“I Was There When the Imam Saw Jesus at Mecca – 100,000 Muslims Had the Same Vision”

I still cannot believe what happened.

Even now, months later, sitting here telling you this story, my hands shake when I think about that day, what I witnessed, what I experienced, what changed in my life and in the lives of thousands of others.

It defies everything I thought I knew about reality, about faith, about God himself.

They say over a 100,000 of us had the same experience, though the government will never admit that number.

They arrested thousands, declared us mentally ill, tried to make the world forget what happened.

But I was there.

I saw it.

I lived through it.

And I am one of the 100,000 who can never go back to who I was before.

It happened during the last 10 days of Ramadan, the most sacred time of the Islamic year.

I had been granted permission to perform Umrah, the lesser pilgrimage to Mecca, something I had done twice before, but never during Ramadan.

The spiritual atmosphere during this time is unlike any other.

With millions of Muslims from around the world converging on the holy city, all seeking to draw closer to Allah through prayer and devotion.

I traveled to Mecca with my brother Khaled and two friends from our mosque.

We arrived in the evening, checked into our hotel near the Haram, and immediately went to perform tawa, the ritual circling of the Cabba.

The grand mosque was packed with people, a sea of white garments, and the constant sound of prayers and Quranic recitation.

The sight of the Cabba, that massive black cube at the center of everything, always filled me with awe and reverence.

We spent the next few days in intense worship, praying at the mosque, reading Quran, and participating in the communal ifars that broke our daily fasts.

On the 27th night of Ramadan, believed to be Leila al- Karda, the night of power.

When the Quran was first revealed, the mosque was more crowded than I had ever seen it.

Estimates said over 2 million people were packed into the Grand Mosque and the surrounding areas.

We positioned ourselves in one of the outer courtyards because the inner areas were completely full.

The evening prayer mib had just finished and people were preparing for the tarawi prayers that would last for hours into the night.

The atmosphere was electric with spiritual further.

Millions of voices united in worship, all facing the cabba, all seeking the same thing.

The imam leading our section was Shik Abdullah al-Mansour, one of the most respected religious scholars in Saudi Arabia.

He was perhaps 60 years old with a white beard and a voice that commanded respect and attention.

I had heard him speak before and always found his knowledge and devotion impressive.

He was not a man given to emotion or dramatics, but rather known for his scholarly precision and his strict adherence to traditional Islamic teaching.

Shik Abdullah began leading us in prayer and we all stood in rows shouldertosh shoulder as is the custom.

The first raka proceeded normally with the shake reciting from the Quran in his clear measured voice.

But during the second raka something happened that I will never forget as long as I live.

We were all in sujud prostate with our foreheads touching the ground when I heard the shake’s voice falter.

The recitation stopped midverse, and there was a moment of confused silence.

Then I heard him gasp, a sound of such shock and wonder that it made my blood run cold.

We were supposed to remain in frustration until he said the words to rise.

But the silence stretched so long that people began looking up in confusion.

When I lifted my head and looked toward where shake Abdullah was standing, I saw him frozen in place.

staring at something above and beyond the crowd.

His face had gone completely white, his mouth was open, and his eyes were wide with an expression I had never seen on any human face before.

It was terror and wonder, and complete overwhelm all at once.

Then he spoke, and his words shattered everything.

His voice was shaking but clear, amplified through the sound system so that hundreds of thousands of people heard him say, “I see him.

I see Isa al-Masi, Jesus, the Messiah.

He is here.

He is real.

He is standing before me in light and glory.

” The courtyard erupted in chaos.

Some people screamed.

Others began shouting that the chic had gone mad.

Still others fell silent in shock.

I was frozen in place, unable to process what I had just heard.

Shik Abdullah, one of the most conservative and respected imams in the kingdom, was claiming to see Jesus.

This was impossible.

This was blasphemy.

But the shake continued speaking, his voice growing stronger and filled with an emotion I can only describe as desperate conviction.

He shows me his hands wounded for our sins.

He tells me he is the way, the truth, and the life.

He says that salvation is not through our works, but through faith in him alone.

Brothers and sisters, I have been teaching you wrong.

I have been following the wrong path.

Issa is not just a prophet.

He is the son of God.

He is Lord and Savior.

Pandemonium broke loose.

Security forces appeared seemingly from nowhere pushing through the crowd toward the shake.

People were shouting, crying.

Some were trying to rush toward him while others were fleeing in terror.

I saw Shikh Abdullah raise his hands toward the sky, tears streaming down his face and cry out, “I believe.

I accept you, Isa.

Forgive me.

Save me.

” Then the security forces reached him, tackled him to the ground, and dragged him away.

The last thing I heard was his voice still crying out about Jesus, about truth, about salvation.

Even as they pulled him through the crowd and out of sight, the whole incident lasted perhaps 3 or 4 minutes.

But it felt like time itself had stopped.

The authorities moved quickly to control the situation.

Announcements came through the sound system within minutes declaring that Shik Abdullah had suffered a medical emergency and was being taken for treatment.

They urged everyone to remain calm and continue their worship.

Other imams were brought in to resume the prayers as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened.

You could feel it in the air, see it in people’s faces.

Hundreds of thousands of people had just witnessed one of the most respected Islamic scholars in Saudi Arabia declare that Jesus was the Messiah and the son of God.

You could not just erase that or explain it away with announcements about medical emergencies.

My brother and friends and I left the mosque in a days.

We walked back to our hotel in silence, none of us knowing what to say.

When we finally reached our room and closed the door, Khaled was the first to speak.

He was possessed by a jin, he said firmly.

That is the only explanation.

No true Muslim, especially not Shak Abdullah, would ever say such things unless demons had taken control of his mind.

My friends agreed immediately, relieved to have a simple explanation that fit within our understanding of the world.

They discussed how powerful jyn could be.

How they could deceive even the strongest believers.

How this was clearly an attack from Shayan trying to mislead the faithful during the holy month.

Their words made sense.

Followed the logic I had been taught my entire life.

But I could not shake what I had seen in Shik Abdullah’s face.

I have seen people who are possessed or having medical emergencies.

I have seen confusion, pain, loss of control.

What I saw in the shake’s face was none of those things.

It was clarity.

It was absolute certainty.

It was the face of a man who had seen something so real and so overwhelming that nothing else mattered anymore.

I tried to sleep that night, but could not.

I kept replaying the scene over and over in my mind.

The shake’s voice saying Isa al-Masi, the look on his face, the way he had cried out about being saved and forgiven.

What had he seen? What had caused such a dramatic transformation in a man who had spent his entire life devoted to traditional Islam? The next morning, we learned that Shak Abdullah had been arrested and taken to an undisclosed location.

The official statement said he was undergoing psychiatric evaluation and treatment for a mental breakdown.

Anyone who discussed the incident publicly was warned to stop spreading fitna discord among the believers.

The message was clear.

Forget what you saw.

Do not talk about it and accept the official explanation.

But people were talking quietly and carefully in hushed conversations in hotel lobbies, in whispered exchanges in the mosque courtyards.

The incident was the only thing anyone wanted to discuss.

Most people like my brother and friends had settled on the explanation of demonic possession or mental illness.

But I heard other voices too.

people expressing confusion, asking questions, admitting they could not stop thinking about what the shake had said.

On the second day after the incident, I started hearing something even more disturbing.

Rumors were spreading through underground networks passed from person to person with extreme caution that other people were having experiences with Jesus, not just in Mecca, but across Saudi Arabia and even in other countries.

People were claiming that Jesus was appearing to them in dreams and visions calling them to believe in him.

I dismissed these rumors initially as hysteran mass delusion triggered by what happened with Shik Abdullah.

People’s imaginations were running wild creating stories that fed into the drama and excitement.

But the rumors kept coming and they were too specific, too consistent to be entirely made up.

A man in our hotel claimed his roommate had woken up in the middle of the night screaming that he had seen Jesus standing in their room.

A woman told her friends that her sister back in Riyad had called crying, saying she had a vision of a man in white who told her he was the Messiah and that she needed to follow him.

A group of pilgrims from Indonesia were whispering about how three members of their group had simultaneously dreamed of Jesus on the same night.

What made these stories so disturbing was how frightened people were.

No one was sharing these experiences openly or proudly.

They were hiding them, terrified of what it might mean, afraid of being labeled as mentally ill or possessed like Shik Abdullah.

Yet the experiences kept happening.

And the number of people claiming to have them kept growing.

I found myself in a state of complete confusion and fear.

Part of me wanted to leave Mecca immediately to go home to Jedha and forget everything that had happened.

But another part of me could not leave.

I felt drawn to stay to keep listening to try to understand what was happening.

On the third night after the incident, I had my own experience.

I woke up around 3:00 in the morning from a deep sleep and my room was filled with a soft light that seemed to have no source.

Khaled was sleeping soundly in the other bed, undisturbed, but I was wide awake and more alert than I had ever been in my life.

And then I saw him, a figure of a man, standing at the foot of my bed, clothed in white that seemed to glow from within.

His face was both gentle and powerful, his eyes full of a love so complete that it made me want to weep.

I knew immediately without any doubt that this was Jesus.

Terror and awe flooded through me in equal measure.

I tried to speak but could not make a sound.

I wanted to call out to Khaled but found I could not move.

All I could do was stare at this figure who radiated a presence that was more real than anything I had ever encountered.

He spoke to me not with an audible voice but directly into my mind and heart.

He said that he loved me, that he had always loved me, and that he had come to show me the truth.

He showed me his hands, and I saw wounds there, scars that somehow still bled with fresh blood.

He told me that this blood was shed for me or my sins to pay a debt I could never pay myself.

He explained that salvation was not something I could earn through prayers and fasting and good works.

That no amount of religious devotion could make me clean before a holy God.

He said that he alone was the way to the father.

That he had died and risen from the dead to bridge the gap between God and humanity and that all I needed to do was believe and accept what he had done for me.

Then he said something that shook me to my core.

He told me that I was not alone.

That thousands upon thousands of Muslims across the world were having the same experience at this same time.

He said he was calling his people out of darkness and into light, out of fear and into freedom, out of religion and into relationship with him.

The vision ended as suddenly as it began.

The light faded, the figure disappeared, and I was left lying in my bed, trembling and covered in sweat.

Ali continued sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of what had just happened to his brother, lying a few feet away.

I did not sleep the rest of that night.

I lay awake until dawn, my mind racing, my heart pounding, my entire understanding of reality shattered.

Everything I had believed, everything I had been taught, everything I had built my life upon was suddenly in question.

Was Islam too? Had I been following the wrong path my entire life? Was Jesus really the son of God and savior of the world? The fear I felt was overwhelming.

If I accepted that what I had experienced was real, then I would have to reject Islam.

Rejecting Islam in Saudi Arabia was not just changing your opinion.

It was a crime punishable by death.

It meant losing your family, your job, your entire life.

It meant becoming an outcast, a traitor, an apostate deserving of execution.

But I could not deny what I had seen and felt.

The presence I had encountered was too real, too powerful to dismiss as a dream or imagination.

Something profound had happened to me, and I could not simply go back to my normal life and pretend it had not.

Over the following days, I tried to act normally around Khaled and my friends, participating in prayers and rituals while my mind was in constant turmoil.

I was terrified that someone would notice something different about me, that somehow my experience would show on my face or in my behavior.

I felt like I was living a double life, going through the motions of being a devout Muslim while secretly questioning everything.

The rumors about Jesus sightings continued to spread, growing more frequent and more detailed.

I started paying closer attention to these whispered conversations, and what I heard was staggering.

The accounts were coming from every section of the massive crowd in Mecca from people of every nationality and background.

They described experiences almost identical to mine.

Visions and dreams of Jesus appearing, showing his wounded hands, claiming to be the savior, calling people to believe in him.

But more than just rumors, I began noticing signs that something unprecedented was happening.

Security presence around the Grand Mosque had increased dramatically.

Plain clothes officers were everywhere, listening to conversations, watching for any signs of unusual behavior.

Checkpoints had been set up at various locations and people were being questioned about what they had seen and heard.

Then the arrests began.

Not just Shik Abdullah, but dozens then hundreds then thousands of people were being detained.

The official explanation was always the same.

These individuals were suffering from mass hysteria.

A psychological phenomenon where people in a crowd begin believing they are experiencing something that is not real.

They were being taken for psychiatric evaluation and treatment for their own safety and the safety of others.

But I noticed something the authorities probably did not expect anyone to notice.

The people being arrested were not acting crazy or disturbed.

They looked peaceful, even joyful despite being dragged away by security forces.

They were not fighting or screaming or showing signs of mental illness.

They looked like people who had discovered something wonderful and were willing to face any consequence for it.

I learned later that special facilities had been set up to house the growing number of people claiming to have seen Jesus.

These were not traditional jails but psychiatric treatment centers where people were held involuntarily given medications and subjected to intense religious counseling aimed at correcting their delusions and bringing them back to proper Islamic faith.

The government was clearly terrified.

This was not just one crazy shake having a breakdown.

This was thousands of people, possibly tens of thousands, all claiming the same experience during the holiest time of the Islamic year in the holiest city in the Islamic world.

If this spread and people started openly accepting these visions as real and converting to Christianity, it could shake the very foundations of the kingdom and the faith itself.

As I observed all this happening around me, I wrestled with what to do with my own experience.

Should I tell someone? Should I seek out others who had similar visions? Should I keep it completely secret and try to forget it ever happened? Every auction seemed dangerous.

I decided to reach out to Amal, my wife.

I called her from a quiet corner of our hotel, making sure no one could overhear.

I told her I needed to talk to her about something important but could not discuss it over the phone.

I asked her how things were at home, how the children were, trying to sound normal even though my heart was racing.

She knew immediately that something was wrong after 8 years of marriage.

She could read me even through a phone call from hundreds of kilometers away.

She asked if I was sick, if something had happened, if I was in trouble.

I assured her I was physically fine, but that something had occurred that I needed time to process before I could talk about it.

After I hung up, I felt more alone than ever.

Here I was in Mecca, surrounded by millions of pilgrims, yet carrying a secret that isolated me completely.

I could not talk to Khaled or my friends because they had already made clear the interpretation of Shak Abdullah’s experience.

I could not talk to anyone openly without risking arrest.

I was trapped with this knowledge, this experience, this truth that was burning inside me, but had nowhere to go.

On our last day in Mecca before returning to Jedha, I witnessed something that convinced me this was bigger than anything the authorities could control or suppress.

I was walking through one of the shopping areas near the Haram when I saw a commotion ahead.

A large crowd had gathered and security forces were pushing through trying to reach the center.

When I got close enough to see what was happening, I saw a young man, probably in his early 20s, standing on a bench speaking to the crowd around him.

His face was lit with an expression of joy and conviction.

And his voice carried clearly even over the noise of the crowd.

He was telling everyone that he had seen Jesus, that Jesus had appeared to him and told him he was the son of God, and that anyone who believed in him would have eternal life.

Security reached him within a minute and dragged him down from the bench.

But he kept shouting his message even as they hauled him away.

What struck me was not just his boredness, but the faces in the crowd.

Some people looked angry and disturbed, yes, but many others had expressions of recognition, of longing, even of tears.

These were people who had heard something that resonated deep in their souls, something they were desperately wanting to believe, but were terrified to accept.

As we packed to leave Mecca and return to our normal lives, I knew that nothing would ever be normal again.

What I had witnessed, what I had experienced had changed me fundamentally.

But I did not yet know what to do with that change or where it would lead me.

The drive back to Jedha felt longer than usual, even though it was only about an hour.

Khaled and our friends talked about their spiritual experiences during Umrah, about prayers that felt particularly meaningful, about the blessing of being in Mecca during Ramadan.

They carefully avoided mentioning Shik Abdullah or any of the disturbing events we had witnessed.

as if by not speaking of them we could make them disappear.

I sat in the back seat looking out the window at the desert landscape passing by.

My mind far away from their conversation.

I was thinking about my wife, about my children, about the life I would be returning to.

How could I go back to my job, to family dinners, to Friday prayers at the mosque, knowing what I now knew? How could I perform the rituals of Islam when I had encountered something that challenged the very foundation of everything those rituals were built upon? When we finally reached Jedha and they dropped me at my home, I stood outside for a moment before going in.

Through the window, I could see Amal moving around the kitchen, probably preparing dinner.

I could hear my children’s voices probably playing or arguing about something insignificant.

Everything looked so normal, so safe, so unchanged.

I was the only thing that had changed, and I was about to bring that change into this peaceful home.

Amal knew something was wrong the moment she saw my face.

After the children were fed and put to bed, we sat together in our bedroom, and I told her everything.

I described what happened with Shik Abdullah, the rumors of Jesus sightings and finally trembling, I told her about my own vision.

I watched her face as I spoke, seeing shock, then fear, then something like horror cross her features.

When I finished, she was silent for a long time.

Then she asked quietly if I had told anyone else.

I said, “No, only her.

” She asked if I thought I might have imagined it or dreamed it.

I told her I knew the difference between dreams and reality and what I had experienced was more real than the chair I was sitting on.

She asked what I was going to do.

I said I did not know Amal is a practical woman raised in a conservative family devoted to Islam but also protective about family above all else.

She told me that whatever I had experienced, whatever it meant, I needed to keep it completely secret.

She said that people were being arrested, that the government was treating this as a serious threat, and that if anyone found out I had claimed to see Jesus, our entire family would be destroyed.

Our children would be taken from us.

I would lose my job.

We would be shamed and ostracized, possibly worse.

I knew she was right.

But I also knew that keeping such a profound truth secret would eat me alive from the inside.

How could I go on living as if nothing had happened when everything had happened? But for the sake of my wife and children, I agreed to say nothing to anyone and to try to continue my normal life.

The following days were torture.

I went to work at Saudi Aramco sitting in meetings about engineering projects and pipeline specifications while my mind was consumed with thoughts of Jesus.

I prayed the required prayers at the office mosque reciting Arabic words that now felt empty and meaningless.

I came home to my family and played with my children all while carrying this massive secret that separated me from everyone I loved.

But I also started searching for information.

Late at night when Amal and the children were asleep, I would use my computer to look for news about what had happened in Mecca.

The Saudi media had gone almost completely silent about the incident with Shik Abdullah.

There were no follow-up reports, no updates on his condition, nothing.

It was as if the government was hoping that by not talking about it, people would forget it ever happened.

But on international news sites and social media platforms that I accessed through VPN, the story was very much alive.

Reports were coming from people who had been in Mecca during that night describing what they had witnessed.

More importantly, I found accounts from people across Saudi Arabia, across the Middle East, even across the Muslim world, all claiming to have had visions or dreams of Jesus during that same period.

The numbers being reported varied wildly.

Some sources said hundreds of people had been affected.

Others claimed thousands.

A few even suggested tens of thousands.

The Saudi government was refusing to comment officially, only issuing statements about isolated cases of mass hysteria being treated appropriately.

But the underground chatter told a different story of psychiatric facilities overflowing with people who claimed to have seen Jesus, of families desperately trying to get their loved ones released, of a situation spiraling far beyond government control.

I found myself drawn into online forums and chat groups where people were cautiously sharing their experiences.

They used coded language, anonymous accounts, and heavy encryption because everyone knew the government was monitoring these spaces.

But even with all the precautions, the testimonies poured in.

A woman from Medina described waking up to find her room filled with light and the figure telling her he was the Messiah who died for her sins.

A man from Riyad told of being in the middle of his daily prayers when suddenly he saw Jesus standing before him showing wounded hands.

A teenager from Dam shared about a dream so vivid and real that she woke up crying and could not stop thinking about what Jesus had told her about salvation being a free gift, not something earned.

What struck me about all these accounts was how similar they were to my own experience.

the descriptions of Jesus, the message he gave about being the son of God and savior, the emphasis on grace rather than works, the showing of wounded hands, all of it was remarkably consistent.

These were people from different cities, different backgrounds, different ages.

Yet, they were all encountering the same person with the same message.

About two weeks after returning from Mecca, I was contacted by someone I will call Ahmed.

though that is not his real name.

He reached out to an encrypted messaging app with a simple message asking if I had been in Mecca during the incident with Shik Abdullah.

When I confirmed I had been there, he asked if I would be willing to meet with him privately to discuss what I had witnessed.

Every instinct told me this could be a trap, that this could be a government agent trying to identify people who had been affected by what happened.

But something else, a voice I was learning to recognize as coming from beyond myself, told me to trust and to meet with him.

So I agreed, and we arranged to meet at a coffee shop in a part of Jedha, far from where either of us lived or work.

Ahmed turned out to be a man in his 50s, well-dressed and professional, with kind eyes that carried a weight of deep experience.

We sat in a caller booth and spoke in low voices.

both of us watching carefully to make sure no one was paying attention to our conversation.

He told me he was a businessman who had been in Mecca that night and had witnessed Shak Abdullah’s declaration.

More than that, he had been part of the crowd where a second imam in a different section of the Grand Mosque had also declared seeing Jesus that same night.

This second incident had been suppressed even more completely than the first.

The Imam had been subdued immediately before he could say more than a few sentences, and everyone in that section had been questioned and warned not to speak about what they had heard.

But Ahmed had been there, had seen it happen, and like me had been unable to stop thinking about it.

Then Ahmed told me something that made my heart race.

He said he was part of a network, an underground group of people who had either witnessed the incidents in Mecca or had their own experiences with Jesus in the days that followed.

They were being extremely careful, meeting in small groups, sharing information, trying to understand what was happening to them.

He said the numbers were far larger than anyone outside this network realized.

He asked if I had personally had any experience beyond what I witnessed in Mecca.

I hesitated, the warning from Amal echoing in my mind, knowing that admitting this could put everything at risk.

But I also knew I could not continue carrying this alone, that I needed to connect with others who understood what I was going through.

So I told him about my vision, about Jesus appearing to me in my hotel room, about the message I had received.

Ahmed’s eyes filled with tears.

He reached across the table and gripped my hand.

He said he had experienced something similar, that Jesus had appeared to him three nights after the incident in Mecca and had transformed his entire understanding of God, faith, and salvation.

He said he had been meeting with others like us and that we were not crazy, we were not deceived, we were being called by Jesus himself.

Over the following weeks, Amade introduced me to others in the network.

We met in homes, in private offices, in remote locations where we could talk freely without fear of being overheard.

Each person I met had a story similar to mine.

An encounter with Jesus that had shaken them to their core and left them questioning everything they had believed about Islam.

There was Fatima, the school teacher in her 30s, who had been praying in her home when Jesus appeared and told her she was loved unconditionally and did not need to earn God’s approval.

There was Ibraim, a doctor who had been working a night shift at the hospital.

When he saw Jesus standing in an empty corridor, showing him scars and explaining they were the price paid for Ibraim’s freedom.

There was Leila, a university student who had dreams of Jesus for seven consecutive nights.

Each dream revealing more about who he was and what he had done.

The stories went on and on.

Some people had dramatic visions like mine.

Others had dreams.

Still others described more subtle encounters where they suddenly knew Jesus was real and present even though they could not see him physically.

But in every case, the result was the same.

A complete transformation of how they understood God and how to have a relationship with him.

Ahmed told me that based on what the network had been able to piece together from various sources, at least 1,000 people had been arrested and taken to psychiatric facilities in the immediate aftermath of the Mecca incidents.

But he believed the real number of people who had experiences with Jesus was far higher, possibly 10,000 or more, most of whom were keeping it completely secret out of fear.

The government’s response was revealing.

If this had truly been just mass hysteria or mental illness, they would have handled it as a medical issue.

But the intensity of their response, the secrecy, the warnings against discussing it, the aggressive monitoring of social media and communications, all suggested they knew this was something else entirely.

They were terrified that a genuine spiritual movement was happening right under their control.

About a month after the Mecca incident, something unexpected happened.

The government began quietly releasing people from the psychiatric facilities.

No announcements were made, no explanation was given, but families started reporting that their loved ones who had been detained were being sent home.

The releases happened over a period of several weeks and eventually nearly everyone who had been arrested for claiming to see Jesus was let go.

The official explanation, when any was given at all, was that these individuals had been successfully treated for their temporary psychological disturbance and were now recovered and no longer a danger to themselves or others.

They were required to sign documents saying they understood their experiences had not been real, that they would not speak publicly about what they had claimed to see, and that they would continue receiving outpatient psychiatric care.

But Ahmed’s network discovered what was really happening.

The facilities could not handle the numbers of people claiming these experiences.

And more importantly, the people being held were not showing any signs of mental illness.

They were coherent, rational, functional in every way except that they insisted what they had experienced was real.

Psychiatrists and doctors working in these facilities were quietly reporting that these patients did not fit any known psychological disorder.

More than that, something was happening to the doctors and staff in these facilities.

Some of them were having their own encounters with Jesus.

A psychiatrist in Riyad reportedly quit her job after three of her patients, shared their experiences with such conviction and peace that she began seeking Jesus herself and had a vision in her own home.

Home.

A nurse in Jedha claimed Jesus appeared to him while he was giving medication to a patient who had been arrested for declaring she had seen the Messiah.

The government realized they could not keep these people locked up indefinitely without creating an international incident and without risking that the very people assigned to treat them would become convinced by them.

So they made the calculated decision to release them with strict warnings and ongoing monitoring, hoping that fear and social pressure would keep them silent and eventually make them be known their experiences.

What the government did not anticipate was what would happen when these people were released back into their communities and found each other.

The underground network exploded in size.

People who had been isolated in their experiences, thinking they were alone or crazy suddenly discovered hundreds and then thousands of others who had gone through the same thing.

The validation and fellowship this provided was powerful beyond description.

I met some of these people who had been detained and released.

Their stories were harrowing.

They described being interrogated for hours, being told they were insane or demon-possessed, being pressured to recant and admit their visions were forced.

They described being given medications meant to suppress their memories or alter their perception.

They described isolation, threats, and in some cases, physical abuse.

But they also described something else.

They said that even in those facilities, even under the worst treatment, they felt the presence of Jesus with them.

They said they experienced a peace that made no sense given their circumstances.

A joy that their copters could not understand or take away.

They said Jesus had prepared them for this, had warned them that following him would cost them everything, and had promised to never leave them.

One man I met, a former imam from a mosque in Jedha named Hassan, had a particularly powerful testimony.

He had been leading Friday prayers when he suddenly saw Jesus standing at the back of the mosque.

He described how Jesus looked at him with such love and authority that Hassan stopped mid sermon and declared to the entire congregation that he had seen the true Messiah.

He was arrested immediately.

spent three weeks in a psychiatric facility being told he was severely mentally ill and was eventually released with the condition that he never lead prayers again and submit to ongoing psychiatric treatment.

Hassan told me that during his time in detention.

He led seven other patients to faith in Jesus.

These were people who had also claimed to see Jesus but were beginning to doubt their own experiences under the pressure and medication.

Hassan reminded them of what they had seen, encouraged them to trust what Jesus had shown them, and prayed with them.

By the time he was released, all seven had become firm believers, and they formed the core of an underground church that now met weekly in Hassan’s home.

Stories like Hassans were becoming common in the network.

People who had been detained were emerging, not broken or defeated, but emboldened and passionate about sharing what they had experienced.

They had faced the worst the government could do to them and had survived with their faith intact.

They knew now that following Jesus was worth any cost.

As I connected more deeply with this network and heard more testimonies, I found myself at a crossroads.

I could continue living in the shadows, believing in Jesus privately, but maintaining my Muslim life publicly to protect my family and career.

or I could make a full commitment accepting Jesus openly within the underground community even though I could never do so publicly in Saudi society.

The turning point came about 2 months after my experience in Mecca.

Ahmed invited me to a special gathering at a home in a remote area outside Jedha.

He said approximately 40 people would be there, all believers who had decided they were ready to make a public declaration of faith in Jesus through baptism.

He asked if I would like to be among them.

I spent days wrestling with this decision, knowing it would be a point of no return.

Once I was baptized, even if it was in secret, I would have crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

I would be in the eyes of Islamic law an apostate deserving of death.

But I also knew I could not continue in this limbo.

One foot in Islam and one foot in Christianity, believing in Jesus but living a lie.

I told Amal about the invitation.

She was terrified, begging me not to do anything that would put our family at risk.

But I could see in her eyes that she knew I had already made my decision.

I asked her if she wanted to know more about what I had learned about Jesus, if she wanted to understand why I was willing to risk everything.

To my surprise, she said yes.

Over several long conversations, I shared with Amal everything Jesus had revealed to me about salvation being a gift rather than something earned about his death and resurrection providing forgiveness that our good works never could.

About the possibility of having a personal relationship with God rather than just submitting to rules and rituals.

I showed her testimonies from others in the network.

let her see the peace and joy they had despite the risks they were taking.

Amal did not have a dramatic vision or encounter like I did.

But she told me that as I shared these things, something shifted in her heart.

She said that for years she had felt burdened by the demands of Islam, by the constant worry that she was not doing enough to please Allah, by the fear of judgment and hell.

The idea that Jesus offered forgiveness freely, that salvation was about his work rather than hers, brought a relief and hope she had never experienced.

3 days before the baptism gathering, Amal told me she wanted to come with me.

She said that if I was going to follow Jesus and risk everything, she was coming too.

We were married.

We were one family and she would not let me walk this path alone.

I cried when she said this, overwhelmed with gratitude that God had not only saved me, but was working in my wife’s heart as well.

The night of the baptism, we told Amar’s mother we were going to visit friends and would be back late.

We drove for over an hour into the desert, following directions Ahmed had given me until we reached a compound that belonged to a Christian businessman from Lebanon, who used it as a vacation property.

Cars were parked all around, hidden as much as possible from the road.

Inside the compound, I found the largest gathering of believers I had seen since this all began.

A man had said 40 people, but I counted at least 70.

Some I recognized from smaller meetings, but many were faces I had never seen before.

They came from all over the region from Jedha and Mecca and Medina and even some from Riyad who had driven six hours to be there.

The atmosphere was unlike anything I had experienced.

There was joy and excitement but also a somnity and reverence because everyone understood the magnitude of what we were doing.

A Pakistani pastor who led an underground church for foreign workers in Jedha was there to perform the baptisms and teach us.

He had been doing this work for 15 years, operating in complete secrecy, and he knew the risks better than any of us.

Before the baptisms began, the pastor asked if anyone wanted to share their testimony of how they came to faith in Jesus.

Person after person stood and told stories that were variations of the same theme.

Encounters with Jesus during or after the Mecca incident, visions and dreams and supernatural experiences that transformed their understanding of God.

Journeys from fear and worksbased religion to grace and relationship with Christ.

One woman shared how she had been on the verge of suicide.

Crushed by guilt and shame from sins in her past that she believed Allah would never forgive.

Jesus appeared to her and told her all her sins were washed away by his blood, that she was clean and pure and deeply loved.

She wept as she spoke, still amazed that such forgiveness was possible.

a young man told of being a strict Wahhabi Muslim who had judged and condemned everyone who did not follow Islam exactly as he believed it should be practiced.

Jesus appeared to him and asked why he was working so hard to earn what had already been freely offered.

The young man broke down and accepted Jesus and he said he was now learning what it meant to love people rather than judge them.

An older man, probably in his 60s, stood with tears streaming down his face, and said he had been a Muslim his entire life, had made Hajj four times, had memorized the Quran, had done everything right according to Islamic teaching, but he had never felt close to God, never felt loved, never felt certain of paradise.

In one vision of Jesus, he experienced more of God’s love and presence than in 60 years of Islamic practice.

He said he only wished he had known this truth sooner.

When it was my turn to speak, I stood with Amal beside me holding my hand.

I told about witnessing Sheikh Abdullah’s declaration in Mecca, about my own vision of Jesus in the hotel room, about the months of secret struggle and searching.

I told them that Jesus had not only saved me but was now saving my wife and that we were making this commitment together.

When I finished, several people came and embraced us, welcoming us into this family of believers who had sacrificed everything to follow Christ.

The baptisms took place in a large swimming pool in the compound.

The pastor explained that baptism was an outward sign of an inward change, a public declaration that we were identifying with Jesus in his death, burial, and resurrection.

One by one, we went into the water and were baptized in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit.

When I came up out of that water, something shifted in my spirit.

The fear and uncertainty I had been carrying for months was replaced by a settled peace and conviction.

I had made my choice, had publicly declared my allegiance to Jesus, and there was no going back.

Whatever consequences might come, I knew I was on the right path because I was following the one who claimed to be the way itself.

That night, 73 people were baptized.

73 Saudis who had been Muslims, who had been raised in Islam, who had believed they were on the right path to God, all declaring their faith in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

It was one of the most powerful and sacred moments of my life.

In the weeks and months that followed, I learned more about the scope of what had happened during and after the Mecca incident.

Through Ahmed’s network and connections with other underground churches and movements, a picture emerged of something truly unprecedented in modern Islamic history.

Best estimates suggested that during the 10-day period surrounding the 27th night of Ramadan, between 10,000 and 15,000 Muslims across Saudi Arabia, the Middle East, and other parts of the Muslim world had visions, dreams or encounters with Jesus.

The experiences were concentrated around Mecca but extended far beyond reaching people who had not been on pilgrimage and in some cases had not even known about the Sheikh Abdullah incident when they had their own encounters.

Of these thousands who had initial experiences approximately 3,000 were arrested or detained at some point by Saudi authorities or authorities in other countries.

Most were eventually released after psychiatric evaluation.

found no evidence of actual mental illness.

Though they were monitored and pressured to recount their claims, but the real number that mattered was not how many had experiences, but how many came to genuine faith in Jesus.

As a result, Ahmed believed based on the network’s best information that at least 5,000 people made authentic commitments to follow Christ in the months following the Mecca incident.

Of these, approximately 1,000 had been baptized in underground gatherings like the one I attended.

And that number continued to grow because every person who came to faith became a witness to others.

They told family members, friends, co-workers, anyone who would listen about what they had experienced.

Some of those people also encountered Jesus in their own visions and dreams.

Others came to faith simply through hearing the testimonies and reading about Jesus in Bibles that believers provided.

The network Ahmmed was part of eventually connected with similar networks in other countries.

We learned that the same phenomenon was happening in Iran, in Pakistan, in Egypt, in Indonesia, anywhere there were large Muslim populations.

The numbers varied by region, but the pattern was the same.

Jesus was appearing to Muslims in supernatural ways, calling them to faith, and they were responding despite the enormous costs.

When all the reports from different regions and networks were compiled, the number that emerged was staggering.

Conservative estimate suggested that during the year following the Mecca incident, somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000 Muslims worldwide came to faith in Jesus Christ through visions, dreams, and supernatural encounters or through the testimonies of those who had such experiences.

100,000 former Muslims now followers of Jesus.

100,000 people who had risked everything, their families, their careers, their safety, their very lives, because they encountered someone who was more real and more compelling than anything they had known before.

I am one of those 100,000.

My wife Amal is one of those 100,000.

The people I was baptized with, the people I now meet with secretly for worship and fellowship.

Hassan the former Imam, Fatima the teacher, Ibraim the doctor, Ahmed the businessman who first reached out to me.

All of us are part of this number.

Our lives have changed in ways both difficult and beautiful.

I still work at Saudi Aramco, still live in my home in Jedha, still appear to the outside world as a normal Muslim man with a family.

But in secret, I am part of an underground church that meets weekly to worship Jesus, to study the Bible, to encourage each other in faith, and to share the gospel with others who are seeking truth.

The risks are real and constant.

We know that the government continues to monitor anyone suspected of apostasy.

We know that some believers have been arrested again after their initial release.

We know that families have been torn apart when some members accept Jesus and others reject him.

We know that following Christ in Saudi Arabia could cost us everything at any moment.

But we also know that what we have found in Jesus is worth any price.

We have experienced a love that casts out fear, a grace that transforms guilt and shame, a peace that surpasses understanding, and a hope that cannot be shaken by circumstances.

We were dead in our sins and religious works, and Jesus made us alive.

We were slaves to fear and performance, and Jesus set us free.

We were separated from God by a chasm we could never cross.

And Jesus became the bridge.