I went inside, found the women’s section and looked for Ila.

She was sitting at a small cafe wearing a simple black abaya and nikab like most Saudi women.

I approached her and she stood when she saw me.

We greeted each other formally then sat down at a corner table away from others.

For a few minutes, we made small talk, both of us cautious, testing the waters.

Then Ila leaned forward and said quietly, “Sister, why did you really contact me?” I took a deep breath and decided to trust her.

I said, “Because I had the same dream you did.

” Issa appeared to me and I gave my life to him.

Her eyes widened and I saw tears form.

She reached across the table and grabbed my hands.

She whispered, “I did too.

I am a follower of Isa.

I have been for 6 months.

I thought I was the only one in Riyad.

Praise God you found me.

” I started crying too, right there in the mall cafe, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude.

I was not alone.

There were others.

Jesus had answered my prayer.

Ila told me her story.

She had been a devout Muslim married to a man who worked in the Ministry of Religious Affairs.

She had three children.

Her life was comfortable but empty.

Then she started having dreams of Issa.

At first she ignored them thinking they were from Shayan.

But the dreams continued and the love she felt in them was so overwhelming that she could not deny it was from God.

She started searching online, found testimonies from other Muslims who had converted, read the Bible in secret, and eventually gave her life to Jesus.

She said she had been living as a hidden believer ever since, praying in secret, reading the Bible on her phone, desperate for fellowship, but terrified of being discovered.

Then she told me something that changed everything.

She said, “There are others like us.

There is a network, a church hidden across Saudi Arabia.

Small groups of believers meeting in secret.

I am part of one here in Riyad.

We meet once a week in different locations.

If you want, I can connect you with them.

I could barely believe what I was hearing.

An underground church right here in Riyad.

I said, “Yes, please.

I need this.

I need to be with other believers.

” Ila gave me instructions.

She said the group met every Friday afternoon, which was ironic because Friday is the Muslim holy day, the day when everyone goes to the mosque for communal prayers.

She said that made it the perfect cover.

While families were at the mosque, believers would slip away to secret locations, usually private homes or rented apartments, always changing locations to avoid detection.

She told me the address for the next meeting, told me to come alone, to tell no one, and to watch carefully to make sure I was not being followed.

She said, “If you see anything suspicious, do not come.

Just walk away.

Our safety depends on secrecy.

” I thanked her.

We prayed together quietly right there in the cafe.

And then we parted ways.

That Friday, I told my family I was not feeling well and could not attend the mosque.

My mother was concerned, but I insisted I just needed to rest.

Once everyone left for Friday prayers, I changed into a plain abaya, covered my face completely with my nikab and took a taxi to the address Leila had given me.

It was a residential area in eastern Riyad, modest apartment buildings, nothing that would attract attention.

I knocked on the door in the pattern Ila had instructed.

Three knocks, pause, two more.

The door opened and a woman pulled me inside quickly and locked the door behind me.

Inside the small apartment there were 12 people, men and women, young and old, all Saudis, all former Muslims, all followers of Jesus.

Ila was there and she introduced me simply as a new sister.

No one asked my real name.

No one asked about my background.

In the underground church, anonymity was protection.

We sat in a circle on the floor and one of the men, an older man in his 50s named Ibrahim, led the meeting.

He opened with prayer, thanking Jesus for bringing us together, asking for protection, asking for boldness and faithfulness.

Then we sang.

We could not sing loudly because neighbors might hear.

So we sang in whispers, worship songs in Arabic praising Issa, declaring his lordship, thanking him for his sacrifice.

It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

For the first time in my life, I was worshiping Jesus openly, surrounded by others who loved him, and I felt completely free.

After worship, Ibraim taught from the Bible.

He had a physical copy, a small Arabic New Testament that he kept hidden in a hollowedout Quran, a brilliant and dangerous disguise.

He opened to the book of Romans chapter 8 and read, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

” Because through Christ Jesus, the law of the spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death.

He explained what this meant.

He said that in Islam we lived under constant fear of condemnation.

Always wondering if we had done enough, if Allah would accept us, if our good deeds outweighed our bad.

But in Christ there was no condemnation.

We were declared righteous not because of what we did but because of what Jesus did.

We were set free from the law, from the endless striving, from the fear.

We were free to live in the love of God.

Not as slaves but as sons and daughters.

He said this is grace.

This is the gospel and this is what will sustain you when persecution comes because it will come.

All of us in this room are living on borrowed time.

Any day any one of us could be discovered.

But we do not fear death because we know that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.

We have already won.

Jesus has already secured our eternity.

So we live boldly.

We love deeply and we trust completely.

His words pierced my heart.

I realized that following Jesus in Saudi Arabia was not just a spiritual decision.

It was a life or death decision.

But I also realized that I had already made my choice.

I would rather die as a follower of Jesus than live as a Muslim princess in a golden cage.

After the teaching, we shared communion.

Ibrahim had brought bread and grape juice and we passed it around the circle.

He said the words Jesus spoke at the last supper.

This is my body broken for you.

This is my blood shed for you.

Do this in remembrance of me.

I took the bread and the cup and I wept.

I was partaking in the body and blood of Christ for the first time in a secret room in Riyad, surrounded by people who had risked everything to follow him.

This was the church, not a building, not an institution, just believers gathered in Jesus’ name, and he was there with us.

After communion, people shared testimonies and prayer requests.

One woman asked for prayer because her husband had started asking questions about why she seemed different.

Another man shared that he had led his sister to Christ and she was now seeking baptism.

A younger man said he was being pressured by his family to join a militant group and he needed wisdom on how to refuse without exposing his faith.

We prayed for each person and I felt the power of the Holy Spirit moving among us.

This was what the early church must have been like.

Meeting in secret, under threat, but filled with love and faith and hope.

At the end of the meeting, Ibraim asked if anyone needed baptism.

He explained that baptism was dangerous in Saudi Arabia because it required water, witnesses, and a level of exposure that could lead to discovery.

But he also said it was important, a public or in our case semi-public declaration of faith, a step of obedience.

I raised my hand.

I said, “I want to be baptized.

” Ibrahim smiled and said, “Then we will do it today.

” He led us to the bathroom which had a large bathtub.

He filled it with water while the others gathered around.

I removed my abaya and nikab standing in a simple dress and I stepped into the water.

Ibrahim placed one hand on my back and raised the other toward heaven.

He said, “Amira, do you believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God that he died for your sins and rose again on the third day?” I said, “Yes, I believe.

” He said, “Do you renounce your old life, your old faith, and commit yourself to follow Jesus no matter the cost?” I said, “Yes, I renounce Islam and I commit my life to Jesus Christ.

” He said, “Then I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

” He gently lowered me backward into the water until I was completely submerged.

For a moment I was under the surface, surrounded by water.

And I thought about my old life, about the princess who had lived in fear and emptiness.

Then Ibrahim lifted me up and I gasped for air, water streaming down my face.

And I heard the others quietly clapping and whispering, “Allahu Akbar,” but meaning it differently now.

God is great.

Praising Jesus, not Allah.

I stood there dripping, shivering, but feeling more alive than I had ever felt.

I was baptized.

I was a follower of Jesus.

I belonged to him.

And nothing, not my family, not the Saudi government, not the threat of death, could change that.

Over the next several months, I became a regular member of the underground church.

I attended every meeting I could, always carefully, always watching to make sure I was not followed.

I grew in my faith.

Ibraim and others discipled me, teaching me the Bible, teaching me how to pray, teaching me how to live as a secret believer in a hostile environment.

I learned that there were an estimated 50,000 to 100,000 Saudi Christians, all hidden, all meeting in small groups like ours, all risking everything.

I learned that the Saudi government knew about us but could not stop us because we operated in complete secrecy.

I learned that Jesus was appearing to Saudis in dreams at an unprecedented rate.

That the underground church was growing faster than ever and that the government was terrified because they could not control what God was doing supernaturally.

But I also knew I could not stay in Saudi Arabia forever.

My wedding to Prince Mansour was approaching.

I was expected to marry him, to fulfill my duty to the family, to produce heirs, to live as a royal wife.

But I could not do it.

I could not marry a man I did not love, a man who did not know Jesus, a man who would expect me to raise our children as Muslims.

I prayed desperately for God to make a way of escape.

And slowly, a plan began to form.

I remembered that Burkham International University where I had completed my onology research had invited me to present my findings at an international conference on sleep and dream research in London.

The conference was in 4 months.

I had mentioned it to my father and to my surprise he had agreed to let me attend.

Seeing it as an honor for the family that his daughter was being recognized academically, he said I would travel with a male guardian.

one of my cousins and I would return immediately after the presentation.

But I knew this was my chance.

This was the door God was opening.

I began planning my escape.

I contacted Christian organizations that helped persecuted believers flee Muslim countries.

I arranged for people to meet me in London to help me claim asylum to protect me.

Once I left my cousin’s supervision, I knew that once I did this, there would be no going back.

I would lose my family forever.

I would be declared an apostate.

I would be erased from the also family.

But I also knew that Jesus was worth it.

He was worth everything.

And I was ready to lose it all to follow him.

The four months leading up to the London conference were the most agonizing of my life.

Every day felt like walking on the edge of a knife.

I had to continue living as Princess Amira, attending family gatherings, smiling through wedding preparations, pretending that everything was normal.

My mother took me shopping for my wedding dress, a custom design from a famous Lebanese designer that cost more than most Saudis earn in a year.

I stood there in the fitting room looking at myself in the mirror draped in white silk and lace, and I felt like I was staring at a corpse.

This dress would never be worn.

This wedding would never happen.

I was planning to run, to escape, to disappear.

But I could not tell anyone.

Not even the believers in my underground church knew the full extent of my plan.

I only told Ibraim, the elder who had baptized me.

And I asked him to pray for me.

He held my hands, looked into my eyes, and said, “Amira, you are doing the right thing.

God has opened this door.

Walk through it.

Do not look back.

We will continue to pray for you and one day when it is safe, you will tell the world what Jesus has done in Saudi Arabia.

I spent those months preparing carefully.

I gathered documents, my passport, my university certificates, my research papers.

I transferred money quietly from my personal accounts to an international account that my family could not access.

It was not much by royal standards, but it would be enough to survive for a few months while I applied for asylum.

I also memorized contact information for the Christian organizations that would meet me in London.

I could not write anything down.

I could not risk my family finding evidence of my plan.

Everything had to be in my head.

Every detail, every step.

I also spent as much time as I could with the underground church.

I knew that once I left Saudi Arabia, I might never see these brothers and sisters again.

They had become my true family.

The people who knew the real me, the me that belonged to Jesus.

We prayed together, studied scripture together, and encouraged one another.

One of the women in the group, a older woman named Fatima, who had been a believer for over 10 years, gave me a gift the week before I was scheduled to leave.

She handed me a small flash drive and said, “This contains the entire Bible in Arabic, audio, and text along with disciplehip materials, worship songs, and testimonies.

Keep it hidden.

When you get to where you are going, use it to grow and remember us.

” The night before my flight to London, I barely slept.

I lay in my bed in the palace, looking around my room, knowing it was the last time I would ever be there.

I thought about my childhood, about growing up in this compound, about the years of emptiness and searching.

I thought about my mother, who had controlled every aspect of my life, but had never really known me.

I thought about my father, distant and cold, who saw me as a political asset rather than a daughter.

I thought about my brothers, my sister, nor my extended family.

I would never see them again.

They would hate me.

They would curse my name.

They would say I had brought shame on the family.

And part of me grieved that loss.

But another part of me, the part that had been born again, knew that I was gaining far more than I was losing.

I was gaining freedom.

I was gaining truth.

I was gaining eternal life with Jesus.

And that was worth every sacrifice.

I prayed through the night asking Jesus for courage, for strength, for his presence to go with me.

and I felt his peace, that deep, unshakable peace that I had come to rely on, settle over me once again.

The next morning, my family gathered to see me off.

My father reminded me to represent the family well, to deliver my presentation professionally and to return home immediately afterward.

My mother fussed over my abaya, making sure it was perfect, reminding me to stay modest and respectful in front of Westerners.

My sister Nor hugged me and whispered, “I am so proud of you, Amira.

You are doing something important.

” I almost broke down when she said that.

If only she knew what I was actually about to do.

My cousin Fahad, a serious man in his 30s who worked in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, was assigned to be my male guardian for the trip.

He was responsible for making sure I stayed safe, stayed modest, and stayed on schedule.

He had no idea that I was planning to disappear the moment I had the chance.

We boarded the royal family’s private jet and as the plane took off from King Khaled International Airport in Riyad.

I looked out the window at the city below at the kingdom I was leaving behind and I whispered a prayer.

Jesus, I am trusting you.

I am in your hands.

Lead me.

Protect me.

Do not let me fail.

We arrived in London after a 7-hour flight.

It was early March, cold and rainy, completely different from the dry heat of Riyad.

Fahad had arranged for us to stay at a luxury hotel near the conference venue.

He checked us into separate rooms, reminded me that I was not to leave the hotel without him, and said he would escort me to the conference the next morning.

I agreed, went to my room, locked the door, and immediately contacted the people who were waiting to help me.

I sent an encrypted message to the number I had memorized.

I am in London.

I am ready.

What do I do? The response came within minutes.

Tomorrow during your conference presentation, go to the restroom during the break.

There will be a woman waiting for you.

She will be wearing a blue scarf.

Follow her.

She will take you to safety.

Bring nothing except your passport and any money you have.

Leave your phone.

They can track it.

Trust us, God is with you.

I read the message three times, then deleted it.

This was it.

Tomorrow, my life would change forever.

The next morning, Fahad escorted me to the International Conference on Sleep and Dream Research being held at a large hotel conference center in central London.

There were hundreds of attendees, researchers, psychologists, neuroscientists from all over the world.

I was scheduled to present my research on dream patterns in Saudi Arabia during the afternoon session.

Fad sat in the back of the conference hall watching me, making sure I did not interact inappropriately with men or say anything that would embarrass the family.

I went through my presentation mechanically, showing slides, presenting data, discussing statistical analysis.

People asked questions.

I I answered them professionally.

Inside my heart was pounding so hard I thought everyone could hear it.

After my presentation, there was a scheduled break.

I told Fad I needed to use the restroom.

He nodded and said he would wait outside the women’s restroom area.

I walked down the hallway, my hand shaking, praying under my breath.

I entered the restroom and there she was, a woman in her 40s wearing a blue scarf standing by the sinks.

She looked at me and said quietly in Arabic, “Amira.

” I nodded.

She said, “Come with me quickly.

” She led me out a back exit of the restroom into a service hallway that hotel staff used.

We walked quickly, not running, but moving with purpose.

She brought me to a side door that opened into a parking area.

A car was waiting, engine running.

She opened the door.

I got in and the car pulled away.

Immediately I looked back at the hotel knowing that Fad was still standing outside the restroom waiting for me having no idea that I was already gone.

The woman in the blue scarf sat next to me in the back seat.

She said, “My name is Sister Catherine.

I work with a ministry that helps persecuted Christians escape dangerous situations.

You are safe now.

We are taking you to a safe house.

you will stay there while we help you apply for asylum in the United Kingdom.

Do you have your passport? I pulled it out of the hidden pocket inside my abaya and handed it to her.

She smiled and said, “Good.

Everything is going to be okay.

Jesus has made a way for you.

” I started crying, overwhelmed with relief, fear, gratitude, and grief all at once.

I had done it.

I had escaped.

I was free.

But I also knew what I had just set in motion.

Within hours, Fad would realize I was missing.

He would call my father.

The royal family would activate their intelligence networks.

The Saudi government would demand that the UK find me and return me.

My face would be all over the news, and my family would declare me dead to them.

We arrived at a safe house in a quiet neighborhood outside London.

It was a small, modest home, nothing like the palace I had grown up in, but it felt like paradise.

Sister Catherine introduced me to two other women who were staying there.

Both of them also refugees from Muslim countries, one from Pakistan and one from Iran, both fleeing persecution for converting to Christianity.

We shared our stories, cried together, prayed together.

That night I slept in a small bedroom with a single bed, a simple blanket and a window that looked out onto a garden.

It was the first night of my life that I went to bed without fear.

I was no longer in Saudi Arabia.

I was no longer under my family’s control.

I was no longer living a double life.

I was free.

Free to follow Jesus openly.

Free to worship.

Free to live.

The next morning, Sister Catherine helped me begin the asylum application process.

I met with lawyers who specialized in religious persecution cases.

I gave my testimony, explained that I had converted from Islam to Christianity, that I had been living as a secret believer in Saudi Arabia and that returning to my country would mean certain death.

I provided evidence, my research, testimonies I had collected, documentation of Saudi Arabia’s laws against apostasy.

The lawyer said my case was strong, that the UK granted asylum to people fleeing religious persecution and that I would likely be approved within a few months.

But the process was not easy.

Within 24 hours of my disappearance, the story broke.

Saudi media reported that Princess Amir bint Abdullah al-Sahoud had gone missing during a trip to London.

My family issued a statement saying I had been kidnapped, that I was mentally unstable, that I was being held against my will by enemies of the kingdom.

The Saudi government demanded that British authorities locate me and return me immediately.

My father gave interviews saying I was a victim of western manipulation, that I had been brainwashed, that the family wanted me back.

But I knew the truth.

They did not want me back to help me.

They wanted me back to silence me, to punish me, to erase the shame I had brought on the family.

I released my own statement through the lawyers, a video message recorded in the safe house.

I sat in front of a camera, my face uncovered for the first time in a public setting, and I spoke directly to the world.

I said, “My name is Amir Bint Abdullah Al-Saud.

I am a member of the Saudi royal family.

I was not kidnapped.

I left Saudi Arabia willingly because I converted to Christianity and I knew that if I stayed, I would be killed.

I am seeking asylum in the United Kingdom and I am asking the British government to protect me.

I do not want to return to Saudi Arabia.

I want to live freely as a follower of Jesus Christ.

The video went viral within hours.

News outlets across the world picked it up.

Some praised me for my courage.

Others accused me of betraying my country and my religion.

Saudi officials condemned me publicly, calling me a traitor and an apostate.

Religious leaders issued fatwas declaring that I deserved death according to Islamic law.

My family released another statement, this time disowning me completely.

They said I was no longer a member of the Alsaud family, that my name had been erased from all records, that I was dead to them.

My mother gave a tearful interview saying she had lost her daughter to the devil.

My father refused to speak about me at all.

It was exactly what I had expected, but it still hurt.

I grieved the loss of my family.

I grieved the loss of my name, my identity, my country.

But I did not regret my decision.

I had chosen Jesus, and he was worth every loss.

3 months later, my asylum application was approved.

The UK government granted me refugee status based on credible fear of persecution for religious conversion.

I was given legal residency, a new identity for security purposes and protection from extradition.

I was free, truly free.

And for the first time in my life, I could worship Jesus openly without fear.

I started attending a church in London, a large international church with believers from all over the world.

The first Sunday I walked into that church, I wept through the entire service.

I heard people singing worship songs at full volume, hands raised, voices loud, praising Jesus without fear.

I saw the cross displayed openly.

I saw Bibles everywhere.

I saw men and women worshiping together.

I saw children learning about Jesus in Sunday school.

It was everything I had dreamed of but never thought I would experience.

After the service, the pastor prayed for me and the congregation surrounded me, welcoming me, encouraging me, telling me that I was home.

And I realized that I was this was my family now.

Not the family I was born into, but the family I was born again into, the family of God.

Over the following months, I began to heal.

I met regularly with a counselor who helped me process the trauma of leaving my family and my country.

I attended Bible studies, grew deeper in my faith, and connected with other Arab Christian refugees who understood what I had been through.

I also connected with ministries that served the persecuted church in the Middle East.

I learned that my story was not unique.

Thousands of Saudis had fled the kingdom to follow Jesus.

Tens of thousands more were still there, hidden, waiting, praying for the day they could be free.

And I knew that God had a plan for me.

He had not brought me out of Saudi Arabia just to live quietly in safety.

He had brought me out so I could be a voice for those who had no voice.

6 months after my asylum was granted, I was contacted by a Christian media organization that specialized in documenting testimonies of former Muslims who had converted to Christianity.

They had seen my initial video statement and wanted to do a full interview, a detailed account of my journey from Saudi princess to follower of Jesus.

They said my story had the potential to reach millions of people across the Arab world, to encourage secret believers, to challenge Muslims who were searching for truth and to expose what was really happening in Saudi Arabia, the supernatural move of God that the government was desperately trying to hide.

I prayed about it for several weeks.

I knew that going public with more details would increase the danger.

The Saudi government had already declared me an apostate.

Religious extremists had already issued death threats.

Going on camera and telling my full story would make me an even bigger target.

But I also knew that fear could not be my guide.

Jesus had not saved me so I could hide in safety.

He had saved me so I could testify to his power.

so I could tell the world what he was doing in one of the most closed oppressive nations on earth.

I agreed to the interview.

We recorded it over two days in a studio in London.

I sat in front of the camera, my face fully visible.

No nikab, no abaya, just me, a mirror, a follower of me, Jesus.

And I told my story from the beginning.

I told them about growing up in the royal family, about the wealth and the privilege that came with a prison of control and emptiness.

I told them about studying onology at Burkham International University, about the dream research survey I conducted across Saudi Arabia.

I told them about discovering that hundreds of Saudis were having the same dream, encountering a man in white who identified himself as Issa al-Masi, speaking words directly from the Bible that they had never read.

I told them how that discovery shook my scientific understanding and led me to research Jesus for myself.

I told them about reading the Injil in secret, about the internal war I fought for months, about the night I prayed and asked Jesus to reveal himself to me.

And then I told them about the encounter.

I described in vivid detail how Jesus appeared in my bedroom in the royal palace in Riyad, how he spoke my name, how he took me in the spirit to see both heaven and hell.

I described what heaven looked like, the glory, the worship, the throne of God, the book of life with my name written in it.

I described the overwhelming love and peace, the beauty beyond words, the promise that everyone who believes in Jesus will spend eternity there.

And then I described hell.

I did not hold back.

I described the darkness, the screaming, the torment, the flames.

I described seeing people I knew, devout Muslims who had died thinking they were going to paradise, but who were suffering in eternal separation from God because they had rejected Jesus.

I described how Jesus showed me that hell was not a place God sends people to punish them, but a place people choose by rejecting the only way of salvation.

I said, “Jesus told me, I died so no one has to go here, but they must choose me.

” And that is the truth that changed my life.

Salvation is not about being good enough.

It is not about doing enough religious works.

It is about accepting the gift that Jesus offers forgiveness and eternal life through his death and resurrection.

I saw the camera crew wiping tears from their eyes.

As I spoke, the interviewer, a kind man named David, who had formerly been a Muslim himself, asked me, “Amira, what happened after that encounter?” I told him about my surrender, about giving my life to Jesus that night, about the transformation I experienced, about being born again.

I told him about finding the underground church in Riyad, about being baptized in a bathtub in a secret location, about living a double life for months.

I told him about my escape from Saudi Arabia during the London conference, about claiming asylum, about being disowned by my family.

And then I told him about my research, the part of my story that I knew would be the most explosive.

I said during my survey, I interviewed over 300 Saudis.

More than 100 of them, over one-third reported having dreams or visions of Jesus.

These were not Christians.

These were Muslims.

ordinary Saudis from all walks of life who had never read the Bible, who had never been evangelized by missionaries who had no natural explanation for why they were encountering Jesus supernaturally.

And based on my research and on reports from underground church networks, I estimate that there are between 50,000 and 100,000 secret Christians in Saudi Arabia right now.

That number is growing every single day because Jesus is appearing to people in dreams at an unprecedented rate.

The Saudi government knows this.

They are terrified.

They are cracking down, increasing surveillance, arresting people, executing apostates, but they cannot stop what God is doing.

You cannot arrest a dream.

You cannot kill a vision.

Jesus is moving supernaturally and the kingdom of darkness is losing ground.

The interviewer asked me to share specific testimonies from my research.

So, I did.

I told him about the school teacher in Riyad who dreamed of Jesus three times and heard him say, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.

” I told him about the university student who encountered Jesus and felt a love so overwhelming he woke up sobbing.

I told him about the man who worked as a custodian at the Grand Mosque in Mecca, one of the holiest sites in Islam, who dreamed of Jesus while sleeping inside the mosque itself.

I told him about the woman in the Medina who saw Jesus showing her the wounds in his hands and feet.

Quoting Isaiah 53 without ever having read it.

I said, “These are not isolated incidents.

This is a pattern.

This is a movement and it is happening not just in Saudi Arabia but across the entire Muslim world.

Reports from Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Syria, Turkey, Afghanistan, Pakistan, all of them documenting the same phenomenon.

Muslims are encountering Jesus in dreams and visions.

And they are coming to faith by the thousands, by the tens of thousands, maybe by the millions.

This is the greatest spiritual awakening in the history of Islam, and most of the world has no idea it is happening.

The interviewer then asked me the question I had been waiting for.

He said, “Amira, why do you think Jesus is using dreams so much in the Muslim world?” I smiled and said, “There are two reasons.

First, because dreams are culturally significant in Islam.

The Quran talks about prophetic dreams.

Muslims believe that dreams can be messages from God.

So when Jesus appears in a dream, Muslims take it seriously.

They do not dismiss it as imagination.

They search for meaning.

God is using a framework that the culture already respects and understands.

He is speaking their language.

Second, because human methods of evangelism have been completely shut down in countries like Saudi Arabia.

There are no churches.

There are no missionaries.

Preaching the gospel publicly is illegal.

Owning a Bible can get you arrested.

Converting from Islam can get you executed.

So God himself is bypassing all the human barriers.

He is going directly into people’s bedrooms while they sleep, appearing to them, speaking to them, calling them by name and revealing himself in ways that no government can stop.

This is spiritual warfare and God is winning.

I also shared the theological foundation for why dreams matter.

I referenced the book of Joel 2:28 where God says, “I will pour out my spirit on all people.

Your sons and daughters will prophesy.

Your old men will dream dreams.

Your young men will see visions.

” I said, “This is a last day’s prophecy.

” And it is being fulfilled right now in the Muslim world.

God is pouring out his spirit.

He is revealing Jesus to people who would never hear the gospel any other way.

And the result is a harvest of souls that is unlike anything we have seen in history.

The interview was edited and released as a fulllength video testimony titled From Saudi Princess to follower of Jesus, the testimony of Amamira al-Saud.

It was uploaded to YouTube and other video platforms and within 48 hours it had been viewed over 2 million times.

Within a week over 10 million, within a month over 30 million views.

It went viral across the Arab world, across the Middle East, across Muslim majority countries, and across the global Christian community.

The response was massive and polarized.

Saudi state media attacked me, calling me a liar, a traitor, a tool of Western propaganda.

Religious scholars issued statements condemning me and calling for my death.

Extremist groups put a bounty on my head.

My family released another statement saying I was mentally ill and that nothing I said should be believed.

But alongside the hatred and threats, there was another response.

A response that overwhelmed me with joy and gratitude.

I started receiving thousands of messages from Saudis, from Arabs, from Muslims all over the world.

Messages that said, “I had the same dream.

I saw Jesus, too.

I thought I was the only one.

Thank you for speaking.

Now I know I am not crazy.

One message came from a young Saudi man who said, “I am a member of the am religious police in Riyad.

My job is to arrest Christians and apostates.

But 3 months ago, Jesus appeared to me in a dream and said, “Why do you persecute me? I have not been able to sleep since.

I am terrified, but I am also searching.

I want to know this Jesus.

Please help me.

” I connected him with underground church contacts in Saudi Arabia and two months later he sent me another message saying he had given his life to Jesus and had quit his job with the religious police.

He was now part of a secret house church risking his life to follow the one he used to persecute.

Another message came from a Saudi woman who said, “I am trapped in an abusive marriage.

My husband beats me.

I have prayed to Allah for years, but nothing changes.

Last week, I dreamed of a man in white who said, “I see your suffering.

I will make a way for you.

” I woke up and searched online and found your video.

I watched it three times.

I believe Jesus is real.

I want to follow him, but I do not know how.

I am so afraid.

I connected her with organizations that help abused women escape and I prayed for her every day.

Stories like this poured in by the hundreds, by the thousands.

Each one a testimony to the fact that Jesus was moving, that he was calling, that he was saving.

I also started hearing from Christians around the world who were encouraged by my testimony, who said it strengthened their faith, who said it reminded them that God is still in the miracle working business.

Pastors invited me to speak at their churches.

Conferences invited me to share my story.

Media outlets interviewed me.

I became a voice for the underground church in Saudi Arabia, for the persecuted believers across the Middle East, for the millions of Muslims who were searching for truth and encountering Jesus supernaturally.

But I never forgot where I came from.

I never forgot the brothers and sisters I left behind in Riyad.

The ones still meeting in secret, still risking their lives every week to worship Jesus.

I stayed in contact with them through encrypted channels.

Ibraim, the elder who baptized me, sent me updates.

He said the church was growing.

He said more and more people were having dreams of Jesus.

He said my testimony had given secret believers courage to keep going, to keep believing, to keep hoping.

He also said the persecution was increasing.

Several believers had been arrested.

two had been executed.

But even in the midst of the suffering, the church was not shrinking.

It was multiplying.

One year after my video was released, I was invited to speak at a large Christian conference in the United States focused on the persecuted church.

There were thousands of people in the auditorium.

I stood on that stage looking out at the sea of faces.

And I shared my story once again.

But this time I also shared a message that I felt God had put on my heart.

I said the world looks at Saudi Arabia and sees a closed country, a oppressive regime, a place where the gospel cannot penetrate.

But I am here to tell you that nothing is close to God.

He is moving in Saudi Arabia right now.

He is appearing in dreams.

He is transforming lives.

He is building his church in the darkest places.

And what he is doing in Saudi Arabia, he is doing across the entire Muslim world.

This is the greatest missions movement in history.

And it is not being led by human missionaries.

It is being led by the Holy Spirit himself.

Jesus is going into bedrooms, into prisons, into mosques, into the most hostile, dangerous places.

And he is calling Muslims by name.

He is saying, “I love you.

I died for you.

Follow me.

And they are responding.

They are believing.

They are being saved.

I continued.

But they need our prayers.

They need our support.

They need us to stand with them.

Right now there are believers in Saudi Arabia, in Iran, in Afghanistan, in Somalia, in so many countries who are risking their lives to follow Jesus.

Some of them will be martyed.

Some of them will lose everything.

But they are counting the cost and saying Jesus is worth it.

So I am asking you will you pray for them? Will you support ministries that help them? Will you speak up for them? Will you remember that when you worship freely in your churches? There are brothers and sisters on the other side of the world worshshiping in secret in hiding in fear but with the same faith the same hope the same love for the same Jesus.

The auditorium erupted in applause and then the entire crowd stood and prayed for the persecuted church.

I stood there on that stage, tears streaming down my face, overwhelmed by the faithfulness of God.

He had taken me from a palace in Riyad to a platform in America.

He had taken me from a princess with no freedom to a daughter of the king with all the freedom in the world.

and he had given me a voice to tell his story, to proclaim his name, to declare that he is alive, he is moving, and he is saving Muslims.

Today, I live in the United Kingdom.

I work full-time with a ministry that serves Arab Christians and helps refugees from the Middle East.

I continue to share my testimony wherever I am invited.

I have written a book documenting my research and my journey titled Dreams of the Desert: How Jesus is Appearing to Muslims in Saudi Arabia.

I mentor other former Muslim women who have fled persecution.

I support underground church networks financially and prayerfully.

And I continue to receive messages every single week from Saudis who are encountering Jesus, who are giving their lives to him, who are joining the hidden church, who are becoming part of the greatest move of God in the history of the Arabian Peninsula.

My family has never contacted
me.

I am still officially disowned, still declared dead to them.

But I pray for them every day.

I pray that my father will have a dream, that my mother will encounter Jesus, that my brothers and my sister Nor will see the truth.

I pray that one day we will be reunited not as a royale family bound by blood and tradition, but as a family bound by faith in Jesus Christ.

I want to end with a direct word to you, the person watching or reading this testimony.

If you are a Muslim, if you are searching, if you have had a dream about a man in white, if you have felt a longing for something more than what Islam offers, I want you to know that Jesus is calling you.

He is not calling you to a western religion.

He is not calling you to betray your culture or your people.

He is calling you to himself, to the truth, to the only one who can save you.

You do not have to be good enough.

You do not have to earn your way to heaven.

You just have to believe.

Believe that Jesus is the son of God.

Believe that he died for your sins.

Believe that he rose from the dead.

Believe that he offers you forgiveness, eternal life, and a relationship with God based on grace, not works.

If you want to give your life to Jesus right now, pray this prayer with me.

Say, “Jesus, I believe you are the son of God.

I believe you died for me and rose again.

I am a sinner and I need your forgiveness.

I give you my life.

Save me.

I trust you.

Amen.

If you prayed that prayer and meant it, you are now a follower of Jesus.

You are born again.

You are a child of God.

And nothing, absolutely nothing can separate you from his love.

If you are a Christian, I want to encourage you.

Do not underestimate the power of God.

Do not think that any person, any nation, any religion is beyond his reach.

He is appearing to Muslims in Saudi Arabia right now and he can appear to anyone [clears throat] anywhere.

Pray for the Muslim world.

Pray for Saudi Arabia.

Pray for the underground church.

Pray for persecuted believers.

Support ministries that serve them.

And most importantly, be bold in your own faith.

If Jesus can save a Saudi princess, he can save anyone.

If he can build a church in the most anti-Christian nation on earth, he can do anything.

Trust him, follow him, and watch what he does.

Finally, I want to leave you with a declaration.

Write this in the comments if this testimony has touched your heart.

Write Jesus is Lord over Saudi Arabia.

Let that be a declaration of faith, a proclamation of truth, a prayer for the kingdom of God to come [clears throat] and his will to be done in the Arabian Peninsula just as it is in heaven.

Jesus is not intimidated by the Saudi government.

He is not stopped by Wahhabi Islam.

He is not hindered by closed borders or religious police.

He is the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords and he is moving in power.

I lost a kingdom on earth, but I gained the kingdom of heaven.

I lost my family name, but I gained the name above all of names.

I lost my title as a princess, but I became a daughter of the most high God.

And I would make the same choice a thousand times over because Jesus is worth everything.

He is worth your life.

He is worth your reputation.

He is worth your family.

He is worth your country.

He is worth it all.

Follow him.

Trust him.

and you will never regret it.

This is my testimony.

This is what Jesus has done for me and this is what he wants to do for you.

May God bless you and may the light of Jesus shine in every dark place until the whole earth is filled with the knowledge of his glory.

 

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