My dear Muslim brothers, I declare today that Allah does not exist.

The afternoon sun over Tehran was unusually harsh that day.

It hung in the sky like a burning eye pouring heat over the white square where thousands had gathered.

Banners waved in the wind and the air carried a strange mixture of mourning and anger.

I remember standing among the crowd squeezed between two men I barely knew.

One was an elderly shopkeeper named Rahim.

One of them smelled strongly of tobacco.

The other was a young university student clutching a rolledup poster.

>> The poster carried the face of the Supreme Leader.

His stern eyes looked down on us from every direction.

>> The poster carried the face of the Supreme Leader.

His stern eyes looked down on us from every direction.

Some people held his portrait high above their heads as if it were sacred.

Others whispered prayers under their breath.

The Supreme Leader had died 3 days earlier.

Since then, the entire country felt like a pot left boiling too long on the fire.

No one knew what would happen next.

Today, the prince will speak, Raheem uttered beside me, wiping sweat from his forehead.

They say he has something important to say.

The young student beside us shook his head nervously.

Important, he replied.

This is more than important.

They say he will announce the future of the nation.

The prince he spoke of was Prince Armen, one of the most powerful men in the country.

For years, he had been known as the Supreme Leader’s loyal defender.

He attended religious ceremonies, funded mosques, and publicly supported the harsh laws against Christians.

If a church was burned or a pastor arrested, people whispered that the prince approved it.

I had seen him once before from a distance during a military parade.

Tall, confident, his black Muslim robe always perfectly pressed, his cap resting sharply on his head.

But today felt different.

A stage had been built in the center of the square, surrounded by guards.

Loudspeakers hung from metal poles so that even people far away could hear.

More people kept arriving.

Some came in groups chanting.

Others carried portraits of the Supreme Leader like sacred relics.

One woman near the front was crying loudly, clutching a framed photo to her chest.

The leader was chosen by Allah, she cried.

Allah will replace him.

But not everyone shared her confidence.

There was tension in the air like the quiet before a storm.

Raheem leaned closer to me.

You know, he said in a lower voice.

The Supreme Leader hated Christians more than anything.

I nodded slowly.

Everyone knew it.

Years earlier, he had given a speech calling Christianity a foreign infection.

After that speech, many churches across the country were attacked.

Some pastors disappeared.

Some believers fled, others were imprisoned.

The prince followed him faithfully.

Raheem continued.

If the leader said destroy churches, the prince supported it.

The student beside us suddenly spoke again.

My cousin is a soldier, he said.

He told me something strange.

What? I asked.

He said the prince visited the supreme leader the night before he died.

Raheem frowned.

That is normal.

They were close.

Yes, the student replied nervously.

But my cousin said when a prince came out of a room, he looked terrified.

Before any of us could respond, a loud roar erupted from a crowd.

The prince had arrived.

Black vehicles rolled slowly toward the stage, escorted by armed guards.

The crowds surged forward, waving portraits and shouting, “Long live the leader.

Honor to the nation.

” Some chanted religious prayers.

Others simply stared.

The prince stepped out of the vehicle.

He wore a black Muslim robe and a dark cap just like always.

But something about him felt different.

His face looked pale.

His eyes seemed heavy as if he had not slept.

He climbed the steps of the stage slowly while the crowd continued shouting.

Behind him stood several officials and religious leaders.

A massive portrait of the dead supreme leader hung above the stage.

For a moment, the prince stood silently at the microphone.

The noise gradually faded.

Thousands of people waited.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Raheem whispered beside me, “Listen carefully.

This speech will shape the future of the country.

The prince looked across the sea of faces.

His eyes moved slowly from the portraits of the supreme leader to the religious leaders to the ordinary people gathered in the square.

Then he spoke.

His voice was deeper than I expected.

Our nation mourns today, he began.

The supreme leader has returned to the earth.

The crowd murmured with agreement.

Some people shouted prayers.

The prince raised his hand for silence.

I served him faithfully for many years.

He continued, “I obeyed his commands.

I supported his mission.

” His voice paused.

Then he added something that made Raheem glance at me.

He believed our greatest enemies were the Christians.

The crowd reacted immediately.

Some shouted angrily.

Others nodded.

The prince continued.

He said their faith was dangerous, that it would corrupt our people.

I could feel tension tightening across the square.

The prince lowered his head slightly.

And because I believed him, I helped destroy churches.

The words shocked the crowd.

Whispers spread like wildfire.

No leader had ever admitted such a thing publicly.

Raheem whispered, “Why would he say that?” But the prince was not finished.

He looked up again, his expression heavy.

“I must tell you something about the night the supreme leader died.

The entire square became silent.

Even the wind stopped moving the banners.

The prince gripped the microphone tightly.

” Because what I saw that night, he said slowly, changed everything I believed about Allah and about the Christians.

A wave of confusion moved through the crowd.

The student beside me whispered, “What is he talking about?” The prince took a deep breath.

Then he said words that would shake the entire nation.

But at that moment, none of us yet understood how dangerous his next sentence would be.

And I, standing in that crowd, had no idea that the declaration he was about to make would change my life forever.

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We encourage you to listen with faith and passion.

Also share this testimony with someone who needs hope today.

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Thank you.

May God bless you.

A deep silence fell across the square.

The prince’s last words seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud that refused to move.

Thousands of people stared at him, confused and uneasy.

No one expected the direction the speech was taking.

Raheem leaned toward me again.

“This is strange,” he whispered.

“Very strange.

” The prince adjusted the microphone, his eyes scanning the crowd as if he was measuring how much truth they could handle.

“I visited the Supreme Leader on the night he died,” he repeated slowly.

“Behind him, some of the religious officials shifted uncomfortably.

One of them leaned toward another and whispered something urgently, but the prince continued speaking.

” “That night,” he said, “I was summoned to his private residence.

” Only a few people were allowed inside.

Two guards, one physician, and me.

His voice carried clearly through the loudspeakers.

I expected to find the strong man I had always known.

The man who stood on podiums and declared the will of Allah without fear.

The prince paused, but what I saw was not that man.

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

The prince’s eyes darkened as if the memory itself was painful.

When I entered the room, he said the supreme leader was lying on his bed.

His breathing was heavy, like a man fighting an invisible enemy.

Raheem frowned beside me.

That cannot be, he muttered.

The leader was strong, but the prince shook his head slowly as if responding to voices like Rahee’s.

He was afraid.

The crowd reacted again.

Some shouted angrily, others simply stared.

Yes, the prince continued firmly.

Afraid? He described the room in careful detail.

The curtains were drawn tight.

The lights were dim.

Medical equipment stood near the bed, humming quietly.

But most shocking part was the supreme leader himself.

He was sweating, the prince said.

His eyes were wide open, staring at something that none of us could see.

The student beside me whispered nervously.

“What do you mean something we couldn’t see?” The prince continued.

When he saw me enter the room, he grabbed my arm with surprising strength.

The prince lifted his own hands slightly as if remembering the grip.

He pulled me close and whispered, “They are here.

” A wave of whispers moved through the square.

Raheem scoffed quietly.

“He hallucinations,” he said.

“A dying man’s imagination.

” But the prince’s voice grew heavier.

I asked him, “Who is here, my leader?” The prince paused.

He said something that confused me.

The crowd leaned closer.

He said, “The Christian’s prophet.

” The reaction was immediate.

Some people gasped.

Others shouted angrily.

That is impossible.

Someone yelled from the crowd.

The prince raised his hand again.

I thought the same thing, he admitted.

I believe the leader was delirious.

I tried to calm him.

He swallowed hard before continuing, but he kept repeating the same words.

The prince’s voice dropped lower.

He said, “He is standing there looking at me.

” Raheems confident expression slowly faded.

And then the prince continued.

The supreme leader began to panic.

His breathing became heavier just recalling it.

He tried to sit up pointing toward the corner of the room.

The prince turned slightly on the stage as if pointing to that invisible place again.

He shouted, “Tell him to leave.

Tell Jesus to leave.

” The entire square erupted into noise.

Some people shouted prayers.

Others protested loudly.

The religious officials behind the prince looked furious.

But the prince did not stop.

I saw nothing, he said.

The corner of the room was empty.

He looked down briefly, but the fear in his eyes was real.

The prince explained that the physician tried to calm the supreme leader.

The guard stepped closer, but the dying man continued staring at that empty corner.

He kept shaking his head, the prince said, like a man refusing judgment.

Then the prince repeated the final words the supreme leader spoke to him.

He looked at me and whispered, “We were wrong about them.

” The crowd froze again.

“Even Raheem said nothing this time.

” The prince continued.

He said, “Do not fight them anymore.

” The student beside me swallowed hard.

“That cannot be true,” he murmured.

But the prince nodded slowly.

“Yes, those were his words.

” He took a deep breath.

Moments later, the supreme leader died.

A long silence followed.

The square that had been full of shouting earlier was now filled with confusion.

People looked at one another, unsure what to think.

Some clutched their portraits tighter.

Others lowered them slowly.

Raheem rubbed his chin.

“So the leader had a nightmare before dying,” he said quietly.

“That changes nothing.

” But the prince suddenly spoke again, his voice sharper now.

“That is what I thought too.

” The crowd looked back at him.

For two days, the prince said, I tried to convince myself that the leader’s words meant nothing.

He looked toward the portrait hanging above the stage.

I told myself he was simply afraid of death.

Then the prince lifted his head again, but something happened afterward, something I cannot explain.

The crowd leaned closer.

The prince’s next words would push the speech into dangerous territory.

Because two nights after he died, he said slowly, “I saw the same thing the supreme leader saw.

” A wave of shock rolled through the square.

Raheem turned to me.

What is he saying? The prince gripped the microphone tightly and that he said is why today I must tell you the truth about Allah.

The tension in the square became almost unbearable.

No one moved.

No one breathed loudly because everyone could feel that the prince was about to say something that would shake the entire nation.

And we had no idea how explosive his next decoration would be.

The entire square had become restless.

People whispered to one another nervously as the prince stood on the stage holding the microphone with trembling hands.

What he had already said was shocking enough, but now he had claimed something even more dangerous.

He said he had seen the same thing the supreme leader saw.

Raheem shook his head slowly beside me.

This is not good, he muttered.

He is speaking too freely.

The young student beside us looked frightened.

If the religious council hears this, he whispered, they will never allow him to finish.

But the prince continued anyway.

His voice was steady, but the weight of his words pressed heavily on the crowd.

For 2 days after the leader’s death, he said, “I tried to forget what happened in that room.

” He began pacing slowly across the stage.

I told myself it was simply fear, a dying man imagining things.

The prince stopped and looked at the massive portrait of the Supreme Leader hanging above him.

I had served that man for many years.

I followed his commands without question.

His voice grew darker when he said Christianity was dangerous.

I believed him.

The prince turned back toward the crowd.

I helped close churches.

I helped arrest pastors.

I approve the destruction of places where Christians gathered.

Some people in the crowd nodded approvingly.

Others looked uncomfortable.

Raheem leaned closer to me again.

He should not confess these things in public, he whispered.

But the prince continued.

Two nights after the Supreme Leader died, he said slowly.

I returned to my own residence.

He described the night carefully.

It was late.

The city had grown quiet.

Even the traffic outside his compound had faded into distant echoes.

I was exhausted, he explained.

My mind was full of questions.

The prince said he had poured himself tea and sat alone in his study.

Papers covered his desk.

reports about security, meetings about the future of the country, messages from political allies, but he could not focus.

The leader’s last words kept repeating in my mind, he said.

Tell Jesus to leave.

The prince closed his eyes briefly.

I kept hearing it.

He walked to the window of his study and looked out over the city.

Thrron at night was usually alive with lights and noise, but that night it felt strangely quiet.

Finally, I went to bed, he said.

The crowd listened carefully.

Even the officials behind him were no longer whispering.

The prince continued describing what happened next.

I had just fallen asleep when something woke me.

His voice dropped lower.

It was not a sound.

He paused.

It was the presence.

The words sent a ripple of unease through the crowd.

Raheem shifted his weight beside me.

A presence? He muttered skeptically.

The prince nodded slowly.

“Yes.

” He explained that the room felt different.

heavy, almost filled with invisible pressure.

“I sat up in my bed,” he said.

The room was dark except for the faint light coming from the window.

For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming.

But then he noticed something strange.

“There was light in the corner of the room.

” The crowd stirred.

Not a bright light, he explained.

Not like a lamp.

It was softer, warmer, a glow, he said.

The prince swallowed before continuing.

At first, I thought someone had entered my room.

He reached for the small lamp beside his bed.

But before he could switch it on, he saw a figure standing there.

A collective gasp spread across the square.

Raheem looked at me sharply.

Is he saying what I think he is saying? The prince continued.

The figure was standing exactly where the supreme leader had pointed that night.

The tension in the crowd grew thicker.

I could not see the face clearly at first, the prince said, but I knew immediately that this was no ordinary man.

The prince described how fear gripped his body.

He had faced enemies in war.

He had stood before powerful leaders without trembling, but that night he could not move.

“I felt as if my entire life was being examined,” he said quietly.

The figure stepped forward slightly, and then the prince saw the face.

“His voice slowed as he spoke the next words.

It was the man the Christians called Jesus.

” The square erupted.

Shouts exploded from different parts of a crowd.

Some people screamed in anger, others stared in disbelief.

The religious officials behind the prince looked furious, but the prince continued speaking over the noise.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

“Jesus,” he raised his hand for silence.

Slowly, the noise faded again.

“I know what you are thinking,” the prince continued.

“I thought the same thing.

He had been taught all his life that Jesus was only a prophet, nothing more.

Certainly not someone who could appear in a man’s room.

But when he spoke, the prince said quietly, “Everything inside me froze.

” Raheem whispered beside me, “What did he say?” The prince answered, “He said my name.

” The crowd leaned closer again.

He said, “Armen.

” The prince’s voice trembled slightly as he continued.

Then he said something I will never forget.

He paused.

The entire square waited.

The prince looked across the crowd slowly before speaking again.

He said, “Why do you destroy my people?” A deep silence fell again.

The prince lowered his head briefly.

In that moment, every church I had helped destroy came back into my mind.

His voice became heavier.

Every Christian who had been arrested.

He looked up again and I realized something that terrified me.

The prince gripped the microphone tightly.

The man standing in my room was not asking a question.

He paused.

He was confronting me.

A chill passed through the crowd because everyone could sense that the prince was approaching the moment when everything he believed would shatter, and none of us were prepared for the words he would soon declare before the entire nation.

The square had grown so quiet that even the distant sounds of traffic could be heard faintly beyond the buildings.

Thousands of people stood frozen, staring at the prince.

Some still held portraits of the Supreme Leader high in the air, but many had slowly lowered them without even realizing it.

Raheem, who had been whispering doubts earlier, now stood completely silent beside me.

No one expected a story like this.

No one expected a prince, one of the most powerful men in the country, to stand before the public and claim that Jesus had appeared in his room.

The prince stood still for a moment, gripping the microphone as if the memory itself carried weight.

When the man the Christians called Jesus spoke to me, he continued quietly.

I could not answer.

>> His voice echoed across the loudspeakers.

I had commanded soldiers.

I had debated religious scholars.

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