The strikes were a spectacular military success.

President Donald Trump and most Republicans are rallying behind what they’re calling Operation Midnight Hammer.

The president approved the strikes Friday night and gave his defense secretary final approval Saturday morning.

There are moments in history when ancient words seem to echo into our modern world with surprising clarity.

Words written thousands of years ago suddenly feel alive, relevant, and even urgent.

Many people today are beginning to ask a deep question.

Could events unfolding in the Middle East, especially in Iran, be connected to ancient biblical prophecy.

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The Bible is not just a collection of spiritual teachings.

It is also a record of history, nations, and the rise and fall of powerful empires.

Among these nations is a land known in ancient times as Persia, which today we call Iran.

The story of Persia in the Bible is both fascinating and deeply meaningful.

Before we continue, take a moment to subscribe to our channel so you don’t miss more content like this.

Now, let us walk together through the scriptures and uncover what the ancient prophets said about this powerful nation and why many believe those words are unfolding before our eyes today.

In the Bible, Iran is referred to as Persia and it played a very important role in God’s plan.

One of the most well-known figures connected to Persia is King Cyrus.

In the book of Isaiah written long before Cyrus was even born, we read these powerful words.

Thus says the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have held.

Isaiah 45:1.

This is remarkable because God calls Cyrus his anointed, a title often used for chosen servants.

Cyrus, the king of Persia, would later allow the Jewish people to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple.

This shows us something very important.

Persia was not just another nation.

It was used by God in a significant way.

[music] It was part of a divine plan.

But the story does not end there.

The prophet Daniel also speaks about Persia.

In one of his visions, he sees a ram with two horns representing the Mes and Persians.

The ram which you saw having the two horns.

They are the kings of Media and Persia.

Daniel 8:20.

This vision [music] reveals the rise of the Persian Empire as a powerful force in the ancient world.

Persia would become one of the greatest empires in history, stretching across vast lands and influencing countless people.

Yet, Daniel’s visions were not just about the past.

They also pointed to future events, giving us a glimpse into what would happen in the last days.

This is where things begin to connect with our present time.

In Daniel 10, we encounter something very unusual and deeply spiritual.

Daniel describes a struggle not between armies but between spiritual beings.

But the prince of the kingdom of Persia withtood me 21 days.

Daniel 10:13.

This prince is not a human ruler.

Many scholars believe this refers to a spiritual force influencing the nation of Persia.

It suggests that behind earthly kingdoms, there are unseen battles taking place.

This passage reminds us that what happens in nations like Iran may have both physical and spiritual dimensions.

It invites us to look deeper beyond politics and headlines into the spiritual realities that the Bible reveals.

One of the most discussed prophetic passages today is found in the book of Ezekiel chapter 38.

Here the prophet describes a future conflict involving many nations.

Among them, Persia is mentioned clearly.

Persia, Ethiopia, and Libya are with them.

Ezekiel 38:5.

This prophecy speaks of a coalition of nations that will rise in the last days.

Persia is listed as a key part of this alliance.

Today when we look at global events we see Iran forming alliances and playing a major role in international affairs.

For many believers this raises an important question.

Could this be connected to the prophecy of Ezekiel? It is important to approach this with wisdom and humility.

The Bible gives us signs, but it also calls us to be watchful and discerning.

In our modern world, Iran is often in the news.

Its political influence, military strength, and strategic position make it a key player in global events.

But what makes this even more interesting is how closely it aligns with what the Bible described thousands of years ago.

A nation once known as Persia, mentioned in ancient prophecy, is now once again at the center of world attention.

This does not mean we should jump to conclusions or make fearful predictions.

Instead, it should encourage us to reflect on the reliability of the Bible and the depth of its message.

The Bible teaches us that God is not only concerned with individuals, but also with nations.

Throughout scripture, we see God raising up kingdoms and bringing them down according to his purpose.

The most high rules in the kingdom of men, gives it to whomever he will.

Daniel 4:1 17.

This verse reminds us that history is not random.

There is a divine handguiding events even when we do not fully understand them.

Iran, like every nation, is part of this larger story.

When people hear about prophecy and end times, it can sometimes create fear.

But the message of the Bible is not meant to frighten us.

It is meant to prepare us and give us hope.

Jesus said, “When you see these things begin to happen, look up and lift up your heads because your redemption draws near.

” Luke 21 28.

Prophecy is not about panic.

It is about awareness.

It reminds us that God is in control and that his promises are true.

Even in times of uncertainty, we can have peace knowing that everything is unfolding according to his plan.

As we reflect on these ancient prophecies and modern events, the question becomes personal.

How should we respond? The Bible encourages us to stay watchful, to grow in faith, and to seek a deeper relationship with God.

It is not about trying to predict every detail of the future.

It is about being spiritually ready.

This means living with purpose, showing love to others, and holding on to the truth of God’s word.

But here is where the story takes a surprising and deeply powerful turn.

While Iran is often known for its strict religious system, something quiet but extraordinary is happening beneath the surface.

There are growing testimonies of Muslims in Iran encountering Jesus in dreams.

Reports from ministries working in the region say that many Iranians are reaching out after seeing Jesus in visions, asking questions, and seeking truth.

Some describe seeing a man in white, speaking to them with peace and authority.

Others say he appeared in a moment of deep pain or sickness and brought healing.

One testimony tells of a woman who began seeing Jesus in dreams repeatedly.

At first, she was confused and even afraid.

She tried to resist it by holding tighter to her former beliefs.

But something unexpected happened.

When she tried to speak, the name of Jesus kept coming out of her mouth.

Eventually, she gave her life to him and now shares her faith with others.

Another report explains that these experiences are becoming more common with many Iranians saying, “I saw Jesus in my dream.

I want to believe in him.

This may sound surprising, but it is not new.

Throughout the Bible, God has used dreams to speak to people.

In the book of Job, it says, “For God may speak in one way or in another, in a dream, in a vision of the night.

” Job 33:14-15.

Even in the New Testament, Joseph was guided through dreams and wise men were warned in dreams.

So when we hear that people in Iran are seeing Jesus in dreams, it fits a pattern we already see in scripture.

But these encounters are not easy.

Choosing to follow Jesus in Iran can come with a high cost.

It can mean rejection, persecution, and even danger.

Some reports say that practicing Christianity in Iran is risky and can lead to serious consequences.

And yet despite this, people are still choosing to follow him.

Why? Because something real has happened to them.

They are not just hearing about Jesus.

They believe they have encountered him.

The story of Iran, once known as Persia, is deeply woven into the pages of the Bible.

From the time of King Cyrus to the visions of Daniel and Ezekiel, this nation has played a significant role in biblical prophecy.

Today, as we see Iran once again in the global spotlight, many are reminded of these ancient words.

Are these prophecies coming true? Only time will reveal the full picture.

But one thing is certain, the Bible continues to speak with power and relevance even in our modern world.

If this message has encouraged you or opened your eyes to something new, take a moment to subscribe to our channel for more content like this.

Thank you so much for watching and may you continue to seek truth, wisdom, and understanding as we explore these mysteries together.

 

 

 

 

Ex-Muslim Hamas Commander from Gaza Dies and Returns With a SHOCKING Message for all Muslims

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My name is Abdel.

For 12 years, I made weapons designed to kill people.

I mixed chemicals that would tear bodies apart.

I assembled devices that would end lives in seconds.

I did this with my own hands and I believed I was doing the right thing.

I believed I was serving God.

Today, I sit in a small room in a place I cannot tell you about.

My life depends on staying hidden.

But I am alive to tell you what I saw when I died.

And I am alive to warn you about what is waiting for many people when their last breath comes.

This is my story.

Every word of it is true.

I need you to understand something before I begin.

I was not an evil man who enjoyed hurting people.

I was not a monster.

I was a man who loved his family.

I prayed five times every day.

I memorized long passages from the Quran.

I fasted during Ramadan.

I gave to the poor.

I believed with all my heart that I was on the right path.

That is what makes my story so important.

Cuz if I could be so wrong about something so serious, then maybe you need to examine what you believe too.

Let me take you back to the beginning.

Hello viewers from around the world.

Before Abdul continues his story, we’d love to know where you are watching from and we would love to pray for you and your city.

Thank you and may God bless you as you listen to this powerful testimony.

I grew up in Gaza City in a neighborhood called Alimal.

Our apartment building was old with cracks in the walls that grew wider every year.

My father sold vegetables from a cart.

My mother stayed home with us children.

We were not rich, but we had enough.

Gaza is not like other places.

War is part of normal life there.

You grow up with the sound of explosions in the distance.

You learn to recognize the different sounds.

The whistle of a rocket going out.

The boom of an Israeli air strike coming in.

The rattle of gunfire that could be close or far away.

When I was 7 years old, I was playing soccer with my friends in the street.

We used a ball made of rolled up plastic bags tied with string because we could not afford a real one.

We were laughing and shouting the way children do everywhere.

Then we heard the sound.

It was different from the usual background noise of war.

It was closer, louder, coming toward us.

My friend Mahmud looked up at the sky.

I remember his face.

His eyes went wide.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Then there was a flash of light and a noise so loud it felt like my head would split open.

When I could see again, Mahmud was on the ground.

There was blood everywhere.

Too much blood.

Other children were screaming and running.

Adults came rushing out of buildings.

Someone picked me up and carried me away.

But I kept looking back at Mahmud lying there in the street.

He died before they could get him to a hospital.

He was 8 years old.

That was my first real memory of death.

It would not be my last.

By the time I was 12, I had been to 17 funerals.

Most of them were for people younger than 30.

Some were for children.

You learn to recognize the sound of women wailing.

You learn to watch men cry quietly with their faces turned away.

You learn that death can come at any moment for any reason without warning.

You also learn to be angry.

I was angry at Israel.

I was angry at America for supporting Israel.

I was angry at the world for not caring about us.

I was angry at God.

Sometimes though I felt guilty for those thoughts and would pray extra to make up for them.

The anger grew inside me like a living thing.

It fed on every new death, every new destroyed building, every new family left homeless.

And there was always something new to feed it.

When I was 16, our building was hit.

We had warning.

Someone ran through shouting that we needed to evacuate.

Israeli jets had fired warning shots at the roof.

We had minutes to get out.

We ran down the stairs, my father carrying my youngest sister, my mother grabbing what she could.

We made it to the street just before the real missiles came.

I watched our home collapse into rubble and dust.

Everything we owned was inside.

my clothes, my school books, the photo albums with pictures of my grandparents, all of it gone in seconds.

We stayed with seconds relatives after that.

12 people crammed into three rooms.

My father tried to to start over, but his cart and all his vegetables had been in the storage room of our destroyed building.

He had nothing.

We had nothing.

That is when the men came to talk to me.

They were from Hamas.

They came to the mosque where I prayed.

They were always respectful.

They never pushed.

They just talked to me about dignity and resistance and faith.

They told me that Allah honored those who fought against oppression.

They told me that I could make a difference, that I could protect my people, that I could be more than just another victim.

I listened and slowly over months I began to believe them.

They started by giving me small tasks, delivering messages, standing watch, nothing dangerous at first.

They paid me a little money which I gave to my father.

They made me feel important like I mattered, like I was part of something bigger than myself.

By the time I was 18, I was fully committed.

I had been trained.

I had been taught and I had been given my specialty.

I was good with my hands.

I had always been good at taking things apart and putting them back together.

As a child, I used to fix broken radios and clocks for neighbors.

This skill, the men told me, could be used for the cause.

They taught me chemistry.

They taught me electronics.

They taught me how to build devices that would explode.

I became a bomb maker.

Looking back now, I can see how carefully they shaped my thinking, how they took my anger and my pain and my desire to matter and turned it into something they could use.

But at the time, I could not see it.

I thought I was choosing this path.

I thought I was serving God.

My workshop was beneath a residential building in the Shajaya neighborhood.

You reached it through a hidden entrance in a basement storage room.

The room below was small, maybe 4 m by 5 m.

It had a workbench, shelves with materials, and a ventilation system that brought in air from outside through hidden pipes.

I spent hours there, sometimes entire days.

The work required complete focus.

One wrong measurement, one careless moment, and I could blow myself up.

I lost two friends that way in the early years.

They made mistakes.

They died instantly.

I was careful.

I was precise.

I took my time and um I became known for my skill.

The devices I made were used in many operations.

I did not usually know the details.

Someone would give me specifications.

I would build what they asked for.

They would take it away.

Later I might hear about an explosion on the news, an Israeli checkpoint, a settlement, a military vehicle.

I would know that my work had been used.

I told myself that I was only targeting soldiers and settlers, combatants, people who had chosen to be part of the occupation.

I told myself this made it different, made it justified.

But I knew deep in a place I did not like to look that sometimes civilians died too.

Children sometimes I would feel a twinge of something uncomfortable when I heard about those deaths.

But I would push it away.

I would remind myself of Mahmud dying in the street, of my home being destroyed, of all the Palestinian children who had died.

I would tell myself that our cost was just and in war terrible things happen.

This is how you live with yourself.

When you do terrible things, you build walls in your mind.

You create justifications.

You stop thinking too deeply about certain questions.

I prayed five times a day.

I never missed a prayer.

Before I began work each day, I would pray and ask Allah to guide my hands.

I would recite verses from the Quran.

I believed completely that I was doing holy work.

On Fridays, I went to the mosque.

I listened to the sermons about jihad and paradise, about the rewards waiting for martyrs, about the evil of our enemies.

These sermons reinforced everything I believed.

They made me feel righteous.

I had respect in the community.

People knew I was involved in the resistance.

Though they did not know exactly what I did.

Men would nod to me in the street.

Older women would smile at me and call me a good Muslim boy.

Young men looked up to me.

I had purpose.

I had identity.

I had a place in the world.

When I was 23, I married Aliyah.

She was 19, beautiful with dark eyes and a gentle spirit.

She knew I was involved in the resistance.

Her brother was a fighter.

Her father had been killed in an is an an Israeli raid years before.

She understood the life.

We had a small wedding.

Everyone was happy despite the circumstances we lived under.

For one night, we forgot about the war and just celebrated.

Aliyah moved into the apartment I shared with my parents and siblings.

It was crowded, but we made it work.

A year later, our first child was born, a son.

We named him Tariq.

Then came our daughter, Leila, and then another son, Omar.

Those children were everything to me.

When I held my newborn son for the first time, I cried.

I promised him I would make the world better for him.

I promised I would fight so he could grow up free.

I loved being a father.

At home, I was not a fighter or a bumbo maker.

I was just Abu Tarik, the father who played with his children and made them laugh.

Tariq loved it when I would chase him around the apartment pretending to be a monster.

Ila would braid my short beard and giggle.

Little Omar would fall asleep on my chest while I read the Quran.

Aliyah was a good wife.

She made our crammed space feel like home.

She cooked good food with whatever we could afford.

She kept the children clean and well behaved.

She prayed constantly for my safety.

She worried about my work.

She knew it was dangerous.

Sometimes I would come home with burns on my hands from chemicals.

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