25,000 Iranians Watch LIVE as IRGC Commander Share His Testimony: “Jesus Will Bring Peace to Iran”

They told me I would lose everything if I followed Christ.

And in many ways I did, but what I gained is far greater.

My name is Colonel Arash Tagavi.

And that was me on the morning of September 15th, 2024.

I stood at the podium staring at over 10,000 Iranians packed into Mosala Grand Mosque complex with another 15,000 watching the live broadcast online.

As a decorated IRGC colonel, I was expected to give a speech defending Islam and condemning Christianity.

Instead, I gripped the microphone and said the words that would destroy my career and change Iran forever.

6 months ago, Jesus Christ appeared to me in my bedroom and called me by name.

Today, I stand before you to declare that he is the son of God and he will bring peace to Iran.

The crowd erupted.

Security forces froze in confusion.

And then the impossible happened.

From every section of that massive gathering, people started standing up and shouting, “I saw him, too.

Jesus appeared to me.

” What began as a regime propaganda event became the largest public confession of Christian faith in modern Iranian history.

This is my story of how one supernatural encounter with Jesus led to a testimony that shook an entire nation, went viral across the Middle East, and sparked a movement that the Islamic Republic cannot stop.

As mentioned earlier, my name is Colonel Arash Tagavi.

I am 45 years old, born in Thran, and I have dedicated my entire adult life to serving the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps or IRGC.

I am currently the commander of the IRGC Intelligence Unit 840, a position of high responsibility that allows me to oversee security operations throughout the province.

Before this, I served in active combat units for over 20 years, including deployments to Syria and Iraq, where I earned medals for bravery and leadership.

I am also a family man with a wife named Mariam and two teenage sons who I raised to believe in the values of the revolution and the glory of Iran.

For a long time, my life was considered perfect by society standards.

I had high rank, a respected job, and a stable family.

I lived in a secure house in a wealthy neighborhood and drove government vehicles to work every day.

I believed that my service to the country and my loyalty to the supreme leader was the most important thing in the world.

Growing up, my identity was deeply intertwined [music] with the military and religion.

My father was a famous besiege commander who died fighting in the Iran Iraq war when I was very young.

He was a hero to our neighborhood and his legacy was a heavy burden I carried everywhere I went.

My mother was a devout woman who taught me that the ultimate goal of our lives was to serve God and the country.

I followed that path obediently, joining the IRGC at the young age of 19 without ever questioning the system or its values.

I believed that I was doing the right thing and that my job was to protect the Islamic Republic from all enemies, both foreign and domestic.

Over the years, I climbed the ranks quickly because I was hardworking, disciplined, and loyal.

I became a strong and respected leader known for my strict enforcement of laws and my anti-western rhetoric.

But despite all of this external success, I suffered from a deep internal emptiness that no amount of promotion or praise could fill.

For a long time, I tried to fill this hole with hard work, praying five times a day and fasting during Ramadan.

However, no matter how much I tried, I could not shake the feeling that something was missing.

I felt like I was running on a treadmill that never ended and I was never getting anywhere.

I went to sleep every night exhausted, but woke up feeling completely unfulfilled.

I started to realize that I was living a life of performative religion that did not touch my heart at all.

Recently, the situation in Iran has become incredibly tense and difficult to manage.

The government is facing a crisis that does not appear on the news screens, but is very real in our daily lives.

There has been a sudden and massive movement of people converting to Christianity.

Thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands of Iranians, mostly Muslim converts, are now meeting in secret houses to worship Jesus.

These people come from all walks of life, including government officials, soldiers, and police officers.

They are not afraid of dying for their new faith.

And the police are completely unable to stop them because they have no fingerprints and no written records.

They worship in total secrecy because if they are caught they will be arrested, tortured or even executed.

The Supreme Leader and the religious leadership in Qu are extremely panicked about this phenomenon.

They see Christianity as a threat to the very foundation of the Islamic [clears throat] Republic because it challenges the idea that Islam is the only truth.

Because they cannot arrest these believers in public numbers without causing a massive uprising, they have decided to organize a countervent.

They want to show strength and unity to scare the converts back into hiding.

They invited all their supporters to gather at the Mosala mosque complex in Thran on this coming Friday.

They expect thousands of people to show up and loudly declare their loyalty to Islam and their rejection of Western influence.

They believe this will crush the spirit of the underground church.

The invitation came to my office and I was chosen to speak during this massive gathering.

This is a huge honor for me because it means the leadership trusts me to represent their views to the crowd.

I spent days preparing my speech, writing notes in my office, and practicing in front of a mirror.

I planned to talk about the importance of unity, the strength of the IRGC, and the dangers of foreign interference.

I had no idea that when I walked onto that stage, I would change the entire direction of my life and the history of our country forever.

I was walking blindly toward a moment that would shatter my old world.

I was scheduled to give a closing speech that would summarize the entire day and call for total obedience to the state.

I spent the night before the event awake thinking about the pressure of my position.

I knew that if I made a mistake, if I said the wrong words, my career would be over.

However, a small voice in my heart kept telling me that this gathering was more than just a political statement.

I felt that God was working in the situation in a way that I could not understand yet.

I realized that I was standing at a crossroads where I had to choose between my comfortable life and the truth that was starting to shine a light on my darkness.

On the morning of September 15th, I woke up with a knot in my stomach.

I drove to the Mossala complex with a heavy heart, thinking about the dangerous position I was putting myself in.

When I arrived, I was shocked by what I saw.

Security guards and police officers were struggling to manage the crowd because there were so many people.

There were cars parked everywhere and the streets were packed with civilians from all different classes and backgrounds.

People were sitting on the grass, standing on curbs, and spilling out onto the main highways, creating a massive sea of humanity.

I counted over 25,000 people standing in the heat, waiting for the speeches to begin.

It was the largest gathering of its kind I had ever seen in my life.

And the energy in the air was buzzing and electric.

I stood there with my brothers in uniform looking at the sea of faces and I felt a strange disconnect.

I looked at the posters of the Supreme Leader and listened to the religious chants.

But my mind was thinking about something completely different.

I remembered the conversations I had been having in secret with people who claimed to have seen visions of Jesus.

I remembered the stories of the man in white who appears in dreams to convert people.

I knew that this gathering was a trick by the government to hide the truth.

But I also knew that God had placed me here for a specific reason that I could not ignore.

The storm was gathering and I was standing at the center of it.

I grew up in a small house in the southern part of Thrron where the revolution was everything.

My father’s picture hung on our living room wall like a religious icon.

And every guest who visited our home would stop to pay their respects to his memory.

My mother would tell the story of his death over and over again.

How he charged into enemy fire to save his fellow soldiers.

How he died with the name of Allah on his lips.

How he became a shahid, a martyr for Islam.

She would cry every time she told the story.

And I would sit there as a young boy feeling the weight of his sacrifice pressing down on my shoulders.

I knew from a very young age that I had to live up to his legacy, that I had to become a soldier like him, that I had to prove myself worthy of carrying his name.

There was no other path for me.

My future was decided before I could even think for myself.

and I accepted it without question because that is what good sons do in our culture.

When I turned 19, I joined the IRGC with great enthusiasm and pride.

The training was brutal and intense, designed to break weak men and turn strong men into weapons for the state.

We woke up at 4 in the morning every day to pray and exercise.

And we spent our days learning combat tactics, weapons training, and ideological education.

The instructors drilled into our heads that we were the guardians of the Islamic Revolution, that we were soldiers of God, that we were chosen to protect Iran from the enemies who wanted to destroy us.

They taught us that America was the great Satan, that Israel was a cancer in the Middle East, and that anyone who opposed the Supreme Leader was a traitor who deserved death.

I absorbed all of this teaching like a sponge because I had no reason to doubt it.

Everyone around me believed the same things, and questioning the system was not even an option in my mind.

I graduated from basic training at the top of my class and was immediately assigned to an active combat unit that would deploy to conflict zones across the region.

My first deployment was to Syria in support of the Assad regime.

I was 22 years old, fresh out of advanced training and eager to prove myself in real combat.

The fighting was intense and chaotic, nothing like the clean simulations we practiced in training camps.

I saw men die in horrible ways, blown apart by rockets or burned alive in vehicle explosions.

I killed enemy fighters with my own hands and watched their bodies fall to the ground.

I learned to shut off my emotions and focus only on the mission because if I allowed myself to feel anything, I would have broken down completely.

My commanders praised me for my courage and my ability to stay calm under pressure.

They promoted me quickly and gave me leadership positions over other soldiers.

I felt proud of myself because I believed I was serving a righteous cause, defending the oppressed and fighting against Western imperialism.

I came home a hero in the eyes of my family and community and I wore my uniform with honor everywhere I went.

After Syria, I was sent to Iraq to fight against ISIS and support Shia militias in the region.

The war there was even more brutal than Syria because ISIS fighters had no fear of death and would attack with suicide bombs and waves of gunfire.

I participated in operations to retake cities that had been captured by the terrorists.

and I saw entire neighborhoods destroyed by the fighting.

I remember walking through the rubble of Mosul and seeing the bodies of civilians who had been caught in the crossfire, children and old people who had done nothing wrong but were killed anyway.

Because war does not care about innocence.

For the first time in my life, I started to feel a deep sadness and confusion about what I was doing.

I had been taught that we were the good guys, that we were protecting people and bringing justice to the world.

But when I looked at the destruction around me, I could not see any justice at all.

I saw only death and suffering on all sides.

And I started to wonder if God was really pleased with what we were doing in his name.

When I returned to Iran after my combat deployments, I was promoted to the rank of major and transferred to the intelligence division.

My new job was to monitor threats inside the country, including political dissident, separatist groups, and religious minorities who did not follow the official state ideology.

I was based in Tyrron and worked out of a secure office building near Evan Prison, the infamous facility where enemies of the state were held and interrogated.

My work involved reading intelligence reports, coordinating raids on suspected enemy cells and interrogating prisoners who had been arrested for crimes against the Islamic Republic.

I was good at my job because I had been trained to be suspicious of everyone and to see threats everywhere.

I climbed the ranks quickly and eventually became the commander of my own unit, unit 840, which gave me authority over hundreds of officers and access to classified information at the highest levels.

One of my main responsibilities in the intelligence division was to track and neutralize the growing Christian movement in Iran.

The government had been aware for several years that Islam was losing its grip on the population, especially among young people who were disillusioned with the corruption and hypocrisy of the religious leadership.

Many Iranians were secretly converting to Christianity after having supernatural experiences that they could not explain.

They would gather in small groups in private homes to read the Bible, sing worship songs, and pray together.

These meetings were illegal and dangerous because anyone caught attending them could be arrested and charged with apostasy which is punishable by death under Islamic law.

My job was to find these house churches, arrest the leaders and shut down the networks before they could spread any further.

I conducted dozens of raids over the years, breaking down doors in the middle of the night, dragging terrified believers out of their homes and sending them to prison for interrogation.

[clears throat] I remember one raid in particular that happened in the Saddya neighborhood in western Thran.

We had received a tip that a group of Christians was meeting in an apartment on the fourth floor of an old building.

We assembled a team of 18 officers in full tactical gear and arrived at the location just after midnight when we knew the meeting would be at its peak.

We climbed the stairs quietly and positioned ourselves outside the apartment door.

I gave the signal and one of my men used a battering ram to smash the door open.

We rushed inside with our weapons drawn, shouting orders for everyone to get on the ground.

What I saw inside that apartment shocked me in a way I was not prepared for.

There were about 20 people sitting in a circle on the floor, men and women of all ages, holding Bibles in their hands and singing softly.

When we burst in, they did not scream or try to run away.

They just looked at us with calm faces, and some of them even smiled.

I had raided many illegal gatherings before, including political meetings and drug operations, and the people always reacted with fear or anger.

But these Christians were different.

They were peaceful and almost happy, as if they had been expecting us and were not afraid of what would happen next.

We arrested everyone in the room and took them to Evan Prison for processing.

I personally interrogated several of them over the following days, trying to understand why they would risk their lives for a foreign religion that had nothing to do with Iranian culture or history.

I asked them why they abandoned Islam, the religion of their fathers and grandfathers, to follow a prophet who was not even Persian.

They all gave me similar answers.

They said they had been searching for truth their whole lives, praying to Allah and following all the rules of Islam, but they never felt any connection to God.

Then one night, Jesus appeared to them in a dream or vision, spoke their names, and told them that he loved them.

They said the experience was so powerful and real that they could not deny it, even if it meant losing their families, their jobs, or their lives.

They said Jesus gave them peace and joy that they had never known before.

And they would rather die than go back to their old lives without him.

One man I interrogated stood out to me more than the others.

His name was Cave Bahami and he was a former engineer who had worked for the government before his conversion.

He was in his 50s, calm and articulate and he answered all my questions without fear or hesitation.

I threatened him with execution if he did not give me the names of other Christians in his network, but he refused.

I told him that his wife and children would be arrested and punished if he did not cooperate.

But he said they were also believers and would consider it an honor to suffer for Jesus.

I became frustrated with him because nothing I said seemed to shake his confidence.

Finally, I asked him the question that had been bothering me since the raid.

I said, “Why are you people so different from everyone else I interrogate? Why do you act like you have already won even though you are sitting in a prison cell facing death?” Cave looked at me with kind eyes said something that pierced my heart like a knife.

He said, “Kernel Tagavi, we are different because we have met the one who loves us more than life itself.

” Once you experience that kind of love, nothing in this world can control you anymore.

Not fear, not pain, not even death.

You can take everything from us, but you cannot take away what Jesus has given us.

His words haunted me for weeks after that interrogation.

I tried to dismiss them as the ramblings of a brainwashed fanatic, but I could not get them out of my head.

I started to notice that my own life felt hollow and meaningless compared to the lives of these Christians I was persecuting.

I had everything the world said I should want.

power, respect, wealth, and a good family.

But I felt empty inside.

I prayed five times a day like a good Muslim, but my prayers felt like empty words bouncing off the ceiling.

I fasted during Ramadan and gave money to charity.

But none of it brought me any peace or satisfaction.

I was performing all the rituals of Islam perfectly, but my heart was completely dead.

I realized that I was living a lie, pretending to be faithful while secretly drowning in spiritual emptiness.

I started to wonder if maybe these Christians had found something real that I was missing, something that all my religious duties and military achievements could never give me.

The questions planted themselves deep in my mind.

And no matter how hard I tried to ignore them, they kept growing stronger every single day.

The emptiness inside me became unbearable after my conversation with Cave Baharami.

I could not stop thinking about what he said about meeting someone who loved him more than life itself.

I had never experienced that kind of love in my entire existence.

My father died before I could know him.

My mother loved me, but in a strict and demanding way.

And my wife Miriam loved me as a beautiful spouse.

But our relationship was based more on obligation than deep affection.

I had spent my whole life trying to earn love and approval through my achievements and service.

But I never felt truly satisfied or accepted.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Islam had taught me to see God as a distant master who demanded obedience and threatened punishment.

I was taught that Allah might forgive me if I did enough good works.

But I could never be certain of his love or my salvation.

This uncertainty created a constant fear in my heart that no amount of prayer or fasting could remove.

I was tired of living in fear and exhausted from trying to be good enough for a god who seemed impossible to please.

One night about 3 weeks after the interrogation with Cave, I could not sleep at all.

I lay in bed next to Mariam, staring at the ceiling and feeling like the walls were closing in on me.

The questions that had been growing in my mind became so loud that I felt like I was going to explode if I did not find answers soon.

At around 2:00 in the morning, I got up quietly so I would not wake my wife and I went to my private study at the back of our house.

I locked the door behind me and sat down in the darkness, feeling completely alone and desperate.

I had never done anything like this before.

But something inside me broke that night and I could not hold back anymore.

I started speaking out loud into the empty room, not in Arabic like the formal prayers I had memorized, but in Farsy, using my own simple words like I was talking to a real person.

I said, [clears throat] “God, if you are really there and if you actually care about me, I need you to show me the truth.

I have followed Islam my whole life because everyone told me it was the right path.

But I feel nothing.

I am empty and lost and I do not know what to do anymore.

” If Jesus is real like these Christians say, if he really appears to people and speaks to them, then I am asking you to show me.

I cannot keep living like this.

I felt foolish talking to the air like that.

But I was too desperate to care about how it looked.

I sat there in silence for a long time, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.

The room stayed dark and quiet, and I heard nothing except the sound of my own breathing.

After about an hour, I gave up and went back to bed, feeling even more hopeless than before.

I thought maybe I was just losing my mind, that the stress of my job and the weight of my secret doubts were driving me crazy.

I fell asleep sometime before dawn, exhausted and defeated.

But three nights later, everything changed in a way I could never have imagined or prepared for.

It was a Thursday night, and I had gone to bed early because I was tired from a long day of work.

I fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

But sometime in the middle of the night, I woke up suddenly with my heart pounding in my chest.

I opened my eyes and realized that something was very wrong.

The room was filled with a strange light that did not come from any lamp or window.

It was a pure white light that seemed to glow from everywhere at once.

Bright, but not harsh, warm, but not hot.

I sat up in bed and looked around, trying to understand what was happening.

Standing at the foot of my bed was a figure that took my breath away.

It was a man dressed in a brilliant white robe that seemed to shine with its own light.

His face was so radiant that I could not look directly at it, like trying to stare at the sun.

The presence that came from him was overwhelming and powerful, filling the entire room with an energy I had never felt before.

I should have been terrified, but instead I felt a strange mixture of fear and peace at the same time.

My whole body started trembling, and I could not move or speak.

I knew without anyone telling me that this was not a normal dream or hallucination.

This was real in a way that was more real than anything I had ever experienced in my waking life.

The figure did not move or speak at first, but I could feel his eyes looking at me with an intensity that went straight through to my soul.

It felt like he could see everything about me, every thought I had ever had, every sin I had ever committed, every secret I had ever hidden.

I expected to feel condemned or judged, but instead I felt something completely unexpected.

I felt loved.

The figure spoke and his voice was unlike anything I had ever heard.

It was gentle but powerful, kind but authoritative and it seemed to come from inside my own heart as much as from outside.

He spoke in perfect Farsy which shocked me because I had always imagined that if God spoke it would be in Arabic like the Quran.

He said my name Arash and the way he said it made me start crying immediately.

It was not just my name.

It was like he was calling me home.

Like he had known me forever and had been waiting for this moment.

He continued speaking and said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.

I have loved you with an everlasting love and I have been waiting for you to call out to me.

You have searched for meaning in religion and duty.

But you will never find rest for your soul until you come to me.

I felt my heart breaking open as he spoke these words.

Everything I had built my life on.

All my achievements and titles and service to the revolution suddenly felt like worthless garbage compared to the presence of this person standing in front of me.

I fell out of bed onto my knees on the floor and I could not stop the tears from pouring down my face.

I do not know how long I knelt there on the floor weeping.

Time seemed to stop completely and nothing existed except me and this glowing figure and the overwhelming love that filled the room.

At some point, I found my voice and I whispered, “Who are you?” Even though deep in my heart, I already knew the answer.

The figure moved slightly closer and the light around him became even brighter.

He said, “I am Jesus, the son of God, and I died for your sins so that you could be forgiven and have eternal life.

You have tried to earn your way to heaven through your own efforts.

But salvation is a gift that I freely give to all who believe in me.

Come to me, Arash, and I will give you the peace you have been searching for your entire life.

” When he said those words, something broke inside me completely.

I thought about all the years I had spent trying to be good enough, trying to prove myself worthy, trying to earn God’s approval through my prayers and fasting and military service.

I thought about the emptiness and fear that had dominated my life.

the constant worry that I was not doing enough, that Allah was not pleased with me, that I would end up in hell despite all my efforts.

And here was Jesus telling me that none of that mattered, that he had already paid the price for my sins, that all I had to do was accept his gift.

I started speaking through my tears, saying things I did not even plan to say.

I said, “I believe you.

I believe you are real and that you are who you say you are.

I am sorry for everything I have done wrong, for all the people I have hurt, for living my whole life without knowing you.

Please forgive me and save me because I cannot save myself.

” The moment those words left my mouth, I felt something physical happen inside my chest.

It was like a heavy weight that I had been carrying for 45 years suddenly lifted off my shoulders and disappeared.

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 started rising up inside me.

A joy so deep and pure that I started laughing and crying at the same time.

I felt more alive in that moment than I had ever felt in my entire existence.

The presence of Jesus filled me with a peace that was beyond anything I could describe with words.

It was not just the absence of anxiety or fear.

It was a positive sense of rightness and completeness.

Like every broken piece of my soul had been put back together and healed.

The light in the room began to fade slowly and the figure of Jesus started to become less visible.

But before he disappeared completely, he spoke one more time.

He said, “Do not be afraid, Arash.

I will never leave you or forsake you.

I have called you for a purpose and when the time comes, you will know what to do.

Trust me and follow me, and I will guide your steps.

” Then the light was gone and my bedroom looked completely normal again.

Mariam was still sleeping peacefully beside me, completely unaware of what had just happened.

I looked at the clock and saw that it was 3:30 in the morning.

I sat on the edge of the bed, shaking and overwhelmed, trying to process what I had just experienced.

I knew without any doubt that Jesus had appeared to me, that he was real, and that my entire understanding of God and reality had been turned upside down in a single moment.

I was no longer a Muslim.

I was now a follower of Jesus Christ.

And I knew that this decision would cost me everything if anyone found out.

But I did not care about the cost anymore because I had found the treasure that was worth more than anything else in the world.

The next morning, I woke up wondering if the whole thing had been just a vivid dream.

But the peace in my heart told me it was real.

I felt different, lighter, more alive than I had felt in years.

I went through my normal morning routine, getting dressed in my uniform and preparing to go to work.

But everything looked different to me now.

I looked at my IRGC medals hanging on the wall and felt nothing but sadness for the years I had wasted serving a system built on lies.

I looked at my wife and sons eating breakfast and felt a deep grief that I could not share with them what had happened to me because they would never understand.

I knew I had to keep this secret hidden for now because revealing it would destroy my family and end my life.

But I also knew that I could not keep it hidden forever.

Jesus had appeared to me for a reason and eventually I would have to speak the truth no matter what it cost me.

For now I went to work like normal.

But inside, I was a completely different person, transformed by an encounter with the living God, who loved me enough to reach down into my darkness and pull me into his light.

The days following my encounter with Jesus were the strangest and most difficult of my entire life.

I had to continue living as Colonel Arash Tagavi, loyal IRGC commander, devoted Muslim, and respected member of the regime.

I went to work every morning in my uniform, attended security briefings, gave orders to my subordinates, and filed reports about threats to the Islamic Republic.

But inside, everything had changed completely.

I was no longer the man everyone thought I was.

I was a secret follower of Jesus, living a double life in one of the most dangerous places in the world for Christians.

Every time I had to participate in Friday prayers at the mosque or listen to speeches condemning Western influence and Christianity, I felt like a fraud and a liar.

But I also knew that revealing my new faith would be suicide.

Not just for me, but for my entire family.

So, I kept quiet, smiled when I was supposed to smile, nodded when I was supposed to agree, and died a little inside every single day.

I desperately needed to talk to someone who would understand what I was going through.

But I had no idea how to find other believers without exposing myself.

I remembered Cava Baharami, [clears throat] the engineer I had interrogated weeks before, and I wondered if he was still in Evan prison.

I used my security clearance to check the prison records and discovered that he had been released 2 weeks earlier after his family paid a large bribe to certain officials.

The charges against him were reduced and he was sent home with a warning not to participate in any more illegal religious activities.

I found his home address in the file and made a decision that was extremely risky.

I would go to his house and tell him what had happened to me.

I knew this could be a trap that he might report me to the authorities thinking I was testing him.

But I had no other options.

I needed guidance from someone who had walked this path before me.

someone who understood the cost of following Jesus in Iran.

3 days after my vision, [clears throat] I drove to Cave’s neighborhood in an unmarked car without telling anyone where I was going.

His house was a small, modest building in a middle-class area of Tehran, the kind of place where people minded their own business and did not ask too many questions.

I parked down the street and watched the house for a while to make sure no one was following me or surveilling the location.

When I was confident it was safe, I walked up to the door and knocked.

A woman answered, probably CA’s wife, and her face went pale when she saw my IRGC uniform.

I could see the fear in her eyes, and I immediately felt guilty for scaring her.

I said quickly, “Please do not be afraid.

I am not here to arrest anyone.

I just need to speak with Ka privately.

” She hesitated for a moment, then called her husband to the door.

When Kva saw me standing there, his expression changed from fear to confusion to something like understanding.

He invited me inside without saying a word, and we went to a small sitting room at the back of the house where we could talk privately.

I sat down across from Cave and looked at him for a long moment, not knowing how to begin.

Finally, I just said it plainly.

Three nights ago, Jesus appeared to me in my bedroom.

He spoke to me in Farsy and told me he loved me and that he died for my sins.

I gave my life to him [clears throat] and now I do not know what to do.

I am still working for the IRGC.

I am still pretending to be a Muslim.

But inside I am completely changed.

I need help because I cannot do this alone.

Cave stared at me in shock, his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting to hear these words from the man who had interrogated and threatened him just weeks earlier.

Then slowly, a huge smile spread across his face, and tears started running down his cheeks.

He stood up and embraced me like a brother, saying over and over, “Praise God.

Praise Jesus.

This is a miracle.

” I knew when I looked into your eyes during that interrogation that the Holy Spirit was working on your heart.

I have been praying for you every single day since I was released.

And now here you are.

Welcome to the family of God, my brother.

Cave called his wife into the room and told her what had happened.

She started crying too and hugged me, saying that their prayers had been answered.

They told me that they were part of an underground network of house churches across Tehran, small groups of believers who met in secret to worship Jesus, study the Bible, and support each other.

They said the movement was growing rapidly despite the persecution because Jesus was appearing to Iranians all over the country in dreams and visions just like he had appeared to me.

Cave explained that most of the new believers had never met a Christian or read a Bible before their encounter with Jesus.

They had supernatural experiences that were so powerful and undeniable that they could not ignore them.

And then they went searching for answers and found the underground church.

He told me that there were now estimated to be over 1 million Iranian Christians, most of them former Muslims, meeting in thousands of secret locations across the country.

The government knew about the movement and was trying desperately to stop it through arrests and intimidation, but they could not keep up because new believers were being added every single day.

Kybe told me that I needed to be baptized as a public declaration of my faith in Jesus, even if it had to be done in secret.

He said baptism was a command from Jesus himself and a symbol of dying to my old life and being raised to new life in Christ.

He also said I needed to start reading the Bible regularly so I could learn about Jesus and grow in my understanding of the Christian faith.

He pulled out a small New Testament printed in Farsy and handed it to me, telling me to hide it carefully and read it every day when I was alone.

He warned me that my position in the IRGC made me an extremely high value target for persecution if I was discovered.

He said the regime would consider my conversion to be a massive betrayal and propaganda victory for Christianity and they would do everything possible to either force me to recant publicly or execute me quietly.

He advised me to be very careful about who I told and to pray constantly for wisdom and protection.

But he also said that God had a purpose for placing me in such a high position.

And when the time was right, I would understand why Jesus had chosen to reveal himself to someone like me.

Two weeks later, Cave arranged for me to be baptized in secret.

He took me to a house church meeting in a basement in the Ekbatan neighborhood on the western side of Thrron.

There were about 15 other believers there, men and women of different ages, all of them former Muslims who had given their lives to Jesus.

They welcomed me with such genuine love and joy that I felt overwhelmed.

These were people who had lost everything for their faith, who lived under constant threat of arrest and persecution.

But they were the happiest and most peaceful people I had ever met.

We sang worship songs quietly so the neighbors would not hear.

And then Cavebe shared a teaching from the Bible about the importance of baptism.

When it was time for my baptism, they filled a large plastic container with water and placed it in the center of the room.

Cave asked me to confess my faith in front of the group.

And I said out loud for the first time, “I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God.

” that he died on the cross for my sins and that he rose from the dead.

I renounce Islam and give my whole life to Jesus as my Lord and Savior.

Then Cave baptized me in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

And when I came up out of the water, everyone started crying and praising God.

After my baptism, I became a regular member of that house church, attending meetings every Thursday night when I could get away without raising suspicion.

I learned so much during those meetings about the Bible, about prayer, about what it meant to live as a follower of Jesus.

I heard testimonies from other believers that were remarkably similar to my own experience.

A young woman told how Jesus had appeared to her in a dream when she was contemplating suicide.

and his love saved her life.

An older man shared how he had been a besiege member for 20 years enforcing Islamic law and persecuting Christians until Jesus appeared to him and asked why he was fighting against God.

A university student described how she had visions of Jesus while studying for her exams and she ended up abandoning her degree to join the underground church full-time.

Every story was different in its details, but the same in its essence.

Jesus was appearing to Iranians across the country, calling them by name, offering them love and forgiveness, and transforming their lives completely.

The movement was unstoppable because it was not being driven by human effort or organization.

It was a supernatural work of God that no government or military force could prevent.

During those weeks, I also started reading the New Testament that Cabba had given me.

I would wake up early before my family, lock myself in my study, and read for an hour before going to work.

The words of Jesus in the Gospels spoke directly to my heart in ways that the Quran never had.

Jesus talked about loving your enemies, forgiving those who hurt you, serving others instead of seeking power, and trusting God as a loving father instead of fearing him as a harsh judge.

Everything he taught was the opposite of what I had learned in Islam and in the IRGC.

I had been trained to see the world in terms of us versus them, believers versus infidels, friends of the revolution versus enemies of the state.

But Jesus taught a completely different way of thinking and living.

He said, “The greatest among you must be a servant, and that the kingdom of God belongs to the humble and poor in spirit, not to the powerful and proud.

” Reading his words was like water to a man dying of thirst.

I could not get enough of it.

But as much as I was growing in my faith, I was also growing more and more uncomfortable with the double life I was living.

Every day at work, I had to participate in operations targeting Christians, signing off on surveillance reports and arrest warrants for people who were now my brothers and sisters in Christ.

I felt sick every time I had to attend a meeting where we discussed strategies to crush the house church movement.

I wanted to sabotage the operations to warn the believers when raids were planned, but I knew that would expose me immediately and put everyone at risk.

I prayed constantly, asking Jesus to show me what to do, asking for wisdom and courage.

I felt like I was being torn in two and I did not know how much longer I could keep up the act.

Then one day everything became clear.

I received a phone call from my superior officer informing me that the government was organizing a massive public gathering to denounce Christianity and reaffirm Islamic values.

The event would be held at Mosala Grand Mosque complex and they expected tens of thousands of people to attend.

As a senior IRGC commander, I was being asked to give a speech during the event about loyalty to the revolution and the dangers of Western religious influence.

When I hung up the phone, I sat at my desk in shock.

This was the moment I had been dreading and expecting at the same time.

I knew immediately in my spirit that this was the opportunity Jesus had been preparing me for.

He had not saved me just so I could hide my faith forever and live in fear.

He had saved me so that I could be a witness.

So that I could use my platform and position to declare the truth to thousands of people.

I felt terrified but also strangely excited.

I called KA that evening and told him about the invitation to speak at the gathering.

He listened carefully and then said something I will never forget.

He said, “Brother Arash, this is not a coincidence.

God has placed you in this position for such a time as this.

You have access and authority that no other believer in Iran has right now.

If you speak the truth at that gathering, your testimony will reach millions of people and shake the foundations of this regime.

But you need to count the cost because once you do this, there is no going back.

You will lose everything.

Your job, your family, possibly your life.

You need to pray and make sure this is really what God is calling you to do.

I spent the next two weeks in intense prayer asking God for confirmation and courage.

I read the stories in the Bible about prophets and apostles who spoke truth to power and suffered for it.

I thought about Steven, the first Christian martyr who was stoned to death for preaching about Jesus.

I thought about Paul who was imprisoned and beaten multiple times but never stopped proclaiming the gospel.

I thought about Jesus himself who could have avoided the cross but chose to go through with it because he loved us that much.

And I realized that if I truly believed Jesus was worth everything, then I had to be willing to give up everything for him.

I made my decision.

I would go to that gathering and I would tell the truth no matter what happened afterward.

I shared my plan with the house church and they promised to pray for me and to spread the word among other believers to attend the event.

They said they would fill the crowd with secret followers of Jesus who would support me and testify alongside me when the moment came.

The gathering was scheduled for September 15th.

And as the date approached, I felt both terrified and completely at peace.

I knew I was walking into a storm that would destroy my old life completely.

But I also knew that Jesus was with me and that he would never leave me.

The time for hiding was over.

The time for boldness had come.

The morning of September 15th arrived faster than I expected.

I woke up before dawn with my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

I knew that by the end of this day, my entire life would be completely different.

Either I would be arrested and thrown into prison or I would be on the run as a fugitive or possibly I would be dead.

But I also knew with absolute certainty that I was doing exactly what Jesus had called me to do.

I got out of bed quietly without waking Mariam and went to my study to pray.

I knelt on the floor and talked to Jesus like I had learned to do over the past few months.

Not with formal religious words, but with simple, honest language from my heart.

I said, “Jesus, I am terrified of what is going to happen today.

But I trust you completely.

You saved me and changed my life.

And now I am ready to tell the whole world about it, no matter what it costs me.

Please give me courage and the right words to say.

Please protect the believers who will be in the crowd today.

And please use my testimony to open the eyes of thousands of people who are searching for truth just like I was.

After praying, I opened my Bible and read from the book of Acts where the apostles were arrested for preaching about Jesus.

The religious leaders threatened them and told them to stop speaking in the name of Jesus.

But Peter and John answered, “We cannot help speaking about what we have seen and heard.

” Those words gave me strength because I realized that I was in the same position as those early disciples.

I had seen Jesus with my own eyes.

I had heard his voice with my own ears and I had experienced his love in my own heart.

How could I possibly stay silent about something so real and so powerful? I knew that the religious and political leaders in Iran would be furious with me for what I was about to do.

But their anger did not matter anymore.

The only opinion that mattered was Jesus.

And I knew he was pleased with my decision to speak the truth publicly.

I got dressed in my full IRGC uniform with all my medals and insignia displayed prominently.

I wanted everyone to know exactly who I was and what position I held so that my testimony would carry maximum weight and credibility.

I left my house around noon and drove toward Mosala Grand Mosque complex in South Tyrron.

The closer I got to the location, the more crowded the streets became.

There were buses everywhere bringing people from different parts of the city and traffic was completely jammed in every direction.

Police officers and besieged militia were directing traffic and trying to manage the massive flow of people converging on the mosque complex.

When I finally arrived at the venue, I was shocked by what I saw.

The Mossala complex is one of the largest open air gathering spaces in Thran, capable of holding tens of thousands of people.

But even this enormous space was completely packed beyond capacity.

There were people everywhere, sitting on the ground, standing in clusters, filling every available inch of space.

Security officers were trying to control the crowd, but they looked overwhelmed and confused because far more people had shown up than anyone had anticipated.

I learned later that the official count was over 25,000 people, almost double what the organizers had expected.

I parked in the special area reserved for government officials and military commanders, and walked toward the main platform that had been set up for the speakers.

As I made my way through the crowd, I noticed something interesting.

Mixed in with the obvious regime supporters wearing green headbands and carrying pictures of the Supreme Leader, there were many ordinarylooking people who did not fit the typical profile of government loyalists.

There were young people in casual clothes, families with small children, older couples holding hands, and individuals standing alone with peaceful expressions on their faces.

I realized that these must be the believers that Cave and the house church networks had mobilized.

They had come in obedience to the secret messages that had been spread through encrypted apps and whispered conversations, trusting that something significant was going to happen today.

Seeing them scattered throughout the crowd gave me courage because I knew I was not alone.

I had brothers and sisters in Christ standing with me even though we could not acknowledge each other openly yet.

The event began at 2:00 in the afternoon with the usual formalities.

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