Muslims Watch LIVE as Saudi King’s Brother S…
I know this will sound strange to you, but very soon Saudi Arabia will be for Jizu.
My name is Prince Khaled bin Abdul Aziz al-Saud and on the morning of January 15th, 2024, I stood at that microphone in front of 10,000 Saudis packed into the Riad International Convention Center with another 5,000 watching the live broadcast online.
I was supposed to be in exile, banned from ever returning to Saudi Arabia.
I was supposed to be dead, having tried to end my own life on a bathroom floor in Jordan just 18 months earlier.
But instead, I was standing on that stage in the heart of the kingdom, gripping the microphone with both hands, about to say the words that would destroy what was left of my life and ignite a spiritual wildfire across the Arabian Peninsula.
Security guards were already moving toward me.
confusion spreading through the crowd.
I took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone with a voice that echoed across the massive auditorium.
My name is not Abdullah al-Rashid.
My real name is Prince Khaled bin Abdulaziz al-Sawud and I am the half-brother of your king.
I was exiled for trying to claim the throne.
I fell into depression and attempted suicide but Jesus Christ appeared to me when I was dying and saved my life.
And today I stand before you to declare that Jesus is the son of God and he will bring change to Saudi Arabia.
The room erupted.
Then something happened that no one expected.
From every section of that auditorium, people started standing up and shouting, “I saw him too.
Jesus appeared to me.
” What began as a business conference became the largest public confession of Christian faith in Saudi history.
This is my story of how a failed prince became a witness for the King of Kings and how one testimony sparked a movement that the Saudi government cannot stop.
I am 53 years old and I was born into one of the most powerful families on earth, the House of Sod, the royal family that has ruled the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for nearly a century.
My father was King Abdulaziz al-Saud, the founding monarch of modern Saudi Arabia, and I am the half-brother of the current king through a different mother.
I grew up in palaces surrounded by wealth beyond imagination, educated in the finest schools in Europe and America, trained in militarymies and groomed from childhood to be part of the ruling elite that controls one of the richest nations on the planet.
For most of my life, I had everything that money and power could buy.
I had servants, luxury cars, private jets, multiple residences in different countries, and access to the highest levels of government and business.
But despite all of this privilege and status, I was completely empty inside, searching for meaning in a life that looked perfect on the outside, but was hollow and broken on the inside.
Growing up as a prince in the Saudi royal family was both a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, I never had to worry about money or security or opportunity.
Everything was provided for me from the moment I was born.
I had the best tutors, the best healthcare, the best of everything.
On the other hand, I grew up in a world of intense competition, jealousy, and political maneuvering where everyone was constantly watching everyone else and trying to gain advantage.
The royal family is massive with thousands of princes and princesses all connected to the main line of succession and only a small number of us would ever have real power or influence.
My father had many wives during his lifetime which is allowed in Islam and each wife had her own children who formed their own faction within the family.
My mother was not the king’s first or most important wife, which meant that I was not in the direct line of succession to the throne, but I was close enough to power to taste it.
And that closeness made me hungry for more.
From a young age, I was taught that being a member of the royal family meant embodying the values of Islam and representing the kingdom to the world.
We had private Islamic tutors who taught us the Quran, Islamic law, and the traditions of our Wahhabi interpretation of Sunni Islam that dominates Saudi society.
I memorized large portions of the Quran in Arabic, performed the five daily prayers with discipline, fasted during Ramadan, gave zakat to charity, and made the pilgrimage to Mecca multiple times.
I did everything a good Muslim from a royal family was supposed to do.
But even as I went through all these religious rituals and obligations, I felt nothing in my heart.
It was all performance, all duty, all empty motions that never touched the deep loneliness and restlessness inside me.
I looked around at my family members and saw the same emptiness in many of them.
They filled their lives with business deals, construction projects, international travel, and luxurious lifestyles.
But I could see that they were just as lost in searching as I was.
Some turned to alcohol and drugs despite Islam’s prohibition.
Some had secret affairs and hidden vices, and some just became cynical and hardened, going through the motions of royal life without any real passion or purpose.
I did not want to become like them, but I did not know any other way to live.
When I was in my 20s, I was given an official position in the Ministry of Defense, where I worked on procurement contracts and military modernization projects.
It was a prestigious position that gave me access to billions of real in government spending and connections with defense contractors from around the world.
I was good at my job and earned respect from senior officials and military officers.
I also began building my own network of allies and supporters within the government, the military, and the tribal leadership across the kingdom.
I was ambitious and wanted to prove myself worthy of greater responsibility and authority.
As I moved through my 30s, I became more and more convinced that I deserved a higher position in the government, perhaps even a path to the throne itself.
I looked at my half-brother, who would eventually become king.
And I believed that I was smarter, more capable, and more deserving than he was.
This belief grew into an obsession that began to consume my thoughts and shape all my decisions.
I started having secret conversations with other princes, military commanders, and influential tribal leaders about the future direction of the kingdom and who should be leading it.
[snorts] The tension between me and my half-brother grew over the years as we both competed for influence and favor with the senior members of the royal family.
We were polite and respectful in public, but in private, we were rivals fighting for the same prize.
I began to believe that if I could build enough support among the right people, I could position myself as a serious alternative to the current line of succession.
I was not planning a violent coup or revolution, but rather a political maneuver within the family structure that would shift power in my direction.
I spent years cultivating relationships, making promises, offering favors, and building a coalition of people who would support my claim to greater authority.
I believed that I was being strategic and wise, that I was fighting for what was rightfully mine.
But looking back now, I can see that I was driven by pride, ambition, and a desperate need to prove my worth through power and status.
I thought that if I could just reach the throne, if I could just become king, then I would finally feel fulfilled and satisfied.
I thought that ultimate power would fill the emptiness inside me.
Everything changed when my half-brother consolidated his own power and became the crown prince, making him next in line to be king.
I realized that my window of opportunity was closing rapidly, and if I did not act soon, I would be permanently sidelined with no chance of ever reaching the position I believed I deserved.
So, I made the decision to accelerate my plans and push for a direct challenge to the succession order.
I held secret meetings with my allies, discussed strategies for winning over key members of the royal family, and prepared to make my move at the right moment.
But I underestimated how closely I was being watched.
The intelligence services in Saudi Arabia are extremely sophisticated and effective, and they had been monitoring my activities for months.
They knew about my meetings, my conversations, and my intentions.
They reported everything directly to my half-brother and the senior princes who controlled the family.
I did not realize that I had already lost before I even made my first public move.
The entire time I thought I was building a coalition to challenge for power.
I was actually digging my own grave.
One night in late 2019, I was summoned to a private meeting at one of the royal palaces in Riyad.
I thought it was going to be a routine discussion about government business, but when I arrived, I found myself facing my half brother along with several senior princes and security officials.
The atmosphere in the room was cold and hostile, and I knew immediately that something was very wrong.
My half brother did not waste time with pleasantries.
He told me directly that he knew about my attempts to build support for challenging the succession, that he had evidence of my meetings and conversations, and that I had committed an act of betrayal against the family and the kingdom.
He said that under normal circumstances, someone who conspired against the king or crown prince would be arrested, imprisoned, and possibly executed for treason.
But because I was family, because we shared the same father, he was willing to offer me a choice instead of immediate punishment.
He said, “I could either accept permanent exile from Saudi Arabia and live quietly abroad without ever attempting to return or involve myself in Saudi politics again, or I could refuse the offer and face formal charges that would result in my imprisonment and disgrace.
” I sat there in shock, unable to believe what was happening.
Everything I had worked for, everything I had planned was falling apart in front of my eyes.
I wanted to argue, to defend myself, to claim that I had done nothing wrong, but I could see in their faces that the decision had already been made and there was no room for negotiation.
If I refused exile, I would be destroyed completely.
So, I swallowed my pride and my anger and accepted the offer of exile, knowing that it was the only way to save my life and preserve some small measure of dignity.
Within 48 hours, I was on a private plane flying out of Saudi Arabia with only a few personal belongings and a limited amount of money that had not been frozen by the government.
I was told that I would be monitored wherever I went, and that if I ever tried to return to Saudi Arabia or speak publicly against the royal family, the agreement would be void, and I would face the full consequences of my actions, I was given permission to settle in Jordan, a neighboring country with close ties to Saudi Arabia, where I could live under supervision, but with some degree of freedom and privacy.
I arrived in Ammon, the capital of Jordan, feeling completely defeated and humiliated.
I had gone from being a powerful prince with access to billions of realals and connections to world leaders to being an exile living in a rented apartment with a modest allowance and no political power whatsoever.
The anger and resentment I felt toward my half-brother and the entire royal family was overwhelming.
I felt betrayed, cheated, and robbed of what I believed was rightfully mine.
I spent my days replaying everything in my mind, thinking about what I could have done differently, wondering if there was any way I could still regain my position and take revenge on those who had exiled me.
But as the weeks turned into months, the anger began to turn into something darker and more dangerous.
I fell into a deep depression that sucked all the energy and hope out of my life.
I stopped caring about my appearance, my health, or my future.
I stayed in my apartment for days at a time, refusing to see anyone or go outside.
I started drinking heavily despite my Islamic upbringing that forbade alcohol because the alcohol helped numb the pain and quiet the voices in my head that told me I was a failure and a disgrace.
I tried praying to Allah for help and guidance, but my prayers felt empty and pointless.
I fasted and read the Quran, hoping to find some comfort or direction, but the words felt like dust in my mouth.
I had followed Islam my entire life, done everything I was supposed to do, and it had given me nothing.
I felt abandoned by God, abandoned by my family, and abandoned by everyone who had once pretended to be my friend and ally.
The emptiness that had always been inside me grew into a massive black hole that threatened to swallow me completely.
I began having thoughts about ending my life, about just giving up and disappearing from a world that no longer had any place for me.
I thought about how easy it would be to just take all the pills in my medicine cabinet or drive my car off a cliff and end the pain forever.
I was standing on the edge of a precipice and I could feel myself getting ready to jump.
And it was at that exact moment when I had reached the absolute lowest point of my entire existence that Jesus found me.
and saved my life.
The months following my arrival in Almond were the darkest period of my entire life.
I woke up every morning in my small rented apartment feeling like there was a heavy stone pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The apartment was nothing like the palaces I’d grown up in.
It was a modest two-bedroom flat in a middle-ass neighborhood of Aman with basic furniture and plain white walls that felt like a prison cell.
I’d gone from having dozens of servants attending to my every need to living completely alone, cooking my own meals when I bothered to eat, and cleaning my own space, which I rarely did.
The contrast between my old life and my new reality was so extreme that sometimes I wondered if I was living in a nightmare that I would eventually wake up from.
But every morning when I opened my eyes and saw those plain white walls, I knew that this was my new reality and there was no escape from it.
I spent most of my days lying on the couch or in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events that had led to my exile over and over in my mind until I thought I would go insane from the repetition.
The anger I felt toward my half-brother consumed me like a fire that never went out.
I would imagine confronting him, telling him everything I thought about his treachery and his theft of what should have been mine.
I fantasized about going back to Saudi Arabia and rallying supporters to overthrow him and take the throne by force.
I spent hours researching news about the kingdom, reading everything I could find about political developments, watching videos of my half brother giving speeches and making public appearances.
Every time I saw his face, I felt a surge of rage so intense that I wanted to throw my phone or computer across the room.
I hated him with a hatred so deep and bitter that it poisoned every thought and feeling I had.
But beneath the anger was something even more painful, a sense of shame and humiliation that ate away at my soul like acid.
I had failed.
I had tried to claim power and position, and I had been crushed and thrown away like garbage.
Everyone who had once bowed to me and called me your highness now probably laughed at me behind my back, calling me a fool who had overreached and paid the price.
The thought of their mockery and contempt was almost unbearable.
I had always defined myself by my status and my position in the royal family.
I was Prince Khaled, son of the king, member of the house of Sud, a man of power and influence and importance.
But now I was nobody.
I had no title that meant anything.
No position that gave me authority.
No palace or wealth or servants to prove my worth.
I was just a middle-aged man living alone in a foreign country with nothing to show for my life except memories of a past that was gone forever.
The loss of identity was even more devastating than the loss of power.
I did not know who I was anymore.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a stranger, a hollow shell of the man I used to be.
I stopped shaving and let my beard grow wild and unckempt.
I stopped exercising and taking care of my body, and I gained weight from the combination of inactivity and junk food.
I stopped dressing well and just wore the same sweatpants and t-shirt for days at a time.
I looked like a homeless person.
And in a spiritual sense, that is exactly what I was.
I was homeless in my own soul, wandering through an empty wasteland with no direction and no hope.
The Islamic faith that I had practiced my entire life offered me no comfort or help during this crisis.
I tried to maintain my prayer schedule, getting up before dawn for fagger prayer and performing the ritual washing and prostrations that I had done thousands of times before.
But the prayers felt mechanical and dead, like I was just going through the motions without any real connection to God.
I would kneel on my prayer mat facing Mecca and recite the Arabic words that I had memorized as a child.
But they meant nothing to me.
I felt like I was talking to the ceiling, sending words into empty space where nobody was listening or caring.
I read the Quran looking for wisdom or guidance or some kind of answer to my suffering.
But the words seemed harsh and demanding, full of rules and threats and warnings about hellfire for those who disobeyed.
I did not find any love or compassion or hope in those pages.
I only found a distant and angry God who demanded perfect obedience and offered no guarantee of acceptance or salvation no matter how hard you tried.
The Islamic concept of God as a master and humans as slaves felt cold and impersonal to me.
And I began to resent the religion that had shaped my entire world view.
After about 6 months of this miserable existence, I started drinking alcohol regularly to numb the pain and quiet the thoughts that tormented me day and night.
I knew that alcohol was haram, forbidden in Islam, and that drinking it was a major sin that could send me to hell.
But I did not care anymore.
If God had abandoned me and left me in this pit of despair, then why should I follow his rules? I started with beer and wine, drinking in the evenings to help me sleep.
But soon I moved to stronger drinks like whiskey and vodka that could knock me out faster and keep me unconscious for longer periods.
I would drink until I passed out on the couch and then wake up in the middle of the night feeling sick and disoriented only to drink more to make the sickness go away.
I knew I was destroying myself.
But I welcomed the destruction because at least it was something I could control.
I could not control my exile or my lost power or my ruined reputation, but I could control how much poison I put into my body.
It gave me a twisted sense of agency in a life where I had no real choices left.
I also began using sleeping pills and anti-anxiety medications that I bought fromarmacies without proper prescriptions.
In Jordan, like in many Middle Eastern countries, you can buy almost any medication over the counter if you know which pharmacy to go to and have enough money to pay.
I would take the pills along with alcohol, which I knew was dangerous and could be fatal.
But again, I did not care.
Part of me was actively hoping that I would take too many pills one night and just not wake up.
It would look like an accident and I would be free from the pain and emptiness that filled every moment of my existence.
My family back in Saudi Arabia would probably be relieved to hear that I had died quietly in exile, solving the problem of what to do with me without them having to take any direct action.
I had no friends in Aman because I had isolated myself completely.
I did not trust anyone and did not want to explain my situation or hear their pity or judgment.
The few acquaintances I had made when I first arrived had stopped calling after I rejected their invitations multiple times.
I was completely alone in my self-imposed prison of bitterness and despair.
One night in March of 2023, after a particularly bad day where I had spent the entire time drinking and taking pills and cycling through rage and self-pity, I made a decision that I was going to end my life.
I was tired of fighting, tired of hurting, tired of existing in this meaningless void.
I went to my bathroom and gathered all the medications I had accumulated over the months, different types of pills in various bottles and packages.
I counted them out on the bathroom counter and calculated that if I took all of them together, there would be no chance of survival.
I filled a glass with vodka to wash down the pills, and I sat on the bathroom floor with my back against the bathtub, preparing to swallow the entire collection and drift off into permanent unconsciousness.
I remember feeling a strange sense of calm and relief knowing that in a few minutes the pain would be over forever.
I did not pray or ask God for forgiveness.
I felt that God had already made his position clear by allowing my life to fall apart so completely.
I picked [snorts] up the first handful of pills and was about to put them in my mouth when something stopped me.
It was not a voice or a vision, just a sudden and overwhelming feeling that I should not do this, that there was something important I needed to know before I made this final choice.
I sat there on the bathroom floor holding the pills in my hand, confused by this unexpected hesitation.
Where was this feeling coming from? Why did it matter if I died tonight or tomorrow or next week? My life was already over in every way that mattered.
But the feeling persisted and grew stronger, almost like invisible hands were holding my arm and preventing me from completing the act.
I started crying, not gentle tears, but violent sobs that shook my whole body.
I threw the pills across the bathroom and screamed at the ceiling, shouting at God with all the rage and desperation I had been holding inside.
I said, “If you are real, if you actually exist and care about anything, then show me why I should keep living.
Tell me what the point is.
Give me one reason not to end this nightmare right now,” I shouted until my voice was horsearse and my throat hurt.
And then I collapsed on the floor, exhausted and empty, and fell into a deep sleep right there on the cold bathroom tiles.
What happened next changed everything.
I do not know how long I had been unconscious.
maybe a few hours when I suddenly felt myself leaving my body.
It was the strangest sensation I have ever experienced, like I was being pulled upward out of my physical form and watching myself lying on the bathroom floor from above.
I could see my own body sprawled on the tiles, surrounded by scattered pills and the glass of vodka that had spilled across the floor.
I should have been terrified, but instead I felt curious and strangely peaceful.
I continued moving upward, passing through the ceiling of my apartment and rising higher and higher above the city of Aman.
I could see the lights of the city below me getting smaller and smaller until they looked like tiny stars scattered across the dark landscape.
Then everything went black for a moment.
And when I could see again, I was standing in a place that was completely different from anything I had ever seen before.
I was in what looked like a vast open space filled with light.
Not harsh bright light like the sun, but a soft golden light that seemed to come from everywhere at once and filled me with warmth and comfort.
In front of me stood a figure, a man dressed in a brilliant white robe that seemed to e glow with its own light.
His face was radiant and beautiful, but I could look at it without being blinded.
And when our eyes met, I felt a jolt of recognition, even though I had never seen this person before in my life.
His eyes were full of love.
Not the conditional love of family that can be withdrawn when you fail or disappoint them, but a pure unconditional love that saw everything about me and accepted me completely.
I knew without being told that this was not a dream or hallucination caused by the pills and alcohol.
This was real in a way that was more real than anything I had experienced in my physical life.
The figure spoke to me in perfect classical Arabic and his voice was both gentle and powerful at the same time.
He said, “Khalid, I know your pain and I know your anger and I know the emptiness that has consumed you your entire life.
You have spent all your years searching for meaning and power and status and recognition.
But those things can never satisfy the hunger in your soul.
I am the only one who can fill that emptiness because I created you and I know exactly what you need.
I fell to my knees in front of him overwhelmed by his presence and his words.
I asked him who he was even though something deep inside me already knew the answer.
He said, “I am Jesus, the son of God, the way and the truth and the life.
I came to earth to die for your sins so that you could be forgiven and reconciled to God.
Everything you were taught about me was incomplete.
I am not just a prophet or a good teacher.
I am God in human form.
And I rose from the dead to prove my power over sin and death.
And Khaled, I have been waiting for you to call out to me because I love you and I have plans for you that you cannot imagine.
When he said those words, something broke inside me completely.
All the pride and anger and bitterness that had defined my life for so long just shattered and fell away and I started weeping like a child.
I said, “I have wasted my entire life chasing things that do not matter.
I have hurt people and betrayed people and thought only about myself.
How can you love someone like me? How can you want anything to do with someone as broken and selfish as I am?” Jesus knelt down in front of me and placed his hands on my shoulders.
And the moment he touched me, I felt a wave of love and acceptance so powerful that it felt like being washed clean from the inside out.
He said, “That is exactly why I came to seek and save the lost, to heal the broken, to forgive the sinner.
You cannot earn my love, Khaled, because it is a gift I give freely to everyone who comes to me with an honest and humble heart.
Then Jesus did something that shook me to my core.
He lifted his hands and showed me his wrists and I could see the scars where nails had been driven through his flesh.
He said, “I took the punishment that you deserved, Khaled.
Every sin you have committed, every selfish thought, every act of pride and rebellion, I carried all of it on the cross and paid the price so that you could go free.
This is not about your performance or your family name or your achievements.
This is about my sacrifice and my love for you.
All you have to do is accept the gift I am offering and follow me.
I looked at those scars and I understood for the first time in my life what real love looked like.
It was not the conditional approval I had always sought from my family.
It was not the respect I had tried to earn through power and status.
It was someone willingly suffering and dying in my place so that I could have a relationship with God.
I said through my tears, “I believe you.
I accept your gift.
I want to follow you for the rest of my life.
Please forgive me and make me new because I cannot fix myself.
” The moment those words left my mouth, I felt something physical happen inside my chest, it was like a massive weight that I had been carrying for 43 years suddenly lifted off my shoulders and disappeared completely.
The emptiness that had haunted me since childhood, the void that I had tried to fill with power and status and alcohol and pills was suddenly filled with a presence that was warm and alive and real.
I felt clean for the first time in my life.
Like every dirty and shameful thing I had ever done was washed away and I was given a completely fresh start.
Joy began rising up inside me.
Not the temporary happiness that comes from external circumstances, but a deep unshakable joy that came from knowing I was loved and accepted and forgiven.
I started laughing and crying at the same time.
Overwhelmed by the transformation happening inside me.
Jesus smiled at me with such tenderness and warmth that I felt like I could stay in that moment forever and never want anything else.
But then his expression became more serious and he said, “Khaled, I have shown you mercy and given you new life, but this gift comes with a purpose and a mission that will cost you everything you have left.
” Jesus stood up and gestured for me to follow him.
We walked together through that space of golden light until we came to what looked like a window or an opening that showed scenes from the world below.
He said, “I want to show you something that will help you understand why I saved you and what I am calling you to do.
” The window began displaying images like a movie screen.
And I saw the country of Saudi Arabia from above, the desert landscape, the cities, the holy sites of Mecca and Medina.
Then the view zoomed in closer and I started seeing individual people, Saudis from every walk of life, rich and poor, young and old, religious scholars and businessmen and housewives and students.
Jesus said, “Look at my people, Khaled.
They are searching for truth and hungry for love.
But they have been taught a religion that keeps them in bondage to fear and uncertainty.
They pray five times a day, but never feel heard.
They follow all the rules but never feel accepted.
They make pilgrimages and give charity and fast and sacrifice.
But they have no assurance of salvation or peace with God.
They are sheep without a shepherd and my heart breaks for them.
As Jesus spoke, the scenes in the window changed and I began seeing something extraordinary.
I saw Saudis sleeping in their beds at night and then I saw figures of light appearing in their rooms.
I saw Jesus himself appearing to people in dreams and visions, speaking to them in Arabic, calling them by name, showing them his love.
I saw a young woman in Riad waking up from a dream with tears streaming down her face, whispering the name of Issa al-Masi.
I saw a businessman in Jedha having a vision during his afternoon prayer time where Jesus appeared and told him that he was the way to the father.
I saw a university student in Dhamum drawing pictures of the man in white who kept appearing in her dreams trying to understand who he was.
I saw an elderly imam in Medina reading the angel in secret after Jesus appeared to him and told him to search the scriptures.
Scene after scene played out before my eyes, showing me that Jesus was moving across Saudi Arabia in supernatural power, appearing to thousands of people who had never read the Bible or met a Christian, calling them to himself through dreams and visions that they could not deny or explain away.
Jesus said, “This is what I am doing in Saudi Arabia right now, and no government or religious authority can stop it because I am working in the spiritual realm where human power has no reach.
” The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia thinks it controls religion and keeps out foreign influence.
But I am not foreign and I am not controlled by any earthly power.
I’m coming to claim what is mine.
The hearts of Saudi people who were created to know me and love me.
And Khaled, I am showing you this because I have chosen you to be part of this movement.
You who were a prince in the house of Saud will become a voice for the kingdom of God.
You who tried to gain a throne through political maneuvering will testify about the true king who rules forever.
Your exile was not the end of your story, but the beginning of your real purpose.
Then the window showed me something even more shocking.
I saw myself standing on a stage in front of thousands of people in what looked like a large conference hall or event center in Riad.
I was speaking into a microphone and declaring the name of Jesus publicly.
And I could see people in the crowd standing up and responding, some with tears, some with shock, some with joy.
The scene was chaotic and powerful.
And I knew I was watching something that had not happened yet, but would happen in the future.
Jesus said, “I am sending you back to Saudi Arabia, Khaled, not to reclaim political power, but to proclaim spiritual truth.
You will stand before thousands of your countrymen and tell them what I have done for you.
You will testify about my love and my sacrifice and my resurrection.
Many will reject you and hate you for this, but many others will believe because your testimony will confirm what I’ve already been showing them in dreams and visions.
Your story will spread across the kingdom like fire, and it will accelerate the movement that I have already started.
This will cost you your safety, your remaining connections to your family, possibly your life.
But if you obey me and trust me, you will see me do things in Saudi Arabia that will shake the foundations of that nation and prove that I am the Lord over every kingdom and every power on earth.
Are you willing to accept this mission even though it will lead to suffering and persecution? I looked at Jesus and thought about what he was asking me to do.
Return to Saudi Arabia where I was exiled and forbidden to enter.
stand publicly and declare faith in Jesus Christ in a country where converting from Islam carries the death penalty.
Risk arrest, torture, and execution to testify about something that most Saudis had been taught was blasphemy and lies.
Everything in my natural mind screamed that this was insane and suicidal.
But when I looked into the eyes of Jesus and remembered what he had done for me, I knew there was only one possible answer.
I said, “Yes, I am willing.
I will do whatever you ask because you saved my life and gave me purpose when I had nothing left.
Use me however you want, and I will trust you with the results.
” Jesus smiled and placed his hand on my head like a blessing, he said.
Then I will prepare the way for you and give you the words to speak when the time comes.
Do not be afraid of what will happen because I will be with you every step of the way.
I will never leave you or forsake you.
Now I am sending you back to finish your time on earth and fulfill the calling I have given you.
But before you go, I want to show you one more thing so that you will have hope and courage for what is ahead.
The window changed again and I saw a vision of Saudi Arabia in what seemed like the future.
I saw churches meeting openly in cities across the kingdom.
I saw Saudis worshiping Jesus freely without fear or hiding.
I saw the religious police disbanded and the laws against conversion removed.
I saw transformation spreading through the culture as thousands upon thousands of people came to faith in Christ.
I saw a revival, awakening, and a complete spiritual revolution that changed the entire nation.
Jesus said, “This is what is coming to Saudi Arabia, not in a 100 years, but very soon in your lifetime.
I am going to take over this nation not through military conquest but through the power of love and truth.
The kingdom of darkness that has ruled Saudi Arabia for so long is going to be pushed back and defeated by the kingdom of light and you khaled will be one of the voices that announces this change and calls people to prepare for what I am about to do.
The vision faded and I felt myself being pulled back, leaving that place of light and presence and returning to my physical body.
The transition was jarring and disorienting, like being yanked from a beautiful dream into a harsh reality.
I opened my eyes and found myself lying on the bathroom floor of my apartment in Almond, exactly where I had collapsed hours before.
The scattered pills were still on the floor around me.
The spilled vodka had dried into a sticky puddle, and morning light was coming through the small bathroom window.
I sat up slowly, feeling [snorts] physically weak, but spiritually alive in a way I had never experienced before.
My body was shaking and my heart was racing, but I knew with absolute certainty that what I had experienced was not a hallucination or a dream caused by drugs and alcohol.
I had died or come very close to dying and Jesus had met me in that place between life and death and brought me back with a mission and a purpose.
I looked at my hands and my body and realized I was still alive, still breathing, still existing in this physical world.
But I was not the same person who had tried to end his life the night before.
That person was gone, dead and buried.
I had been born again, made new, transformed from the inside out by an encounter with the living God who loved me enough to die for me and raise me to new life.
I stood up on shaky legs and walked to the bathroom sink.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw a man who looked physically terrible, unshaven, puffy eyed, and unhealthy, but whose eyes held something new, a light and a hope that had not been there before.
I washed my face with cold water and started cleaning up the mess on the floor, gathering the pills, and throwing them in the trash, wiping up the dried alcohol, opening the window to let fresh air into the room.
As I cleaned, I talked to Jesus out loud, thanking him for saving my life, asking him to help me understand everything I had seen and heard, and promising him that I would obey whatever he called me to do, no matter how difficult or dangerous it seemed.
I felt his presence with me in that small bathroom in Ammon, just as real as he had been in the vision, and I knew that my life had changed forever.
I was no longer an exiled prince drowning in bitterness and despair.
I was a follower of Jesus Christ, loved and forgiven, and filled with purpose.
And I was ready to begin the journey that would take me back to Saudi Arabia to proclaim the truth that would set my people free.
The days following my encounter with Jesus were the strangest and most wonderful of my entire life.
I woke up each morning feeling like a completely different person living in the same broken body.
The depression that had crushed me for months was gone, replaced by a joy and peace that I could not explain to anyone even if I tried.
I stopped drinking alcohol immediately, pouring every bottle I had down the sink and watching the liquid disappear with a sense of relief and freedom.
I threw away all the pills except for basic medicines, clearing out the substances I had been using to numb my pain and escape reality.
I started taking care of myself again, eating proper meals, exercising, showering, and grooming regularly.
I looked in the mirror and saw life returning to my eyes and face.
But the biggest change was internal in my heart and mind
The anger and resentment toward my half-brother and the royal family had not disappeared completely, but it no longer controlled me.
When thoughts of revenge or bitterness came into my mind, I would pray and ask Jesus to help me forgive.
And slowly, I felt the poison draining out of my soul.
I realized that holding on to hatred was only hurting me and that Jesus was calling me to a higher way of living based on love and forgiveness rather than vengeance and pride.
But I had a major problem.
I knew nothing about Christianity except what I had been taught in Islam, which was that Jesus was a prophet but not divine, that he did not die on the cross, and that Christians had corrupted the true message he brought.
Everything I thought I knew was contradicted by what Jesus himself had told me during my vision.
I needed to learn the truth.
But I had no idea where to start.
I could not just walk into a church in Ammon and announce that I was a Saudi prince who had converted to Christianity because that would be incredibly dangerous.
Even though Jordan was more tolerant than Saudi Arabia, there were still risks involved in openly converting from Islam, especially for someone with my background and connections.
So, I started searching for information carefully and secretly.
I used my laptop to access websites about Christianity, reading articles, and watching videos about Jesus, the Bible, salvation, and what it meant to be a follower of Christ.
I was careful to use a VPN to hide my location and identity because I knew that Saudi intelligence was probably still monitoring my internet activity, even in exile.
I spent hours reading the New Testament online, starting with the Gospels that told the story of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection.
Every page confirmed what Jesus had shown me in a the vision and filled in details that helped me understand the bigger picture of God’s plan for humanity.
After about 2 weeks of intense private study, I knew I needed to find other believers who could teach me and help me grow in my new faith.
But how could I find Christians in Aman without exposing myself to danger? I decided to take a risk and visit one of the few churches in the city that conducted services in Arabic.
I chose a small evangelical church in a quiet neighborhood.
And I went on a Sunday morning wearing sunglasses and ordinary clothes so I would not stand out.
I slipped into the back row just as the service was starting.
And I sat there watching and listening as the congregation sang worship songs and the pastor preached from the Bible.
It was completely different from anything I had experienced in mosques.
The atmosphere was joyful and welcoming rather than formal and rigid.
People raised their hands while singing, smiled, and greeted each other warmly, and seemed genuinely happy to be there.
The pastor preached about the love of God and the grace of Jesus in a way that made my heart burn with recognition and gratitude.
When the service ended, I tried to leave quickly without talking to anyone, but a man about my age approached me at the door and introduced himself as Yousef.
He asked if I was new to the church, and I nodded nervously.
He invited me to stay for coffee in conversation, and something in his kind eyes made me trust him enough to accept.
Ysef took me to a small room where a group of men were gathered drinking coffee and talking.
He introduced me using a fake name I had prepared.
The men welcomed me warmly.
They asked if I was Jordanian, and I told them I was originally from the Gulf region, but living in Ammon now.
They did not press for details, which I appreciated.
We talked about general things for a while, and then Yousef asked me directly what had brought me to the church.
I hesitated, not sure how much to reveal, but then I felt a prompting in my spirit to be honest.
I said, “I am a former Muslim who recently gave my life to Jesus after he appeared to me in a vision, and I am trying to learn what it means to follow him.
” The room went completely silent, and all the men stared at me with wide eyes.
Then Yousef broke into a huge smile and said, “Brother, you are in the right place.
Half the people in this church are former Muslims.
We understand exactly what you are going through.
” He explained that this particular church had a ministry focused on reaching Muslims with the gospel and discipling converts who needed support and teaching.
He said they had to be very careful because of the risks involved.
But they had a network of believers who met in small groups for Bible study, prayer, and fellowship.
Yousef invited me to join one of these small groups that met weekly in homes rather than at the church building.
I agreed immediately, grateful to have found a community of people who understood my journey.
The following Thursday, I went to Yousef’s apartment where about eight other former Muslims gathered for their weekly meeting.
They shared their stories of how they had come to faith in Jesus, and I was amazed by the similarities.
Almost all of them had encountered Jesus through dreams or visions before they ever read the Bible or met a Christian.
One man said Jesus appeared to him while he was in prison.
Another woman said she saw Jesus during a time of severe illness.
and a young man described how Jesus called his name while he was performing Islamic prayers.
Their testimonies confirmed what Jesus had shown me in the vision about how he was appearing to Muslims across the Middle East and calling them to himself supernaturally.
I shared my own story with the group though I did not reveal my true identity as a Saudi prince because I was not sure if I could trust them with that information yet.
I just told them that Jesus had saved me from suicide and given me a new purpose.
They prayed for me and welcomed me as a brother and I felt like I had finally found a family that understood and accepted me.
Over the next several months, I attended that small group every week and soaked up teaching like a dry sponge absorbing water.
Yousef became my mentor and friend, patiently answering my endless questions about the Bible, Christian theology, prayer, and how to live as a follower of Jesus.
He gave me a printed copy of the Arabic Bible that I could study at home, and I read it constantly, sometimes for hours each day.
I learned about grace, the undeserved favor of God that could not be earned through works or performance.
I learned about the Trinity, how God exists as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect unity.
I learned about the cross and resurrection, the central events of history that made salvation possible for all humanity.
I learned about the kingdom of God, a spiritual reality that was breaking into the world through Jesus and his followers.
Everything I learned made me fall more in love with Jesus and more grateful for what he had done for me.
I also learned about the cost of following Jesus, especially for converts from Islam.
Yousef told me stories of believers who had been disowned by their families, lost their jobs, been beaten or imprisoned, or even killed for their faith.
He said that in many Muslim countries, including Saudi Arabia, converting to Christianity was considered apostasy punishable by death.
He warned me to be wise and careful about who I told and when I told them, because the consequences could be severe.
After 4 months of disciplehip and growth, Yousef said I was ready to be baptized.
He explained that baptism was an outward declaration of the inward change that had happened in my heart.
A public statement that I had died to my old life and been raised to new life in Christ.
We arranged for the baptism to take place in secret at a believer’s home that had a large bathtub.
About 15 people from the church community gathered to witness and celebrate.
Yousef asked me to share my testimony before the baptism and this time I felt led to tell them the complete truth about who I was.
I said my real name is Prince Khaled bin Abdulaziz al-Saud.
I am the half-brother of the king of Saudi Arabia and I was exiled from my country after trying to claim power that was not mine.
I fell into depression and tried to kill myself.
But Jesus met me during a near-death experience and saved my life.
He showed me that he is doing a mighty work in Saudi Arabia, appearing to thousands of Saudis in dreams and visions and calling them to faith.
And he told me that I will return to Saudi Arabia to testify about him publicly before thousands of people even though it will cost me everything.
The room erupted in gasps and exclamations.
Several people started crying and Ysef embraced me with tears running down his face.
He said, “Brother Khaled, now we understand why God brought you to us.
You are not here by accident.
God is preparing you for something extraordinary.
” They baptized me that night in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
And when I came up out of the water, I felt the Holy Spirit fall on me with power.
I started speaking in a language I did not know.
What I learned later was called speaking in tongues, a gift of the spirit.
