The Quran contradicts it because the Quran is wrong.

Christians worship three gods.

This is a misunderstanding sometimes deliberately taught to make Christianity sound like polytheism.

Christians don’t worship three gods.

We worship one God who exists eternally in three persons.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

It’s a mystery beyond human comprehension.

But it’s not polytheism.

Think of it this way.

God is love.

But love requires relationship.

If God is eternally love, he must have eternally existed in relationship.

Father loving son, son loving father with the Holy Spirit as the bond of that love.

This is the Trinity.

The Quran’s criticism of the Trinity is actually based on a misunderstanding.

Surah 5116 suggests that Christians worship God, Jesus, and Mary, but no Christian denomination has ever taught that Mary is part of the Trinity.

This shows that Muhammad didn’t actually understand Christian theology.

Jesus didn’t die on the cross.

Surah 47 claims that Jesus wasn’t crucified, that it was made to appear so, but someone else was substituted.

But this is historically impossible.

The crucifixion of Jesus is one of the best detested facts of ancient history.

Roman historians like Tacitus and Josephus mentioned it.

The Jewish Talmud mentioned it.

Christians, Jews, and pagans all agreed that Jesus was crucified under Pontius Pilate.

Think about this logically.

If someone else was substituted, who was it?

How did this person look exactly like Jesus?

How did none of the disciples, the people who knew Jesus best, recognize that it wasn’t him?

And most importantly, why would God deceive people like this?

Why would he make it look like Jesus died when he didn’t?

That would mean God deliberately caused billions of people to believe a lie for 2,000 years.

Does that sound like something an all- knowing, all good God would do?

The reason Islam denies the crucifixion is because it’s essential to Christianity.

Without the cross, there’s no atonement for sin.

Without the resurrection, there’s no victory over death.

Muhammad had to deny these events to make room for his own teachings.

But the historical evidence is overwhelming.

Jesus died and he rose again and that changes everything.

You can earn paradise through good works.

This is perhaps the most dangerous lie in Islam.

Islam teaches that on the day of judgment, your good deeds and bad deeds will be weighed on a scale.

If your good deeds outweigh your bad, you enter Janna.

If not, you go to Jahanam.

But here’s the problem.

How do you know if you’ve done enough good deeds?

How do you know if the scale will tip in your favor?

You don’t.

Even Muhammad wasn’t sure of his own salvation.

Hadith records him saying he didn’t know what would happen to him.

If the prophet himself wasn’t certain, how can any Muslim be certain?

This is why Islam produces anxiety, not peace.

You’re constantly trying to earn something you can never be sure you’ve achieved.

Christianity teaches something radically different.

You can’t earn salvation.

It’s impossible.

Your best works are still tainted by sin.

The only way to be saved is to accept the gift of salvation that Jesus purchased with his blood on the cross.

It’s free.

It’s complete.

And it’s certain.

When you put your faith in Jesus, you know, not hope, not maybe, but know that you’re saved because it’s not based on your performance.

It’s based on his finished work.

Muhammad is the final prophet.

Islam claims that Muhammad is the seal of the prophets, the final messenger from God.

But test this claim by Muhammad’s own fruits.

Jesus said, “By their fruits, you will know them”.

Matthew 7:16.

Muhammad spread his religion primarily through warfare and conquest.

He had multiple wives, including a six-year-old girl, Asia, whom he consummated marriage with when she was nine.

He ordered the execution of hundreds of Jewish men from the Banu Corza tribe.

He led raids and battles.

He took slaves.

Compare that to Jesus.

He never sinned.

He never married.

He never led an army.

He never took a slave.

He never killed anyone.

Instead, he healed the sick, raised the dead, forgave sinners, and ultimately gave his own life so that we could be saved.

Which one of these sounds like the true representative of God?

I know these are hard truths.

I know it’s difficult to hear criticism of Muhammad when you’ve been taught to rever him your whole life.

I felt the same way when Christians would criticize him.

But truth matters more than our feelings.

And the truth is, Muhammad was a false prophet.

Right now, in this very moment, you have a choice to make.

You can dismiss everything I’ve said.

You can call me a liar, a deceiver, mentally ill, and agent of Satan.

You can close this video and go back to your life.

Or you can consider the possibility that I’m telling the truth.

Look at the evidence.

The earthquake in Turkey, April 23rd, 2025.

The death of Kam, February 28th, 2026.

the Iranian warship March 4th, 2026.

I predicted all of these events with precision before they happened because Jesus showed them to me.

How could I have known?

Either I’m the luckiest guesser in the world or I truly encountered the living God.

You decide, but decide quickly because time is running out.

In just days, Ramadan will end.

Muslims around the world will celebrate Eid believing they fulfilled their duty to Allah, believing they’ve earned rewards in paradise.

But they’re building their hopes on a foundation of sand.

And when the storm comes, when death comes, when Jesus returns, that foundation will collapse.

Don’t let that be you.

Jesus is calling you right now.

He’s been calling you your whole life.

Every doubt you felt about Islam.

Every question that was dismissed, every moment you wondered if there was more, that was Jesus knocking on the door of your heart.

He died for you.

Not just for Christians, for you.

For every Muslim who has ever lived.

His blood covers your sins.

All of them.

Your lies, your lust, your pride, your hatred, everything.

He took the punishment you deserve so you could have the life he deserves.

All you have to do is receive it.

Pray with me right now.

Wherever you are, whatever time of day it is, just pray these words.

Jesus, I confess that I am a sinner.

I have lived my life according to Islam, but now I see that it was a lie.

I believe that you are the son of God.

I believe that you died on the cross for my sins.

I believe that you rose from the dead on the third day.

I surrender my life to you.

Save me.

Forgive me.

Make me your child.

I turn away from Islam and turn to you.

I trust you alone for my salvation.

Amen.

If you prayed that sincerely, you are saved right now.

In this moment, you have passed from death to life.

The old has gone.

The new has come.

You are a new creation in Christ Jesus.

Now, here’s what you need to do next.

One, tell someone.

Find a church, a bibleelving church, not a liberal one that doesn’t take scripture seriously.

Tell them you just gave your life to Christ.

They will help you.

Two, get a Bible and start reading.

I recommend starting with the Gospel of John.

This will introduce you to who Jesus really is, not the distorted version Islam taught you.

Three, be prepared for the cost.

If you’re in a Muslim family, they will likely reject you.

If you’re in a Muslim majority country, you may face persecution, imprisonment, or even death.

This is not a game.

This is not a casual decision.

But Jesus is worth it.

He is worth everything you will lose and infinitely more.

I lost my wife, my children, my father, my brothers, my career, my reputation, my community, my safety.

I lost 45 years of my life to a lie.

But I gained Jesus.

And I would make the same choice a thousand times over.

Because knowing him, truly knowing him, is worth more than everything this world has to offer.

Look at the world right now.

Look at the wars.

Look at the chaos.

Look at the suffering.

This is what a world without Jesus looks like.

This is what happens when humanity rejects their creator.

And it’s only going to get worse before he returns.

The signs are all around us.

Wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, famines, pestilences, false prophets, persecution of believers, exactly as Jesus prophesied 2,000 years ago.

We are living in the end times.

I don’t know if we have years, months, or weeks, but I know the time is short.

And when Jesus returns, and he will return, it will be too late.

The door will close.

The opportunity will be gone.

Every person who rejected him will face eternal judgment.

Not because God is cruel, but because they chose to reject his offer of salvation.

Hell is real.

I didn’t see it during my near-death experience, but Jesus warned about it more than anyone else in the Bible.

It’s a place of eternal separation from God, eternal regret, eternal torment.

And every Muslim who dies without Christ will go there.

Not because they weren’t sincere, not because they didn’t try hard enough, but because they rejected the only way of salvation.

Muhammad can’t save you.

He’s dead.

His bones are still in Medina.

The Quran can’t save you.

It’s just a book written by a man.

Your good works can’t save you.

They’re insufficient to pay for even one sin, let alone a lifetime of them.

Only Jesus can save you because only he is God.

Only he lived a perfect life.

Only he died a sacrificial death.

Only he rose from the dead, conquering sin and death forever.

He is alive right now.

He hears you when you pray to him.

He loves you more than you can imagine.

And he’s waiting for you to come home.

Don’t wait until it’s too late.

Don’t let this Ramadan end without knowing him.

Don’t let another day pass in spiritual darkness when you could be walking in his light.

Come to Jesus today, right now.

He’s been waiting for you your whole life.

Will you finally answer his call?

My name is Ahmed Assan.

This is my testimony.

This is my warning.

May God use it to save souls before the door closes forever.

In the name of Jesus Christ, the only savior, the only way, the only truth, the only life.

Demon.

– ONE MORE STORY BELOW –

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Thousands of Jews Watch LIVE as Senior Jewish Rabbi Declares Yeshua the Messiah and Son of God !!!

I have found the Messiah.

His name is Yeshua, Jesus of Nazareth.

He is the Son of God, the Lord and Savior of all mankind.

And I believe in him with all my heart, all my soul, and all my strength.

I stood before my congregation that Shabbat morning with my hands gripping both sides of the wooden podium, trying to keep them from shaking.

300 faces looked back at me.

Faces I had known for decades.

Faces I had married to their spouses.

Faces I had comforted at funerals.

Faces whose children I had held at their Brit Ma ceremonies when they were 8 days old.

The morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of our synagogue, casting familiar patterns across the prayer shaws of the men swaying gently in their seats.

The women sat in their section, some with their heads covered, some with their prayer books open.

Everything looked exactly as it had looked every Shabbat for the past 23 years I had served as their rabbi.

But everything was about to change.

I had barely slept in 3 days.

My wife Rachel hadn’t spoken to me since the night before when I told her what I was planning to do.

My stomach felt like it was filled with stones.

My mouth was dry despite the water I had drunk before walking up to the beimma.

I looked out at the faces and felt a love for these people that nearly broke me.

I knew that in a few moments most of them would hate me.

Some would mourn for me as if I had died.

Others would spit at the mention of my name.

But I had found a truth, and the truth had set me free, even as it was about to cost me everything.

I took a breath and began to speak.

The words came out stronger than I expected.

I told them that I had spent the last 18 months on a journey I had never planned to take.

I told them that I had discovered something that shook the foundations of everything I thought I knew.

And and then I said the words that changed my life forever.

I have found the Messiah.

His name is Yeshua, Jesus of Nazareth.

He is the son of God, the Lord and Savior of all mankind, and I believe in him with all my heart, all my soul, and all my strength.

The silence that followed felt like the world had stopped breathing.

How did I get here?

How does an Orthodox rabbi, a man who spent his entire life devoted to Torah and the traditions of our fathers, come to believe in Jesus?

Let me take you back to the beginning.

Hello viewers from around the world.

Before our brother continues his story, we’d love to know where you are watching from and we would love to pray for you and your city.

Thank you and may God bless you as you listen to this powerful testimony.

I was born in Brooklyn in 1979, the second son of Mosha and Esther Silverman.

We lived in a small apartment in Burough Park in the heart of one of the most Orthodox Jewish communities in America.

My father worked as an accountant.

My mother raised us children.

I had two older sisters and one younger brother.

Our life revolved entirely around our faith.

I have memories from when I was very young, maybe four or 5 years old, of sitting at the Shabbat table on Friday nights.

My mother would light the candles just before sunset, covering her eyes with her hands, and whispering the blessing in Hebrew.

My father would come home from shul synagogue and would lift the cup of wine and sanctify the day.

We would eat chala bread that my mother had baked and we would sing the songs our ancestors had sung for thousands of years.

The apartment was small and cramped, but on Friday nights it felt like the most beautiful place in the world.

My grandfather, my father’s father, lived with us in those early years.

His name was Caim and he was a survivor.

He never talked much about the camps, but we knew.

We saw the numbers tattooed on his arm.

We saw the way he would sometimes stop in the middle of doing something and just stare off into the distance, his eyes seeing things we couldn’t imagine.

But his faith never wavered.

Not once.

He would wake up every morning at 5:00 and pray.

He would study Torah for hours.

He taught me to read Hebrew when I was 5 years old, sitting with me at the kitchen table with infinite patience as I stumbled over the letters.

One thing he told me has stayed with me my whole life.

I must have been seven or eight years old.

I and I asked him how he could still believe in God after what happened to him, after what he saw.

He looked at me with those deep sad eyes and he said that the Nazis had taken everything from him, his parents, his siblings, his first wife, and their baby daughter.

Everything.

But they couldn’t take his faith.

That was his.

That was the one thing they couldn’t touch.

And as long as he had his faith, as long as he had the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, they had not won.

I grew up believing that my faith was the most precious thing I possessed, more precious than life itself.

I was a serious child.

While my friends played stickball in the streets, I was studying.

I loved learning.

I love the Talmud, the arguments and the reasoning, the way the rabbis would debate the meaning of every word.

I love the smell of old books.

A the feel of the pages, the sense that I was connecting with thousands of years of wisdom.

By the time I was 13, when I had my bar mitzvah, I could read and understand large portions of the Torah in the original Hebrew.

My parents were so proud.

When I was 16, my rabbi approached my father about sending me to Yeshiva, a special school for advanced religious study.

This was a great honor.

It meant that the community leaders saw potential in me, that they believed I could become a rabbi myself one day.

My father cried when they told him.

My mother made a special Shabbat dinner to celebrate.

I spent the next eight years in intensive study.

I studied the Torah, all five books of Moses.

I studied the prophets and the writings, what we call the Tanakh, what Christians call the Old Testament.

I studied the Talmud, the massive collection of rabbitical debates and interpretations.

I studied the midrash, the ancient commentaries.

I studied the medieval scholars, rashi, mimmonades, nakmanites.

I learned Aramaic.

I learned the intricate details of Jewish law, what you can and cannot do on Shabbat, the proper way to observe the festivals, the dietary laws, the purity laws, every aspect of life governed by the Torah and the traditions.

I didn’t just learn these things academically.

I lived them.

I breathed them.

Judaism wasn’t something I did.

It was something I was.

It was in my bones, in my blood, in every breath I took.

When I put on my Teflin every morning, those leather boxes containing scripture that we bind on our arms and foreheads, I wasn’t just following a ritual.

I was connecting with God, with Moses, I’d with every Jewish man who had put on to fillain for the past 3,000 years.

When I kept Shabbat, resting from Friday evening to Saturday evening, I wasn’t just obeying a commandment.

I was participating in creation, remembering that God rested on the seventh day, sanctifying time itself.

This was my life.

This was my identity.

This was everything.

When I was 25, I married Rachel.

She was the daughter of a respected rabbi in Queens, a beautiful woman with dark eyes and a gentle spirit.

Our families arranged the introduction, but we fell in love on our own.

We were married under a chupa, a wedding canopy with our families and friends surrounding us.

We broke the glass to remember the destruction of the temple.

We danced and celebrated and started our life together.

Over the next 15 years, a God blessed us with three children.

Sarah was born first, then Benjamin 3 years later, then Miriam 5 years after that.

We raised them in the faith, the same faith that had been passed down to us.

We celebrated every holiday.

We kept our home kosher.

We sent the children to Jewish day schools.

On Friday nights, I would bless my children, placing my hands on their heads and reciting the ancient blessing.

I would watch them grow and learn and develop their own relationships with God and with Torah, and my heart would nearly burst with gratitude.

When I was 33 years old, I was offered a position as the rabbi of a midsized Orthodox congregation in New Jersey.

It was everything I had worked for, my own congregation, my own community to serve and teach and guide.

I accepted immediately.

Continue reading….
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