My name is Aga.

I was born into Saudi royalty in 1995.

A devoted Muslim prince who believed I had everything.

On July 7th, 2019, my entire world collapsed when father announced I must marry my own sister to preserve our bloodline.

What happened next changed everything I believed about God forever.

I grew up believing I was blessed by Allah above all men.

Born into the house of Saud in 1995, I possessed everything a young man could desire, limitless wealth, political power, and the respect that comes with royal blood.

Our palace in Riyad stretched across acres of pristine marble floors and golden fountains.

servants attended to my every need before I even knew I needed it.

I owned cars with millions, traveled in private jets, and dined with world leaders.

Yet, none of these material blessings compared to what I considered my greatest treasure, my unwavering faith in Islam.

From my earliest memories, I was a devoted Muslim.

I rose before dawn every single day for fer prayers, never missing a single call to worship.

By age seven, I had memorized significant portions of the Quran in Arabic.

My tutors praised my dedication as I studied Islamic law, history, and theology with the same intensity other children applied to games.

I genuinely believed that my privileged position came with sacred responsibility to be an exemplary Muslim.

Every ritual, every prayer, every fast during Ramadan was performed with complete sincerity.

I was not going through religious motions for appearance sake.

My heart truly burned with love for Allah and dedication to Prophet Muhammad’s teachings.

Father ruled our household with absolute authority as tradition demanded.

He was not cruel, but his word was final on every matter from palace operations to family decisions.

I respected him deeply and never questioned his wisdom.

He had guided our family through decades of political turbulence, maintained our wealth and preserved our honor.

When father spoke, everyone listened.

His approval meant everything to me, and I worked tirelessly to earn it through my religious devotion, academic excellence, and proper conduct befitting a prince.

My relationship with sister was the brightest joy in my privileged life.

Despite the formal protocols that governed most palace relationships, we shared genuine affection and trust.

She was intelligent, kind, and possessed a gentle spirit that brought peace to our often rigged household.

We would spend hours discussing literature, philosophy, and our dreams for the future.

Sister never showed jealousy toward my position as the male heir.

Instead, she supported my studies and celebrated my achievements.

I protected her from palace gossip and court intrigue while she offered me honest counsel when others only told me what they thought I wanted to hear.

The palace busted with constant activity.

Religious leaders, government officials, and international dignitaries flowed through our halls daily.

I grew up surrounded by imams and Islamic scholars who reinforced my faith and taught me to see our royal position as divinely ordained.

They explained how our family’s leadership served Allah’s purposes and how maintaining our bloodlines purity was essential to preserving the sacred trust placed upon us.

These were not corrupt men seeking favor.

They were sincere believers who genuinely viewed our dynasty as part of God’s plan for the Arabian Peninsula.

Ask yourself this question.

Have you ever felt completely secure in your beliefs surrounded by everyone who confirmed your worldview was correct? That was my experience for the first 24 years of my life.

Every person I trusted, every book I studied, every prayer I offered reinforced the same message.

I was living righteously before Allah, fulfilling my destiny as a faithful Muslim prince.

Our daily routine reinforced these beliefs.

Morning prayers began before sunrise, followed by Quran study with my personal imam.

I learned not just to recite verses but to understand their deeper meanings and applications to modern life.

Afternoon prayers interrupted whatever political meetings or business discussions occupied my day.

Evening prayers provided reflection time before sleep.

Friday congregational prayers were never missed.

Regardless of travel or commitments during Ramadan, I fasted with genuine devotion, not because palace protocol required it, but because my heart yearned to draw closer to Allah through sacrifice.

The luxury surrounding us never felt excessive because I understood it as Allah’s blessing upon our faithful family.

Our wealthfunded mosques supported Islamic education and provided charity to the poor.

I saw our privilege as responsibility not entitlement.

The beautiful gardens, priceless art and sumptuous feast were expressions of gratitude to the creator who had elevated our family to leadership.

I never questioned whether we deserved such abundance.

It seemed natural that those who served Allah faithfully would receive his material blessings.

Sister shared this same faith.

Though her religious expression was different due to her gender, she prayed devoutly, studied Islamic texts appropriate for women, and embodied the modesty and grace our culture valued in royal daughters.

We often discussed spiritual matters, sharing insights from our respective studies.

Her face appeared as sincere as mine and I admired how she found joy in worship despite the restrictions placed upon women in our society.

She never complained about limitations but focused on serving Allah within her assigned role.

The scholars who guided my education were men of genuine learning and piety.

They had studied at the most prestigious Islamic universities, memorized the entire Quran, and devoted their lives to understanding Allah’s will.

When they taught me about Islamic law, family obligations, and royal duties, I listened with complete trust.

These were not men who would lead me astray for personal gain.

They lived simply, prayed constantly and demonstrated the same devotion to Allah that I hope to achieve.

Looking back now, I realize how completely my world reinforced a single perspective.

Every voice, every teaching, every experience confirmed the same truth.

Islam was the final revelation.

Our family’s rule was divinely blessed and following traditional practices would ensure Allah’s continued favor.

I never encountered serious challenges to these beliefs because everyone around me shared them completely.

This was not ignorance or closemindedness.

This was a young man raised in absolute certainty, surrounded by sincere people who all believed the same fundamental truths about God, family, and duty.

The morning of Gulad 7th, 2019 began like any other day in our palace.

I completed my dorm prayers, shared breakfast with the family, and prepared for a routine day of meetings and studies.

Father summoned me to his private office after lunch which was not unusual.

He often consulted me on family matters or shared his wisdom about leadership and responsibility.

I entered his chamber with the same respect and anticipation I had felt countless times before.

Father’s expression was unusually serious as he gestured for me to sit across from his ornate desk.

His weathered hands folded deliberately as he studied my face for a long moment.

Then he spoke words that shattered my entire understanding of reality.

Agar, you will marry your sister within 3 months.

The arrangements have already begun.

I stared at him in complete disbelief, certain I had misunderstood his Arabic or that this was some kind of test of my obedience.

Father, I do not understand, I replied carefully, maintaining the respectful tone always required in his presence.

Surely you mean I will marry a daughter from another royal family.

He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

No, my son.

You will marry your biological sister.

This union will preserve the purity of our bloodline and strengthen our family’s claim to leadership.

It is decided.

The room seemed to spin as his words penetrated my consciousness.

I felt as though someone had struck me physically.

My sister, the person I loved most in the world, the gentle soul who had been my closest friend and confident for 24 years, was to become my wife.

Every instinct in my body recoiled from this announcement.

My hands trembled as I struggled to process what father was commanding.

But father, I began hesitantly.

This seems wrong according to Islamic teaching.

The Quran speaks against such marriages.

Father’s expression hardened at my challenge to his authority.

Do not presume to lecture me about Islamic law.

Azar, our family’s traditions predate many modern interpretations.

We have maintained power for generations through careful bloodline preservation.

This marriage will secure our dynasty’s future.

I left father’s office in a state of complete shock.

My mind unable to accept what had just occurred.

I found sister in the garden reading.

Her peaceful expression making my heart break even more.

How could I tell her what father had decided? How could I destroy her tranquil world with this devastating news? When I finally managed to speak the words, her book fell from her hands and tears immediately filled her eyes.

“No, Aza,” she whispered, her voice trembling with horror.

“This cannot be true.

Father would never demand such a thing.

” But even as she spoke, I could see in her eyes that she knew our father’s word was absolute.

In our culture, daughters especially had no power to resist paternal commands.

She began crying softly, the sound cutting through my soul like a blade.

We spent hours together that day, both of us struggling to comprehend our new reality.

sister spoke of her dreams of marrying for love, of having children with someone she chose freely.

“I have always respected our traditions,” she said through her tears.

But this feels wrong in every part of my being.

How can Allah want this for us? Her pain multiplied my own agony a thousandfold.

I felt completely powerless to protect the person I cared most about in the world.

I attempted to reason with father over the following days, approaching him with every argument I could construct.

I spoke of modern Islamic scholarship that clearly prohibited such marriages.

I offered alternative ways to strengthen our family’s position through strategic alliances with other royal houses.

I even suggested waiting until I was older and more established in leadership.

Father dismissed every proposal with growing impatience.

You question my wisdom because you are young and influenced by foreign ideas, he declared during one particularly heated discussion.

Our ancestors understood bloodline purity in ways modern Muslims have forgotten.

This marriage will happen because I have decided it serves our family’s interests.

Your personal feelings are irrelevant.

I sought counsel from our family’s religious adviserss, desperately hoping they would support my position and convince father to reconsider.

Instead, every imam and scholar I approached sided with father’s decision.

They spoke of special dispensations for royal families, how our unique position sometimes required different applications of Islamic law.

Some even suggested that questioning father’s authority in this matter boarded on religious disobedience.

Have you ever faced a choice between family loyalty and your deepest moral convictions? That internal war was tearing me apart daily.

I loved and respected father but I could not reconcile his command with everything I believed about right and wrong.

Sleep became impossible as I wrestled with this conflict.

I would pace my chambers through the night praying desperately for Allah to show me a way to honor my father while protecting my sister.

Sister grew increasingly withdrawn as wedding preparations began around us.

Palace staff started planning ceremonies, ordering decorations, and scheduling festivities as though this were a normal joyful occasion.

The disconnect between their excitement and our horror was surreal.

I watched my beloved sister losing weight, speaking less and retreating into herself.

Her bright spirit was being crushed by the weight of our impossible situation.

The most devastating moment came when sister approached me privately and said, “Hazar, I have been praying constantly, asking Allah to help us find another way, but perhaps this is his will for our lives.

Perhaps we must accept this as part of our destiny as royals.

” Hearing her try to resign herself to this fate broke something inside me.

I could not bear the thought of her sacrificing her happiness out of religious duty to a decision that felt fundamentally wrong.

I felt completely alone in a palace full of people.

Everyone around us supported father’s decision or remained silent out of fear.

No one in our world would dare oppose the king’s authority on family matters.

Our wealth and position, which had always felt like blessings, now seemed like a prison trapping us in roles we could not escape.

Every fiber of my being screamed that this marriage was wrong.

Yet, every person I trusted insisted it was right.

I had never experienced such profound spiritual confusion or felt so abandoned by the faith that had sustained me my entire life.

The weeks following father’s announcement became the darkest period of my entire life.

For the first time since childhood, I began questioning everything I had believed about Allah, Islam, and divine will.

How could the God I had worshiped so faithfully allow such a situation to develop? How could the religious leaders I trusted support something that felt fundamentally wrong in my heart? I found myself lying awake through entire nights, staring at the sailing of my chamber, wrestling with doubts that would have been unthinkable just months earlier.

My daily prayers became exercises in confusion rather than worship.

As I knelt on my prayer rug five times each day, the Arabic words felt hollow in my mouth.

I went through the motions of recitation while my mind churned with questions that had no acceptable answers.

When I reached the portions of prayer where I traditionally felt closest to Allah, I encountered only silence.

The sense of divine presence that had sustained me for 24 years seemed to have evaporated completely.

I began secretly researching other religious perspectives.

something that would have horrified me previously.

Late at night when the palace was quiet, I used my private computer to study Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, and even secular philosophy.

I was not seeking to abandon Islam, but rather desperate to find wisdom that might illuminate my impossible situation.

The internet provided access to theological discussions and scholarly debates that had never been available in my carefully curated Islamic education.

What struck me most powerfully in these midnight research sessions was encountering different understandings of God’s network and will.

Christian websites spoke of a God whose primary characteristic was love rather than absolute sovereignty.

Jewish texts emphasized human moral responsibility and the importance of ethical reasoning.

Even secular philosophers presented arguments about universal human rights and individual dignity that resonated with my troubled conscience.

sister was experiencing her own spiritual crisis parallel to mine.

We began meeting privately in the palace gardens, sharing our doubts and fears in whispered conversations.

She confided that she too was questioning whether Allah truly approved of arranged marriages between siblings.

I have been a faithful Muslim woman my entire life,” she said during one particularly emotional discussion.

But I cannot believe that God wants me to marry her against both our wishes.

Something feels terribly wrong about this situation.

Our conversations became increasingly honest as we realized we were both experiencing the same spiritual turmoil.

sister revealed that she had been having disturbing dreams where she felt trapped and suffocated.

I shared my own sleepless nights and the growing sense that we were being asked to violate something sacred, even if our religious authorities claimed otherwise.

We found ourselves questioning not just father’s decision but the entire religious framework that supported it.

The wedding preparations continued relentlessly around us creating a surreal atmosphere of celebration for an event that felt more like a funeral to us.

Palace staff bustled about with flower arrangements, menu planning, and guest lists, while sister and I moved through each day like prisoners awaiting execution.

The disconnect between everyone else’s excitement and our private agony was almost unbearable.

I attempted one final appeal to our family mom, a man I had respected since childhood.

I approached him privately and spoke with complete honesty about my moral struggles with the aranged marriage.

Uncle, I said using the respectful term for an elder.

My heart tells me this marriage is wrong, but you say it is right.

How do I reconcile this conflict? His response devastated whatever remaining hope I had for finding support within Islam.

Azar, he replied sternly, your heart has been corrupted by western ideas about individual choice and romantic love.

True Islam requires submission to authority, even when our limited human understanding cannot comprehend Allah’s wisdom.

Your father’s decision serves purposes beyond your ability to understand.

Trust in Allah’s plan and stop questioning what has been decided for your benefit.

What do you do when your deepest beliefs collide with your deepest convictions? That question tormented me daily as I realized there was no resolution within the religious system I had always trusted.

Every Islamic authority figure supported father’s decision.

Every text I consulted within Islamic scholarship provided justifications for royal exceptions to normal married laws.

Yet my conscience continued screaming that something was fundamentally wrong with forcing siblings to marry against their will.

The loneliness of this spiritual crisis was overwhelming.

I could not discuss my doubts with anyone except sister and she was struggling with the same questions without finding answers.

We were both isolated within our own family surrounded by people who insisted we should be grateful for this honor of preserving our bloodline purity.

The weight of pretending to accept something that revolted us was crushing our spirits day by day.

I found myself envying common people who could marry for love, choose their own paths and follow their consciences without betraying family honor.

My royal privilege, which had always seemed like Allah’s blessing, now felt like a curse that trapped me in an impossible situation.

The wealth, power, and prestige that surrounded meant nothing when they came at the cost of my moral integrity and my sister’s happiness.

Sleep became nearly impossible as the wedding date approached.

I would spend entire nights pacing my chambers, my mind racing between anger at the situation, guilt over my doubts about Islam, fear of the future, and desperate hope that somehow Allah would intervene to save us.

But Allah remained silent despite my increasingly frantic prayers.

In my most honest moments, I began wondering if the God I had worshiped my entire life actually existed at all.

If Allah was truly all powerful and allloving, why would he allow faithful servants to be trapped in such moral agony? Why would he permit religious leaders to support something that felt so fundamentally wrong? The possibility that my entire worldview might be mistaken was terrifying.

But I could no longer ignore the evidence of my own experience.

I had exhausted every human option available to me within the Islamic system.

Father remained unmoved by my appeals.

Religious authorities supported his decision unanimously.

Sister and I were powerless to resist without bringing shame upon our entire family.

I realized I had reached the point of complete desperation where my only remaining choice was to cry out to whatever divine power might actually exist and be willing to help us escape this nightmare.

The night of August 15th, 2019 marked the most desperate moment of my entire existence.

The wedding was scheduled for October 7th, less than 2 months away, and every avenue of escape had been closed.

I had spent weeks in spiritual agony, finding no answers within Islam, no support from religious authorities, and no mercy from father.

As I lay on my bed that evening, staring at the ornate ceiling of my chamber, I felt utterly abandoned by the God I had served faithfully for 24 years.

In that moment of complete desperation, something unprecedented occurred.

Despite being raised to view Christianity as a corrupted version of true religion, despite being taught that Gizus was merely a prophet, inferior to Muhammad, I found myself remembering fragments from my secret research.

Christians claimed that Jesus answered prayers, that he cared about individual suffering, that he could intervene in impossible situations.

My Islamic training insisted this was blasphemy, but my broken heart was willing to try anything.

I slipped from my bed onto the cold marble floor of my chamber.

For the first time in my life, I prepared to pray to someone other than Allah.

My hands trembled as I knelt down, not facing Mecca, as I had done thousands of times before, but simply looking upward toward whatever divine presence might be listening.

The words that came from my mouth surprised even me with their desperate honesty.

“Jesus,” I whispered into the darkness.

“I do not know if you are real or if you can hear me.

I have been taught that you are just a prophet.

But people say you answer prayers and care about human suffering.

If you truly are the son of God as Christians claim, please help my sister and me.

We are trapped in a situation that feels completely wrong and our own God seems silent.

If you have power to change impossible circumstances, please show us a way out of this nightmare.

The moment I finished speaking those words, something extraordinary happened that I struggled to describe adequately even now.

A supernatural peace flooded my chamber, so tangible I could almost feel it settling on my shoulders like a warm blanket.

The anxiety and terror that had consumed me for weeks suddenly lifted, replaced by a sense of safety and love I had never experienced before.

It was not the distant austere presence I had sometimes felt during Islamic prayers, but something intimate and personal, as though someone who truly cared about me was present in the room.

Then Jesus appeared before me, not in my imagination or in a dream, but as a real visible presence standing in my chamber.

His appearance was nothing like the European paintings I had seen online during my research.

His skin was darker, his hair was black, and his features were Middle Eastern.

Yet there was an unmistakable divine radiance emanating from him.

His eyes held a depth of love and compassion that penetrated straight to my soul.

Hazar.

He spoke my name with a voice that was both gentle and powerful.

I have heard your cry and I will deliver you and your sister from this situation.

But first, you must understand who I truly am.

I am not merely a prophet as you have been taught.

I am the way, the truth, and the life.

I am the son of the living God.

And I died on a cross to save you from your sins and give you eternal life.

As Jesus spoke, knowledge flooded my mind that I had never learned from any book or teacher.

I understood suddenly that God’s true nature was love.

not the harsh sovereignty I had been taught to fear.

I comprehended that Jesus had taken the punishment for all human wrongdoing, including mine, so that anyone who trusted in him could have a personal relationship with the creator of the universe.

Most importantly, I realized that God’s will was never to force people into situations that violated their conscience and dignity.

The marriage your father has arranged is not my will, Jesus continued.

I came to set captives free, not to bind them in chains of human tradition.

Your sister is also calling out to me tonight from her chamber.

Will you both trust me to save you from this situation and give you new life? Without hesitation, I responded, “Yes, Lord Jesus.

I believe you are who you say you are, and I trust you to save us.

” The instant I spoke those words, I felt something fundamental shift within my spirit.

The guilt, fear, and spiritual confusion that had tormented me for weeks completely disappeared.

In their place came an overwhelming sense of joy, peace, and belonging.

I was no longer just Azar the Saudi prince.

I was a beloved child of the living God.

Jesus smiled at me with such warmth that tears began streaming down my face.

Go to your sister now, he instructed.

You will find that she has also encountered me tonight.

Together you will walk in the freedom I have provided.

Then his presence faded, leaving me alone in my chamber, but no longer alone in the universe.

I ran through the palace corridors to sister’s room, my heart pounding with excitement rather than fear for the first time in weeks.

I found her sitting on her bed, her face glowing with the same supernatural peace I was experiencing.

The moment she saw me, she began crying tears of joy.

Adhar, she exclaimed, Jesus came to me tonight.

He told me he would save us both from the marriage and give us new life if we trusted in him.

I said yes and everything inside me has changed.

We embraced as siblings who had just been rescued from drowning.

Overwhelmed with gratitude for the miracle we had both experienced.

We spent the remainder of that night sharing our individual encounters with Jesus.

Marveling at how he had visited us simultaneously without either of us knowing the other was praying.

We both understood immediately that we were no longer Muslims but followers of Christ.

The transformation in our hearts was complete and undeniable.

Look inside your own heart right now.

Can you imagine the relief and joy of discovering that the God of the universe actually cared about your personal suffering and was willing to intervene supernaturally to save you.

That was our experience.

That incredible night when Jesus rescued us both from an impossible situation and gave us hope for the future.

The morning after our supernatural encounter with Jesus, sister and I awoke with hearts full of peace.

Despite knowing we still face the same impossible external circumstances, we met secretly in the garden before dawn prayers.

Both of us glowing with the inner transformation we had experienced.

As we shared more details of our individual encounters with Christ, we marveled at how perfectly orchestrated his intervention had been.

We also realized we needed to be extremely careful about revealing our new faith as conversion from Islam was punishable by death in our kingdom.

For the next three days, we walked through palace life maintaining our normal routines while internally we were completely different people.

During Islamic prayer times, we went through the motions while secretly praying to Jesus in our hearts.

We attended family meals and wedding planning meetings with calm spirits, trusting that Christ would provide the escape he had promised.

The supernatural peace he had given us was so profound that even father commented on our improved attitudes interpreting our serenity as acceptance of his decision.

On August 19th, just 4 days after our salvation experience, the miraculous provision Jesus had promised began to unfold.

Father received urgant news that a major diplomatic crisis had erupted between our kingdom and a neighboring country over oil pipeline rights.

The dispute threatened to escalate into economic warfare, requiring father’s immediate and complete attention.

Within hours, our palace was flooded with government ministers, military advisers, and international negotiators.

The wedding preparations that had consumed everyone’s energy suddenly became a secondary concern.

As father focused on managing the crisis, he postponed all non-essential activities, including detailed wedding planning while he worked to resolve the international dispute.

For the first time since his original announcement, father was too distracted to monitor our daily activities or enforce the rigid schedule of wedding preparations.

Sister and I recognized this distraction as the beginning of God’s deliverance, exactly as Jesus had promised.

We began secretly researching escape routes and safe countries where we could seek asylum as Christian converts through encrypted internet searches.

We discovered that several western nations provided protection for people fleeing religious persecution.

We also found underground networks that helped Muslims who had converted Christianity escape from countries where such conversion was illegal.

The diplomatic crisis intensified over the following week, consuming more of father’s time and attention.

Emergency meetings continued around the clock as our kingdom’s economic interests hung in the balance.

The international media focused on the dispute, creating additional pressure for quick resolution.

In this chaos, sister and I found opportunities to make contact with Christian organizations that specialized in helping converts escape persecution through secure communications.

We connected with a pastor in Gordon who had extensive experience helping Saudi converts reach safety.

He explained the process of seeking asylum and connected us with a network of believers who could provide assistance during our escape.

The coordination required was complex, but every detail seemed to fall into place with supernatural timing that could only be explained as divine intervention.

On September 2nd, exactly 18 days after our encounter with Jesus, the perfect opportunity for escape presented itself, father announced he would be traveling to an international summit to negotiate the oil dispute directly with foreign leaders.

He planned to be gone for at least a week, taking most of his security detail and senior advisors with him.

For the first time in our lives, sister and I would be in the palace with minimal supervision.

The escape plan required us to leave during the early morning hours and the palace guard shifts changed.

Our Christian contacts had arranged for a vehicle to meet us at a predetermined location outside the palace grounds.

From there, we would be driven to a safe house in Gordon, then flown to a country where we could formally request asylum as religious refugees.

We could only take essential documents and minimal personal belongings without arousing suspicion.

On the night before our planned escape, September 5th, we met one final time in the garden where we had shared so many conversations throughout our lives.

We prayed together as Christians for the first time, asking Jesus to protect us during our journey and thanking him for the freedom he was providing.

The actual escape unfolded exactly as planned with a precision that demonstrated God’s hand guiding every detail.

We slipped out of the palace at 4:30 a.

m.

during the guard shift change, walking calmly to the predetermined meeting point where a simple sedan waited with a Christian driver.

As we drove away from the only home we had ever known, I felt simultaneously heartbroken at leaving our family and exhilarated at the freedom Christ was giving us.

The journey to Gordon took six hours through desert roads with our driver taking careful routes to avoid major checkpoints.

to cross the border using emergency travel documents that had been mysteriously expedited through father’s diplomatic contacts.

Another example of how God was using even father’s political activities to facilitate our escape.

When we finally reached the safe house in Aman, we fell to our knees in thanksgiving for the miraculous deliverance we had experienced.

Within days of our escape, father discovered our absence and realized we had fled permanently.

His rage was immense, but the ongoing diplomatic crisis prevented him from devoting full resources to tracking us down.

By the time he could focus on our situation, we had already been granted temporary protected status by the government of our asylum country.

Our escape cost us everything we had known.

Our family, our wealth, our social position, and our cultural identity.

We became refugees with nothing but the clothes we wore and our new found faith in Jesus Christ.

Yet I can honestly say that trading a palace for freedom was the best exchange I have ever made.

The peace and joy of knowing Christ personally was worth more than all the royal privileges we had abandoned.

Have you ever had to choose between earthly security and spiritual freedom? That choice defined our lives as we left behind temporal wealth to gain eternal treasure.

The God who had spoken creation into existence had personally intervened to save two young people trapped in an impossible situation, demonstrating that nothing is too difficult for him to accomplish.

Our new life as followers of Jesus Christ began in a tiny apartment in a country I cannot name for security reasons.

After living in a palace with hundreds of rooms, sister and I now shared a two-bedroom flat with secondhand furniture and peeling paint on the walls.

Yet, I can honestly tell you that those humble quarters felt more like home than our luxurious chambers ever had.

The presence of Christ filled that simple space with a peace and joy that no amount of royal splendor had ever provided.

3 weeks after our arrival, we were both baptized in a small church by the pastor who had helped coordinate our escape.

As the water covered my head, I felt the final remnants of my old identity as a Muslim prince wash away forever.

When I emerged from that baptismal pool, I was truly born again as a son of the living God.

Sister wept with joy during her baptism, finally free from the fear and oppression that had haunted her final weeks in Saudi Arabia.

The Christian community that welcomed us was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

These believers, many of them former Muslims themselves, embraced us with genuine love rather than the formal respect we had received in the palace.

They shared their modest resources with us, taught us practical skills for independent living, and patiently answered our countless questions about following Christ.

For the first time in our lives, we experience authentic relationships based on love rather than royal protocol.

Learning to live without servants, drivers, and endless wealth required significant adjustment.

I had to learn basic tasks like cooking, cleaning, and managing finances that had always been handled by palace staff.

sister mastered grocery shopping, laundry, and household maintenance with the same determination she had once applied to royal etiquette.

These simple activities brought us unexpected satisfaction as we discovered the dignity of honest work and self-reliance.

Within 6 months of our escape, God began revealing his purpose for our dramatic rescue.

a Christian ministry that specialized in reaching Muslims invited us to share our testimony at a conference for former Muslim believers.

Standing before that audience and telling our story of divine intervention felt like the most important moment of my life.

When I described how Jesus had personally appeared to save us from an impossible situation, many people in the audience began weeping and praising God.

That first speaking engagement opened doors to a ministry I never could have imagined during my palace days.

Churches, conferences, and Christian organizations began inviting us to share how Christ had transformed our lives.

Each time we told our story, we witnessed God using our testimony to encourage believers and draw Muslims to consider the claims of Jesus.

Sister developed her own powerful ministry, particularly reaching Muslim women trapped in oppressive situations.

The persecution we faced for our conversion was real and ongoing.

Father publicly disowned us and declared that we had brought dishonor upon our family name.

Death threats arrived regularly through various channels, forcing us to change addresses multiple times and live with constant security precautions.

Several family members cut off all contact with us.

treating us as though we had died.

The pain of losing our earthly family was immense.

Yet, the family of God provided comfort and support that sustained us through these trials.

Our ministry grew as we gained experience sharing the gospel with Muslim audiences around the world.

We learned to speak at universities, interfaith dialogues, and evangelistic events with increasing confidence in God’s ability to use our testimony.

Sister established a safe house ministry for Muslim women who had converted to Christianity and needed protection from honor violence.

I focused on training pastors and missionaries in effective approaches to Muslim evangelism.

The joy we discovered in serving Christ was beyond anything I had known as a prince surrounded by luxury.

Every person who came to face in Jesus through our testimony felt like a precious gift from God.

We watch former Muslims experience the same freedom and transformation that had revolutionized our own lives.

Young people trapped in arranged marriages gears found hope through our story.

Families torn apart by religious differences discovered reconciliation through the love of Christ.

After 3 years of ministry, we received the most incredible news possible.

Our younger brother who had remained in Saudi Arabia sent a secret message indicating that he too was questioning Islam and wanted to learn about our faith in Jesus.

Through encrypted communications, we were able to share the gospel with him and witness his conversion to Christianity.

Within a year, he had also escaped from Saudi Arabia and joined our ministry.

The ripple effects of our rescue continue expanding even today.

Through our ministry, hundreds of Muslims have come to face in Christ.

Several of these new believers have started their own outreach programs in their home countries.

Sisters Safe House has provided protection for over 60 women fleeing religious persecution.

The ministry we never planned has become a living testament to God’s ability to transform tragedy into triumph.

I am asking you just as a brother would to consider the miracle you have heard tonight.

The same Jesus who personally intervened to save sister and me from an impossible situation is available to rescue you from whatever chains may be binding your life.

Whether you are trapped by family expectations, religious traditions, personal fears or any other form of bondage, Christ has the power to set you completely free.

The wealth power and prestige I possessed as a Saudi prince meant nothing compared to the riches I have found in knowing Jesus personally.

The palace that once seemed like paradise became a prison.

While this humble life of serving Christ has brought fulfillment beyond my wildest dreams.

Every day I wake up grateful that God loved us enough to orchestrate our miraculous escape and transformation.

Today, sister and I continue traveling the world, sharing how Jesus rescued us from a forced marriage and gave us purpose beyond anything we had imagined.

Our former identity as Saudi royalty opens doors to share the gospel in places where other Christians cannot reach.

God has used our background, privilege, and our dramatic conversion to create unique opportunities for ministry that serve his kingdom perfectly.

No situation is too impossible for God to redeem.

The same divine power that parted the Red Sea, raised Jesus from the dead and rescued two young people from an arranged marriage is available to transform your life today.

Will you let Jesus rescue you from whatever is holding you captive and give you the freedom and purpose he has planned for your life? From Saudi prince to servant of the King of Kings, I can testify that following Christ has been the greatest adventure and deepest joy of my existence.

And I have never been more free.