Oh Allah, grant him healing, have mercy on your servant and ease his suffering.

The testimonies featured on this channel are presented as received, reflecting the personal experience and perspectives of the individuals who have generously shared them with us.

We encourage our viewers to [music] approach these testimonies with compassion and understanding as these are personal testimonies of people involved.

We also encourage you to always refer to the Holy Bible and the teachings of Jesus Christ and his apostles for guidance.

You can consider subscribing to the channel to support our ministry.

Like, share, and comment with the country you are watching from.

Watch to the end [music] because what you are about to hear will challenge your belief.

I lay there, my body heavy and unresponsive, surrounded by the sterile smell of antiseptic and the soft beeping of machines.

The white walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on me.

A stark contrast to the vibrant life I once knew in Kaduna state.

My name is Abdul Raman, a 40-year-old Muslim man, husband, and father.

I had always prided myself on my faith, my commitment to my family, and my role in the community.

But now, I was trapped in a world where my body lay still, [music] and my mind wandered into the unknown.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I could hear the muffled voices of my family, [music] their worried whispers piercing through the haze of my mind.

My wife Amina was there, her voice trembling as she prayed for my recovery.

My children,  Fatima and Yousef, stood by her side, their innocent faces etched with concern.

I wanted to reach out to them to assure them that I was still [music] here, but my body wouldn’t respond.

Instead, I felt myself slipping away deeper into darkness.

Suddenly, everything changed.

A bright light enveloped me, pulling me from the depths of my coma.

I felt [music] a warmth that I had never experienced before.

A sense of peace washing over me.

I blinked [music] and the darkness faded, revealing a landscape more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

I was no longer in the hospital.

[music] I was in Jana, the paradise promised to the faithful.

The colors were vibrant, [music] the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.

I looked around in awe, taking in the breathtaking scenery.

There were people [music] everywhere, their faces glowing with joy and serenity.

But as I scanned the crowd, a strange realization struck [music] me.

They were all Christians.

Confusion clouded my mind.

Where were my fellow Muslims? [music] Where were my brothers and sisters in faith? As I wandered through this heavenly realm, I felt a presence beside [music] me.

I turned to see a figure radiating light, a man whose very essence seemed to embody love and compassion.

It was Jesus.

He looked at me with kind eyes, and I felt an overwhelming urge to ask the [music] question swirling in my mind.

“Why am I here? Where are the Muslims?” I asked, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

Jesus smiled gently.

“You are here because of your heart, Abdul Raman.

But the truth is not as you have been taught.

Many who claim to follow the path do not truly understand it.

[music] His words pierced through me, igniting a fire of curiosity and confusion.

But I have always believed.

I [music] protested.

I have prayed, fasted, and followed the teachings of Islam.

Why am I not with my people? [music] With a solemn expression, Jesus gestured for me to follow him.

I walked beside him, [music] my heart pounding in my chest.

He led me to the edge of a vast chasm, and I looked down to see flames licking at the walls of a dark abyss.

The cries of anguish echoed up to us, chilling my bones.

Here is where many souls suffer, Jesus said quietly.

[music] Those who have turned away from the truth.

As I gazed into the depths, my heart sank.

There, amidst the torment, [music] I recognized familiar faces.

Muslims I had known in life.

[music] People from my community, including Imam Ysef, the respected leader of our mosque.

His [music] face was twisted in agony, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cried out for mercy.

[music] Imam Ysef, I shouted, my voice filled with desperation.

What is happening? Why are you here? He looked up at me, his [music] eyes filled with sorrow and regret.

Abdul, you must warn the others.

They need to repent and accept Jesus.

He is the only way to salvation.

My heart [music] raced as I tried to comprehend his words.

How could this be true? My entire life had been built on the teachings of Islam.

And yet here I was confronted with a terrifying reality.

[music] I felt a wave of despair wash over me.

And I fell to my knees pleading with Jesus.

[music] Please give me a chance to warn them.

They won’t believe me.

They will think I’m possessed.

I cried, tears streaming down my face.

I need [music] to go back.

Jesus looked at me with compassion and I could see the weight of the world in his eyes.

You have been given a glimpse of truth, Abdul Raman.

Use this knowledge wisely.

You will return, but it will not be easy.

[music] With those words, everything began to fade.

The vibrant colors of Janna blurred into darkness, and I felt myself being pulled away from this paradise.

I struggled [music] against the pull, desperate to stay, but it was feudal.

In an instant, [music] I was back in the hospital room, gasping for breath, my heart racing.

I sat up abruptly, the beeping machines around me blaring in alarm.

Amina [music] rushed to my side, her eyes wide with fear and relief.

Abdul, you’re awake,” she exclaimed, [music] tears streaming down her face.

But as I looked around, the memories of my journey flooded [music] back, overwhelming me.

I had to tell them what I had seen, what I had learned.

I needed to warn my fellow Muslims, to share the truth that had been revealed to me.

[music] But would they listen? Would they understand? As I struggled to find my voice, I felt a deep sense of forboding.

I knew that my journey was far from over.

The path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but I was determined to share my experience, no matter the cost.

As I sat up in the hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filled [music] my nostrils, and the beeping machines around me seemed to pulse in rhythm with my racing heart.

Amina’s face was a blur of emotions, relief, [music] joy, and a hint of disbelief.

Abdul, you’re back.

You’re really back, she exclaimed, [music] wrapping her arms around me.

I could feel her warmth, her love, but my mind was still lost in the vivid memories of Jana and the horrors of Hellfire.

[music] “Where are my children?” I asked, my voice from disuse.

Amina quickly called for Fatima and Yousef, and they rushed into the room, their eyes wide with a mixture of excitement [music] and concern.

I pulled them close, holding them tightly, but my heart was heavy with the burden of what I had seen.

[music] Abdul, you’ve been in a coma for 24 hours.

We thought we lost you, Amina said, her voice trembling.

[music] The doctor said there was little hope.

I saw things, Amina.

I said, my voice breaking.

I saw Jana and I [music] saw hell.

I met Jesus, and he told me to warn everyone.

We need to repent and accept him.

The room fell silent.

My family exchanged glances, [music] their expressions a mix of confusion and concern.

I could see the worry etched face as [music] she stepped back, her hands trembling.

What do you mean, Abdul? This doesn’t make sense.

You must have been dreaming or hallucinating.

No, it was real.

I was there, I insisted, [music] desperation creeping into my voice.

I saw Imam Ysef in hell suffering.

[music] He told me to warn the Muslims to accept Jesus.

He is the only way.

Fatima, my eldest daughter, looked at me with wide eyes.

But Baba, we are Muslims.

We believe in Allah and Prophet Muhammad.

How can you say this? I felt a pang of anguish at their disbelief.

I know what I saw.

You have to believe me.

There is so much at stake.

If we don’t change, we will face the same fate as Imm Yousef.

Amina shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Abdul, please.

[music] You’re scaring us.

You’ve just come back from a serious illness.

Maybe you need to rest.

We can talk about this later.

But I couldn’t wait.

[music] The urgency burned within me like a raging fire.

I needed to spread the message to save my people from the path of destruction.

I can’t rest, [music] Amina.

I have to go out and tell everyone.

They need to hear this.

As I swung my legs over the side of [music] the bed, the room spun around me.

I felt weak and disoriented, [music] but the determination to share my experience propelled me forward.

I need to go to the mosque, I said, my voice firm.

I need to speak to the [music] community.

No, Abdul, you can’t.

Amina [music] pleaded, grabbing my arm.

They will think you are mad.

They won’t understand.

But I was resolute.

I don’t care what they think.

I have to try.

If I [music] can save even one soul, it would be worth it.

With great effort, I stood up, swaying slightly as I steadied myself against the bed.

Amina looked at me with fear and concern, but I could see the flicker of understanding in her eyes.

She knew I was serious.

“Fine, but let me come with you,” she said, [music] her voice softening.

“You shouldn’t go alone.

” As we made our way to the mosque, my heart [music] raced with anticipation and dread.

“What would the community say? Would they listen [music] to me, or would they cast me out as a man man?” The streets of Kaduna felt different as I walked through them.

each familiar corner now tinged with the weight of my revelation.

When we arrived at the mosque, I saw a group of men gathered outside, chatting and laughing.

[music] They looked up as I approached, their expressions shifting from casual conversation to shock.

“Abdul, you’re alive,” one of the men exclaimed, rushing [music] forward to embrace me.

“It was Malik, a childhood friend.

We thought you were gone for good.

” I’m back, Malik, I said, forcing a smile.

But I need to talk to everyone.

[music] It’s urgent.

As I stepped inside the mosque, the atmosphere shifted.

The usual warmth of the community felt cold and distant.

[music] I could see the familiar faces of my brothers in faith, but I also felt the weight of their judgment.

I climbed onto the small [music] platform where the imam usually spoke, my heart pounding in my chest.

Brothers and sisters, I began, my voice trembling but determined.

[music] I have returned from a journey, a journey to Jana and hell.

I was shown the truth and I must share it with you.

Whispers erupted among the crowd.

Skepticism etched on their faces.

What is he talking about? Someone muttered.

He must be delirious.

I pressed [music] on, trying to quell my rising panic.

I saw Jesus.

He told me that many of us are on the wrong path.

I saw Imam Ysef in hell suffering.

He told me to warn you all to repent and accept Jesus as the way to salvation.

The murmurss grew louder and I could see anger and confusion reflected in their eyes.

He’s lost his mind.

Another voice called out.

[music] This is blasphemy.

Please, you have to listen to me.

I [music] pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.

I know this is hard to accept, but I saw it with my own eyes.

[music] We cannot ignore this.

A few men stepped forward, their faces hardened with disbelief.

You are speaking heresy, Abdul.

You have been possessed by a demon during your coma.

You must repent for these thoughts.

Panic [music] surged through me as I realized the gravity of my situation.

I had come [music] to save them, but instead I was being condemned.

I am not possessed.

I am trying to save you.

Don’t you [music] understand? Our souls are at stake.

Malik stepped forward, his expression conflicted.

Abdul, you are [music] our brother.

We care for you, but this is not the way.

You must seek help.

Come with me.

Before I could respond, a group of men surrounded me, their faces twisted with anger.

You are spreading lies.

“You will lead our people astray,” [music] one shouted.

I felt trapped, the walls closing in around me.

“Please listen to me.

I have seen the truth.

” I cried, but my words fell on deaf ears.

The crowd began to push me back, [music] their shouts growing louder, drowning out my please.

In that moment, I understood the danger of my revelation.

I was not just fighting for my faith.

I was fighting for my life.

The fear of persecution hung heavily in the air, [music] and I knew I had to escape.

With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed through the crowd, my heart racing as I fled the mosque.

[music] “Amina,” I called, searching for her in the chaos.

She appeared at my side, her [music] face pale with fear.

We need to get out of here, I urged, pulling her away from the angry mob.

[music] As we ran through the streets of Kaduna, I could hear the shouts behind us.

The voices of my community turning [music] against me.

He’s a heretic.

Don’t let him escape, they cried.

My heart sank as I realized that I was no longer one of them.

I was an outcast, a [music] pariah.

We reached the outskirts of the village, my lungs burning from the exertion.

Amina [music] looked at me, her eyes filled with concern.

What do we do now, Abdul? They will come [music] after us.

I don’t know, I admitted, my voice trembling.

But I can’t go back.

I need to find somewhere safe, somewhere I can share my message without fear.

As we continued to run, I felt a deep sense of loss wash over me.

I had hoped to save my community, to bring them the truth I had witnessed, but instead [music] I had become their enemy.

The weight of my experience pressed down on me, and I knew I had to find a new path.

Eventually, [music] we reached a small Christian community on the outskirts of town.

I hesitated at the entrance, fear gripping my heart.

Would they accept me or would [music] they see me as a threat? But I had no choice.

I needed help and I needed a place to share my [music] story.

As we approached the community center, I saw a group of people gathered outside.

Their [music] laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the turmoil in my heart.

A kind-looking man with a warm smile stepped forward.

Welcome.

I’m Pastor Mark.

How can I help you? I took a deep breath, [music] the weight of my journey pressing down on me.

I need to talk to you.

It’s urgent.

I have a message to share.

Pastor Mark’s expression shifted from curiosity to concern as he listened to my frantic words.

Come inside.

Let’s talk.

As we entered the community center, [music] I felt a flicker of hope.

Maybe here I could find the acceptance and understanding that had eluded me in my own community.

But deep down [music] I knew that the journey ahead would be fraught with challenges.

I had to find a way to share [music] the truth I had been given, even if it meant facing rejection once more.

As I stepped into the modest community center, I felt a wave of warmth wash over me, contrasting sharply with the cold reception I had received from my own people.

The walls were adorned with colorful banners and posters, each one proclaiming messages of love, faith, [music] and acceptance.

It was a place filled with laughter and camaraderie.

a stark reminder of what I had lost in my own community.

Pastor Mark led me to a small room at the back of the center where a few chairs were arranged in a circle.

He gestured [music] for me to sit, his expression kind and attentive.

“Take your time, Abdul.

[music] I’m here to listen,” he said, his voice soothing.

I took a deep breath, trying [music] to steady my racing heart.

“Thank you, pastor.

I’m not sure where to begin.

” I paused, gathering [music] my thoughts.

I was in a coma for 24 hours and during that time I had a vision.

I saw Jana and I saw hell.

I met Jesus and he told me to warn my people.

Pastor Mark leaned forward, his eyes filled with compassion.

[music] That sounds like a powerful experience.

Can you tell me more about what you saw? I recounted my journey to Jenna, the beauty I witnessed and the anguish I felt when I saw Imam use of suffering in hell.

[music] Each word I spoke was laced with urgency and I could see the gravity of my message sinking in.

I know it sounds unbelievable but I have to share this truth.

My people need to understand that Jesus is the way to salvation.

As I spoke, I felt a sense of relief wash over me here in this community.

I was not met with skepticism or hostility.

Instead, I [music] was met with understanding and empathy.

Pastor Mark listened intently, nodding as I shared my story.

And when I finished, [music] he placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

Abdul, your experience is indeed profound.

Many people have had similar encounters that have transformed their lives.

You are not alone in this journey.

He said, “I believe God has brought you here for a reason.

Tears filled my eyes as I felt the weight of my struggles begin [music] to lift.

But what do I do now? How can I spread this message when my own community [music] has turned against me? Pastor Mark smiled gently.

You can start by sharing your story here.

We have fellowship meetings every week and I believe your testimony will inspire others.

You [music] have a unique perspective that can help bridge gaps and bring people together.

Encouraged by his words, I agreed to join the fellowship meeting that evening.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the community center, I felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

[music] Would they accept me? Would they believe my story? The meeting room filled with people, [music] their faces warm and welcoming.

I saw familiar expressions of hope and love.

[music] And for the first time since my return, I felt a sense of belonging.

Pastor Mark introduced me to the group, explaining my journey and the message I wanted to share.

Abdul is here to tell us about his vision and the truth he has discovered,” he said, [music] gesturing for me to speak.

As I stood before the group, I felt a familiar surge of fear, but I pushed through it.

“Thank you for welcoming me.

” [music] I began, my voice steadying.

I know this may sound strange, [music] but I believe I have been given a message from God.

I saw Jana and I saw hell.

I met [music] Jesus and he told me that many of us are lost.

We need to repent and accept him as our savior.

[music] The room fell silent and I could feel the weight of their gazes upon me.

Some nodded in understanding while others looked skeptical.

But as I continued to speak, sharing the details of my experience, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere.

People leaned in, captivated by the urgency of my words.

After I finished, a woman named Sarah stood up.

Thank you for sharing, Abdul.

[music] Your story resonates with many of us.

We’ve all faced struggles in our faith, [music] and it’s comforting to know that God speaks to us in different ways.

Encouraged by her response, I felt emboldened.

I want to help others understand the importance of faith and repentance.

I want to heal the brokenness I see around us, I declared.

[music] Over the next few weeks, I became an active member of the community.

I attended [music] fellowship meetings regularly, sharing my story and learning more about Christianity.

Pastor Mark guided me through the scriptures, [music] helping me understand the teachings of Jesus and the significance of accepting him as Lord and Savior.

As I immersed myself in this new faith, I began to feel a profound transformation within me, the anger and confusion that had plagued me after my coma started to dissipate, replaced by a sense of purpose [music] and clarity.

I felt as if I had finally found my true calling.

[music] One evening, as I was leaving the community center after a meeting, I encountered a man named David.

[music] He was sitting on a bench outside, his head in his hands.

Concerned, I approached him.

“Are you okay?” I asked gently.

He looked [music] up, his eyes filled with despair.

“I’ve been struggling with addiction for years.

I don’t know how to break free.

I feel hopeless.

” My heart achd for him.

I remembered the pain I had seen in hell, the suffering of those who felt lost and alone.

David, I believe that God can heal you.

I’ve seen miracles happen.

[music] would you like me to pray with you? He hesitated but then nodded slowly.

We knelt together and I prayed earnestly [music] asking God to touch David’s heart and grant him the strength to overcome his struggles.

As I [music] finished, I felt a surge of energy courarssing through me.

And I looked at David who was now crying.

“Thank you, Abdul.

I feel [music] something changing inside me,” he said, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Over the next few weeks, I continued to pray with David, and I watched as he began to transform.

He started attending fellowship meetings with me, [music] and I could see the light returning to his eyes.

His story inspired others, and [music] soon more people came to me seeking prayer and healing.

Words spread throughout the community about the miracles happening through my prayers.

People came to me with various ailments, [music] sickness, emotional struggles, and broken relationships.

I felt a deep sense of responsibility to help them to share the love and healing I had experienced.

One day, Mama Aisha, [music] an elderly woman from the community, approached me with tears in her eyes.

Abdul, I’m afraid.

My daughter is very ill, and the doctors say there’s nothing more they can do.

I don’t know what to do.

My heart sank at her words.

I had seen the pain of hopelessness in my own community, and I couldn’t bear the thought of another life lost.

“Let’s pray for her together,” I said, taking her hands and mine.

“God can do the impossible.

” We prayed fervently for her daughter, and I felt a wave of faith wash over me.

Days later, Mama Aisha returned, her face radiant with joy.

“Abdul, my daughter is better.

” The doctors can’t explain it.

[music] They said she’s recovering.

Tears of joy filled my eyes as I embraced her.

Praise God.

This is just the beginning, Mama Aisha.

[music] He is working in our lives.

As the weeks passed, I continued to witness miracles.

I prayed for a young boy who had been unable to walk.

[music] And after our prayer, he took his first steps.

I prayed for a woman who had been blind for years and she regained [music] her sight.

Each miracle fueled my faith and strengthened my resolve to share the message of Jesus.

However, I knew that [music] my past still lingered like a shadow over me.

I had not forgotten my family in Kaduna, nor the pain of rejection I had faced.

One evening, as I sat in the community center reflecting on my journey, I felt a strong urge to return home.

I needed to see my family to heal the wounds that had been inflicted during my struggle.

But how would they react? [music] Would they accept me after everything that had happened? The fear of rejection not at my heart.

But I knew I had to [music] try.

I had to show them the love and healing I had discovered.

With a heavy heart, I approached Pastor Mark.

I want to go back to my village.

I need to see my family.

[music] He looked at me thoughtfully.

Abdul, that’s a brave decision, but you must be prepared for their reaction.

[music] Not everyone will understand your transformation.

I know, I replied, determination flooding my voice.

But I can’t ignore them.

They need to hear my story just as I needed to hear theirs.

[music] Pastor Mark nodded, his expression filled with support.

I’ll pray for you, Abdul.

May God guide you and give you strength.

As I prepared for my journey back to Kaduna, I felt a mixture of fear and hope.

I had come so far and yet the thought of facing my [music] family filled me with trepidation.

But deep down I knew that I had to take this step.

I had to share the love of Jesus with them [music] to show them the path to healing and redemption.

With a final prayer of strength [music] and courage, I set out on the road to my past, ready to face whatever awaited me.

The journey back to Kaduna was filled with a whirlwind of emotions.

As I traveled the familiar roads, memories flooded my mind, [music] moments of laughter with friends, the warmth of family gatherings, and the deeprooted [music] traditions that had shaped my identity.

But now those memories were intertwined with the pain of rejection and the fear of what awaited me.

Would my family accept me after everything that had happened? [music] Would they understand the transformation I had undergone? As I approached the outskirts of [music] my village, my heart raced.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the landscape, but I felt a chill run down my spine.

[music] I parked my car at a distance, not wanting to attract attention, and took a deep breath to steady my nerves.

This was it.

I had to face my past.

I walked slowly toward my family’s home, [music] each step heavy with anticipation.

The familiar sights and sounds enveloped me.

Children playing, women [music] chatting, men gathered to discuss the day’s events.

But as I drew closer to my childhood home, a sense of dread settled over me.

What would they think of me? Would they see me as the same Abdul they once knew? Or as a heretic, a traitor to our faith? As I reached the front door, I hesitated.

Memories of my children filled my mind.

Fatima’s [music] laughter.

Yousef’s mischievous grin.

I longed to hold them again, to feel their warmth, but fear gripped my heart.

I knocked softly, my hand trembling.

The door creaked open, and there stood Amina, my wife.

her face a mixture of shock and [music] disbelief.

“Abdul,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

“Is it really [music] you, Amina?” I breathed, my voice catching in my throat.

I stepped inside, [music] and she rushed into my arms, holding me tightly as if afraid I would disappear again.

“I’ve miss you so much,” [music] she cried, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

I miss you too, I replied, my heart swelling with emotion.

But as I pulled back to look at her, I could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

I need to talk to you to explain everything.

She nodded, [music] her expression shifting from joy to concern.

Let’s sit down.

The children are at school, but they’ll be home soon.

We moved to the living room, and I took a seat, my [music] heart pounding in my chest.

Amina, I’ve changed.

I’ve seen things that have transformed my understanding of faith.

I began my voice studying.

I was in a coma and during that time I went to Jana in hell.

I met Jesus [music] and he told me that many of us are lost.

We need to repent and accept him as our savior.

Amina’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Abdul, this is this is hard to understand.

You’re saying you saw Jesus? How can [music] that be? I know it sounds unbelievable.

I said, my voice rising with urgency, [music] but it was real.

I saw a mom Yousef in hell [music] suffering and he told me to warn our people.

We cannot ignore this.

Tears streamed down Amina’s cheeks as she shook her head.

[music] But we are Muslims, Abdul.

How can you say these things? What about our faith? I still believe in Allah Amina, [music] I replied, desperation creeping into my voice.

But I believe that Jesus is the way to salvation.

I have to share this with the community.

They need to know the truth.

Just then, the sound of laughter filled the air as Fatima and Ysef burst through the door.

Their backpacks bouncing against their backs.

They froze when they saw me, their eyes wide with shock.

Baba, they shouted in unison, rushing toward me.

I knelt down, opening my arms wide as they enveloped me in a tight embrace.

I miss you both [music] so much, I said, my voice choked with emotion.

I’m so glad to see you, Fatima [music] pulled back, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Baba, where have you been? Everyone said you were gone forever.

I was lost for a while, but I’ve come back.

I replied, my heart aching at the innocence in her eyes.

I need to talk to you both about something very important.

[music] As I explained my experience, I watched their faces shift from joy to confusion and finally to concern.

You saw Jesus? [music] Yousef asked, his young voice trembling.

But we’re Muslims.

Isn’t that wrong? I know it’s hard to understand, [music] I said, kneeling down to their level.

But what I saw was real.

[music] There is so much more to our faith than we realize.

We need to be open to the truth no matter where it leads us, Amina interjected, [music] her voice filled with worry.

Abdul, please.

You need to be careful.

The community won’t accept this.

[music] They’ll think you’re possessed or mad.

I have to try.

Amina, I insisted.

I can’t keep this to myself.

People are suffering and they [music] need to know there is hope.

I want to help them.

That evening, [music] as we sat around the dinner table, I felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

My family was together again, [music] but the tension in the air was palpable.

I could sense Amina’s unease, and I knew she was worried about how the community would react to my return and my new beliefs.

After dinner, [music] I gathered my family in the living room.

I want to share something important with you all.

I’m planning to go back to the mosque and speak to the community about my experience.

Amina’s face pad.

Abdul, [music] please reconsider.

They will not understand.

They might even hurt you.

I have to do this.

[music] I replied firmly.

I believe it’s my calling.

If I can save even one soul, it would be [music] worth it.

Fatima looked at me, her eyes wide with concern.

[music] But what if they don’t believe you? What if they get angry? I took a deep breath, trying to quell the fear that bubbled within me.

I know it’s a risk, but I have to try.

I can’t ignore what I’ve seen.

I need to share the message of love and healing that I’ve discovered.

[music] As the days passed, I prepared myself for the confrontation that awaited me.

I spent hours praying, seeking [music] guidance and strength.

I knew that my family was worried, but I also felt a deep sense of purpose.

I had to return to the mosque to face the community that had once been my home.

The day arrived, and I felt a knot of anxiety in my stomach as I approached the mosque.

The familiar structure loomed before me, but it felt different now, like a place that had once welcomed me, but was now filled with uncertainty.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding, and [music] stepped inside.

The prayer hall was filled with familiar faces, but the atmosphere was tense.

Whispers erupted as I entered, and [music] I could feel the weight of their gazes upon me.

Some looked surprised, while others wore expressions of anger and disbelief.

I climbed onto the platform, [music] my voice trembling as I addressed the congregation.

Brothers and sisters, I have returned to share my experience.

[music] I need you to listen to me.

The murmurss grew louder and I could see the skepticism etched on [music] their faces.

What does he want? Someone muttered.

He’s lost his mind.

I know this is hard to accept.

I continued [music] trying to maintain my composure.

But I had a vision.

I saw Jana in hell and I met [music] Jesus.

He told me that many of us are lost and need to repent.

A man in the front row stood up, his face contorted with anger.

You are a traitor, Abdul.

How dare you come here and speak such [music] blasphemy.

I’m not trying to betray anyone.

I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.

I’m trying to save our souls.

Imam Ysef is suffering in hell, and he told me to warn you all.

The crowd erupted in chaos, [music] voices rising in anger and disbelief.

“He’s possessed,” someone shouted.

[music] “Get him out of here!” Panic surged through me as I realized the gravity of the situation.

I had come to share a message of hope, but instead [music] I was being condemned.

The faces of my family flashed in my mind.

Amina, [music] Fatima, and Yousef.

I couldn’t let them see me like this.

Please listen to me, I cried, my voice breaking.

I’ve seen the truth.

We cannot ignore it.

But my words fell on deaf ears.

The crowd surged forward [music] and I felt a wave of fear wash over me.

I turned to flee, my heart racing as I pushed [music] through the throng of angry faces.

Amina, Fatima, Yousef, I shouted, searching for my family in the chaos.

I burst out of the mosque, my [music] chest heaving as I stumbled into the street.

The sun was setting, casting [music] a golden hue over the village, but I felt a deep sense of despair.

I had tried to share the truth, but all I had received in return was rejection.

As I wandered through the streets, I felt lost and alone.

The familiar sights of my childhood now felt like a prison, a reminder of the community that had turned against me.

I needed to find solace, to regroup and gather my thoughts.

In the distance, [music] I spotted a small park where I used to play as a child.

I made my way there, seeking refuge under the shade of a large tree.

I sank onto a bench, my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face.

“Why, God? Why is this happening?” I cried [music] out, my heart aching with despair.

Just then, I heard footsteps approaching.

I looked up to see Malik, my childhood friend, standing [music] before me.

His expression was solemn and I could see the conflict in his eyes.

Abdul, he said softly.

[music] I heard what happened at the mosque.

I tried to warn them, Malik.

I tried to share the truth, but they wouldn’t listen.

[music] I replied, my voice trembling.

I believe you, he said, surprising me.

I’ve seen the changes in you.

I’ve heard the stories of the miracles you’ve performed in the Christian community.

But you must understand many people are afraid of what they don’t [music] understand.

I just want to help them.

I said, my heart aching.

I want to heal the brokenness I see around us.

Malik sat down beside me, his eyes filled with compassion.

I know you do, but you have to be [music] careful.

There are those who will not accept your message, no matter how true it may be.

You may need to find another way to reach them.

As we talked, I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me.

What if I [music] could show them? What if I could perform a miracle in front of them? Maybe then they would believe.

Malik considered my words a thoughtful look on his face.

That could work, but you must be cautious.

[music] Not everyone will accept it, and there may be consequences.

I’m willing to take that risk, I replied.

Determination [music] flooding my heart.

I need to help my people.

I can’t sit back and watch them suffer.

With Malik’s [music] support, I began to formulate a plan.

I would organize a gathering in the park, [music] inviting both the Christian community and my own people.

I would share my story and demonstrate the healing power I had witnessed.

It would be a chance to bridge the gap between our communities to show them that love and faith could transcend [music] our differences.

As the days passed, I worked tirelessly to prepare for the gathering.

I spread the word through the Christian community and I reached out to those in my village hoping to draw them in.

I spoke to Mama Aisha, [music] David and others who had experienced miracles through prayer and they agreed to join me in sharing their testimonies.

The day of the gathering arrived and I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety.

The park was filled with people from both communities, [music] their faces a blend of curiosity and skepticism.

I stood at the front, flanked by those who had been healed, [music] my heart pounding in my chest.

As I looked out at the crowd, I saw familiar faces from my village, friends, neighbors, [music] and family.

Amina stood at the back, her expression unreadable, while Fatima and Yousef [music] watched with wide eyes.

I took a deep breath, my heart racing as I prepared to speak.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began, my voice steady.

I know this is a difficult conversation but I believe it is one we must have.

I have experienced a transformation that I cannot ignore and I want to share it with you.

I recounted my journey, [music] the coma, the vision of Jana and hell and the message I had received from Jesus.

I spoke of the miracles I had witnessed and the healing that had taken place in the Christian community.

As I [music] spoke, I could see the skepticism in some faces, but I also saw curiosity and hope in others.

Then I turned to those who had experienced healing.

Mama Aisha stepped forward, her voice [music] strong and clear.

I was lost and afraid, but through Abdul’s prayers, my daughter was healed.

[music] I believe in the power of faith and love.

David followed, sharing his story of addiction and how prayer had transformed his life.

One by one, others stepped forward, sharing their testimonies of healing and redemption.

The atmosphere [music] shifted and I could sense a growing openness among the crowd.

Finally, I looked out at my fellow villagers, my heart pounding.

I know that this is hard to accept, but I urge you to open your hearts.

[music] We all seek love, healing, and connection.

Let us come together [music] regardless of our differences.

As I finished speaking, I felt a surge of energy coursing through me.

I knew that this was a pivotal moment, a chance to bridge the divide that had separated us for so long.

If anyone needs healing or prayer, please come forward.

I want to share the love and healing I have experienced.

One by one, people began to step forward, [music] their faces filled with hope and desperation.

I laid my hands on them, praying fervently, asking God to touch their hearts and grant them healing.

The energy in the air was palpable, and I could feel the presence of something greater surrounding us.

As I prayed for a young woman who had been suffering from chronic pain, I felt a wave of warmth envelop her.

She gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

[music] “It’s gone.

The pain is gone,” she exclaimed, tears streaming down her face.

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, and I felt a rush of joy.

This was the moment I had hoped for, [music] a glimpse of the healing power that could unite us.

As more people came forward, I continued to pray, witnessing miracle after miracle unfold before my eyes.

But as the gathering continued, I felt a familiar sense of dread creeping in.

I knew there were those who would not accept this, those who would see my actions as a threat.

[music] Just as the atmosphere reached a peak of hope, a group of men from my village emerged from the crowd, their expressions grim.

Enough of this nonsense, one of them shouted, stepping forward.

You are leading our people astray, Abdul.

You are a traitor.

I felt my heart sink as [music] I faced them.

I’m not trying to betray anyone.

I’m trying to help.

But they advanced, their anger palpable.

[music] You have turned your back on our faith.

You are no longer one of us,” another man yelled.

[music] I looked at the crowd, my heart racing.

“Please listen to me.

I’m trying to save us.

We cannot ignore the truth.

” But the men continued to advance, [music] their intentions clear.

I felt a surge of fear wash over me, but I stood my ground.

If you want to hurt me, then do it.

But I will not stop sharing the truth.

Just then a voice rang out from the crowd.

It was Malik.

Stop.

You are acting out of fear.

Abdul is speaking from his heart and he is only trying to help us.

The crowd murmured in confusion and I could see the hesitation in some of their faces.

[music] We need to come together, not tear each other apart, Malik continued, his voice strong.

Let us not be divided by our differences but [music] united in our search for truth.

The tension hung in the air and I could feel the weight of the moment.

I looked at the faces of my family, my children watching with wide eyes.

I knew that this was a turning point, [music] a chance to bridge the divide that had separated us for so long.

Please let us find a way to understand each other, I pleaded, my voice rising with emotion.

We all want love, healing, and connection.

Let [music] us not be afraid of what we do not understand.

As the crowd began to murmur, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Perhaps this was the beginning of a new chapter, a [music] chance to unite our communities in faith and love.

But I also knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges.

I had faced [music] rejection, but I had also witnessed miracles.

Now it was time to continue sharing the message of hope and healing.

As the gathering came to a close, I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

The journey was far from over, [music] but I knew that I was not alone.

I had found a community that accepted me, a family that loved me, and a purpose [music] that drove me forward.

With renewed determination, I looked out at the crowd, my heart filled with hope.

Together, we can heal the brokenness in our lives.

Together, [music] we can find the love and acceptance we all seek.

The days that followed the gathering were a whirlwind of emotions for me.

[music] I had stepped into the light of hope and yet shadows of doubt still lingered.

The reactions from my community were mixed.

Some embraced the message I shared while others remained entrenched in their skepticism and fear.

But I knew that I had to continue my mission to heal the wounds that had been inflicted [music] not just on my family but on the entire community.

As I settled back into life in Kaduna, I felt a renewed sense of purpose.

I began organizing regular prayer meetings in the park where both Christians and Muslims could come together to share their stories and experiences.

I believe that through dialogue and understanding, we could bridge the divide that had separated us for so long.

One evening, [music] as I prepared for another gathering, I received a visit from Mama Aisha.

Her eyes were filled with concern as she approached me.

Abdul, I’ve been hearing whispers among the villagers.

Some are saying that you’re leading people astray, that you’ve turned your back on our faith.

I felt a pang of sorrow at her words.

I’m not trying to lead anyone astray, mama.

I only want to share the truth I’ve experienced.

I want to help heal the brokenness in our lives.

I understand, but you must be careful, [music] she warned, her voice trembling.

There are those who will stop at nothing to silence you.

They see you as a threat to our way of life.

Her words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the challenges I faced.

I know there are risks, but I believe that God has a purpose for me.

I can’t turn my back on what I’ve seen.

She nodded, her expression softening.

[music] Just be cautious, my son.

The path you walk is not easy, but I believe in your heart.

As the sun set that evening, [music] casting a warm glow over the park, I prepared for the gathering.

I had invited both Christians and Muslims, [music] hoping to create a space for healing and understanding.

As people began to arrive, I felt a mixture of excitement [music] and anxiety.

Would they come together or would old divisions resurface the park filled with familiar faces, friends, neighbors, and family [music] members? I spotted Amina standing off to the side, her expression unreadable.

I approached her, my heart racing.

Thank you for coming, [music] I said, my voice sincere.

I want to show everyone that we can find common ground.

I’m here for you, Abdul, [music] she replied softly, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and support.

But I worry about what might happen.

[music] I know, but I have faith that this will be a turning point for us, I assured her, trying to quell my own fears.

[music] As the gathering began, I stood at the front flanked by Mama Aisha and other members of the Christian community who had come to support me.

I began by sharing my story again, recounting the vision I had seen, the miracles I had witnessed, [music] and the love that had transformed my heart.

I believe that we are all seeking the same thing, love, acceptance, and healing, I said, looking out at the crowd.

[music] We must come together regardless of our differences to support one another in our journeys.

As I [music] spoke, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere.

People leaned in, captivated by the sincerity of my words.

I invited those who had experienced healing to share their testimonies.

[music] And one by one, they stepped forward recounting their stories of transformation.

[music] Mama Aisha spoke of her daughter’s miraculous recovery.

Her voice filled with emotion.

I [music] was lost and afraid, but through Abdul’s prayers, my daughter was healed.

I believe in the power of faith and love.

[music] David followed, sharing how he had overcome his addiction through prayer and support from the [music] community.

I didn’t believe I could change, but Abdul showed me that there is hope.

We can heal [music] together.

As the testimonies continued, I could see the faces of my fellow villagers softening.

The skepticism that had once filled the air began to dissipate, [music] replaced by a sense of curiosity and hope.

I felt a surge of energy as I realized that we were beginning to connect on a deeper level.

[music] But just as the atmosphere reached a peak of hope, I spotted a group of men from the village approaching.

My [music] heart sank as I recognized Jabril, one of the most vocal opponents of my message.

He stepped forward, his expression filled with anger.

You are a traitor, Abdul.

You are leading our people astray.

I took a deep breath, [music] trying to remain calm.

I’m not trying to betray anyone.

Gibil, I’m here to share a message of love and healing.

Love? You [music] speak of love, yet you have turned your back on our faith.

You are a disgrace, he shouted, [music] his voice rising above the crowd.

I felt a wave of fear wash over me, but I stood my ground.

I have not turned my back on anyone.

I still believe in Allah, but I have also found the love of Jesus.

We can embrace both faiths if we choose to.

[music] The crowd murmured, and I could see the tension rising.

You cannot serve two masters, Abdul, Gibbril continued, his voice [music] filled with venom.

You are either with us or against us.

Before I could respond, Malik stepped forward, [music] his face determined.

We are not here to fight, Jabril.

We are here [music] to heal.

Abdul is not leading anyone astray.

He is trying to bring us together.

[music] The crowd began to shift, some nodding in agreement with Malik.

We all want healing and love.

One woman called out.

Why can’t we support each other? [music] Gibrill’s face twisted in anger, but I could see the hesitation in the eyes of those around him.

This is not over, Abdul.

[music] He spat before turning away.

storming off with his group.

As the tension dissipated, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

“Thank you for standing with me, Malik,” I said, my heart [music] racing.

“I thought they would tear us apart.

We are stronger together,” he replied, [music] his expression resolute.

“Don’t lose hope.

This is just the beginning.

” As the gathering continued, I felt a renewed sense of purpose.

[music] I invited everyone to participate in a prayer circle encouraging them to hold hands and come together in unity.

Let us pray for [music] healing, for understanding, and for love to guide us.

I said, my voice steady.

As we prayed, I felt a surge of energy coursing through me.

I closed my eyes, envisioning a world where love transcended our differences, [music] where we could unite in faith and hope.

The atmosphere around us shifted and I could sense the power of our collective prayers.

After the prayer, I opened my eyes to see tears streaming down the faces of some in the crowd.

I feel something changing, [music] one woman whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Me too, another man said, his [music] expression filled with wonder.

It’s like a weight has been lifted.

Encouraged by their responses, [music] I felt a spark of hope ignite within me.

This is just the beginning.

I declared [music] we can continue to support one another to heal together.

Let us not be divided by our beliefs, but united in our search for truth and love.

As the gathering came to a close, I felt a sense of peace wash over me.

People began to mingle, sharing stories and laughter, and I could see the barriers that had once separated us beginning to crumble.

I spotted Amina watching from the sidelines, her expression shifting from concern to pride.

I approached her, my heart swelling with gratitude.

[music] “Thank you for believing in me, Amina,” I said, taking her hands and mine.

“I couldn’t have done this without your support.

” “I’m proud of you, Abdul,” [music] she replied, her eyes shining.

“You’ve shown our community that love can conquer fear.

” As we stood together, I felt a renewed sense of hope for the [music] future.

I knew that the road ahead would not be easy, but I was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[music] I had found my purpose, my calling, and I was determined to continue sharing the message of love and healing.

In the weeks that followed, I continued to organize gatherings, inviting people from both communities to come together in unity.

We shared stories, prayed for one another, and celebrated the miracles that had begun to unfold.

The atmosphere in the village began to shift, and I could sense a growing acceptance among the people.

One day, as I walked through the village, I was approached by a group of young men who had once been [music] skeptical of my message.

“Abdul,” one of them said, his voice filled with humility.

“We’ve been watching [music] you.

We want to learn more about what you believe.

” My heart swelled with joy.

“I’d be honored to share [music] with you,” I replied, eager to engage in meaningful conversations.

“Let’s meet regularly and explore our faith together.

” As we gathered each week, I witnessed the transformation in their hearts.

They began to embrace the idea that love and faith could coexist, [music] that we could learn from one another and grow together.

The walls that had once divided us were slowly crumbling, [music] replaced by a sense of community and understanding.

But amidst the progress, I [music] still felt the weight of my past.

I longed to heal the relationships that had been strained by my departure from traditional beliefs.

One evening, [music] I decided to visit my family again, hoping to bridge the gap that had formed during my absence.

As I approached my family’s home, I felt a mixture of anxiety and hope.

Would they accept me after everything that had happened? [music] I knocked softly on the door, my heart racing.

Amina opened the door, her face lighting up with surprise.

“Abdul, you’re [music] back,” she exclaimed, pulling me into a warm embrace.

“We’ve missed you.

I’ve missed you, too,” I replied, my heart swelling with gratitude.

[music] “I wanted to talk to you and the children about everything that’s been happening.

” We settled into the living room and I shared my experiences since returning to the village.

I spoke of the gatherings, the miracles, and the growing acceptance among the community.

I believe that God is working in our lives, bringing us together in ways we never imagined,” [music] I said, my voice filled with conviction.

Fatima and Yousef listened intently, their eyes wide with curiosity.

[music] “Baba, are you really helping people?” Fatima asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Yes, my dear, [music] I replied, my heart swelling with pride.

I’ve seen lives transformed through love and faith.

I want to [music] show you both that we can embrace our differences and still find common ground.

Amina nodded, her expression thoughtful.

[music] I see the changes in you, Abdul.

You’ve found a purpose, and it’s beautiful to witness, but I still worry about how others will react.

I understand your concerns, [music] I said, taking her hands and mine.

But I believe that love will prevail.

Together, [music] we can heal the wounds that have divided us.

As the evening wore on, we shared stories and laughter, and I felt a sense of warmth enveloping us.

[music] I could see the love in Amina’s eyes, the pride in my children’s faces, and I knew that we were beginning to heal.

In the weeks that followed, my family joined me in the gatherings, and I watched as they embraced the message of love and acceptance.

Amina began to share her own stories of faith, [music] and Fatima and Yousef participated in the discussions with enthusiasm.

It was a beautiful sight to see my family united, [music] standing together in the pursuit of truth and healing.

One day, as we gathered in the park, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere.

[music] The crowd was larger than ever, filled with both Christians and Muslims eager to engage [music] in meaningful conversations.

I felt a surge of hope as I looked out at the faces before me, friends, [music] family, and neighbors all coming together to share in the journey of faith.

As I prepared to speak, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me.

Thank you all for being here today.

[music] I began my voice steady.

We have come a long way together and I believe that we are on the brink of something beautiful.

Together we can heal the wounds of our past and embrace a future filled with love and acceptance.

The crowd erupted in applause and I could feel the energy in the air.

Let us continue to support one another, to learn from one another, and to grow together in faith.

Together we can create a community that reflects the love of God.

As I concluded my speech, [music] I felt a deep sense of fulfillment.

I had faced rejection, fear, [music] and uncertainty.

But I had also experienced love, healing, and acceptance.

I had found my purpose, my calling, and I was determined to continue sharing the message of hope.

[music] As the gathering came to a close, I looked out at the faces around me, filled with joy and hope.

I knew that the journey was far from over, but I felt a sense of peace in my heart.

Together, [music] we had begun to heal, to bridge the divide that had separated us for so long.

In that moment, I realized that my journey was not just about my own transformation.

[music] It was about the collective healing of our community.

I had witnessed the power of love and faith to unite us, to bring us together in ways we never imagined.

As I walked home that evening handinhand with Amina and my children, I felt a sense of gratitude wash over me.

I had faced challenges, but I had also discovered the beauty of connection, [music] the strength of community, and the power of love.

And as I looked up at the stars twinkling in the night sky, [music] I felt a deep sense of hope for the future.

I knew that together we could continue to heal, [music] to grow, and to embrace the love that transcended our differences.