence, but also the satisfaction of a man who believed he was serving justice.

Guards prepare the execution site in the university square.

Every student who witnessed this corruption will attend to see what happens to those who poison young minds with foreign lies.

The calculated cruelty of forcing my students to watch my execution was designed to terrorize them into permanent silence.

He understood that fear was his most effective weapon for maintaining control.

As the guards bound my hands with rough rope, I looked around the classroom one final time.

My students faces showed a mixture of terror, confusion, and heartbreak.

Several were quietly weeping, not just for my fate, but for the destruction of something beautiful they had briefly experienced.

The whiteboard still displayed John 3:16.

Those words of divine love now serving as evidence for my death sentence.

Ask yourself, would you be ready to die for what you believe right now? That’s the question that echoed through my mind as we began the walk from classroom 237 to what everyone assumed would be my final destination.

The prince walked beside me, occasionally muttering threats and curses, but I felt more of heaven with each step and less connection to the earthly realm where princes wielded temporary power over mortal bodies.

The journey through the university corridors felt both eternal and instantaneous.

With each step toward the execution site, I felt the presence of Jesus walking beside me, strengthening me for whatever lay ahead.

I knew this was my moment to meet my savior face to face, but I had no idea that he had plans far more magnificent than anyone could imagine.

The university square had been transformed into an arena of death by the time we arrived.

Word of my execution had spread with lightning speed across the campus and beyond, drawing hundreds of spectators who formed a massive circle around the hastily constructed execution platform.

students, faculty members, local residents, and religious officials all pressed forward to witness what the prince had declared would be an example for anyone foolish enough to challenge Islamic authority with Christian teaching.

The execution platform itself was a simple wooden structure elevated about 4 feet off the ground so the entire crowd could witness every detail of what was about to unfold.

The royal executioner, a massive man whose very presence emanated death, stood ready with his ceremonial sword.

This wasn’t just any blade, but a weapon that had been used for countless executions.

its edge honed to deliver swift death with a single stroke.

The afternoon sun reflected off its polished surface, creating flashes of light that seemed to announce the approaching end of my earthly life.

The prince took his position at the front of the crowd.

His chest swelled with pride as he prepared to deliver the speech that would justify my execution to the assembled masses.

His voice carried across the square with practiced authority as he recounted my crimes against the kingdom and against Islam itself.

He painted me as a dangerous foreign agent, a corruptor of youth, a blasphemer who deserved the harshest possible punishment.

This man, he declared, pointing at me with theatrical disgust, has poisoned the minds of our students with Christian lies.

He has shown disrespect for our holy religion and our sacred laws.

Today, justice will be served, and all who witness this execution will understand the price of such foolishness.

” The crowd murmured its approval, though I could see uncertainty in many faces, especially among my students who had been forced to attend this spectacle.

As the guards positioned me on the platform, forcing me to kneel in the traditional execution posture, the prince approached for his final attempt at mercy.

But his offer of mercy came with a price that would have cost me far more than my physical life.

Deny this Jesus, he commanded, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that only I could hear.

Renounce your Christian faith publicly.

Declare that Muhammad is the only true prophet and I will spare your life.

Continue in this stubborn foolishness and you will die for a lie.

Look inside your own heart right now and ask yourself what you would have done in that moment.

Here was a chance to live to see my family again to continue teaching students and perhaps find quieter ways to share my faith.

The rational part of my mind screamed that strategic retreat was wisdom.

that dying accomplished nothing if I could live to serve God another day.

But the Holy Spirit within me burned with unquenchable fire.

And I knew that this moment was bigger than my comfort, bigger than my safety, bigger than my earthly future.

I lifted my head and looked directly into the prince’s eyes, speaking with a voice that carried across the entire square.

Jesus Christ is Lord, even over princes and kingdoms.

He is the son of the living God, and I would rather die proclaiming his name than live denying the truth that has set me free.

” My words hit the crowd like a physical force, and I could see the prince’s face transform from confident authority to barely contained fury.

The executioner took his position behind me, his massive frame blocking out the sun as he raised the ceremonial sword high above my head.

The crowd held its collective breath, hundreds of eyes fixed on the blade that would end my life in the next few seconds.

Cell phone cameras captured every angle as people documented what they expected to be a swift demonstration of royal justice.

The prince nodded his final approval, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at what he believed would be the definitive end to my Christian witness.

I closed my eyes and whispered the words that Steven had spoken centuries before.

Jesus, receive my spirit.

In that moment, time seemed to slow to an almost supernatural crawl.

I could hear my own heartbeat, could feel the desert breeze against my skin, could sense the executioner’s muscles tensing as he prepared to bring the sword down with lethal force.

This was my moment to meet my savior face to face.

And despite the terror of the situation, peace flooded my soul like a river of living water.

But then heaven invaded earth in a way that defied every law of physics and shattered every expectation of everyone present.

A brilliant light, brighter than the desert sun at its peak, exploded from the sky directly above the execution platform.

This wasn’t the gentle glow often described in religious art, but a blazing radiance that forced hundreds of people to shield their eyes and stagger backward in shock and terror.

The light was accompanied by a voice that seemed to emanate from the very foundations of creation itself, speaking in perfect Arabic that every person present could understand with crystal clarity.

The voice of Jesus thundered across the square.

Touch not my anointed one, for he belongs to me.

The words weren’t just heard.

They were felt in every bone, every cell, every atom of every person present.

This wasn’t a human voice amplified by speakers, but the actual voice of the creator of the universe speaking directly into our reality.

The executioner sword raised high and prepared to deliver the killing blow began to crumble in his hands like ancient parchment.

The metal that had been forged to take life simply disintegrated, falling as harmless dust around my kneeling form.

The massive man who had carried out countless executions without hesitation dropped to his knees in terror, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he stared at the remains of his weapon scattered on the platform.

An invisible barrier seemed to form around me, protecting me from any harm that might have come from the crowd or the remaining guards.

I felt the presence of Christ so powerfully that every trace of fear vanished completely, replaced by overwhelming joy and awe at witnessing the supernatural intervention of the God I served.

The chains that bound my wrists fell away without anyone touching them, clattering to the wooden platform as if they had never been locked at all.

The ground beneath the entire square began to shake, not with the violence of an earthquake, but with the trembling that comes when heaven touches earth.

Some in the crowd fell to their faces in worship while others scattered in panic, unable to process what their eyes were seeing and their hearts were feeling.

The very air seemed charged with divine electricity as the supernatural presence of Jesus filled that public space.

But the most dramatic transformation was happening to the prince himself.

This man who had entered the square with absolute confidence in his power and authority was now falling to his knees, his body shaking so violently he could barely remain upright.

All the color had drained from his face as he stared upward at the light that continued to blaze above us.

His lips moved wordlessly, his mind struggling to comprehend that he had just witnessed the God he had spent years fighting demonstrate power that made his earthly authority look like the play acting of a child.

In that moment, hundreds of people witnessed the reality of Jesus Christ in a way that no sermon or theological argument could ever accomplish.

Heaven had torn open and invaded our reality, proving beyond any doubt that the Jesus I served was not just a historical figure or religious concept, but the living Lord who still intervenes in human affairs when his purposes require it.

I felt more alive in that moment than ever before in my entire life, knowing that I was witnessing something that would echo through eternity and transform countless lives in ways I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

The supernatural light began to fade, but its effects on every person in that square were permanent and undeniable.

The prince remained on his knees, his powerful frame reduced to trembling weakness as he struggled to comprehend what had just shattered his entire world view.

This man who had ruled through fear and intimidation for decades was now unable to stand.

His legs refusing to support him as the reality of divine intervention crashed over him like a tsunami of truth.

I stepped down from the execution platform, my chains gone and my body completely unharmed, and walked toward the prince with compassion, filling my heart.

The same man who had ordered my death just minutes before was now looking up at me with the desperate eyes of a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

His lips moved soundlessly as he tried to form words.

his mind reeling from witnessing power that transcended every earthly authority he had ever known or wielded.

The man who wanted to kill me was now begging for my help.

“What god is this?” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the chaos of the still panicking crowd that commands even death itself to obey.

His hands reached toward me, not in aggression, but in desperate supplication, like a child seeking comfort after a terrifying nightmare.

The irony was overwhelming.

The most powerful man in the region was asking a condemned Christian professor to explain the supernatural power he had just witnessed.

I knelt beside him on the dusty ground, placing my hand gently on his shoulder as he continued to shake uncontrollably.

“Your highness,” I said softly.

“This is Jesus Christ, the son of the living God, the one who created you and loves you more than you can possibly imagine.

” My words seemed to pierce through his shock like arrows of light, and I watched as tears began streaming down his face, carving clean tracks through the dust and sweat that covered his cheeks.

The questions poured out of him like water from a broken dam.

How can I know this God you serve? I have everything wealth can buy, every pleasure this world offers, but I have no peace.

Can your Jesus give me the peace I see in your eyes?” His vulnerability was breathtaking.

Here was a man who had built his identity on power and control.

Now stripped bare before the reality of his spiritual emptiness and crying out for the very salvation he had tried to destroy.

But I have killed Christians, he confessed, his voice breaking with the weight of his guilt.

I have shed innocent blood, ordered executions of people just like you who only wanted to share their faith.

Would this Jesus you serve forgive even someone like me? Could there be mercy for hands that are stained with the blood of his followers? The anguish in his voice revealed a soul that had been haunted by his actions far longer than anyone had realized.

I watched the Holy Spirit break through years of hardness that had encased his heart like armor.

His confession wasn’t just about his recent actions, but about a lifetime of choices that had led him further and further from the truth his soul had always craved.

In his brokenness, I saw a man who had been desperately hungry for genuine meaning, but had tried to satisfy that hunger with the empty calories of earthly power.

The gospel conversation that followed was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

Right there in the dust of a public square, surrounded by confused guards and terrified spectators, I had the privilege of explaining God’s love to a man whose heart had been supernaturally prepared to receive it.

I told him about Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross.

About the blood that could wash away every sin, about the forgiveness that was available even to those who had persecuted his people.

Understanding dawned in his eyes like sunrise after the darkest night.

The same Holy Spirit who had just demonstrated his power through miraculous intervention was now working the miracle of spiritual rebirth in a heart that had seemed impossibly hard.

You mean, he whispered with growing wonder, that Jesus would forgive me, not because of anything good I’ve done, but simply because he loves me, even after all the evil I’ve committed in his name.

What happened next shocked even me.

This prince, who had ordered my execution just minutes before, suddenly stood to his feet.

His strength returned by supernatural grace and faced the crowd that was still processing the miracle they had witnessed.

His voice which had commanded my death with such authority now carried a different kind of power as he made a public declaration that would change the religious landscape of his entire territory.

I have witnessed the power of the true God today.

He announced his words carrying clearly across the square despite the lingering chaos.

The Jesus this man serves is not just a prophet or teacher, but the living Lord who demonstrates his reality through supernatural power.

I renounce my past opposition to Christianity and declare Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.

The silence that followed his words was deafening, broken only by the sound of cell phone cameras capturing this impossible transformation.

The same mouth that had condemned me now proclaimed Jesus as Lord before hundreds of witnesses.

The ripple effect was immediate and dramatic.

Several of my students who had been forced to watch my execution began weeping with joy and relief.

Some calling out their own declarations of faith.

A few guards threw down their weapons and fell to their knees, overwhelmed by what they had witnessed.

Even some of the religious officials who had come to see justice served were questioning everything they thought they knew about spiritual authority.

The prince’s first official act as a new believer was to order immediate religious freedom throughout his territory.

“No longer will Christians be persecuted in my region,” he declared with the same authority he had once used to order their deaths.

“Anyone who harms a follower of Jesus will answer to me personally.

” The transformation was so complete and dramatic that people struggled to believe this was the same man who had arrived at the square determined to make an example of Christian blasphemy.

Ask yourself, when God moves in power, are you ready for the earthquake that follows? What we witnessed that day was just the beginning of a spiritual revolution that would spread far beyond the borders of our university or even our city.

Students who had witnessed both the attempted execution and the miraculous intervention began sharing their testimony with friends and family.

News of the supernatural events spread through social media faster than authorities could control it.

The prince immediately began making practical changes that reflected his spiritual transformation.

He ordered the release of all Christians being held in his territo’s prisons, providing them with financial compensation for their suffering.

He began secret Bible study sessions in his palace.

Hunger for God’s word evident in every question he asked.

Within weeks, he was using his influence to protect believers throughout the region and supporting underground churches with resources they had never dreamed possible.

I became teacher to the man who had tried to execute me.

The relationship that began with supernatural intervention blossomed into a dub friendship built on shared faith and mutual respect.

He would often say to me, “Sanala, you were willing to die for the truth about Jesus, but Jesus was willing to perform a miracle to keep you alive to teach me that same truth.

” The underground church in our region exploded with new believers.

As news of the miracle spread, the execution platform that was meant to silence Christian witness became a launching pad for revival that continues to this day.

Hundreds of people who witnessed the supernatural intervention either gave their lives to Jesus immediately or began seriously investigating the Christian faith for the first time.

The man who had shed Christian blood was now protecting Christian lives with the same passion he had once used to destroy them.

In his complete transformation, I learned that God’s plans are always bigger than our circumstances and that our greatest opposition often contains the seeds of our greatest victory.

In the months that followed July 7th, 2018, my life became a living testament to the truth that God can transform the most impossible situations into platforms for his glory.

The execution platform that was meant to silence Christian witness forever became the launching pad for the most dramatic revival our region had seen in centuries.

What the prince had intended as my final moment on earth became the beginning of a ministry that would touch thousands of lives across the Middle East.

The changes at King Saud University were immediate and revolutionary.

With the prince’s protection and newly granted religious freedom, I was able to openly teach about Christian themes in literature, philosophy, and ethics.

Bible study groups flourished in dormitories and common areas where Christian meetings had previously been impossible.

Students who had been secret believers for years finally felt safe to share their faith openly, creating a community of fellowship that grew exponentially week by week.

My classroom, the very room where I had written John 3:16 and faced arrest, became a sanctuary where students could explore questions about faith, meaning, and eternal truth without fear of persecution.

The whiteboard that had displayed the verse leading to my death sentence now regularly featured scripture passages and theological discussions.

Students would often linger after class, not to discuss literature assignments, but to seek prayer and spiritual guidance for their personal struggles and questions about God.

The underground church that had operated in whispered conversations and secret meetings suddenly found itself with resources and protection it had never imagined possible.

The prince whose heart had been transformed by divine intervention became the most unlikely benefactor of Christian ministry in Saudi Arabia.

He provided safe meeting spaces, financial support for families of persecuted believers and most importantly legal protection that allowed the gospel to be shared more freely than anyone had dreamed possible.

Hundreds of people were coming to faith every month as news of the miracle uh spread throughout the kingdom and beyond.

Cell phone videos of the supernatural intervention despite government attempts to suppress them circulated widely on social media and messaging platforms.

These firsthand accounts of divine power breaking into the natural world sparked spiritual hunger in people who had never seriously considered Christianity before witnessing undeniable evidence of Jesus’s reality.

I learned that God’s plans are always bigger than our circumstances and that what appears to be our greatest defeat often contains the seeds of our most significant victory.

The day I walked to what I thought was my execution, I could never have imagined that I was actually walking toward the beginning of a ministry that would transform entire communities and impact lives across multiple nations.

The prince’s personal transformation became a source of wonder and inspiration for believers throughout the region.

His private Christian meetings in the palace drew seekers and new believers who found in his testimony proof that no heart is too hard for God to change.

The same hands that had signed execution orders for Christians now signed documents providing protection and resources for Christian families.

The same voice that had condemned followers of Jesus now proclaimed his lordship with passionate conviction.

His journey toward public baptism became a focal point for the growing Christian community.

We spent months in intensive Bible study preparing his heart and mind for this ultimate public declaration of faith.

When the day finally arrived, hundreds of believers gathered at a private location outside the city to witness something unprecedented.

a Saudi prince being baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.

I had the honor of performing his baptism.

And as I lowered him into the water and raised him up again, both of us wept with joy at the magnitude of God’s grace.

The man who had tried to execute me was now my brother in Christ, transformed by the same gospel that had given me courage to face death.

When he emerged from the water, his face radiated the peace that had eluded him despite all his earthly power and wealth.

The broader impact of our story began reaching international attention as news outlets struggled to explain the supernatural events that hundreds of people had witnessed.

Government officials from other regions secretly investigated Christianity after hearing credible accounts of divine intervention.

Religious leaders who had been hostile to the gospel began asking questions about the power that could stop death itself and transform hearts so dramatically.

One act of obedience writing scripture on a classroom board created waves that spread across nations and continents.

The story of a Saudi prince trying to execute a Christian professor only to be converted by supernatural intervention became a powerful testimony that traveled through diplomatic channels and international media and Christian networks worldwide.

Missionaries in other hostile regions found their courage strengthened by learning that God still performs miracles to protect and advance his purposes.

The spiritual lessons I learned through this experience fundamentally changed how I understood God’s faithfulness and sovereignty.

I discovered that our greatest fears are often God’s greatest opportunities to demonstrate his power and love.

The very situation that seemed destined to end my life and silence my witness became the means by which thousands of people encountered the living Jesus and surrendered their lives to his lordship.

I learned that God’s faithfulness extends far beyond our ability to understand or predict his methods.

When I wrote those Bible verses on the board, I thought I was simply obeying God’s call to bold witness, possibly at the cost of my life.

I had no idea that he was orchestrating a divine appointment that would result in the conversion of my greatest enemy and the transformation of an entire region’s spiritual landscape.

Jesus doesn’t just saves souls.

He transforms kingdoms and changes the course of history through ordinary people willing to take extraordinary risks for his sake.

The prince and I often reflect on how a simple act of faithful obedience created a chain reaction that continues to impact lives years later.

When you say yes to God, you never know what miracles will follow, what impossible transformations he has planned, or how many lives will be touched through your willingness to trust him completely.

I’m asking you just as someone who has died and lived again would ask what is God calling you to risk for him today? What scripture is he asking you to write on the whiteboard of your life despite the potential consequences? What bold step of faith is he inviting you to take even when you can’t see how he will protect and provide? If Jesus can save me from a Saudi prince’s sword, transform my wouldbe executioner into my closest brother in Christ, and use a death sentence to launch a revival.

What can’t he do in your life when you surrender everything to his perfect will? July 7th, 2018 was supposed to be my execution day, but it became my resurrection day and the birthday of a miracle that continues to touch lives around the world.

That day I learned that heaven is just a prayer away.

That no situation is impossible for God to redeem and that our willingness to sacrifice everything for Jesus often results in gaining far more than we ever dreamed possible.

When you say yes to God, you step into a story bigger than yourself.

One that will echo through eternity and impact.