Israel-Iran War: Jewish Family in Iran Goes Viral After Jesus saved them from death in Tehran
My name is David Rashidi. I am a 53-year-old Iranian Jew and I should be dead right now with my wife and children.
On March 7th, 2026, one week after Israeli and American forces killed Supreme Leader Ali Kam, I had a dream that saved my entire family from being burned alive.
I watched from above as a mob of 15 men surrounded my house in Thran.
I recognized their faces. These were my neighbors, men I had known for years. They were carrying gasoline cans and firebombs.
They poured fuel on my doors and windows while my wife, my children, and I slept inside completely unaware.
They were about to light the fire. And then Yeshua appeared. Jesus Christ, the Jewish Messiah, stepped between the mob and my house.
He raised his scarred hands and froze them in place. They could not move. They could not speak.
And then he turned to me in the dream and said my name, “David, wake up.
Take your family and leave now. Go to your brother’s house. Do not delay. If you stay, they will come.
I woke up terrified. It was 3:00 in the morning. I woke my wife and my son, and we fled our home in the middle of the night with almost nothing.
My brother thought I was insane. He did not believe in Yeshua. He mocked me for leaving our house because of a dream about Jesus.
But the next morning, the news came. Our house had been burned to the ground, everything destroyed.
If we had stayed, we would have died in that fire. My brother saw the proof with his own eyes, and he fell to his knees and surrendered his life to Yeshua that same day.
I am a Messianic Jew. I accepted Yeshua as my Messiah 7 years ago, and it cost me everything.
While my own Jewish community rejected me, they called me a traitor. And when the war started, when Kam was killed, Iranian Muslims blamed all Jews for Israel’s actions.
We became targets, hunted, threatened, trapped in our own homes. But Yeshua warned me in a dream.
He saved my family. He brought us out of Iran. And now I am in hiding recording this testimony because the world needs to know what is happening.
Iran is exploding. Jews are being murdered. Muslims are having dreams of Yeshua. The regime is crumbling.
And the greatest spiritual awakening in Iranian history is beginning right now. This is my story.
This is my warning. And what you are about to hear will change how you see the Middle East forever.
I was born in Thran in 1973. On 2 years before the sha was still in power and 4 years before the Islamic revolution that changed everything in Iran.
My family is part of the Jewish community in Iran, one of the oldest continuous Jewish populations in the entire world.
Our history in this land goes back more than 2,700 years to the time of the Babylonian exile when the Persians conquered Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem.
Many returned, but many also stayed in Persia. My ancestors were among those who stayed.
For nearly 3,000 years, Jews have lived in Iran through empires and kingdoms and revolutions.
Before 1979, there were nearly 100,000 Jews living across Iran. We had synagogues, schools, businesses, community centers.
We were a visible and active part of Iranian society. But after the Islamic Revolution, everything changed.
The new Islamic Republic made life difficult for religious minorities, especially Jews. Thousands fled to Israel, to America, to Europe.
Today, there are only about 8 to 10,000 Jews left in all of Iran. And yet, even with those small numbers, we remain the largest Jewish community in the Middle East outside of Israel itself.
That is our reality. We are few. We are watched, but we are still here.
I grew up in a traditional Jewish household in Tehran. My father was a merchant who sold textiles.
My mother kept a kosher home and made sure we observed Shabbat and the festivals.
I attended Jewish school as a child and learned Hebrew and Torah alongside Persian and the required Islamic studies that all Iranian students had to take.
I married my wife Lia when I was 25. She came from another Jewish family in Thran, a good family with deep roots in the community.
We built our life together in the Yusf Abbad district of Tehran, an area where many Jewish families lived because it was close to several synagogues.
We had three children. Our oldest daughter Shira was born in 1998. Our second daughter Tamar was born in 2000.
And our son Ariel was born in 2004. He is 22 years old now, the youngest of our children.
All three of them grew up in Tehran, attended Jewish schools when they were young, and learned to navigate the complicated reality of being Jewish in an Islamic country that often reminded us we were outsiders.
For most of my life, I was a faithful Jew. I prayed the traditional prayers.
I observed the commandments as best as I could in a country where kosher food was hard to find and where practicing our faith openly could bring trouble.
I fasted on yum kipur. I celebrated Passover and Sukkot and Hanukkah with my family.
I taught my children the Shea and the stories of our ancestors. I believed in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
I believed the Messiah would come one day, though I had no idea when or how.
I was doing what my father had done and what his father had done before him.
I was keeping the faith alive in a land that was not always friendly to us.
But something happened to me 7 years ago that changed everything. I encountered Yeshua. I met the Jewish Messiah and I realized that everything I had been waiting for had already come 2,000 years ago.
It started when a colleague of mine, another Jewish man who worked in import and export business began acting strangely.
He stopped coming to synagogue. He started talking about Yeshua of Nazareth, calling him the Messiah, saying he had risen from the dead and was alive.
I thought he had lost his mind. I thought maybe he had been bribed by Christian missionaries or was trying to get asylum somewhere by pretending to convert.
But he kept talking to me quietly, privately, showing me passages from the Tanakh, the Hebrew scriptures that he said pointed to Yeshua.
He showed me Isaiah 53 about the suffering servant who would be pierced for our transgressions.
He showed me Psalm 22 about the one whose hands and feet would be pierced.
He showed me Daniel 9 about the Messiah being cut off. I argued with him.
I told him he was misinterpreting the texts. I told him Christians had corrupted the meaning of these prophecies, but he would not stop.
And slowly something began to break open inside me. I started reading those passages on my own.
I started asking questions I had never allowed myself to ask before. What if the Messiah had already come?
What if we missed him? What if Yeshua really was who he claimed to be?