I am Princess Amir Al-Rashid, 28 years old.

And on March 15th, 2019, I died for exactly 4 minutes and 23 seconds.

But that wasn’t the miracle.

The miracle was what Jesus did 3 days before my execution.

Let me tell you how the son of God saved a Saudi princess.

I lived in a palace with 200 rooms, but I felt trapped in every single one.

My father, King Abdullah al-Rashid, ruled over vast oil wealth, and I was born into unimaginable luxury.

Golden fixtures adorned every wall.

Servants attended to my every need, and my jewelry collection could fund a small country.

Yet, despite all this opulence, my soul felt empty, like a beautiful vase with nothing inside.

From the moment I could speak, my life revolved around Islamic obligations.

Five times daily, I knelt on Persian rugs worth millions, reciting prayers in Arabic that felt mechanical and cold.

The Quran was my constant companion, its verses memorized, but never touching my heart.

I wore my hijab perfectly, followed every dietary law, and performed every ritual with precision.

Everyone praised my devotion, calling me the most pious princess in the kingdom.

But behind the golden doors of my chambers, questions tormented me.

During Ramadan, as I fasted and prayed, I wondered why Allah felt so distant.

The Islamic teachings spoke of submission and fear, but my heart yearned for something more.

I watched public executions from the royal viewing area, seeing hands severed for theft and heads removed for adultery.

My father would nod approvingly, saying this was Allah’s justice, but something deep inside me recoiled.

The restrictions suffocated me.

I could not travel alone, speak freely to men, or pursue the education I craved.

My marriage was already arranged to a cousin I barely knew.

A political alliance disguised as religious duty.

When I dared question these limitations, my mother would remind me that this was Allah’s will for women.

We were to be protected, she said.

But protection felt like imprisonment.

My days blended together in monotonous routine.

Morning prayers at dawn.

Guran study with the royal imam.

Afternoon lessons in palace etiquette, evening prayers and sleep.

The Imam Shik Hassan was a stern man who spoke only of Allah’s wrath and humanity’s unworthiness.

His sermons filled me with dread rather than comfort.

According to him, paradise was was reserved for the most faithful and even then Allah might reject us on judgment day.

Have you ever felt empty despite having everything? That was my life before Christ.

I had jewels worth millions, but my soul felt worthless.

I could buy anything except the peace I desperately needed.

The palace walls covered in gold and marble felt like a beautiful prison.

My heart cried out for meaning, for love, for a god who cared about more than mere obedience.

At night, lying on silk sheets under diamond chandeliers, I would stare at the ceiling and wonder if this was all life offered.

The Quran promised paradise for the faithful, but it felt conditional, earned through works rather than given through love.

I questioned why women were considered half the worth of men.

Why non-Muslims were called infidels destined for hell and why Allah seemed so quick to anger.

This spiritual starvation prepared my heart for something I never expected.

In my desperate hunger for truth and meaning, God was preparing me to encounter his son in the most unexpected way.

Maria Delgado had served our family for 3 years.

a quiet Filipino woman who cleaned my chambers with gentle efficiency.

I barely noticed her until that February morning in 2019 when she approached me with trembling hands.

She glanced around nervously before pulling a small black book from beneath her cleaning supplies.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

She said, “This will change your life, princess, but you must be very careful.

” My heart stopped when I realized what she was offering.

In Saudi Arabia, possessing a Bible is punishable by death.

The religious police had executed foreigners for less.

I stared at the forbidden book, its worn leather cover, evidence of secret reading.

Maria’s eyes filled with tears as she pressed it into my hands.

Jesus loves you, princess.

He wants you to know him.

Before I could respond, she quickly left my room, leaving me alone with the most dangerous object in the kingdom.

For hours, I held the Bible without opening it, terrified of what I might find inside.

Everything in my upbringing screamed that this was Satan’s deception, a corrupted text meant to lead Muslims astray.

The Imam had taught us that Christians were kafir who worshiped three gods and perverted Allah’s true message.

Yet something about Maria’s tears and the books worn pages suggested this meant everything to her.

That night, I waited until the palace grew quiet before lighting a single candle.

My hands shook as I opened to a page marked with a ribbon.

The Gospel of John 3 16.

When I read, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son,” my heart nearly stopped.

Allah was never described as loving like this in the Quran.

This God didn’t just command obedience.

He offered love.

The contrast between Jesus and Muhammad struck me immediately.

Jesus said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.

” While Muhammad commanded, “Kill the infidels wherever you find them.

” Jesus welcomed women, children, and outcasts while Islamic law relegated women to secondass status.

The Jesus I read about wept for people’s pain while Allah seemed distant and demanding.

Night after night, I devoured the scriptures by candle light.

I created elaborate schemes to avoid detection, hiding the Bible in different locations throughout my chambers.

Sometimes I tucked it behind books in my library.

Other times beneath loose floorboards or inside pillowcases.

I became a master deceiver.

All for the sake of knowing Jesus.

Ask yourself this question.

What would you risk to know the truth about God? Every page I read felt like betraying my family, my culture, my very identity.

Yet I couldn’t stop.

The words of Christ drew me like water to someone dying of thirst.

He promised rest for the weary, hope for the hopeless, and love that never fails.

The sermon on the mount revolutionized my understanding of God’s character.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

This was radically different from Islamic teachings about holy war and submission through fear.

Jesus spoke of a kingdom where the last would be first, where God’s love reached everyone, regardless of gender, race, or social status.

Internal warfare raged within me.

Lifelong Islamic indoctrination battled against the magnetic pull of Christ’s love.

I memorized verses to avoid carrying the physical book, repeating, “I am the way, the truth, and the life during my mandatory Islamic prayers.

The transformation was gradual but undeniable.

I started seeing people as Jesus saw them with love rather than judgment regardless of their faith or social position.

March the 13th, 2019 started like any ordinary day until my 16-year-old brother, Prince Khaled, burst into my chambers without knocking.

I was in the middle of morning prayers, but something was different about his expression.

His face was pale with shock, and in his trembling hands he held my Bible.

The book I had so carefully hidden beneath my jewelry box had somehow been discovered.

“Sister, what is this?” His voice cracked with disbelief.

I watched my secret unravel in slow motion as he opened the Bible to pages I had marked with notes in the margins.

My handwriting was clearly visible next to verses about Jesus being the son of God.

There was no denying what he had found or explaining it away as curiosity.

Within minutes, chaos erupted throughout the palace.

Khalid ran through the corridors shouting that his sister had become a cafier.

Servants stopped their work.

Guards whispered among themselves, and the news reached my parents before I could even form a response.

The shame in my family’s eyes was immediate and devastating.

My father, King Abdullah, stormed into my room with a fury I had never witnessed.

His face was red with rage and his hands shook as he grabbed the Bible from Khaled.

“How could my daughter become an infidel?” he roared.

“Do you understand what you have done to our family’s honor?” Behind him, my mother wept openly, her cries echoing through the marble halls.

The cultural magnitude of my betrayal cannot be overstated.

In Saudi Arabia, apostasy from Islam is not just a personal choice.

It is treason against family, culture, and nation.

My conversion to Christianity was seen as ultimate rebellion against everything our family represented.

and my brothers looked at me with disgust while my sisters begged me to say it was all a mistake.

For the next 6 hours, family members took turns trying to convince me to renounce what I had found in Christ.

They brought Islamic scholars who quoted verses about eternal hellfire for those who leave the faith.

They threatened to cut off all financial support to arrange my immediate marriage to a strict imam to send me to a religious rehabilitation center.

The psychological pressure was overwhelming.

Then came the ultimatum that changed everything.

My father stood before me with the Bible in one hand and a lighter in the other.

You have 24 hours to choose, he declared.

Burn this book publicly, declare Muhammad as the final prophet, and beg Allah’s forgiveness, or face the consequences of apostasy.

The room fell silent as I realized what those consequences meant.

In our kingdom, leaving Islam was punishable by death.

My own father was prepared to execute me rather than allow the shame of having a Christian daughter to continue.

Right now, I want you to imagine losing everything for your faith.

Could you do it? In that moment, staring at my family’s expectant faces, I felt Jesus’ presence stronger than ever before.

The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

I have found the truth in Jesus Christ, and I cannot deny him.

The immediate aftermath was swift and brutal.

My father’s face turned ashen as he realized I had chosen Christ over family, crown, and life itself.

“Then you are no longer my daughter,” he whispered, and I knew my fate was sealed.

Within hours of my declaration, palace guards escorted me to the dungeon beneath our family compound.

My cell was 6 feet by four feet, smaller than most bathrooms, with bare concrete walls and a single barred window near the ceiling from princess to prisoner in one day.

Yet I had never felt more spiritually free.

The irony was not lost on me that my physical chains had brought spiritual liberation.

The Islamic authorities wasted no time in pronouncing judgment.

Shikh Hassan, our family imam, arrived with three other religious leaders to officially declare me an apostate.

His cold satisfaction was evident as he read the death sentence according to Sharia law.

Princess Amira al-Rashid has committed Rita abandoning Islam for the false religion of Christianity.

The punishment is death by beheading to be carried out on March the 18th, 2019.

They wanted me to break to renounce Jesus and save my life through public repentance.

For 3 days, family members visited my cell with desperate please.

My mother came first.

Her face shrieked with tears as she begged me to just say the words even if I did not mean them.

Think of your future, my daughter.

You can believe whatever you want in your heart, but save your life.

My youngest sister, Fatima, brought photos of our childhood together, trying to appeal to family loyalty.

Remember when we used to play princess and peasant? Now you can go back to being a real princess.

Just say you made a mistake.

But every family plea only strengthened my resolve.

How could I deny the one who had given me true life? The nights were the hardest.

Alone in my cell, Satan whispered doubts into my mind.

Was it worth it? You could have been a secret Christian.

Now you will die and help no one.

But each time despair threatened to overwhelm me, I remembered Jesus’ own suffering.

He had faced death for me.

I could face death for him.

I spent hours reciting Bible verses.

I had memorized turning my cell into a sanctuary of worship.

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.

The words of Psalm 23 became my lifeline.

I felt Jesus’ presence so strongly that I could almost see him sitting beside me in that dark place.

On the night before my execution, sleep was impossible.

I knelt on the cold concrete floor and prayed until dawn.

Feeling supernatural peace flood my heart, I wrote my final testimony on the cell wall with my fingernails scratching out, “Jesus Christ is Lord, where future prisoners might see it.

” March 18th arrived with brilliant sunshine streaming through my small window.

The guards brought my final meal, but I could not eat.

When they asked for my last words, I looked directly into their eyes and said, “Ah, oh Jesus, into your hands I commit my spirit.

” The same words Christ spoke on the cross became my declaration of faith.

Look inside your own heart right now.

Do you believe Jesus still performs miracles? as they led me from my cell toward the Aka execution ground.

Thousands had gathered to witness the death of the princess who chose Christianity over royalty.

But God was preparing the greatest miracle of my life.

The earth was about to shake both literally and spiritually.

The execution platform stood in the center of Riyad’s public square, surrounded by thousands of spectators who had come to witness the death of the princess who betrayed Islam.

As guards led me up the wooden steps, my legs trembled, not from fear, but from anticipation.

I knew Jesus was about to do something extraordinary.

At exactly 12:30 p.

m.

, 3 minutes before my scheduled execution, I felt the ground beneath my feet begin to tremble.

What started as a slight vibration quickly intensified into violent shaking that sent people stumbling in every direction.

The executioner, a massive man named Ahmad, who had carried out dozens of beheadings, suddenly doubled over in agony, clutching his chest as if having a heart attack.

Then the earth exploded with power.

A 7.

2 magnitude earthquake struck with supernatural precision.

Exactly at my execution time, the platform beneath my feet cracked and swayed as screams filled the air.

Even hardened soldiers fell to their knees, crying out to Allah in terror.

As buildings swayed and concrete crumbled around us.

It was as if God himself was tearing open my prison.

The sky turned dark at noon just like when Jesus died on the cross sand whirled through the air in unnatural patterns and the crowd that had come to watch me die was now running for their lives.

In the midst of this chaos, I experienced supernatural peace that defied all logic.

In that moment of divine intervention, I heard Jesus speak as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

Run, my daughter.

Run to freedom.

His voice cut through the earthquake’s roar, filling me with strength I had never known.

The chains that bound my hands literally fell off during the violent shaking, clattering to the cracked platform below.

Through the dust and panic, I saw Maria, my Filipino maid, waving frantically from beside a small car at the edge of the square.

She had appeared like an angel with an escape plan.

risking her own life to save mine.

As aftershocks continued to rock the city, I ran toward her through the chaos of fleeing people and collapsed structures.

And the journey to Jordan’s border took 18 hours of driving through desert roads damaged by the earthquake.

Maria had contacts in the Christian underground, people who helped believers escape persecution.

Every checkpoint we passed was abandoned due to the disaster.

As if God was clearing our path to freedom.

When we finally crossed into Jordan, I fell to my knees and kissed the ground.

For the first time in my life, I could breathe freely as a Christian.

The Jordanian border guards seeing my royal identification and hearing my story immediately contacted the Christian embassy for protection.

But the most incredible discovery came at the hospital where doctors examined me for earthquake injuries.

They found evidence that during those terrifying minutes on the execution platform, my heart had stopped beating for exactly 4 minutes and 23 seconds, I had technically died and been resurrected during God’s miraculous intervention.

I’m asking you, just as someone who has experienced God’s power firsthand, do you believe he can intervene in your life, too? My family officially declared me dead in the earthquake and in many ways they were right.

Princess Amir died that day, but a daughter of Christ was born through divine resurrection power.

Science could not explain my survival.

But I knew it was Jesus who had conquered death once again.

3 weeks after my miraculous escape, I stood waist deep in the Jordan River, preparing for the most significant moment of my new life.

Pastor Michael, an American missionary, asked if I was ready to publicly declare my faith in Jesus Christ.

As I went under those sacred waters, Princess Amira died completely and a daughter of Christ was born.

Imagine worshiping Jesus without fear for the first time.

At age 28, the learning process was like drinking water after years in the desert.

Every theology class at the Christian seminary in Aman revealed truths that shattered my Islamic understanding.

In Islam, I never knew if I was good enough for paradise.

Constantly performing works to earn Allah’s favor.

In Christ, I discovered that salvation was a gift of grace, not something to be earned through religious performance.

My first Christmas celebration brought tears of joy I had never experienced.

Singing Silent Night in Arabic, I marveled at a God who became human to save humanity.

The contrast with Islamic teachings was stark, where the Quran portrayed Allah as distant and demanding.

Jesus revealed a God who loved intimately and sacrificially.

God saved my life to share his love with others trapped in darkness.

Within 6 months, I began speaking at churches across Europe and America, sharing how Jesus intervened supernally for those who choose him above all else.

Every person I met could be the next miracle.

My testimony opened doors to reach Muslims who had never heard the true gospel of grace.

But following Jesus did not promise an easy life.

Death threats from extremist groups forced me to change locations frequently.

Saudi intelligence agents tracked my movements and my former government officially placed a bounty on my head.

Sometimes I cried for the family I lost.

But then I remembered the eternal family I gained through Christ.

The most challenging aspect was the complete separation from my blood relatives.

My parents held a funeral service declaring me officially dead to the family.

My siblings were forbidden from any contact and my name was removed from all royal records.

Yet this grief drove me deeper into my relationship with Jesus, who understood the pain of family rejection.

Secret Bible distribution became my passion.

We developed networks to get God’s word to people in closed Muslim countries who had never heard of Jesus’ love.

Every convert became a light in the darkness.

Proof that God’s love transcends cultural and religious barriers.

One person’s yes to Jesus can change the world.

Other Saudi women began reaching out secretly through encrypted messages, hungry for the hope they saw in my testimony.

My story opened doors I never imagined, creating opportunities to share Christ with royal families across the Middle East.

International religious freedom or organizations invited me to speak at the United Nations about persecution of Christian converts.

The transformation in my heart was complete.

I traded an earthly crown for a heavenly inheritance.

Royal privilege for a servant’s heart.

True peace is not the absence of trouble but the presence of Jesus in every circumstance.

Following Christ cost me everything temporary but gave me everything eternal.

You may not face execution but are you willing to live fully for Jesus right now? Jesus is calling you just like he called me in that prison cell.

Whatever prison you find yourself in.

Whether spiritual, emotional, or physical, Jesus has the key to set you free.

As I close, I want you to ask yourself this question.

What would change if you truly believe Jesus could do the impossible in your life? If Jesus can save a Saudi princess from death row, he can save anyone who calls upon his