My name is Omar.

I’m 34 years old and I was born a Saudi prince in the royal palace of Riyad.

In December 2018, my family forced me into the most horrifying situation imaginable.

But that’s when Jesus Christ saved my life.

Let me tell you how the son of God rescued me from hell on earth.

I need to take you back to understand who I was before Jesus found me.

My full name is Omar Ibn Abdulaziz al-Saud and I was born into one of the most powerful branches of the Saudi royal family.

My father was third in line for regional governance of the eastern province which meant I lived a life most people could never imagine.

Our palace in Riyad sprawled across 50 acres with golden domes that caught the desert sun and marble floors so polished you could see your reflection.

I had my own wing with 12 rooms, including a private library filled with Islamic texts and a prayer room that faced perfectly toward Mecca.

From the moment I could walk, my life was structured around Islam.

Not just any Islam, but the strictest Wahhabi interpretation that governed our kingdom.

I was awakened every morning at 4:30 by my personal attendant for fajgera prayer.

Before I even brushed my teeth, I was on my prayer mat, reciting verses I had memorized since childhood.

My tutors were the most respected Islamic scholars in the kingdom.

They taught me classical Arabic so I could read the Quran in its original form.

And by age 12, I had memorized all 114 chapters.

Ask yourself this question.

Have you ever been so sure of your faith that you couldn’t imagine being wrong? That was me.

I lived and breathed Islam with a devotion that impressed even the most rigid religious authorities.

Every aspect of my day revolved around Islamic law.

I prayed five times daily without fail, fasted during Ramadan with genuine enthusiasm, and gave zakat charity according to precise calculations my adviserss provided.

When other royal children were playing video games or watching movies, I was studying hadith collections and debating Islamic Jewish prudence with visiting clerics.

My reputation as the most devout prince in our generation spread throughout the kingdom.

At age 16, I began leading Friday prayers at our family mosque, delivering sermons that drew hundreds of worshippers.

The Imam would introduce me as a shining example of Islamic youth, someone who proved that wealth and power didn’t have to corrupt a pure heart.

I believed every word of praise they gave me.

I thought I was earning Allah’s favor with every prayer, every charitable act, every moment of religious study.

The palace itself reinforced this religious atmosphere.

50 servants attended to our family’s needs, but even they were chosen based on their Islamic devotion.

Our head chef prepared meals according to the strictest halal requirements.

Our gardeners maintained beautiful courtyards where I would often sit and recite Quranic verses, believing that Allah heard every word with special attention because of my royal status.

My private tutor in Islamic law was a graduate of Alaza University in Egypt, considered one of the most prestigious Islamic institutions in the world.

But looking back now, I can see the cracks that were already forming in my faith.

Even though I refused to acknowledge them at the time, despite all my prayers and religious devotion, I felt an emptiness inside that I couldn’t explain.

After particularly intense prayer sessions, instead of feeling closer to Allah, I often felt more isolated and afraid.

The Islamic teachings about Allah’s wrath and judgment created a constant anxiety in my heart.

I was terrified of making mistakes that might anger this distant demanding deity I was supposed to love.

I witnessed corruption among the religious leaders who visited our palace regularly.

They would preach about Islamic purity and righteousness during formal gatherings.

But in private conversations with my father, they discussed bribes, political manipulations, and ways to bend religious law for personal gain.

These were the same men who had taught me that Islam was the perfect unchanging path to righteousness.

Seeing their hypocrisy planted seeds of doubt that I desperately tried to ignore.

The wealth disparity outside our palace walls also troubled me deeply.

Despite all our Islamic charity requirements and teachings about caring for the poor, I saw terrible poverty whenever our motorcade traveled through Riyad.

Families lived in cramped apartments while we had more rooms than we could use.

Children begged for food while our kitchens threw away elaborate meals daily.

When I asked my Islamic tutors about this contradiction, they gave me complex theological explanations about Allah’s will and divine testing that never really satisfied my heart.

As I grew older, the pressure to marry for political alliances intensified.

My father and uncles discussed potential brides like business transactions, evaluating how each marriage might strengthen our family’s power or create beneficial political connections.

The Islamic teachings I had learned about marriage being a sacred bond between souls seemed irrelevant in these calculated discussions.

Everything felt cold and strategic, lacking the love and spiritual connection that even my strict Islamic education suggested marriage should contain.

By my late 20s, I was leading charity events that distributed millions of realals to various Islamic causes, but the recipients often seemed to be the same wealthy religious organizations that already had plenty of resources.

Meanwhile, the truly desperate people I glimpsed during my travels remained largely unreached by our official charitable efforts.

The system felt broken, but questioning it meant questioning everything I had built my identity upon.

I thought I was the most devout Muslim in the kingdom.

But deep inside, something was missing.

Every religious milestone I achieved, every recognition I received from Islamic authorities, every sermon I preached only seemed to highlight the growing void in my soul.

I performed all the external requirements of Islam perfectly.

But I felt spiritually dead inside.

The Allah I was supposed to love felt distant, angry, and impossible to please no matter how hard I tried.

Something was missing.

But I buried those doubts deep, convincing myself that more devotion, more study, more religious performance would eventually fill the emptiness.

I had no idea that Jesus Christ was already preparing to rescue me from the religious prison I had built around my heart.

The call came on a cold November evening in 2018.

My personal assistant knocked on my study door with unusual urgency.

informing me that my father required my immediate presence in the formal council chamber.

This was not a casual family dinner invitation.

When the head of our household summoned someone to the council chamber, it meant serious business that could affect the entire family’s future.

I closed my Quranic commentary, performed a quick ablution, and made my way through the marble corridors toward what I thought would be another discussion about regional politics or business investments.

The council chamber felt different that night.

Heavy curtains blocked the windows, and the usual warmth from the ornate chandeliers seemed cold and threatening.

My father sat at the head of the long mahogany table, flanked by my three uncles and two elderly men I recognized as senior religious advisers from the kingdom’s highest Islamic courts.

Their faces carried an unusual somnity that made my stomach tighten with apprehension.

My mother sat quietly in the corner, her eyes red and swollen as if she had been crying for hours.

My father gestured for me to sit across from him, and the silence stretched uncomfortably as he studied my face with an expression I had never seen before.

When he finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute authority that had governed our family for generations.

He began with a lengthy recitation about our family’s sacred duty to preserve the purity of the royal bloodline and our responsibility to follow divine guidance even when it challenged human understanding.

Then came the words that shattered my world completely.

He announced that Allah had revealed through special divine inspiration that I must marry my mother to ensure the absolute purity of our family’s leadership and to prevent any outside influence from corrupting our holy mission.

My blood turned to ice and every fiber of my being screamed in absolute horror at what I was hearing.

The room began spinning as I struggled to process the unthinkable command that had just destroyed everything I thought I knew about righteousness and divine will.

The religious advisers immediately began providing elaborate theological justifications for this arrangement.

They quoted obscure interpretations of Islamic texts that I had never encountered in all my years of religious study.

They spoke about special revelations given to royal families throughout Islamic history and claimed that normal marriage laws did not apply to those chosen for divine leadership roles.

Their arguments became increasingly complex and convoluted as they tried to make the impossible sound religiously legitimate.

Look inside your own heart right now and imagine the terror I felt hearing these so-called religious experts twist sacred texts to justify something that violated every natural instinct God had placed within me.

They presented carefully selected passages from Islamic history about marriages within ruling families, completely distorting the context to support their predetermined conclusion.

When I attempted to challenge their interpretations with the Quranic passages about family relationships that I had memorized since childhood, they dismissed my concerns as spiritual immaturity and lack of understanding about Allah’s higher purposes.

The political reasoning became clear as the discussion continued.

Our family branch faced potential challenges from rival cousins who questioned our legitimacy to regional authority.

By keeping the bloodline absolutely pure through this union, they claimed we would eliminate any possibility of outside manipulation or divided loyalty.

My marriage to my mother would produce heirs with completely undiluted royal blood, ensuring our family’s political dominance for generations to come.

My uncles reinforced the command with barely veiled threats about the consequences of disobedience.

They reminded me of family members who had been exiled or worse for refusing to follow family directives.

They spoke about my comfortable life, my inheritance, my position in society, and how quickly all of that could disappear if I chose personal feelings over family duty.

The message was clear.

Compliance was not optional, and resistance would result in total destruction of everything I had ever known.

The wedding date was set for December 15th, 2018, giving me less than a month to accept what they called my divine destiny.

My mother’s compliance had already been secured through similar pressure tactics and religious manipulation.

She had been convinced that refusing this arrangement would result in eternal damnation for our entire family line.

The wedding preparations would begin immediately with the ceremony planned as a private family affair to avoid any outside interference or criticism.

Over the following weeks, I desperately searched for Islamic scholars who might oppose this arrangement.

But my family had already contacted every major religious authority in our network.

Those who had previously praised my devotion now avoided my calls or provided weak justifications about trusting family elders and submitting to Allah’s mysterious will.

The few who expressed private doubts were quickly silenced through various forms of pressure and influence.

The isolation became complete and suffocating.

Friends who had once sought my religious guidance now treated me with strange awkwardness, clearly having been warned against discussing the situation.

Palace servants continued their duties with professional efficiency, but I could see the discomfort in their eyes.

Even my personal bodyguards, who had protected me for years, seemed to be watching me more carefully, ensuring I didn’t attempt any escape from my approaching fate.

Sleep became impossible as December 15th approached.

I lay awake night after night, staring at the ornate ceiling of my bedroom while my mind raced through every possible escape route.

I considered fleeing the kingdom, but my passport was controlled by family security, and attempting to leave without permission would trigger immediate pursuit.

I thought about publicly denouncing the arrangement, but doing so would bring shame upon my mother and potentially result in severe punishment for both of us.

My prayers to Allah became increasingly desperate and confused.

How could the same deity I had served so faithfully for 34 years demand something that felt so fundamentally wrong? If this truly represented divine will, then everything I believed about righteousness and moral purity was meaningless.

The Islamic faith that had provided structure and meaning for my entire life was crumbling beneath the weight of this impossible command, leaving me spiritually lost and emotionally shattered.

I felt like I was drowning in a sea of religious lies, gasping for truth, but finding only manipulation and corruption wherever I turned for help.

December 14th, 2018, the night that changed my eternal destiny forever.

I can still remember every detail with crystal clarity because that was the night I discovered that Jesus Christ was real and that he had been waiting for me to call out to him all along.

The wedding preparations were complete outside my palace chambers.

I could hear servants arranging flowers in the courtyard below, setting up chairs for the small gathering of family members who would witness what they called my divine union the following morning.

My room felt like a prison cell despite its luxury.

The silk curtains, golden fixtures, and priceless Persian rugs that had once represented my privileged status now felt like decorations on a tomb.

I had not eaten for 3 days, and my hands shook uncontrollably whenever I tried to drink water.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the horror of what awaited me in less than 12 hours, and my stomach would lurch with such violence that I thought I might vomit.

I had spent weeks desperately searching for any escape route within the Islamic framework I had known my entire life.

I contacted every Islamic scholar whose number I could find, pleading for someone to explain why this felt so fundamentally wrong, if it truly represented Allah’s will.

The responses ranged from uncomfortable silence to elaborate theological gymnastics that left me more confused and desperate than before.

Some scholars simply refused to discuss the matter while others provided convoluted explanations about divine mysteries that human minds could not fully comprehend.

The breaking point came around midnight when I realized I had nowhere left to turn within the religious system that had shaped my entire worldview.

Every imam I trusted had either abandoned me or provided justifications that made no sense to my heart.

Every family member I had looked up to was either enforcing this arrangement or remaining silent while it destroyed my soul.

The Islamic faith that had promised me guidance and righteousness had led me to this moment of absolute moral darkness.

I had nowhere left to turn.

No imam would help me.

No family member would listen.

The entire religious and social structure of my world had aligned against my desperate cries for sanity and moral clarity.

In that moment of complete abandonment, something remarkable happened.

For the first time in my life, I remembered stories I had heard about Jesus Christ from foreign workers and diplomatic contacts over the years.

These were conversations I had quickly dismissed as blasphemous distractions from true Islamic faith.

But now they returned to my memory with startling clarity.

I remembered a Christian diplomat telling me that Jesus loved people unconditionally and that he answered prayers from anyone who called out to him in genuine need regardless of their religious background.

I had argued with him at the time about Islamic supremacy and the finality of Muhammad’s message, but his words about Jesus caring for desperate people echoed in my mind as I faced the most desperate moment of my life.

So I’m asking you, as someone who has been completely desperate, have you ever reached a point where only divine intervention could save you? Have you ever been so broken that you were willing to cry out to anyone who might hear your pain and respond with genuine love? That was exactly where I found myself on December 14th, 2018.

Surrounded by luxury, but spiritually starving, religiously educated, but morally lost, and completely abandoned by everyone I had trusted to guide me toward righteousness.

I fell to my knees on the prayer rug where I had performed thousands of Islamic prayers over the years.

But this time, instead of reciting memorized Arabic phrases toward Mecca, I spoke from my heart to Jesus Christ in my own words.

I had no idea how to pray to him properly.

I had never read the Christian Bible or attended their services.

All I knew was that my Islamic prayers to Allah had led me to this nightmare.

And I needed someone who truly cared about my soul to hear my desperate cry for help.

My prayer began simply and grew more intense as the words poured out of my broken heart.

Jesus, if you are real, if you are who Christians say you are, please save me from this horror.

I don’t know how to pray to you because I’ve been taught that you were just a prophet.

But I’m begging you to help me because no one else will listen.

Allah has either abandoned me or this terrible command is actually coming from him.

And I can’t accept that a truly righteous God would demand something that feels so evil and wrong.

The prayer became more personal and vulnerable as I continued pouring out my heart.

I confess that despite all my Islamic devotion and religious performance, I felt spiritually empty and disconnected from the divine love I desperately needed.

I admitted that the Islamic system had failed to provide the moral guidance I needed in this crisis and that I was willing to risk everything to find truth and righteousness, even if it meant abandoning the religion I had followed my entire life.

I don’t know how to pray to you correctly, but I’m begging you with everything in me.

Don’t let this abomination happen tomorrow.

If you are real, if you truly love people like Christians claim, please show me your power and your love.

I’ll give up my wealth, my status, my family, my entire life if necessary.

just please save me from this darkness and show me what real righteousness looks like.

The vulnerability of that prayer surprised even me.

I had never spoken so honestly to Allah during my years of Islamic devotion.

My conversations with Allah had always been formal, ritualistic, and focused on earning favor through proper performance rather than sharing genuine emotions and needs.

But with Jesus, I found myself speaking like a desperate child, crying out to a loving father who might actually care about his pain and confusion.

As I continued praying, something remarkable began happening in that room.

A peace I had never experienced before started flooding my heart, replacing the panic and terror that had consumed me for weeks.

The suffocating weight of despair began lifting from my chest.

And for the first time in months, I could breathe deeply without feeling like I was drowning in fear and hopelessness.

raw confession of spiritual emptiness despite Islamic devotion poured out as I realized that this prayer to Jesus felt more genuine and spiritually alive than any religious act I had ever performed.

The immediate response was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my 34 years of Islamic worship and devotion.

I awakened on December 15th, 2018 with a supernatural peace that defied every circumstance surrounding me.

For the first time in weeks, I had slept deeply and dreamlessly after that desperate prayer to Jesus Christ.

The anxiety that had been eating me alive for months was completely gone, replaced by an inexplicable strength and clarity that I knew had not come from within myself.

My hands were steady, my mind was clear, and my heart felt lighter than it had in years.

Despite the horror that was supposed to unfold that morning, the palace was already bustling with wedding preparations when my personal attendant knocked on my door at 6:00 in the morning.

I could hear servants arranging chairs in the courtyard below, and smell the elaborate breakfast being prepared in the kitchens.

The religious officials had arrived early to perform their final preparations for the ceremony that would seal my fate.

Everything was proceeding exactly as my family had planned.

But something fundamental had changed in the spiritual realm that they could not see or understand.

Around 7:30, urgent knocking interrupted my morning prayers of gratitude to Jesus.

My father’s chief adviser entered my chambers with an expression of shock and concern that immediately told me something significant had happened.

He announced that my mother had fallen critically ill during the night with a mysterious condition that had the palace medical staff completely baffled.

She had awakened around 3:00 in the morning with severe abdominal pain and high fever that came from nowhere and responded to no treatment they attempted.

The relief that flooded through my body was so overwhelming that I collapsed to my knees in gratitude right there in front of my father’s adviser.

He misinterpreted my reaction as grief and concern for my mother’s health.

But I knew exactly what had happened.

Jesus Christ had heard my desperate prayer and responded with miraculous intervention that saved both my mother and me from the abomination that was scheduled to occur in just a few hours.

My mother was rushed to the most advanced medical facility in Riyad, where teams of specialists ran every test imaginable, but could find no medical explanation for her sudden illness.

Her condition was serious enough to require immediate hospitalization, but not life-threatening enough to cause permanent harm.

The timing was absolutely perfect.

arriving just hours before a ceremony that would have destroyed both our souls and providing exactly the intervention needed to cancel the wedding without anyone losing face or admitting the arrangement was fundamentally wrong.

The wedding was postponed indefinitely as the family focused on my mother’s mysterious health crisis.

Religious officials who had been prepared to perform the ceremony that morning suddenly found themselves discussing divine signs and Allah’s will in completely different terms.

Some suggested that the illness was a test of our family’s faith while others wondered whether they had misunderstood the original divine revelation that had commanded this marriage in the first place.

The relief was so overwhelming that I spent the entire day alternating between tears of gratitude and moments of pure joy that I had never experienced during my years of Islamic devotion.

For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely loved and protected by a divine power that cared about my personal well-being rather than simply demanding religious performance and submission.

Jesus had heard my desperate cry and responded with exactly the miracle I needed at exactly the right moment.

That night, after visiting my mother in the hospital and ensuring she was receiving the best possible care, I experienced the most powerful spiritual encounter of my life.

I had fallen asleep around 11 in the evening, exhausted from the emotional intensity of the day, but filled with gratitude for the miraculous intervention that had saved us both from unspeakable horror.

The vision began with a brilliant light filling my bedroom, brighter than the desert sun, but somehow gentle and comforting rather than harsh or blinding.

In the center of that light, I saw a figure approaching me with arms extended in welcome and love.

I knew immediately, without any doubt or confusion, that I was seeing Jesus Christ himself.

His presence radiated perfect love, absolute truth, and complete acceptance that made every Islamic teaching I had ever received about divine love seemed cold and inadequate by comparison.

Jesus spoke to me in perfect Arabic, but his words seemed to bypass my ears and speak directly to my heart with clarity that no human language could achieve.

My son, I have heard your cry, and I have freed you from this darkness.

You have sought righteousness all your life, but you have been looking in the wrong place.

I am the way, the truth, and the life, and no one comes to the father except through me.

He showed me a vision of the cross that revealed the true nature of divine love in a way that shattered every misconception I had developed about God’s character through my Islamic upbringing.

This was not a distant angry deity demanding impossible perfection and threatening eternal punishment for every mistake.

This was perfect love incarnate, willingly suffering to bridge the gap between humanity’s brokenness and divine holiness, offering free forgiveness and eternal relationship to anyone who would accept his sacrifice.

Ask yourself this question.

When did God last speak directly to your heart with such clarity that you knew beyond any doubt that you were hearing divine truth? The revelation that flooded my mind during that vision was unlike anything I had ever experienced during years of Islamic study and prayer.

Jesus showed me that his love was nothing like the fear-based religion I had known my entire life.

The understanding that filled my mind went far beyond intellectual knowledge and penetrated my heart with transforming power.

I suddenly comprehended that Islam had been leading me away from the true God rather than toward him.

All my years of religious devotion, memorizing the Quran, performing prayers, and following Islamic law had actually created barriers between my soul and the divine love that Jesus was offering freely to anyone who would receive it.

Supernatural knowledge of an escape plan began forming in my mind as Jesus continued revealing truth that I had never encountered in any Islamic text or teaching.

I understood that my rescue from the forced marriage was only the beginning of a much greater deliverance from spiritual bondage that had held my soul captive for 34 years.

He was offering me complete freedom from the fear, guilt, and religious performance that had characterized my entire relationship with the divine.

The vision concluded with Jesus placing his hands on my head in blessing and commissioning, filling me with peace, purpose, and supernatural strength for the journey ahead.

I was still in the same palace surrounded by the same circumstances, but I was a completely different person with a completely new understanding of who God really was and what he desired from my life.

The weeks following my vision of Jesus Christ were filled with the most extraordinary series of divine coincidences I had ever witnessed.

Every obstacle that should have prevented my escape from Saudi Arabia began dissolving in ways that could only be explained as supernatural intervention.

My family was completely distracted by my mother’s ongoing mysterious illness, which continued just long enough to keep everyone focused on her medical care rather than monitoring my activities or pressuring me about the postponed wedding.

My passport, which had been controlled by family security for years, suddenly became available when my father decided I should travel to London to consult with additional medical specialists about my mother’s condition.

This was unprecedented freedom that I had never been granted before, especially during a period when the family was dealing with such a sensitive situation.

The timing was absolutely perfect, providing me with legitimate documentation to leave the kingdom without raising suspicion about my true intentions.

During this period of waiting and preparation, I began receiving messages through social media from someone I had never met before.

A Christian man named David, who worked with underground ministries, helping people escape religious persecution, somehow found my private accounts and began sharing Bible verses and testimonies about God’s protection for those seeking truth.

At first, I was terrified that these messages were some kind of trap set by Saudi intelligence services, but the timing and content were too perfectly aligned with my spiritual hunger to be anything other than divine appointment.

David’s messages arrived exactly when I needed encouragement most.

When doubt crept into my mind about whether Jesus had really appeared to me or whether I was losing my sanity under extreme stress, David would send a Bible verse about God confirming his word through supernatural signs.

When I worried about the practical aspects of leaving everything I had ever known, he shared testimonies of other Muslims who had found new life in Christ despite losing family, wealth, and social status.

The most remarkable provision came when David informed me that a Christian organization in London was prepared to help me claim asylum based on religious persecution.

This was information I could never have obtained on my own, and it arrived exactly when my father was arranging for me to travel to London for my mother’s medical consultations.

Every step was orchestrated by Jesus, and I just had to follow his lead through the doors.

He was opening supernaturally.

My secret conversion to Christianity deepened during these weeks as I began reading the Bible for the first time through digital copies that David shared with me through encrypted messaging apps.

The difference between Islamic texts and Christian scriptures was immediately apparent where the Quran emphasized submission through fear and detailed religious laws.

The Bible revealed a God who pursued relationship with humanity through love and grace.

Every page I read confirmed what Jesus had shown me during my vision about his true character.

January 15th, 2019 became my flight to freedom in every sense of the word.

The diplomatic trip to London proceeded exactly as my father had arranged, with royal protocol officers handling all travel arrangements and ensuring I had proper documentation for an extended stay while consulting with British medical specialists.

My family’s trust in my Islamic devotion worked in my favor as they never suspected I might use this opportunity for anything other than fulfilling my duty to help my mother recover.

The flight from Riyad to London felt like traveling from darkness into light, both literally and spiritually.

As the airplane lifted off from King Khaled International Airport, I felt physical weight lifting from my shoulders that I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.

For 34 years, I had lived under the oppressive spiritual atmosphere of Islamic law and family control.

But now I was flying toward the freedom that Jesus had promised during my vision.

David met me at Heathrow airport with careful discretion, identifying himself through pre-arranged signals that protected both of us from potential surveillance.

He looked nothing like what I had expected from our digital conversations.

A simple, humble man in his 50s with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor that immediately put me at ease despite the dangerous nature of what we were undertaking together.

His first words to me were a Bible verse about God’s people finding refuge under his wings, which brought tears to my eyes as I realized how literally that promise was being fulfilled.

The asylum process began immediately with legal representatives who specialized in religious persecution cases.

They had prepared extensively for my arrival, having documented the religious and cultural context that made my conversion to Christianity a death sentence in Saudi Arabia.

The legal framework for asylum was already in place.

But the spiritual reality of my transformation was what gave me courage to proceed despite the enormous personal cost I knew this decision would require.

Look inside your own heart right now and imagine the terror and exhilaration of burning every bridge to your old life in pursuit of truth and freedom.

That phone call to my family declaring my conversion to Christianity was the hardest thing I had ever done, but also the most liberating.

I called my father from a secure location in London and told him simply and clearly that I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior and would never return to Islam or to Saudi Arabia.

The response was immediate and devastating.

My father’s voice filled with rage and disbelief as he declared me dead to the family and threatened to use every resource at his disposal to track me down and restore family honor through my elimination.

Within hours, all my bank accounts were frozen, my inheritance was revoked, and my name was officially removed from all royal registries.

The threats extended beyond mere disownment to explicit promises of assassination if I was ever found.

But the joy in my heart made every sacrifice worth it.

The peace that Jesus had given me during my vision sustained me through every moment of grief and loss as I processed the reality that I would never see my family again or return to the only home I had ever known.

The material wealth and social status that had defined my identity for 34 years disappeared overnight.

But the spiritual riches I had gained through my relationship with Christ were infinitely more valuable than anything I had lost.

Every step was orchestrated by Jesus providing exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it.

confirming that my rescue from the forced marriage had been only the beginning of his plan to give me completely new life in his kingdom.

My baptism took place on a cold February morning in 2019 at a small church in East London that had become my sanctuary and new spiritual home.

As I stepped into those waters, I felt like I was being born again in the most literal sense possible.

The old Omar who had lived in fear under Islamic bondage was being buried forever.

And the new Omar who belonged to Jesus Christ was emerging with supernatural joy and freedom I never knew existed.

The pastor who baptized me spoke about dying to old things and rising to new life.

But I was living that transformation in ways that went far beyond symbolic representation.

The Christian community that welcomed me became my new family in ways that surpassed even the blood relationships I had lost in Saudi Arabia.

These believers loved me not because of my royal status or wealth, but because I was their brother in Christ.

They celebrated my conversion with genuine joy and provided practical support as I learned to navigate life without palace servants and unlimited financial resources.

For the first time in my life, I experienced unconditional love based on spiritual relationship rather than family obligation or social hierarchy.

Daily Bible study replaced the Islamic prayers that had structured my schedule for 34 years.

But the difference in spiritual nourishment was remarkable beyond description.

Where Quranic recitation had felt like religious duty performed to earn Allah’s favor, reading scripture felt like intimate conversation with a loving father who wanted me to understand his heart and character.

Every chapter revealed new aspects of God’s love that contradicted everything I had been taught about divine nature through Islamic theology.

The God I serve now loves me unconditionally without the fear, manipulation, and performance-based acceptance that characterized my entire Islamic experience.

Jesus never demands that I earn his love through religious rituals or threatens me with eternal punishment for imperfect devotion.

His grace covers every failure and mistake, offering forgiveness and restoration rather than condemnation and rejection.

The contrast between Islamic law and Christian grace transformed not only my understanding of God, but my entire approach to daily living and relationships.

Learning to live without palace servants and royal privileges required significant practical adjustments.

But these challenges were overshadowed by the spiritual freedom that made every sacrifice worthwhile.

I had to learn basic skills like grocery shopping, cooking simple meals, using public transportation, and managing a modest budget that most people take for granted.

My hands, which had never performed manual labor, developed calluses as I took jobs that helped support my basic needs while I pursued theological education.

But the joy in my heart made every sacrifice worth it because I finally understood what genuine spiritual fulfillment meant.

The emptiness that had haunted me throughout my years of Islamic devotion was completely filled by my relationship with Jesus Christ.

The anxiety and fear that had characterized my prayers to Allah were replaced by peace and confidence in God’s love.

The religious performance that had exhausted my soul was replaced by natural worship that flowed from gratitude rather than obligation.

Theological training became my new passion.

As I pursued, understanding of the faith that had saved my life and soul.

I enrolled in correspondence courses with Christian seminaries and spent countless hours studying systematic theology, church history, and biblical interpretation.

The depth and richness of Christian doctrine amazed me as I discovered philosophical and theological sophistication that far exceeded anything I had encountered in Islamic scholarship.

Every theological concept I studied reinforced the truth of what Jesus had revealed to me during my vision.

My ministry to other Muslims began organically as word spread through underground networks about the Saudi prince who had converted to Christianity and escaped the kingdom.

Muslims living in London began seeking me out quietly, sharing their own doubts about Islam and asking questions about my transformation.

These conversations often took place in coffee shops or private homes where we could speak freely without fear of being reported to Islamic community leaders who might punish them for questioning their faith.

Sharing my testimony with these seekers became one of my greatest joys as I watched the same spiritual hunger in their eyes that I had experienced during my own crisis of faith.

Many were immigrants from Islamic countries who had encountered Christianity in the West and found themselves drawn to the love and freedom they observed in Christian communities.

Others were secondgeneration Muslims who had been raised in Islamic families but felt disconnected from a religion that seemed to offer only rules and restrictions rather than relationship and spiritual life.

The death threats that followed my public conversion never stopped.

But my faith remained strong because I had experienced God’s protection and provision in ways that proved his power over any human threat.

Letters arrived regularly at the church threatening assassination if I continued preaching against Islam.

My photograph appeared on websites that called for my elimination as a traitor to the faith and an enemy of Allah.

Saudi intelligence services attempted to track my location through various means, forcing me to change residences multiple times and maintain careful security protocols.

But these threats only confirmed that I had made the right decision in following Jesus Christ.

The spiritual forces that had held me in bondage through Islam were fighting desperately to silence my testimony because they knew the power it carried to set other captives free.

Every threat reminded me that I was no longer serving the false deity of Islamic religion, but the true God who had demonstrated his love by rescuing me from the most impossible situation imaginable.

So I’m asking you just as someone who has been rescued would, what is Jesus calling you to be freed from today? My story proves that no situation is too dark or complicated for his light to penetrate and transform.

Whether you’re trapped in false religion, family pressure, cultural expectations, or personal bondage that seems impossible to break, Jesus Christ has the power to set you completely free if you will cry out to him with genuine desperation and faith.

If Jesus can save a Saudi prince from being forced to marry his mother, he can save you from whatever darkness is holding your soul captive.

The same supernatural power that intervened in my impossible situation is available to anyone who calls upon his name with sincere faith.

He’s not a distant angry deity demanding perfect performance, but a loving savior who gave his life to rescue people like you and me from every form of spiritual bondage and eternal death.

Jesus Christ is Lord and he’s waiting to rescue you, too.

Will you let him transform your life the way he transformed mine? The choice is yours.