Watch the wealthy businessman at his desk opening that leather book.

His name is Safi.

He’s about to burn it in mockery.

Then his lighter fails repeatedly.

Papers move mysteriously and he collapses to his knees in prayer.

My name is Safi.

On March 15th, 2018, I was a Saudi oil billionaire worth $3.

2 billion.

At age 45, I controlled 15% of regional oil exports and owned palaces across three continents.

That afternoon, I tried to burn a Bible to prove God’s powerlessness.

Instead, I discovered his infinite power.

I was born into oil royalty in Riyad, where the desert wind carries both sand and opportunity in equal measure.

My grandfather discovered his first oil well in 1952 and my father transformed that single strike into an empire that stretched across the Middle East.

By the time I inherited the business at 28, our family name opened doors that remained sealed to others and our wealth commanded respect from presidents and kings alike.

Money was never just currency to me.

It was power, influence, and proof that Allah had blessed our family above all others.

I own 17 luxury cars that I rarely drove.

Four private jets that transported me between palaces in Saudi Arabia, Dubai, London, and Monaco.

My main residence in Riyad sprawled across 40 acres complete with imported Italian marble, goldplated fixtures, and a staff of 60 who anticipated my every need before I voiced it.

But material wealth was merely the foundation of my identity.

I was a devout Muslim who had memorized the entire Quran by age 12, reciting verses with the same precision that I later applied to oil contracts.

My religious education began before dawn prayers and continued through evening studies under the guidance of respected Islamic scholars.

I performed the Haj pilgrimage three times, each journey reinforcing my absolute certainty that Islam represented the only path to divine truth.

During those sacred journeys to Mecca, surrounded by millions of faithful believers from every corner of the earth, I felt connected to something greater than business empires or family legacies.

The rhythmic prayers, the sea of white garments, the collective devotion created an atmosphere where doubt seemed impossible and faith felt as solid as the black stone itself.

I donated millions to Islamic charities, funded the construction of mosques in poor communities, and privately considered myself a guardian of the true faith.

This religious foundation made my eventual business dealings with Western companies particularly challenging.

Oil is a global commodity and success requires partnerships with corporations whose executives often held beliefs that contradicted everything I had been taught since childhood.

I first encountered Christianity through these unavoidable professional relationships.

And my initial reaction was polite tolerance mixed with private disgust.

The Christian executives I met seemed normal enough during contract negotiations, but their casual references to their faith graded against my sensibilities like nails on glass.

They would close meetings with phrases like God willing or blessed be his name.

And I wondered why they insisted on invoking their false deity in professional settings.

Some wore small cross jewelry that caught the light during presentations and others kept Bibles on their office desks alongside quarterly reports and market analysis.

What bothered me most was their apparent sincerity.

These were not weak people seeking comfort through delusion.

They were sharpminded business leaders who controlled billions in assets and made decisions that affected global markets.

They spoke about Jesus Christ with the same conviction that I felt about Allah and their confidence in their beliefs challenged my assumption that only Muslims possessed genuine faith.

During one particularly lucrative merger negotiation in Houston, I watched a Christian oil executive bow his head in silent prayer before signing a contract worth $800 million.

The gesture lasted perhaps 30 seconds, but those moments stretched into eternity as I wrestled with unexpected questions.

Why would someone with such worldly success feel the need to seek divine approval for business decisions? What kind of God demanded attention in boardrooms and conference centers? My irritation grew with each subsequent encounter.

I began researching Christianity with the same thoroughess I applied to market analysis.

But my purpose was not understanding.

I wanted ammunition for intellectual combat, evidence that would expose the logical flaws in their theological system.

I read about the Trinity and found it mathematically impossible.

I studied the crucifixion and concluded that Allah would never allow his prophet to suffer such humiliation.

I examined the Bible and discovered what I considered obvious contradictions between the Old and New Testaments.

Armed with this knowledge, I started challenging my Christian business partners during social events and informal meetings.

I would quote verses from their own scriptures that seem to contradict each other, point out historical inconsistencies in gospel accounts, and question how an omnipotent god could require human sacrifice for forgiveness.

My arguments were sophisticated and wellressearched, delivered with the confidence of someone who had never encountered a satisfactory response.

Most Christians I debated either changed the subject or offered weak explanations that confirm my suspicions about the intellectual poverty of their faith.

Their inability to defend their beliefs reinforced my conviction that Christianity was nothing more than a western political tool disguised as religion designed to control populations through guilt and false promises of eternal reward.

But my academic superiority felt hollow when confronted with the practical evidence of changed lives.

The Christian executives I knew were not perfect, but they possessed a peace and integrity that I privately envied.

They handled the business setbacks with unusual calm and treated employees with genuine respect regardless of hierarchy and made uh ethical decisions that sometimes cost them significant profits.

Their faith seemed to provide a moral framework that guided their actions even when no one was watching.

Have you ever encountered someone whose very existence challenges everything you believe about the world? This Christian businessman forced me to confront an uncomfortable reality that I spend years trying to ignore.

If Christianity was merely western propaganda, why did it produce people whose character exceeded my own despite all my religious training and spiritual discipline? If Jesus was just a failed prophet, why did his followers demonstrate the kind of inner transformation that I secretly longed for but could never achieve through Islamic practice alone? My intellectual certainty began developing small cracks that gradually widened into chasms of doubt.

I increased my charitable giving to Islamic causes, extended my prayer times, and added extra fasting periods to my spiritual routine, hoping that greater religious devotion would restore my confidence and eliminate these troubling questions.

Instead, my spiritual hunger only intensified and my encounters with Christianity became increasingly frequent as my oil business expanded into predominantly Christian nations.

The more I learned about my Christian business partners, the more my polite tolerance transformed into active hostility that I struggled to conceal during professional interactions.

My hostility towards Christianity began subtly, like a slow poison seeping through my thoughts and actions.

What started as intellectual disagreement evolved into something darker and more personal that consumed my daily interactions with Western business partners.

I found myself actively seeking opportunities to challenge their faith, not through respectful theological discussion, but through calculated attempts to humiliate and embarrass them in front of colleagues and clients.

During dinner parties at my Riyad Palace, I would invite Christian executives alongside Muslim dignitaries and deliberately steer conversations toward religion.

I would wait until the Christians felt comfortable and relaxed, perhaps after the second or third course, then launch into carefully prepared attacks on their beliefs.

I would ask them to explain how three could equal one in the Trinity or demand they justify why an allloving God would condemn billions of people to eternal hell for choosing the wrong religion.

the dinner table would fall silent as my Christian guests struggle to respond while maintaining professional courtesy.

I felt powerful in those moments, watching them squirm under the weight of questions they could not adequately answer.

Their discomfort fed something ugly inside me that I mistook for righteous defense of Islamic truth.

Looking back, I recognize it was nothing more than intellectual bullying disguised as religious devotion.

I began refusing business deals with openly Christian partners, even when those decisions cost my company millions and potential profits.

When my board questioned these choices during quarterly meetings, I would site concerns about cultural compatibility or suggest that Christian executives lacked the moral foundation necessary for long-term partnerships.

My justifications sounded reasonable in the sterile environment of corporate boardrooms, but they were rooted in pure religious prejudice.

The crosses that some executives wore became objects of particular fascination and disgust.

During contract negotiations, I would find myself staring at those small pieces of jewelry, mentally calculating their approximate weight and wondering why anyone would choose to display an instrument of torture as a symbol of faith.

I started making subtle comments about jewelry policies during uh meetings suggesting that religious symbols might be inappropriate in professional settings.

My mockery extended to social media where I posted carefully worded criticisms of Christian holidays and practices.

During Christmas season, I would share articles about the pagan origins of Christian traditions, always framing my posts as historical education rather than religious attack.

When Easter approached, I would publish scholarly pieces about the logical impossibility of resurrection, presenting myself as a rational voice cutting through centuries of superstition.

The responses to these posts were mixed, but the anger from Christian followers only confirmed my belief that their faith could not withstand intellectual scrutiny.

They would respond with emotional appeals rather than logical arguments, citing personal experiences instead of historical evidence, and I interpreted their passion as proof of their desperation to defend an indefensible position.

At dinner parties, I began telling jokes about the crucifixion that walked the line between theological criticism and outright blasphemy.

I would describe how Romans must have viewed Jesus as just another failed revolutionary, no different from the thousands of other rebels they executed on similar crosses.

My Muslim guests would laugh uncomfortably while any Christians present would sit in stunned silence, unsure how to respond without creating an international incident.

These jokes evolved into elaborate stories that I would tell during business retreats and industry conferences.

I painted Christianity as a movement born from the delusions of grieving disciples who could not accept their leaders obvious failure.

I suggested that the entire New Testament was nothing more than wishful thinking transformed into religious doctrine by people desperate to find meaning in meaningless suffering.

The more I mocked Christianity, the more obsessed I became with proving its falseeness.

I hired religious scholars to research the historical accuracy of gospel accounts, hoping to find definitive proof that Jesus either never existed or bore no resemblance to the figure described in Christian scriptures.

I funded archaeological expeditions in the Middle East, secretly hoping they would uncover evidence that contradicted biblical narratives.

My personal library expanded to include hundreds of books critical of of Christianity from academic works questioning the historical Jesus to popular atheist critiques of religious belief in general.

I could quote Bartman’s scholarship on biblical textual criticism, recite Richard Carrier’s arguments against Jesus’s existence, and reference Robert Price’s theories about Christian mythology with the fluency of a seminary professor.

But my intellectual arsenal felt inadequate when confronted with the practical reality of Christian transformation in the lives of people I knew personally.

The most devastating challenge to my growing hostility came from an unexpected source during what should have been a routine business meeting in my Dubai office.

James Morrison was the chief financial officer of a Texas-based oil refinery company that had been negotiating a supply contract with my firm for 6 months.

Our relationship had been purely professional until that March afternoon when our conversation took an unexpected turn that would ultimately change the trajectory of my entire life.

We had just concluded discussions about crude oil pricing for the following fiscal year when James mentioned that he needed to leave early to attend his son’s high school graduation.

The comment seemed innocent enough, but something in his voice caught my attention.

There was a warmth and pride that I rarely heard from executives discussing family obligations, which usually represented interruptions to their business focus.

I asked about his son’s plans for college, expecting the typical discussion about prestigious universities and lucrative career paths.

Instead, James told me that his son had decided to spend a gap year working with a Christian relief organization in refugee camps along the Syrian border.

The young man wanted to serve others before pursuing his own educational and professional ambitions.

The conversation continued as James shared how his family’s faith had guided their approach to wealth and success.

He explained that he viewed his position in the oil industry not as an opportunity for personal enrichment but as a platform for supporting humanitarian causes and modeling Christian values in corporate environments.

He spoke about tithing 10% of his income to various charities and teaching his children to see their privileges as responsibilities rather than entitlements.

What struck me most was not the content of his words, but the genuine peace and satisfaction that radiated from him as he described these choices.

He was a man who could afford any luxury and command respect in lost business circles.

Yet, he seemed most energized when discussing his family’s efforts to serve others.

His contentment appeared to flow from sources that my wealth and status had never provided despite all my material advantages and religious devotion.

As our meeting concluded, James made a comment that pierced through all my intellectual defenses and theological arguments like a sword cutting through silk.

He said that reading the Bible had fundamentally changed his understanding of success, relationships, and purpose in ways that he never could have imagined when he first opened its pages as a skeptical young businessman 20 years earlier.

He credited the scriptures with saving his marriage during a period of near divorce, providing wisdom for raising his children in a materialistic culture, and giving him courage to make ethical business decisions that sometimes conflicted with profit maximization.

The Bible was not merely a religious text for James, but a practical guide that had consistently proven its value through decades of realworld application.

I listened to his testimony with a mixture of fascination and rage that I struggled to conceal.

Part of me genuinely wanted to understand how intelligent, successful people could find such meaning in what I considered ancient mythology.

But a larger part of me felt insulted by the implicit suggestion that my Islamic faith and personal achievements were somehow insufficient for true fulfillment.

When James finished speaking, I looked directly into his eyes and said with deliberate cruelty, “Your Bible is nothing but paper and lies, and your God couldn’t save a drowning ant.

” The words hung in the air between us like a physical barrier, transforming the atmosphere from professional courtesy to open hostility in the span of a single sentence.

James’ response was not what I expected.

Instead of anger or defensiveness, he simply smiled with what appeared to be genuine compassion and said, “Safi, God’s word has power that you cannot understand until you experience it for yourself.

I pray that someday you will discover the truth that has changed my life so completely.

” His calm confidence in the face of my deliberate insult ignited something volcanic inside me that had been building for months.

I felt challenged, dismissed, and somehow diminished by his refusal to engage in the intellectual combat that I had been preparing for years.

In that moment, I made a decision that would alter the course of my eternal destiny.

I would show him and every Christian exactly how powerless their God really was.

The plan formed in my mind with crystalline clarity as James left my office that afternoon.

I would not simply continue our theological debates or engage in further intellectual sparring.

Those approaches had proven inadequate because they allowed Christians to retreat into subjective experiences and personal testimonies that could not be definitively refuted.

Instead, I would demonstrate the powerlessness of their God through a single dramatic act that would expose Christianity as nothing more than psychological comfort for the weak.

I would burn a Bible in front of James and other Christian business partners during our next scheduled consortium meeting.

Not just any Bible, but the most expensive, beautifully crafted edition I could acquire.

I wanted to eliminate any possibility that they could dismiss my actions as disrespect for a cheap mass- prodduced book.

This would be a deliberate assault on their most sacred text performed with ceremonial precision that left no doubt about my intentions.

The symbolism appealed to my sense of dramatic justice.

Christians claimed their scriptures contain the living word of God powerful enough to transform hearts and change destinies.

They insisted that their Bible held eternal truth capable of withstanding any challenge or criticism.

I would test those claims in the most direct way possible, reducing their holy book to ash and smoke while they watched helplessly.

I spent the following morning researching Christian bookstores in Dubai, seeking the most prestigious establishment that catered to wealthy Western expatriots.

After several phone calls, I identified a boutique religious bookstore in the Jumera district that specialized in luxury editions and custombound scriptures.

Their clientele included diplomats, executives, and other affluent Christians who wanted Bibles that reflected their social status.

Rather than visiting the store personally, I sent my most trusted assistant with specific instructions to purchase their most expensive bubble, regardless of cost.

I wanted something that screamed importance and reverence bound in genuine leather with gold embossing and handsewn pages.

The price was irrelevant because the psychological impact would be proportional to the Bible’s obvious value and craftsmanship.

My assistant returned 3 hours later with a magnificent study Bible that exceeded my expectations.

The leather cover was deep burgundy, soft as silk, and rich as wine with intricate gold lettering that caught the light from multiple angles.

The pages were edged in gold, and the binding was reinforced with decorative metal corners that suggested both beauty and permanence.

The price tag indicated that this Bible costs more than most people earned in a month, making it a perfect target for my planned demonstration.

I scheduled a private meeting with James for the following week, ostensibly to finalize contract details that had been left unresolved during our previous discussion.

I also invited two other Christian executives from partner companies framing the gathering as an opportunity to strengthen relationships before moving forward with our expanded partnership.

None of them suspected that they would be witnessing what I intended as the final destruction of their religious delusions.

The meeting was set for March 15th at 2:30 p.

m.

in my private office, a location I chose specifically for its symbolic significance.

This was the space where I made decisions that affected global oil markets, where I wielded power that influenced governments and shaped international policy.

It seemed appropriate that this same office would become the stage for my theological victory over Christianity.

I spent days planning every detail of the event with the same meticulous attention that I applied to major business negotiations.

The Bible would be placed in the center of my mahogany conference table positioned so that all attendees would have a clear view of its destruction.

I purchased a high quality lighter filled with premium butane, ensuring that the flame would be strong and consistent when the moment arrived.

My plan included a brief speech explaining my actions delivered with the gravity and authority that had made me successful in international business.

I would acknowledge that I understood the significance of what I was about to do, emphasizing that my decision was not born from ignorance or cultural insensitivity, but from careful consideration of Christianity’s claims about divine power and biblical authority.

I rehearsed the speech multiple times in front of my bedroom mirror, adjusting my tone and pacing to maximize the psychological impact.

The key was to appear calm and confident rather than angry or emotional presenting myself as someone conducting a rational experiment rather than a religious fanatic attacking competing beliefs.

My composure would underscore the scientific nature of my demonstration and leave no room for Christians to dismiss my actions as the ravings of an unstable mind.

The lighter became an object of particular fascination during those preparatory days.

I would hold it uh during my speech rehearsals, feeling its weight and imagining the moment when its flame would first touch the Bible’s pages.

The device represented human technology and rational control over the physical world.

While the Bible symbolized ancient superstition and wishful thinking about supernatural intervention, the contrast between them perfectly illustrated the broader conflict between reason and faith that I believed my demonstration would resolve decisively.

I also prepared uh responses to the various objections and emotional appeals that I expected from my Christian guests.

They would likely accuse me of blasphemy, but I would point out that blasphemy was only meaningful if their god actually existed and possessed the power to defend his honor.

They might claim that burning their Bible would not disprove Christianity anymore than burning a science textbook would disprove physics.

But I would argue that Christians themselves claim their scriptures contain supernatural power that should manifest in some observable way.

The most challenging response would be their inevitable assertion that God’s power operated through spiritual rather than physical means, making my test fundamentally invalid.

I prepared to counter this argument by pointing out that the same Bible I plan to burn contained numerous accounts of dramatic divine interventions in physical reality from the plagues in Egypt to the resurrection of Jesus himself.

If their God had historically demonstrated his power through miraculous events, why would he suddenly become passive when his word was under direct attack? Do you understand the level of arrogance that drove my planning? I genuinely believe that I could design an experiment that would definitively disprove the existence of the Christian God as if the creator of the universe were subject to my testing protocols and experimental conditions.

My wealth and intelligence had convinced me that I possess the authority to issue challenges to divine power and expect responses according to my specifications.

The irony was that my entire plan depended on the assumption that nothing supernatural would actually occur during my Bible burning.

I expected the book to burn like any other collection of paper and leather, producing nothing more dramatic than smoke and ash while my Christian guests watched in helpless silence.

Their God’s failure to intervene would prove his non-existence and their faith would crumble under the weight of observable reality.

I contacted each of the Christian executives personally to confirm their attendance, carefully managing my tone to avoid revealing the true purpose of our gathering.

James seemed particularly pleased that I had requested the meeting, interpreting my invitation as evidence of my growing interest in developing deeper professional relationships with Christian partners.

His enthusiasm for our upcoming discussion only intensified my anticipation of his eventual devastation.

The night before the meeting, I placed the Bible in the center of my conference table and spent an hour examining it under the brightest lights.

The craftsmanship was undeniably beautiful with careful attention to every detail from the stitching on the binding to the quality of the paper used for individual pages.

Someone had invested considerable skill and time in creating this particular edition, and I felt a momentary pang of regret about destroying such excellent workmanship.

But my theological mission was more important than aesthetic appreciation.

This Bible represented the cornerstone of a belief system that I viewed as fundamentally false and potentially dangerous to rational human progress.

Its destruction would serve a greater good by exposing the emptiness behind Christian claims about divine power and biblical authority.

I photographed the Bible from multiple angles, planning to use these images in the social media posts I would publish after the meeting concluded.

The photos would serve as before and after evidence of my experiment, documenting both the Bible’s initial magnificence and its ultimate reduction to meaningless debris.

I also prepared inflammatory captions that would maximize the viral potential of my posts while presenting my actions as brave truthtelling rather than religious persecution.

That final evening, I felt like a general preparing for a decisive battle that would determine the outcome of a long and costly war.

Tomorrow would bring either complete victory over Christian delusion or unexpected defeat that would force me to reconsider everything I believed about the nature of reality and divine power.

I was certain that victory was inevitable because I had never encountered anything in my experience that suggested supernatural forces could intervene in physical events according to the prayers and beliefs of religious people and tomorrow would simply confirm what rational thinking had always indicated that gods existed only in human imagination and that religious texts possessed no more inherent power than any other collection of printed words.

The stage was set for what I intended to be Christianity’s final humiliation.

March 15th arrived with the kind of crystalline clarity that Dubai skies provide during perfect weather, as if the universe itself was setting the stage for what I believed would be my theological triumph.

I arrived at my office 2 hours early, adjusting the conference room lighting and ensuring that every detail matched my mental rehearsal from the previous weeks.

The Bible sat in the exact center of the mahogany table, its burgundy leather cover catching the afternoon sun streaming through floor toseeiling windows.

My hands were steady as I checked the lighter one final time, flicking it to produce a strong, consistent flame that danced confidently in the climate controlled air.

The bout fuel level was full and the mechanism operated with the precision of Swiss engineering.

I had tested this same lighter dozens of times over the past week, and it had never failed to ignite on the first attempt.

Everything was perfectly prepared for the demonstration that would expose the powerlessness of the Christian God.

James arrived first, exactly on schedule, followed by the two other Christian executives I had invited.

They entered my office with the relaxed confidence of successful businessmen attending a routine meeting, completely unaware that they were about to witness what I intended as the destruction of their fundamental beliefs.

Their casual demeanor only increased my anticipation of the shock and devastation that would follow my uh planned action.

We spent the first 20 minutes discussing mundane contract details and market projections following the agenda I had provided to maintain the pretense of a normal business meeting.

But my attention was entirely focused on the Bible sitting between us and I found myself stealing glances at its golden pages while my guests reviewed financial documents.

The weight of anticipation made every minute feel like an hour as I waited for the appropriate moment to transition from business to theology.

When the preliminary discussions concluded, I stood slowly and walked to the head of the table, positioning myself where all three men could observe my actions without obstruction.

My heart rate increased slightly, but my hands remained steady as I reached for the lighter and held it up for their examination.

The if you gesture was deliberate and ceremonial, designed to focus their attention on what was about to unfold.

Gentlemen, I began using the same authoritative tone that had commanded respect in boardrooms around the world.

You have often spoken about the power of your Bible and the strength of your God.

Today, I am going to test those claims in the most direct way possible.

James’s expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he recognized the implication of my words.

But I continued before he could interrupt.

I opened the Bible to a random page in the Gospel of John exposing verses about Jesus being the light of the world and position the lighter’s flame directly above the text.

The irony was not lost on me that I was about to extinguish their supposed light with actual fire using the laws of physics to overcome their supernatural delusions.

This was the moment I had been anticipating for weeks.

The climactic demonstration that would prove the superiority of reason over faith.

I pressed the lighter’s ignition switch with confident pressure, expecting to see the familiar blue flame spring to life.

Instead, nothing happened.

The mechanism clicked normally, but no flame appeared.

I tried again, applying more pressure, but achieved the same result.

The lighter that had worked perfectly moments earlier now refused to ignite despite my repeated attempts.

A flutter of irritation passed through me as I examined the device more closely, wondering if the fuel level had somehow uh dropped or if a mechanical problem had developed.

But the fuel gauge showed full capacity and the click can sound indicated that the ignition mechanism was functioning normally.

Only the flame itself was absent, as if some invisible force was preventing the combustion that should have occurred automatically.

I tried the lighter a third time, then a fourth.

Each attempt producing the same inexplicable failure.

The clicking sound grew louder in the suddenly quiet conference room as my three guests watched my growing frustration with expressions that ranged from concern to barely concealed amazement.

What should have been a simple mechanical operation was becoming an embarrassing demonstration of equipment failure at the worst possible moment.

But mechanical failure could not explain what happened next.

As I continued my futile attempts to ignite the lighter, I became aware that the temperature in my office was dropping rapidly and inexplicably.

The climate control system maintained a constant 72° F, but the air around the conference table suddenly felt like a winter morning in the mountains.

My breath began forming small clouds as I exhaled, and goosebumps rose on my arms beneath my expensive suit jacket.

The Christian executives noticed the temperature change as well, shifting uncomfortably in their chairs and glancing around the room as if searching for an explanation.

James pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, while the other two men rubbed their hands together for warmth.

None of us spoke about what was happening, but the silence was heavy with unspoken questions about the sudden transformation of our environment.

Then the papers began to move.

Financial documents and contract drafts that had been lying flat on the table started rustling as if touched by a gentle breeze.

Despite the fact that my office windows were sealed and the climate control system produced no air movement at the table level, the rustling grew more pronounced with some papers lifting slightly off the table surface before settling back down in different positions.

I looked around the room frantically, searching for air vents or fans that might explain the mysterious air currents, but found nothing that could account for the movement of the the documents.

The papers were responding to wind that had no identifiable source, defying the basic laws of physics that governed enclosed spaces.

My rational mind struggled to process what I was observing while my hands continued their futile attempts to coax flame from the uncooperative lighter.

The combination of the temperature drop, the moving papers, and the lighter impossible failure created an atmosphere of supernatural tension that I had never experienced in my life.

Every attempt to ignite the flame resulted in the same inexplicable nothing.

As if the very concept of fire was being suppressed by forces beyond my understanding or control.

The Bible remained untouched in the center of the table.

Its pages pristine and unmarked despite my repeated efforts to begin its destruction.

My breathing became shallow and rapid as panic began to replace confidence.

This was not supposed to happen.

Scientific materialism and rational skepticism were supposed to provide adequate explanations for any phenomenon I might encounter.

Yet here I was witnessing events that challenged everything I understood about the predictable nature of physical reality.

The lighter should have worked.

The should temperature should have remained constant and the papers should have stayed motionless in the absence of air currents.

As my attempts to light the flame became more desperate and frantic, my hands began shaking uncontrollably.

The steady composure that I had maintained throughout the most high pressure business negotiations of my career dissolved into trembling uncertainty as I confronted the possibility that forces beyond my comprehension were actively preventing my planned demonstration.

The physical symptoms of fear and confusion overwhelmed my attempts to maintain dignity in front of my guests.

Sweat poured down my face despite the freezing temperature, creating a bizarre contradiction between my body’s heat production and the environmental cold that had invaded the conference room.

My heart raced at a pace that made me wonder if I was experiencing a medical emergency.

While my breathing became so labored that James asked if I needed medical attention, I waved him away, unable to admit that I was losing control of both the situation and my physical responses.

The Bible seemed to glow with an inner light that I told myself was merely a reflection of the afternoon sun, but the illumination appeared to be growing stronger.

Rather than following the natural patterns of external lighting, I found myself staring at the open pages, reading the verses about Jesus being the light of the world, while my lighter continued its impossible refusal to produce the fire that should have consumed those very words.

In that moment of complete helplessness, as my world view crumbled around me and supernatural forces demonstrated their reality through my own failed experiment, my knees buckled and I collapsed beside the conference table.

The expensive lighter fell from my trembling hands and clattered across the floor.

its mechanical clicking finally silent as it came to rest against the firewall.

I nailed there on the Persian carpet of my executive office, still clutching the undamaged Bible in both hands as three Christian businessmen watched the most powerful Muslim oil executive in the region reduced to a shaking, sweating, terrified human being who had just encountered the living God.

He had spent a month trying to disprove.

Words began tumbling out of my mouth without conscious thought or intention.

A prayer I had never learned but somehow knew by heart.

Jesus, if you are real, show me the truth.

The moment those words escaped my lips, the temperature returned to normal.

The papers stopped moving and a supernatural peace flooded the room like warm water flowing over every surface and into every corner.

Have you ever experienced a moment when everything you thought you knew about reality suddenly revealed itself as incomplete? That was my introduction to the infinite power of the God I had foolishly believed I could challenge and defeat through human reasoning and material demonstration.

The supernatural peace that filled my office after that desperate prayer was unlike anything I had experienced during decades of Islamic worship and meditation.

It was not the gradual come that comes from successful business negotiations or the satisfaction of achieving material goals.

This was an instantaneous transformation that penetrated every cell of my body and every corner of my consciousness as if liquid tranquility was being poured directly into my soul.

I remained kneeling on my office carpet for several minutes, still holding the pristine Bible that had refused to burn, while James and the other Christian executives sat in stun silence.

None of us attempted to explain what had just occurred because words seemed inadequate to describe an event that transcended normal human experience.

The only sound in the room was my gradually steadying breathing as the panic and terror subsided into an overwhelming sense of awe.

When I finally found the strength to stand, I looked directly into James’ eyes and saw compassion instead of the triumph or vindication that I might have expected.

He had just witnessed the complete humiliation of someone who had spent months mocking his faith.

Yet his expression reflected genuine concern for my well-being rather than satisfaction at my theological defeat.

That look of unconditional love from someone I had deliberately insulted and challenged became my first glimpse into the character of the god I was about to encounter personally.

The meeting concluded without any discussion of what had transpired.

My guests gathered their documents and left quietly.

But James lingered for a moment to place his hand on my shoulder and say simply, “God loves you, Safi.

He always has.

” Those words echoed in my mind long after the office door closed and I found myself alone with the Bible that had survived my attempted destruction.

I canled all remaining appointments for that day and locked my office door, needing solitude to process what had happened and decide how to respond to this unexpected encounter with supernatural power.

The Bible lay open on my conference table exactly where I had placed it before the failed burning, and I found myself drawn to read the verses that I had tried to destroy just hours earlier.

The Gospel of John 8:12.

Then Jesus spoke to them again, saying, “I am the light of the world.

He who follows me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.

” The irony was staggering.

I had attempted to extinguish what I considered false light using physical fire, only to discover that the true light could not be overcome by any earthly force, including my own arrogance and hostility.

That evening, I did something I had never done in my adult life.

I read the Bible from beginning to end in a single sitting, starting with Genesis and continuing through Revelation as the hours passed.

and Dubai’s skyline transformed from daylight to darkness outside my office windows.

What should have been a tedious academic exercise became the most engaging reading experience of my life as verses seemed to illuminate themselves with personal relevance that defied coincidence.

Every page contained insights that spoke directly to my spiritual hunger and intellectual questions.

The parables of Jesus addressed my struggles with wealth and materialism.

The epistles of Paul challenged my assumptions about religious superiority and cultural prejudice.

The prophecies of Isaiah described a coming Messiah whose characteristics matched everything I had learned about Jesus Christ during my months of hostile research.

But it was the crucifixion accounts that broke through my final defenses against Christian truth.

As I read about Jesus’s willingness to suffer torture and death for people who hated and rejected him, I began to understand that divine love operates according to principles that contradict human logic and social expectations.

This was not the weak god I had imagined, but a powerful deity who chose vulnerability as the ultimate expression of strength.

Tears began flowing down my face as I read Jesus’s words from the cross.

Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do.

I realized that these words applied directly to my own situation.

I had spent months attacking and mocking Jesus without understanding who he really was or what he had accomplished through his sacrifice.

My ignorance had been complete.

But his forgiveness was apparently unlimited.

By 3:00 in the morning, I knew with absolute certainty that Jesus Christ was not merely a failed prophet or mythological figure, but the living son of God, whose death and resurrection had provided redemption for my sins and the sins of every person who had ever lived.

The intellectual arguments that had seemed so compelling during my months of Christian critique now appeared uh pathetically inadequate when measured against the experiential reality of encountering divine presence.

I called James at his hotel, waking him from deep sleep to apologize for my behavior and confess my new found faith in Jesus Christ.

His response revealed that he and his wife had been praying for my conversion for over two years, long before our business relationship had developed into personal conflict over religious differences.

He had never mentioned these prayers during our debates because he believed that God’s timing was more important than human persuasion.

James agreed to meet me for breakfast to discuss the practical implications of my conversion and help me understand what it meant to live as a Christian in a predominantly Muslim culture.

That conversation became the first of many as he patiently guided my early steps of faith and introduced me to other believers who could provide ongoing support and accountability.

The most difficult aspect of my conversion was not theological but relational.

When I told my family about my decision to follow Jesus Christ, their reactions ranged from shock to rage to heartbroken disappointment.

My father accused me of betraying our family legacy and dishonoring the memory of our Islamic ancestors.

My mother wept openly, convinced that I had been deceived by Western influences that had corrupted my judgment and led me away from the true path of salvation.

My younger brother threatened to disown me completely, claiming that my conversion brought shame upon our family name and potentially endangered our business relationships throughout the Muslim world.

He was not entirely wrong about the business consequences.

Within two weeks of my public confession of faith in Christ, three major Saudi contracts were terminated and several longtime partners began distancing themselves from our company.

The financial impact was significant, but not devastating, representing perhaps 15% of our annual revenue.

More painful was the social isolation that followed as friends and colleagues who had once competed for invitations to my dinner parties now avoided me entirely.

The Islamic community that had provided my primary source of identity and belonging for 45 years suddenly viewed me as a traitor and apostate.

But these losses were overshadowed by the unexpected gains that accompanied my new faith.

The Christian business community, once a source of irritation and theological challenge, became a network of genuine friendship and mutual support.

Executives who had endured my months of mockery and hostility welcomed me with forgiveness and encouragement that demonstrated the practical reality of Christian love.

More importantly, my relationship with money and material success underwent fundamental transformation.

The wealth that had once served as proof of divine blessing and personal worth became a tool for serving others and advancing God’s kingdom.

I began uh supporting persecuted Christians throughout the Middle East, funding underground churches, and providing scholarships for Christian students who faced discrimination in their educational pursuits.

The sacred baptism that James arranged took place in a hotel swimming pool at midnight, witnessed only by a small group of believers who understood the security concerns surrounding my conversion.

As I emerged from those waters, I felt the symbolic weight of my old life washing away and a new identity taking its place.

I was no longer merely Sophie, the oil billionaire, but Sophie, the redeemed child of God whose true citizenship was in heaven rather than any earthly kingdom.

My daily routines changed dramatically as Bible reading and prayer replaced the Islamic practices that had structured my spiritual life for decades.

The same hands that had attempted to burn God’s word now turned its pages with reverence and hunger for deeper understanding.

The same mind that had crafted arguments against Christian truth now searched the scriptures for wisdom and guidance in navigating my transformed life.

Ask yourself this question.

What would it take for you to abandon everything you had believed about God, religion, and the meaning of existence? For me, it took an impossible encounter with supernatural power that left no room for doubt or rationalization.

The same Bible I had tried to destroy became the foundation of my new life and the source of daily strength for facing the challenges that accompanied my radical transformation.

The transformation that began in my office that March afternoon has continued reshaping every aspect of my life for the past eight years.

What started as a failed attempt to humiliate Christianity evolved into the most profound personal revolution I could have imagined, affecting not only my spiritual beliefs, but my understanding of wealth, relationships, and purpose in ways that continue to surprise me daily.

My new faith demanded practical expression that went far beyond private prayer and Bible study.

Within 6 months of my conversion, I had established a network of anonymous charitable giving that now supports over 200 persecuted Christian families across seven Middle Eastern countries.

The same business connections that once facilitated oil transactions now serve as conduits for smuggling Bibles and financial assistance to believers who face imprisonment or death for their faith.

The irony of my current mission is not lost on me.

The hands that once tried to burn God’s word now distribute thousands of Bibles annually through carefully orchestrated shipping operations that hide religious materials inside legitimate oil industry cargo.

My petroleum transport trucks carry both crude oil and spiritual fuel across borders where Christianity is banned or severely restricted, delivering hope to underground churches that survive on faith and foreign support.

These operations require extreme caution and sophisticated planning that rivals any business venture I ever undertook.

My security team, once focused on protecting me from business competitors and political threats, now works to shield Christian families from religious persecution and government surveillance.

We provide safe houses, emergency transportation, and financial support for believers whose lives are endangered by their refusal to renounce Jesus Christ.

The financial cost of this ministry represents a complete inversion of my previous relationship with wealth.

Before my conversion, I measured success by accumulating assets and expanding my personal empire.

Now I measure faithfulness by how effectively I can give away resources to advance God’s kingdom and support his people in hostile environments.

The same drive for excellence that built my oil fortune now motivates my efforts to fund Christian schools, medical clinics, and refugee assistance programs.

My business relationships have been fundamentally altered by my public confession of faith in Christ.

While I lost several lucrative contracts with Saudi partners who viewed my conversion as betrayal, I gained access to a global network of Christian businessmen whose integrity and collaborative spirit far exceed anything I experienced in my previous purely secular dealings.

These new partnerships operate on principles of mutual trust and shared mission that make even complex negotiations feel more like ministry than commerce.

The most challenging aspect of my transformed life involves navigating relationships with my immediate family who remain committed Muslims deeply wounded by what they perceive as my apostasy and cultural betrayal.

My father has never fully recovered from the shock of my conversion, treating our interactions with a formality that breaks my heart every time we meet.

Family gatherings that once celebrated our shared faith and cultural identity now carry an undercurrent of tension and unresolved grief.

My mother continues praying for my return to Islam, convinced that my Christian faith represents temporary insanity brought on by business stress and Western influence.

Her love for me has never wavered, but her disappointment is palpable.

Whenever we discuss anything related to religion or spirituality, I honor her by avoiding contentious topics and demonstrating through my actions that faith in Jesus has made me a better son, not a rebellious stranger.

The relationship with my brother has gradually improved as he witnessed the positive changes that Christianity produced in my character and business practices.

While he disagrees with my theological choices, he acknowledges that my conversion eliminated the arrogance and cruelty that once characterized my treatment of employees and business partners.

Our oil company now operates with ethical standards that exceed industry norms, treating workers with dignity and environmental concerns with genuine respect.

My wife’s journey towards understanding my faith has been the most unexpected blessing of this entire transformation.

Initially devastated by my conversion and fearful for our marriage, she began asking thoughtful questions about Christianity, after observing the peace and joy that replaced my former anger and restlessness.

While she has not yet made a personal commitment to follow Christ, she attends Bible studies and engages with Christian literature in ways that give me hope for her eventual conversion.

The daily practices that now structure my spiritual life bear little resemblance to the Islamic disciplines that once defined my relationship with God.

Morning Bible reading has replaced Quranic recitation and my prayers now consist of intimate conversations with Jesus rather than formal Arabic liturgies.

The same office where I tried to burn the Bible has become a sanctuary where I spend hours each day studying scripture and seeking guidance for my business decisions and ministry activities.

Christian fellowship has provided a depth of community that I never experienced during my years as a prominent Muslim businessman.

The believers who gather regularly in my home represent diverse backgrounds and nationalities united not by shared culture or economic status but by common faith in Jesus Christ.

These relationships challenge my thinking, encourage my growth, and provide accountability that keeps me focused on spiritual priorities rather than material achievements.

The persecution that I now face because of my Christian faith has taught me lessons about courage and dependence on God that no amount of wealth or worldly success could provide.

Death threats from Islamic extremists arrive regularly and government surveillance of my activities requires constant vigilance and creative security measures.

Yet these challenges have deepened my appreciation for the sacrifice that Jesus made on the cross and strengthened my identification with persecuted believers throughout history.

My testimony has become a powerful tool for reaching other wealthy Muslims who struggle with spiritual emptiness despite material prosperity.

Several oil executives and government officials have privately confessed their own doubts about Islam after hearing my story and three have made personal commitments to follow Christ despite the enormous risks involved.

These conversations require absolute discretion, but they represent the most rewarding aspect of my current ministry.

The same Bible that survived my attempted destruction now serves as the center of weekly study groups that meet in secure locations throughout Dubai and Riyad.

Former business competitors who once viewed me as a threat now gather around God’s word to explore the claims of Christ and support each other through the challenges of faith in a hostile environment.

These meetings feel like underground resistance gatherings filled with the excitement and danger that accompany following Jesus in places where his name is forbidden.

Look inside your own heart right now and consider what God might be calling you to surrender in order to follow him completely.

My journey from Islamic oil billionaire to Christian minister required abandoning everything I thought I knew about success, security and salvation.

The process was painful, costly, and continues to demand sacrifices that my former self would have considered unthinkable.

But the rewards of knowing Jesus Christ personally far exceed any material loss or social rejection that accompanied my conversion.

The peace that surpassed understanding, the purpose that transcends profit margins, and the hope that extends beyond death have transformed my existence from successful emptiness into meaningful abundance.

The same God who prevented my lighter from igniting that March afternoon continues to work miracles in my life and ministry every single day.

I bought that Bible to mock God and demonstrate the powerlessness of his word.

Instead, he used my attempted act of blasphemy to expose my own spiritual poverty and introduce me to the riches of his grace.

The flames I tried to kindle were extinguished by divine intervention, but the fire that Jesus lit in my heart that day continues burning brighter with each passing year.

Don’t wait for your own burning Bible moment to recognize the truth that surrounds you daily.

The same Jesus who stopped my fire can ignite one in your heart today, transforming your understanding of success, purpose, and eternal destiny in ways that will amaze you for the rest of your life and throughout eternity.