They haven’t spoken to me since, except for occasional messages telling me to repent and return to Islam.

But I’m free.

For the first time in my life, I’m free from the burden of earning God’s approval through endless rules.

Free from the fear that one mistake will condemn me.

Free from the emptiness of ritual without relationship.

Uh, I’m completing my medical degree.

I’ll graduate next year and I’m planning to return to Pakistan as a medical missionary.

I’ll serve in rural areas where women have no access to health care.

I’ll treat their physical needs and I’ll tell them about the Jesus who healed through my hands, who called me by name, who proved he has authority over life and death.

I may die for that testimony.

Pakistan is not safe for Muslim converts to Christianity.

But I’ve met the one who conquered death.

What do I have to fear? The third testimony came from Hadi Prasetio, a 45-year-old Indonesian businessman based in Osaka.

We met at his office, a modest space, surprisingly simple for a successful businessman.

He’d sold most of his business holdings and now lives on a fraction of his former wealth using the rest to support underground church networks across Southeast Asia.

Hadti is direct, pragmatic, and remarkably humble for someone who was once a multi-millionaire.

His story is perhaps the most dramatic of the three.

I need to be honest from the beginning.

I’m not a religious man by nature.

I was raised Muslim in Jakarta, but religion was cultural, not personal.

We fasted during Ramadan because everyone did.

We attended aid prayers because it was socially expected.

But did I truly believe? Did I have a relationship with Allah? No.

I’m a businessman.

That’s my identity.

I made my fortune in textiles and manufacturing.

By age 40, I had three factories in Indonesia, properties in five countries, investments across Southeast Asia.

I had more money than I knew what to do with.

I came to Japan in 2021 to expand my business.

Japan’s textile technology is decades ahead of Indonesia’s.

I saw opportunity.

I bought a luxury apartment in Osaka.

I hired local staff.

Iworked with Japanese manufacturers.

I was successful, wealthy, comfortable.

I was also empty.

My wife left me in 2019.

She said I love money more than I loved her.

She was right.

My two children barely knew me.

I was always working, always traveling, always chasing the next deal.

My health was deteriorating.

Stress, high blood pressure, insomnia, constant anxiety despite having everything money could buy.

But I kept pushing because if I stopped, I’d have to face the emptiness.

So I worked.

I accumulated.

I expanded.

And I ignored the hollowess eating me from inside.

On January 1st, 2024, New Year’s Day, I was in my Osaka apartment.

I working through the holiday because that’s what I did.

It was 4:37 a.

m.

I was drinking coffee, reviewing contracts for a deal in Vietnam, alone in my luxury apartment.

Then the earthquake hit.

Magnitude 6.

8.

Osaka isn’t as earthquake prepared as Tokyo.

The shaking was violent.

Pictures fell off walls.

Furniture slid across the floor.

The entire building swayed like a ship in a storm.

I tried to get to the doorway.

That’s what you’re supposed to do.

But the shaking threw me off balance.

I fell and hit my head on the corner of my marble coffee table.

The pain was instant and blinding.

I felt warm blood pouring down my face.

I tried to stand but couldn’t.

The room was spinning, not from the earthquake anymore, but from head trauma.

My vision blurred.

I couldn’t focus.

I tried to call for help, but my phone had slid across the room.

I I remember thinking, “This is absurd.

I survived business wars, betrayals, competition that destroyed other men.

I’m going to die from hitting a coffee table.

Then everything went black.

But I didn’t lose consciousness in the normal sense.

I was suddenly outside my body.

I could see myself on the floor, blood pooling around my head.

The earthquake had stopped, but I was still there, floating about 2 m above my body, looking down at myself.

I felt no pain, no fear, just curiosity and a strange sense of peace.

I thought, “Am I dead? Is this death?” Then I started moving, not walking, floating, accelerating.

I passed through the ceiling of my apartment like it wasn’t there, through multiple floors, out into the sky above Osaka.

The city was in chaos below me, earthquake damage, people in the streets, emergency vehicles.

But I was rising higher, faster until the entire island of Honshu was visible beneath me like a map.

Then I saw something impossible, something that changed everything.

The entire island of Japan was glowing, not with electric lights, with another kind of light, spiritual light.

It looked like thousands of small fires burning across the island, concentrated in certain areas, spreading slowly outward.

And as I watched, the light began spreading beyond Japan.

It moved across the ocean to Korea, to China, to Southeast Asia.

I saw Indonesia, my homeland, and watched as lights appeared like stars igniting.

Thousands of them, millions of them, concentrated first in cities like Jakarta, then spreading to rural areas, to villages, to islands I’d never heard of.

A voice spoke, not from a direction, but from everywhere at once.

I like the voice was the fabric of reality itself.

This is my harvest.

This is the awakening of Asia.

Japan is the starting point.

The light will spread from here to every nation, every tribe, every tongue, and you had will be part of it.

I responded, who are you, Allah? The voice said, I am greater than what you’ve called Allah.

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

I am Jesus Christ, the son of the living God.

I created Islam to prepare hearts for my coming.

Now I’m revealing myself directly and I’m sending you back to testify of what you’ve seen.

I protested.

I’m not religious.

I don’t know scripture.

I’m not qualified to.

That’s exactly why I’m choosing you.

You have no religious agenda.

You have no theological training to defend.

You’re a businessman.

You deal in facts, in evidence, in results.

When you tell people that Jesus Christ sent you back from death to testify, they’ll believe you because you have nothing to gain and everything to lose.

Your testimony will carry weight precisely because it cost you everything.

I wanted to argue more, but the voice said, “It’s not your time.

Go back, tell them what you’ve seen, and use everything I’ve given you, your wealth, your connections, your business network to serve my harvest.

I felt myself pulled backwards, accelerating in reverse, down through the sky, through the building, back into my body.

I woke up gasping.

I was in a hospital.

The medical team surrounded me.

Someone was saying my name.

I opened my eyes and saw a doctor’s face.

It was January 2nd, 2024, 6:15 p.

m.

I’d been unconscious for 38 hours.

The doctors were shocked I was alive.

The neurologist showed me CT scans.

Yet, he pointed to the area of impact.

This should have caused severe brain damage or death.

The force of impact should have fractured your skull.

Somehow you have no fracture, no bleed, no swelling.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

I knew why, but I didn’t tell him yet.

I was released from the hospital 3 days later with instructions to rest for 2 weeks.

I went back to my apartment.

I stood in the exact spot where I’d fallen, where I’d died or nearly died.

And I asked out loud, “Jesus, if that was real, if you really sent me back, show me what to do next.

” Within an hour, there was a knock on my door.

I opened it.

A Japanese man I’d never met stood there.

He was in his 50s, dressed simply with a gentle face.

He said in English, “My name is Kenji Watanab.

I’m a pastor.

This is going to sound strange, but I was praying this morning and I felt strongly, undeniably that I was supposed to come to this address and knock on door 1407.

I don’t know why.

I don’t know who lives here, but I’ve learned to obey when God speaks clearly.

So, here I am.

I stared at him.

The supernatural nature of this moment was undeniable.

I think I know why you’re here,” I said.

I invited him in.

I told him everything.

The earthquake, the near-death experience, the vision of light spreading across Asia, the voice identifying itself as Jesus, the command to testify.

Kenji listened without interruption.

When I finished, he was weeping.

He said, “Brother, you’re the fifth Indonesian believer in my network who’s had an encounter with Jesus in the past 18 months.

God is moving powerfully among your people.

The harvest is beginning.

” He exactly as you saw in your vision.

He gave me a Bible.

He invited me to study with him.

We met every week for 4 months.

He answered my questions.

He showed me in scripture the Jesus I’d encountered.

The Jesus who has authority over life and death.

Who reveals himself to seekers.

Who calls people by name and transforms them completely.

I was baptized on May 5th, 2024.

And then I did something that shocked everyone who knew me.

I sold my businesses, all of them.

I liquidated my properties.

I kept enough to live modestly.

A small apartment, basic transportation, simple food.

The rest, 90% of my wealth, approximately $4.

7 million, I gave away.

I gave it to ministries working in Southeast Asia to underground church networks in Indonesia, Malaysia, Pakistan, to organizations supporting Muslim background believers who face persecution to missionaries translating scripture into minority languages to church planters establishing house churches in restricted areas.

My former business partners thought I’d lost my mind.

My family in Jakarta thinks I joined a cult, but I’ve never been ser.

I’ve never had more clarity about purpose and meaning.

I now use my business network, all the connections I built over 20 years to serve the kingdom.

The same relationships that helped me build factories now help me build churches.

The same roots I used to ship textiles now smuggle Bibles and Christian literature into restricted areas.

I travel throughout Southeast Asia connecting underground believers.

I’ve documented over 400 testimonies personally.

Muslims encountering Jesus through dreams, visions, near-death experiences, all sharing similar patterns and all describing the same figure.

all transformed completely.

Indonesia is experiencing a massive underground revival right now.

Islamic authorities are panicking.

Persecution is increasing.

But the movement can’t be stopped because it’s not driven by human effort.

It’s driven by Jesus revealing himself directly.

The vision I saw during my near-death experience, the light spreading across Asia, it’s happening right now exactly as I was shown.

And Japan is the epicenter because the blood of martyrs sanctified this soil 400 years ago.

Because faithful believers preserved the gospel in secret for 250 years.

Because God honors faithfulness across generations.

I lost everything.

I spent my life building, my wealth, my business empire, my reputation, my relationship with my family, and I’ve never been happier because I’ve found the one thing worth having, Jesus Christ.

After hearing these three testimonies and dozens more during my time in Japan, certain patterns became undeniable.

Every testimony, regardless of the person’s background, included these elements.

The figure in white, not described vaguely, but with specific consistent details.

Middle Eastern features.

White robe that emitted light.

Scars on the hands.

A presence that communicated divinity even before words were spoken.

Words spoken in native language.

Rasheed heard Arabic.

Zara heard erdo.

Hadi heard Indonesian.

Jesus didn’t appear as a western figure speaking English.

He appeared in culturally relevant ways speaking the language of the heart.

Personal names spoken, not generic addresses like child or seeker, but specific names.

Rashid, Zara, Hadi.

The intimacy of being known personally by God, supernatural knowledge or power.

Rashid was shown a church he’d never seen.

Zara witnessed and participated in resurrection power.

Hadti saw a vision of future events.

Each encounter included elements that proved supernatural origin, initial resistance.

None of these converts accepted the message immediately.

All wrestled with theological contradictions.

All tried to rationalize or explain away the experience.

The eventual surrender came only after evidence became overwhelming.

radical life transformation.

These aren’t minor adjustments.

Rashid lost his family.

Zara faces potential danger if she returns to Pakistan.

Hadti gave away his fortune.

The cost of following Jesus is catastrophic by worldly standards which proves the encounters were genuine.

No one endures that cost for a fabricated experience.

Verification through impossibility.

Each testimony includes elements that cannot be explained naturally.

Architectural knowledge Rashid couldn’t possess.

Medical resurrection that defies scientific explanation.

Near-death experiences that include verifiable details.

The testimonies aren’t based on subjective feelings.

They’re anchored in objective impossibilities.

When I showed this pattern analysis to Yamamoto, he wasn’t surprised.

This is exactly what I’ve been documenting for 4 years, he said.

The consistency is what convinced me this is genuine supernatural activity.

If these were fabricated testimonies or psychological phenomena, you’d see much more variation.

But the core elements remain constant across hundreds of testimonies from people who’ve never met each other.

I who come from different countries who had encounters separated by months or years.

This is Jesus revealing himself.

The same Jesus who appeared to Saul on the Damascus road.

The same Jesus who appeared to John on Patmos.

The same Jesus who promised he would draw all people to himself.

He’s doing it right now in our generation in Japan.

This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.

The leaked documents that prove something unprecedented is happening at an official level.

Yamamoto slid the folder across his desk one more time during our final interview.

I need you to understand the risk I’m taking by sharing these with you.

These documents are classified.

Obtaining them violated protocols.

Publishing their contents could result in criminal charges against me.

But truth matters more than personal safety.

And the world needs to know what the Japanese government has been quietly tracking.

Inside the folder were 47 pages of official documents from multiple government agencies.

Official title religious adaptation assessment of Muslim immigrant populations region 2021 to 2024.

This was a standard integration survey conducted by immigration officials during routine check-ins with immigrants and refugees.

The survey included questions about cultural adjustment, language acquisition, employment status, and community connections.

Question 47 asked, “Have you experienced any significant spiritual or religious events since arriving in Japan?” The question was intended to assess whether immigrants were finding religious community, mosques, prayer groups, halal food sources, standard integration metrics.

But the responses were anything but standard.

Of 3,127 Muslim immigrants surveyed, 2,784, 89% answered yes to having experienced significant spiritual events.

Follow-up interviews revealed shocking consistency.

92% described dreams or visions of a figure in white.

88% said the figure spoke to them in their native language.

84% said the figure identified as Jesus or Isa.

91% described the experience as more real than waking life.

96% reported lasting peace following the encounter.

The survey researchers notes included this statement.

The consistency of these reports is statistically anomalous and warrants further investigation.

Standard sociological models for religious conversion do not account for this data pattern.

We have ruled out interviewer bias, leading questions, and cultural contamination as explanatory factors.

And the phenomenon appears genuine and requires interdisciplinary analysis, including religious studies, psychology, and potentially parasychology perspectives.

In bureaucratic language, the researcher was saying, “We don’t know how to explain this, but something real is happening.

This document compiled cases of unexplained medical phenomena among the convert population.

47 documented cases of spontaneous healing following religious conversion.

Not improvements, complete healings of conditions that were medically documented before and after conversion.

The most dramatic case, a 38-year-old Syrian refugee, name redacted in the official document, but Yamamoto told me his name.

I’ve chosen not to publish it to protect his safety, who was paralyzed from the waist down due to spinal cord damage sustained during the Syrian war.

And medical records from both Syria and Japan confirmed complete spinal transaction, permanent irreversible paralysis according to all current medical science.

3 days after his baptism in November 2023, he began regaining sensation in his legs.

Within 2 months, he had full mobility restored.

The Japanese medical team wrote, “Patient presence with complete neurological recovery from documented complete spinal cord injury.

No medical intervention was provided beyond standard supportive care.

Mechanism of recovery unknown and unprecedented in medical literature.

We cannot explain this outcome through natural processes.

” This document analyzed the spatial distribution of religious conversions and found a pattern that defied natural explanation.

Conversion rates were not evenly distributed across Japan and they were heavily concentrated in specific regions Kyoto, Nagasaki and N.

The pattern did not correlate with Muslim population density.

Highest concentrations weren’t in areas with most Muslims.

Christian organization presence, no major churches or missions in these areas.

Economic factors not related to employment or housing.

Language support availability.

Japanese language resources weren’t better in these areas.

The pattern did correlate with historical sites of Christian martyrdom.

Locations where hidden Christians maintained secret faith 1600s to 1800s.

Archaeological sites with verified historical Christian presence.

The analysts conclusion.

Geographic distribution suggests correlation with historical Christian presence rather than contemporary evangelism efforts or demographic factors.

And this pattern is highly unusual and suggests a possible religious/spiritual dimension beyond standard sociological analysis.

This was the document that made everything click into place.

dated August 15th, 2023 from the director of immigration services bureau to regional immigration officers.

Following multiple reports of unusual spiritual phenomena among Muslim immigrant population, we are creating new classification category for internal tracking purposes.

Religious experience report supernatural category R E R S.

These officers conducting standard integration interviews should note any mentions of dreams or visions of religious figures, spontaneous interest in Christianity despite no prior exposure, reports of supernatural healing or miraculous intervention, encounters with beings of light or similar phenomena.

This data is for internal tracking only.

Do not share with media, academic researchers or external agencies without director level approval.

Maintain standard protocols regarding religious freedom.

We are not endorsing or condemning any religious tradition.

We are simply documenting an unprecedented pattern that requires monitoring for integration planning purposes.

And the Japanese government was officially tracking supernatural encounters with Jesus among Muslim immigrants.

And they’d created a special classification category because the reports were too numerous to ignore.

I asked Yamamoto one final question.

If you could say anything to the global audience that will eventually see this investigation, what would it be? He thought carefully before answering.

I spent 20 years in government believing that if I worked hard enough, if I implemented the right policies, I could solve social problems and improve people’s lives.

And I did improve lives, infrastructure, education, economic opportunity.

But I couldn’t touch the deepest human need.

I couldn’t heal the spiritual emptiness that transcends material circumstances.

When I encountered Jesus at age 42, I I finally understood there are problems only God can solve.

There are needs only the supernatural can meet.

And we’re living in a moment when God is choosing to intervene directly, bypassing all human systems.

The documents prove what I’ve been witnessing personally.

Jesus is appearing to Muslims, Buddhists, atheists, and seekers across Japan.

He’s doing in dreams what missionaries couldn’t accomplish in decades.

He’s revealing himself without human intermediaries.

Why, Japan? I believe it’s because of the faithful witness of the hidden Christians.

For 250 years they preserved the gospel at the cost of their lives.

That faithfulness created spiritual authority over this nation.

Their prayers are being answered in our generation.

The question now is what will the world do with this evidence? Uh will we suppress it because it’s uncomfortable? Will we ignore it because it challenges our theological boxes? or will we have courage to declare what we know to be true? I chose to declare it.

I’ve lost my political future.

I faced threats and criticism.

I’d make the same choice again because Jesus is worth it.

Truth is worth it.

And the harvest happening in Japan is too important to hide.

Teeshi Yamamoto has lost allies, faced threats, and destroyed his political career by speaking this truth.

But when I asked if he regretted it, he looked me in the eyes and said, “The only thing I would regret is staying silent while Jesus is revealing himself to Muslims in my country.

” And I said nothing to help them understand what’s happening.

That’s the kind of courage we need in this generation.

And not recklessness, but holy boldness that values truth over comfort, that values souls over reputation, that values eternal significance over temporal success.

If you believe we need more voices like Yamamoto, leaders willing to document and declare what God is doing even when it costs them everything.

Subscribe to this channel.

Right now, we’re not building an audience.

We’re building an archive of testimonies that prove Jesus is still revealing himself across every culture, religion, and border.

Your subscription says, “I’m a witness.

I won’t stay silent.

I want to see what God is really doing in our world, not just what’s comfortable to report.

” This is about more than one video.

I’m continuing to document testimonies coming out of Japan and across Asia.

The encounters are accelerating.

The movement is growing.

D.

You don’t want to miss what comes next.

Subscribe.

Turn on notifications.

Stand with us for truth.

Since I began this investigation 3 months ago, the movement has accelerated dramatically.

House churches across Japan report unprecedented growth.

Kenji Watanab’s network has expanded from eight churches to 23 in just the past 4 months.

Over 400 baptisms have occurred during that period.

Muslim immigrants are actively seeking out Christians, asking about Jesus, requesting Bibles.

International Islamic organizations have issued warnings about Japan, claiming it’s a center of Christian deception and apostasy propaganda.

Ironically, this has increased curiosity among Muslim travelers and students considering Japan as a destination.

Yamamoto continues his documentation work despite the personal cost.

He’s maintained careful records, conducted ongoing interviews, and expanded his statistical analysis.

He’s refused pressure to retract his statements or apologize for speaking truth.

And the testimonies keep coming every week.

new encounters, new transformations, new evidence that Jesus is revealing himself in Japan in ways unprecedented in modern history.

If you’re from a Muslim background and you’ve watched this entire investigation, you’re here for a reason.

These testimonies were meant for you.

Maybe you’ve had your own encounter.

A dream you can’t explain.

A vision that seemed too real.

A moment when you sensed a presence you couldn’t identify.

Maybe you’ve been afraid to acknowledge it because of family pressure, community expectations, or fear of leaving your faith tradition.

You’re not betraying your heritage by seeking truth.

The Quran itself calls Jesus the word of God and a spirit from God.

Every prophet pointed toward Jesus.

He is the fulfillment of what the prophets foretold.

Jesus doesn’t want you to abandon your culture.

He wants to become your savior.

He wants to reveal himself to you personally the way he revealed himself to Rashid, Zara, and Hadi.

If you’re curious, if you’re seeking, if something in these testimonies resonates deep in your soul, reach out.

There are communities of believers ready to walk with you.

You don’t have to journey alone.

Search for churches that specifically welcome Muslim background believers.

They exist in Japan and across the world.

Here’s the gospel in its simplest form.

God created you for relationship with him.

A sin separated humanity from God.

No amount of good works, religious performance, or ritual obedience can bridge that separation.

It’s unbridgegable by human effort.

So God did what you couldn’t do.

He sent his son, Jesus Christ, to become human.

Jesus lived the perfect life you couldn’t live.

He died the death your sin deserved.

He took your punishment upon himself and then he rose from the dead on the third day, conquering sin, death, and hell.

Now he offers you a free gift, forgiveness, new life, eternal relationship with God.

You can’t earn it.

You can’t work for it.

You can only receive it by faith.

Believe that Jesus is who he claimed to be, the son of God, God incarnate, your savior.

Surrender your life to him.

Confess your sins.

Trust in his finished work on the cross and everything changes.

Right? That’s the message Muslims in Japan are hearing directly from Jesus.

That’s the message transforming lives across Asia.

That’s the gospel.

That’s true.

What’s happening in Japan is a preview of something global.

Jesus is revealing himself to seekers across every nation, every culture, every religious background.

The harvest is beginning.

The supernatural is breaking into the natural.

Heaven is invading earth.

The question is, will you be part of it? Thank you for staying with me through this entire investigation.

Thank you for having the courage to hear testimonies that challenge comfortable narratives.

Thank you for seeking truth even when it’s costly.

The story doesn’t end here.

This is just the beginning.

Keep watching.

Keep praying.

Keep your eyes open for where Jesus appears next.

Because he’s not done revealing himself.

And neither are we done documenting what he’s doing.

We’re living in a moment unprecedented in church history.

The gospel that was carried by Western missionaries for centuries is now being delivered directly by Jesus himself to Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and seekers across Asia and the Middle East.

Natural methods have reached their limit.

Now the supernatural is taking over.

If you’ve watched for 35 minutes, you’re here for a reason.

This investigation was meant for you.

Before you leave, do three things.

First, if this investigation has opened your eyes to what God is doing in our generation, comment, “Jesus is revealing himself.

Let’s create a visible testimony in this comment section of how many people are waking up to this reality.

Let’s build a community that refuses to stay silent about what heaven is doing on earth.

Second, subscribe and turn on notifications.

The testimonies coming out of Japan are accelerating.

I’m documenting more encounters, more conversions, more impossible stories that prove Jesus is who he claimed to be.

Next month, I’m releasing an investigation into similar patterns happening in Malaysia and Indonesia, Muslim majority nations where Jesus is appearing in dreams at unprecedented rates.

You don’t want to miss what comes next.

Third, share this with someone who needs to hear it, someone who’s had questions about Christianity, someone from a Muslim background who’s been seeking, someone who thinks Jesus is confined to Western religion or ancient history.

And this isn’t just a video.

It’s a tool God can use to reach someone who’s ready to encounter him.

Every share potentially sets a captive free from isolation and confusion.

Thank you for being part of this community.

Thank you for standing for truth when it’s costly.

Thank you for refusing to look away from what God is doing even when it challenges our comfortable expectations.

Until next time, keep watching, keep praying, keep your eyes open for where Jesus appears next, because the harvest is just beginning and the best is yet to Come.

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I was the one Iran run to when they need funds to sponsor Hezbollah.

But after I met Jesus, I discovered I was doing the wrong thing.

>> There are billionaires in Iran that the world does not know about.

Men whose fortunes are hidden behind shell companies and secret bank accounts in countries across the globe.

Men whose wealth cannot be tracked by Forbes or any international organization because of sanctions and deliberate concealment.

men who have made their money from arms deals and oil and funding terrorism across the Middle East.

I know this because I was one of them.

My name is Kasm Muhammadi Nijad.

I am 73 years old.

For 40 years, I was the invisible hand that moved billions of dollars from Thran to Beirut to fund Hezbollah’s war machine.

I financed bombings that killed hundreds.

I funded rockets that destroyed homes and orphaned children.

I sat in private meetings with Ayatollah Kmeni himself and with Hassan Nasalla and with General Kazam Solmani and I did it all believing I was doing the will of Allah.

Then one night in 2020 motou my heart stopped beating in a hospital in Thran.

I was clinically dead for four minutes.

And in those four minutes, I stood face to face with Jesus Christ.

He asked me one question that destroyed everything I believed.

He said, “Kazm, why have you been funding the destruction of my children? Today, for the first time in my life, I am going to answer that question live on television before the entire world.

I was born in the spring of 1952 in the city of Tehran, the capital of Iran.

In those days, Thran was a different place than it is today.

The Sha was on the throne and the country was trying to become modern and western.

Uh there were cinemas and restaurants and women walking in the streets without covering their hair.

The mosques were still full of worshippers, but religion did not control every aspect of life the way it would later.

I grew up in a wealthy neighborhood in the northern part of the city where the air was cleaner and the houses were larger than anywhere else in Thran.

My family had money and status and connections to powerful people.

I never knew what it was like to be hungry or poor or desperate.

I never understood the struggles that ordinary Iranians faced every day.

I was born into privilege and I accepted it as my natural right without ever questioning where it came from or what it cost others.

My father was a man named Mustafa Muhammad Najat.

He was one of the most successful merchants in Thran during the time of the Sha.

He traded carpets and textiles and antiques with buyers all over the world.

He had warehouses in the bazar district and offices in Europe and connections to the royal court itself.

The Sha’s family bought carpets from my father for their palaces.

Foreign diplomats and wealthy tourists came to his showrooms to purchase the finest Persian rugs that money could buy.

My father was a proud man who believed that success was a sign of God’s favor.

He taught me that wealth was not something to be ashamed of but something to be celebrated and increased with every opportunity.

He taught me that a man’s worth was measured by the size of his fortune and the respect he commanded from those around him.

These lessons would shape everything I became in the years that followed and would lead me down a path that I could never have imagined.

When I was 18 years old in 1970, my father began teaching me the secrets of his trade.

He took me to his warehouses in the Grand Bazar and showed me how to judge the quality of a carpet by examining its knots and colors and patterns with careful eyes.

He took me to his offices and showed me how to negotiate with buyers and sellers from different countries who spoke different languages and followed different customs.

He introduced me to his context in the government who helped smooth the way for his imports and exports across international borders.

He taught me that business was not just about buying and selling goods in the marketplace.

It was about building relationships with powerful people who could protect you and help you grow.

It was about knowing which palms to grease and which favors to trade and which secrets to keep.

It was about understanding that the rules that applied to ordinary people did not apply to men with money and connections.

I absorbed every single one of these lessons eagerly because I wanted to make my father proud and prove myself worthy.

By the mid 1970s, I had become my father’s right hand in running the family business.

I traveled to London and Paris and New York to meet with buyers and established new markets for our carpets and textiles.

I negotiated deals worth millions of dollars with collectors and dealers and interior designers who wanted authentic Persian rugs for their wealthy clients in the West.

I was only in my early 20s, but I was already richer than most men would ever be in their entire lives.

I wore expensive suits tailored in London.

I drove expensive European cars through the streets of Thrron.

The I stayed in the finest hotels wherever I traveled around the world.

I ate at restaurants where a single meal cost more than what an ordinary Iranian family earned in a month.

I thought I had the world figured out.

I thought I understood exactly how everything worked and how to get whatever I wanted from life.

But I understood nothing at all.

I did not know that the comfortable world I had grown up in was about to be completely destroyed.

The first signs of trouble appeared in 1977 when protest began breaking out in cities across Iran.

People were angry at the sha for many different reasons.

Some were angry about corruption and inequality that left millions in poverty while the elite lived in luxury.

Some were angry about political repression and the Savak secret police who tortured anyone who dared to speak against the government.

Some were angry about Western influence and the way traditional Islamic values were being abandoned in favor of American culture.

The protests grew larger and more violent throughout 1978 as more and more people joined the movement.

The Sha tried to crush them with military force, but nothing worked because the people were no longer afraid.

They poured into the streets by the millions chanting slogans and demanding change and burning pictures of the sha.

And leading them from exile was a man whose name would become synonymous with revolution itself.

His name was Ayatollah Ruhola Kmeni and he was calling on the people to rise up and establish an Islamic government.

My family watched the revolution unfold with a mixture of deep fear and cautious hope.

In my father was worried about what would happen to his business empire if the sha fell from power.

He had built everything under the old system and he did not know if it would survive under a new government with new rules and new leaders.

But my mother was filled with excitement about the possibility of an Islamic government coming to power.

She believed with all her heart that Kmeni was a holy man sent by God himself to restore true religion to Iran.

She prayed for the success of the revolution every single day and encouraged all of us to support it as well.

When the sha finally fled Iran in January 1979 and kain returned in triumph on February 1st, my mother fell to her knees and wept with joy.

She said that a new and glorious era had begun for our country.

She said that God had answered the prayers of the faithful and that Iran would now become a shining beacon of Islam for the entire world to see and follow.

The revolution changed everything for my family and for every family in Iran.

The old elites who had been connected to the sha were swept away like leaves in a storm.

Some were dragged before revolutionary courts and executed.

Some fled the country with whatever they could carry and never returned.

Some lost everything they had worked their whole lives to build.

My father was terrified that we would be targeted because of his known connections to the old regime and the royal court.

But my father was clever and adaptable and he understood how to survive in dangerous times.

He quickly reached out to the new revolutionary leaders and offered his services and his loyalty to the Islamic government.

He donated large amounts of money to Islamic charities and foundations that supported the revolution.

He made sure that the right people in the new government knew that he was a faithful supporter of Kmeni and the new Islamic order that was being established.

His strategy worked brilliantly.

Instead of being destroyed by the revolution like so many other wealthy families, our business survived and actually grew stronger under the new regime.

The revolutionary government needed people who knew how to run businesses and manage large amounts of money.

it.

They needed people who had international connections and who could help them navigate the complex world of global trade, especially as Western countries began imposing sanctions on the new Islamic Republic.

My father was ready and more than willing to serve these needs.

He positioned himself as an indispensable ally to the new rulers of Iran.

He taught me that survival was always more important than principles or ideals.

He taught me that a smart man adapts to whatever system is in power and finds a way to profit from it regardless of who sits on the throne.

I learned this lesson well, perhaps too well, because the adaptability that my father taught me would eventually lead me into a darkness so deep that only a miracle could pull me out of it.

In September 1980, Saddam Hussein sent his army across the border and invaded Iran.

The war that followed would last for eight terrible years and would kill nearly a million people on both sides.

It would destroy entire cities and leave scars on the land and the people that would never fully heal.

But for men like me, the war was something else entirely.

It was an opportunity.

The new Islamic government desperately needed weapons and military equipment to fight the Iraqis.

They needed bullets and rockets and tanks and spare parts for their aging Americanmade fighter jets that the Sha had purchased years before.

International sanctions made it nearly impossible for Iran to buy weapons through normal channels.

The Western countries that had sold arms to the Sha now refused to do business with the Islamic Republic.

So the government turned to men like me, men who had international connections and who knew how to move goods across borders without attracting attention.

Men who understood how to make deals in the shadows where no rules applied.

My father was the one who first introduced me to the world of arms dealing.

He had been approached by contacts within the new revolutionary government who asked if he could use his trading network to help acquire military supplies from foreign sources.

My father saw the opportunity immediately.

The profit margins on weapons were far greater than anything he had ever made selling carpets and textiles.

A single shipment of rifles or ammunition could earn more money than a year of carpet sales.

He brought me into these deals because I was young and energetic and I spoke English and French fluently, which made it easier to negotiate with foreign suppliers.

Together, we began building a new kind of business, a business that dealt not in beautiful Persian rugs, but in instruments of debt and destruction.

We sourced weapons from China and North Korea and Eastern Europe and smuggled them into Iran through secret roads that bypassed international sanctions.

The money poured in faster than I could have ever imagined.

Within two years of entering the arms trade, I had made more money than my father had earned in his entire career selling carpets.

I opened secret bank accounts in Dubai and Switzerland and Hong Kong to hide the profits from international investigators.

I set up shell companies in countries with weak regulations to move money around the world without leaving traces.

I learned the dark art of sanctions evasion and money laundering from experts who had been doing it for decades.

I became one of the most important suppliers of weapons to the Iranian military during the war.

Generals and I, our RGC commanders, called me personally to place orders for equipment they needed on the front lines.

Government ministers invited me to private dinners where deals were made over plates of saffron, rice, and kebabs.

I was becoming one of the most powerful men in Iran, even though almost nobody outside the inner circles of power knew my name.

It was in the spring of 1982 that everything changed in a way I could never have predicted.

I received a message through one of my government contacts telling me that I had been summoned to a private meeting at a secure location in Thran.

The message said that the meeting was being organized by the office of the supreme leader himself and I was told to come alone and to tell no one about the invitation.

My heart was pounding when I arrived at the location which was a large house surrounded by revolutionary guards with machine guns.

I was escorted through several checkpoints and searched thoroughly before being led into a room where some of the most powerful men in Iran were already seated.

There were senior IRGC commanders in military uniforms.

There were government ministers in suits.

There were high ranking clerics in turbans and robes.

And at the center of it, all sitting on a simple cushion on the floor, was Ayatollah Rouola Kmeni himself, the supreme leader of the Islamic Republic of Iran.

I had never been in the same room as Kmeni before that day.

I had seen him on television and heard his voice on the radio countless times.

But being in his physical presence was something entirely different.

He radiated an authority and a power that I had never felt from any other human being.

The room fell completely silent when he spoke.

Every man in that room, including generals and ministers who commanded thousands of people hung on his every word, like children listening to their father.

Kmeni looked at me with those deep piercing eyes, and I felt like he could see straight into my soul.

He knew who I was.

He knew what I had been doing for the war effort and he had something specific that he wanted me to do next.

Something that would bind me to the Islamic Republic and its mission for the next 40 years of my life.

Kmeni began by speaking about the situation in Lebanon.

He talked about how the Shia Muslim population in southern Lebanon had been oppressed and marginalized for decades.

He talked about how Israel had invaded Lebanon earlier that year and was occupying the southern part of the country.

He said that this was an attack not just on Lebanon but on all of Islam.

He said that it was the duty of every Muslim to fight against the Zionist enemy and to protect the oppressed believers in Lebanon.

Then he revealed his plan.

Iran was going to create and support a new armed movement in Lebanon.

A movement of faithful Shia Muslims who would fight against Israel and defend the honor of Islam.

This movement would be trained and equipped and funded by Iran through the Islamic Revolutionary Guard course guard.

It would become the tip of the spear in Iran’s resistance against Israel and American influence in the Middle East.

The name of this movement was Hezbollah, the party of God.

Kmeni turned his attention directly to me.

He told me that building this movement would require enormous amounts of money.

He said that my skills in moving money across borders and evading international sanctions made me the perfect person to help finance this sacred project.

He told me that funding the resistance against Israel was not just a political act but a religious obligation.

Then one of the senior clerics in the room opened a Quran and began reading verses that he sayeth proved that supporting jihad with your wealth was one of the highest forms of worship in Islam.

Uh he read verse after verse about how those who spend their money in the path of Allah will be rewarded with paradise.

He read about how the believers who fund the fighters are equal in reward to the fighters themselves.

He read about how Allah loves those who sacrifice their wealth for the defense of the faith.

Each verse hit me like a hammer driving the message deeper and deeper into my heart and my mind.

By the time the cleric finished reading, I was completely convinced.

I believed with absolute certainty that what they were asking me to do was not just acceptable but holy.

I believed that God himself was calling me to use my wealth for this sacred purpose.

I believed that funding the fight against Israel would earn me a place in paradise that no amount of prayer or fasting could ever achieve.

And I would be lying if I said that the religious argument was the only thing that convinced me.

There were other incentives as well.

The government promised me protection from any legal troubles.

They promised me exclusive access to lucrative oil contracts and government deals that would make me even wealthier than I already was.

They promised me influence and status within the highest levels of the Islamic Republic.

They were offering me everything a man could want, wealth and power and religious salvation, all wrapped up in one package.

How could I say no? What kind of fool would turn down an offer like that? I said yes to Kmeni that day.

I pledged my wealth and my resources and my networks to the cause of Hezbollah and the resistance against Israel.

So I shook hands with IRGC commanders who would become my partners in this enterprise for decades to come.

I left that meeting feeling like I was walking on air.

I felt chosen and special and important in a way I had never felt before.

I was no longer just a wealthy businessman making money from arms deals.

I was now a soldier of God fighting the greatest battle of our time.

I was a warrior for Islam using my wealth as my weapon.

I drove home that night and prayed with more passion and conviction than I had ever prayed in my entire life.

I thanked Allah for choosing me for this sacred mission.

I asked him to bless my efforts and to accept my sacrifice.

I had no idea that I was not serving God at all.

I had no idea that the path I had just chosen would lead me into 40 years of darkness and blood and destruction that would cost thousands of innocent people their lives.

Over the following months, I threw myself into the work of financing Hezbollah with everything I had.

I set up new shell companies specifically designed to funnel money from Iran to Lebanon without being detected by international authorities.

I created networks of trusted couriers who carried cash across borders, hidden in shipments of goods and merchandise.

I opened secret accounts in banks across the Middle East and Africa and Asia that could receive and distribute funds without leaving traces.

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