But here’s the thing that makes this undeniable.

I was not the only one reacting.

While I was on the floor having this conversation with the creator of the universe, chaos had erupted in the room.

30 dignified government officials were in a panic.

Chairs were being knocked over.

I could hear them screaming.

Someone yelled, “Call an ambulance.

” Someone else shouted, “He is having a seizure.

” I could hear their footsteps running toward me.

I could feel their hands grabbing my shoulders, trying to roll me over.

K.

To them, I was a prince who had suddenly collapsed and was convulsing on the floor.

To them, it was a medical emergency.

They saw the physical effect, but they could not see the spiritual cause.

They saw the prince fall, but they did not see the king who pushed him down.

This was real.

It was happening in physical time and space with 30 witnesses.

I tried to speak to tell them I was okay, but no words came out, only sobbing.

I was weeping uncontrollably, not tears of pain, but tears of a broken man who has finally met his master.

The light began to fade slowly.

The presence lifted and I was left lying on the carpet, surrounded by confused colleagues, my face wet with tears, my heart pounding a new rhythm.

They helped me into a chair.

They brought me water.

They asked if I needed a doctor.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

How could I explain that I did not need a doctor? I needed a savior.

How could I tell them that the Jesus we had been taught to dismiss had just walked into their secure conference room and claimed my soul? I knew in that moment that my life was over.

The life of Prince Khaled, the defender of Islam, the arrogant debater, the wealthy royal.

It was all gone.

Burned away by that light.

I stood up shaky and weak.

I excused myself from the meeting, leaving behind a room full of bewildered men.

I walked out to my car and for the first time in my life, I did not feel like a prince.

I felt like a child who had just woken up.

I had to know more.

I had to know who this Jesus really was.

And what I found in the next 24 hours would cost me everything I held dear, but give me the one thing I never knew I needed.

Before we move to the final part of my journey where I lost my family but found my destiny, I want to invite you to be part of this mission.

We are sharing these stories to reach people just like I was.

People lost in religion but far from God.

By subscribing and liking this video, you help push this testimony out to someone who might be searching for the truth right now.

You can be a digital missionary just by hitting that button.

Now, let me tell you about the phone call that changed my family forever.

I drove away from that government building in a days.

My hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were white.

The drive home is a blur in my memory though.

I do not remember the traffic.

I did not remember the streets of Abu Dhabi.

All I could see was that blinding light.

Okay.

All I could hear was that voice resonating in my chest.

I am Jesus.

I am the one you mocked.

When I got to my private residence, I locked the door behind me.

I felt like a fugitive.

For 38 years, I had been secure in my identity as a Muslim prince.

Now, everything I thought I knew had been incinerated in a matter of seconds.

I went to my study and I did something I never thought I would do.

I pulled out my phone and I downloaded a Bible app.

My fingers were trembling as I typed in the search bar.

I needed to know if what I heard was real or if I was losing my mind.

The voice in the room had said something very specific.

I am the way, the truth, and the life.

I typed those words into the app and there it was.

John 14:6.

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life.

No one comes to the father except through me.

” I stared at the glowing screen on my phone until my eyes burned.

It was a direct match.

The Jesus of the Bible was the same Jesus who had just knocked me to the floor in a room full of generals.

I spent that entire night reading.

I did not sleep.

I could not sleep.

Read the Gospel of John from beginning to end.

And as I read, something miraculous began to happen.

The words were not just text on a screen.

They were alive.

For years, I had read the Bible only to find ammunition to attack it.

I had read it with a critical eye, looking for contradictions, looking for weakness.

Couldn’t.

Now I was reading it with a desperate heart.

And for the first time, I saw the picture of a God who did not demand my blood, but spilled his own.

By the morning of December 20th, I knew I needed help.

I could not navigate this alone.

I knew of a Christian leader in the region, a man named Pastor Paul Richardson.

I had known of him before as an enemy.

I had considered him a target for my fortress of faith initiative.

Now he was my only hope.

I arranged a meeting.

I walked into his office not as a prince but as a beggar.

I told him everything.

I told him about the stage in Dubai.

I told him about the mockery.

I told him about the desert dream and the thirst.

Okay.

And I told him about the light in the conference room.

Expected him to judge me.

I expected him to tell me that I had gone too far.

that God could not forgive someone who had publicly spat on his name.

Instead, he opened his Bible.

He began to explain the concept of substitution.

He explained that on a cross, Jesus took the punishment that I deserved.

He explained that the weakness I had mocked was actually the greatest strength in the universe.

It was the strength to lay down one’s life for his enemies.

That word hit me like a hammer.

Enemies.

I was his enemy and he died for me.

In that office on December 20th, the dam finally broke.

All the arrogance, all the pride, all the years of striving to be good enough for Allah just collapsed.

I fell to my knees right there on the carpet of the pastor’s office.

It was the second time in two days that I was on my knees.

But this time, it was not from fear.

It was from surrender.

I wept.

I cried out to Jesus.

I asked him to forgive me for every word I had spoken against him on that stage.

I asked him to wash me clean.

And in that moment, I felt a physical weight lift off my shoulders.

It was a heaviness I did not even know I was carrying.

It was the crushing weight of religious performance, the burden of trying to earn God’s favor through power and money.

It was gone, replaced by a peace that passes all understanding.

I stood up a new man.

I was no longer just Prince Khaled.

I was a child of God.

But as I walked out of that office into the bright sunlight of December, I knew that the storm was not over.

In fact, in the natural world, the storm was just beginning.

I had found peace with God.

But I was about to declare war on my culture, my heritage, and my family.

Okay? And before I tell you about the most painful phone call of my life, I want to pause.

Maybe you’re watching this and you feel that weight I talked about.

The weight of trying to be good enough.

the weight of your past mistakes.

I want you to know that the same peace I found is available to you right now.

You do not need to be a prince to find it.

You just need to be willing to kneel.

This story is speaking to your spirit.

Please let us know in the comments.

Okay, I choose peace so we can pray for you.

When you accept Jesus in the West, you might lose some friends or face some awkward conversations at dinner.

When you accept Jesus as a royal prince in the Arabian Gulf, you lose your life.

Sometimes, literally, always, socially and financially, the backlash was immediate.

News travels fast in high circles.

Rumors began to swirl that Prince Kad lost his mind or had been brainwashed.

Within days, my assets were frozen.

The bank accounts that I had taken for granted my entire life were suddenly inaccessible.

My title, which opened every door in the country, was revoked.

I was being erased.

But none of that compared to the pain of what I had to do next.

I had to call my father.

You have to understand, my father was not just a distant authority figure to me.

I loved him.

I respected him.

He was the man who taught me how to walk, how to ride a horse, how to lead.

I was his son, his pride.

The thought of disappointing him was physically painful.

I sat in my room staring at my phone for an hour.

My hand was shaking so badly I could barely hold the device.

I felt like I was holding a grenade that was about to blow up my entire world.

Finally, I dialed the number.

It rang once, twice, he answered.

His voice was warm, familiar, the voice of my childhood.

Khaled, he said.

Where have you been? I took a deep breath.

I closed my eyes.

I prayed for strength.

Father, I said, I have to tell you something.

I paused.

My heart was pounding in my throat.

I have found the truth.

I have met Jesus.

I am a Christian.

The silence that followed was not empty.

It was heavy.

It was a suffocating thick silence that stretched across the phone line like a vast canyon opening up between us.

I could hear his breathing.

Could almost hear his heart breaking.

I wanted him to yell.

wanted him to scream at me, to argue with me, to quote the Quran.

Anger I could handle.

But this silence was destroying me.

It lasted for what felt like an eternity.

10 seconds, 20 seconds, a minute.

I sat there, tears streaming down my face, waiting for my father to say something, anything.

Finally, he spoke.

His voice was unrecognizable.

It was cold, dead, devoid of any emotion.

It sounded like a stranger.

He spoke six words in Arabic, words that cut deeper than any knife.

He said, “You are no longer my son.

” And then the line went dead.

I sat there with the phone still pressed to my ear, listening to the dial tone.

That sound, the drone of a disconnected line is the loneliest sound in the world.

In that moment, I became an orphan.

I was 38 years old, but I felt like a lost child.

I fell forward onto my desk, burying my face in my hands.

The grief was overwhelming.

It felt like my chest was being ripped open.

I had lost my inheritance.

I had lost my status, had lost my home.

But losing my father’s love was a pain that eclipsed it all.

And yet, as I sat there sobbing in that empty room, something supernatural happened again.

It was not a blinding light this time.

It was a presence, warm, comforting embrace that wrapped around me.

I heard that still small voice in my spirit again said, “I will be a father to you.

I will never leave you nor forsake you.

” And in the midst of that devastating loss, I felt the joy rising up.

It makes no logical sense.

I had just lost everything the world considers valuable, but I realized that for the first time in my life, I was truly free.

I had traded an earthly kingdom for an eternal one.

I had traded a father who could disown me for a father who adopted me forever.

I had to flee the country shortly after that with the help of contacts and yes even intelligence agencies because my life was in danger.

I left with nothing but the clothes on my back.

No gold, no Rolexes, no servants.

But as my plane took off, leaving the lights of Abu Dhabi behind, I looked out the window and smiled.

I was poor in the eyes of the world, but I was richer than I had ever been as a prince.

I want to speak to someone watching right now.

Maybe you are holding on to something that is keeping you from God.

Maybe it is a relationship, a job, a reputation, or family approval.

You are afraid of the cost.

You are afraid of what you will lose if you follow Jesus.

I am here to tell you that the cost is real.

It hurts these scars.

I But I’m also here to tell you that he is worth it.

He is worth every tear, every loss, every lonely moment.

Do not let the fear of losing temporary things keep you from gaining eternal life.

If you’re standing at that crossroads today, I urge you to choose Jesus.

If this video is giving you the courage to stand for your faith, even when it cost you, please subscribe to this channel.

We are building a community of believers who stand firm no matter the price.

Join us and let us walk this path together.

So, here I am today.

I live in London, far away from the palaces of Abu Dhabi.

I do not drive Ferraris anymore.

I do not have servants waiting on my every command.

To the world, I am an exile.

I am a man who threw away a fortune.

But let me tell you something from the bottom of my heart.

I have never been richer.

I have never been more secure.

And most importantly, I have never been more loved.

When I look back at that man on the stage in Dubai, the arrogant prince shouting into the microphone, I feel a deep sadness for him.

He thought he had everything, but he was starving to death in a desert of his own making.

He thought he was drinking from the fountain of truth, but he was swallowing sand.

I thank God every single day that he loved me enough to knock me down.

I thank God that he interrupted my life in that conference room, cuz when I fell to the floor, I fell into the arms of the only father who will never disown me.

And that brings me back to you, the person watching this video right now.

Maybe you are not a prince.

Maybe you have never stood on a stage and mocked God.

But maybe you feel that same emptiness I felt.

Maybe you have achieved everything you set out to achieve, money, career, success, but you still wake up in the middle of the night wondering if this is all there is.

Or maybe you are on the other side.

Maybe you feel like you have made too many mistakes.

Maybe you think God could never forgive someone like you.

I am living proof that there is no sin too great for his mercy.

I mocked him to his face and he answered with love.

If he can save a prince who wanted to destroy him, he can certainly save you.

Do not wait for a blinding light in a boardroom.

Do not wait for a terrifying dream.

He is knocking on the door of your heart right now through this story you are reading at this very moment.

He is offering the same forgiveness he gave me.

He is offering the same transformation he worked in my life.

He is offering the same eternal hope that changed everything.

I mocked him publicly, deliberately, and completely.

Yet, he forgave me totally.

I attacked his character.

I made fun of his sacrifice.

I led thousands of people away from him.

Yet, he pursued me without stopping until I gave up.

If Jesus can forgive and transform someone like me, he can absolutely do the same for you.

No matter what you have done or believed, do not make the mistake I made of thinking you know who Jesus is without actually meeting him.

Do not assume that defending your religion is the same as knowing God personally.

And do not wait for a dramatic vision or supernatural sign.

He has revealed himself through his word, through his creation, through his followers, and through stories like mine.

The prince who made fun of Jesus dropped to his knees in a conference room in Abu Dhabi on December 19th, 2018.

The question is, will you drop to your knees today wherever you are and be the same? Jesus who changed everything for me.

If this testimony has touched your heart, I want to ask you to do something tangible.

Share this video with someone who needs to hear it.

Maybe a family member who is hostile to the faith or a friend who thinks they are too far gone.

You never know how a simple share can plant a seed that God will grow into a miracle.

And if you want to support our mission of sharing these powerful testimonies with the world, please consider subscribing to the channel.

Every subscriber helps us reach one more person in the closed country, one more person searching for truth in the darkness.

Let us build this fortress of faith together.

Not to attack others, but to welcome them home.

Thank you for watching and may the peace of Christ be with you always.

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Pay attention to the woman in the white pharmacist coat walking through the staff entrance of Hammad Medical Corporation at 10:55 p.

m.

Her name is Haraya Ezekiel.

She is 29 years old.

A licensed pharmacist from Cebu, Philippines, newlywed, married 11 months ago in a ceremony her mother still talks about.

Her husband Marco dropped her off at the metro station 3 hours ago.

He kissed her on the cheek.

She didn’t look back.

Now watch the man entering through the side corridor at 11:10 p.

m.

Dr.

Khaled Mansor, senior cardiotheric surgeon, 44 years old.

They do not acknowledge each other in the corridor.

They don’t need to.

They’ve done this before.

Three blocks away, a white Toyota Camry idols beneath a broken street lamp.

Inside it, Marco Ezekiel has been watching the staff entrance for 15 minutes.

He is an engineer.

He is systematic.

He is recording everything in his mind the way a man records things when he already knows the answer, but cannot yet say it out loud.

His phone last pings a cell tower at 11:47 p.

m.

300 m from the hospital’s east parking structure.

He is never seen again.

Not that night.

Not the following morning.

not for the 38 hours it takes his wife to report him missing after finishing her shift after taking the metro home after showering after sleeping after eating breakfast.

This is not a story about infidelity.

It is a story about what happened after someone decided that a husband who knew too much was a problem that required a solution and about the single maintenance worker who saw something in a parking structure at 12:15 a.

m.

and said nothing for 14 days and what those 14 days cost.

Pay attention to the woman in the white pharmacist coat walking through the staff entrance of Hammad Medical Corporation at 10:55 p.

m.

Her name is Haraya Ezekiel.

She is 29 years old, a licensed pharmacist from Cebu, Philippines, newlywed, married 11 months ago in a ceremony her mother still talks about.

Her husband Marco dropped her off at the metro station 3 hours ago.

He kissed her on the cheek.

She didn’t look back.

Now watch the man entering through the side corridor at 11:10 p.

m.

Dr.

Khaled Mansor, senior cardiotheric surgeon, 44 years old.

They do not acknowledge each other in the corridor.

They don’t need to.

They’ve done this before.

Three blocks away, a white Toyota Camry idles beneath a broken street lamp.

Inside it, Marco Ezekiel has been watching the staff in trance for 15 minutes.

He is an engineer.

He is systematic.

He is recording everything in his mind the way a man records things when he already knows the answer but cannot yet say it out loud.

His phone last pings a cell tower at 11:47 p.

m.

300 m from the hospital’s east parking structure.

He is never seen again.

Not that night.

Not the following morning.

Not for the 38 hours it takes his wife to report him missing.

After finishing her shift, after taking the metro home, after showering.

After sleeping.

after eating breakfast.

This is not a story about infidelity.

Continue reading….
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