not in Allah’s presence but separated from God in darkness in torment experiencing the eternal consequence of dying without Christ and I was partially responsible.

My teaching had been one of the influences that kept him from seeking Jesus.

I saw the woman who had asked if Muslims and Christians worship the same God.

I had told her yes, told her she did not need to investigate Christianity because she already had the truth in Islam.

She had believed me.

She had died in a car accident 8 years later, still a Muslim, still trusting that her prayers to Allah were reaching the true God, but they had not been.

She had been praying to a false conception of God, worshiping an idea that did not correspond to reality.

and she had died in that deception and I had helped keep her there.

I saw hundreds more like this, maybe thousands, students I had taught, the readers of my books, people who had followed my fatwas, everyone I had influenced towards Islam, I had influenced away from Jesus.

And Jesus was showing me the eternal consequences of that influence.

The weight was unbearable.

I fell down or would have if I had a physical body.

I cried out, “I deserve hell.

I know I deserve hell.

Everything you are showing me proves it.

I have not only rejected you myself, I have led others to reject you.

I have blood on my hands.

There is no punishment severe enough for what I have done.

” Jesus looked at me with those eyes that held perfect love and perfect justice together.

And he said, “Yes, Hassan, you deserve hell.

You deserve eternal separation from me.

You deserve to experience forever the weight of guilt you are feeling right now.

That is what justice demands.

I waited for the sentence.

I waited for him to cast me away into the darkness I deserved.

” But he did not.

Instead, he extended his hands toward me, and I saw the scars again, the wounds from the nails, the evidence of his crucifixion.

And he said, “But I died for this, Hassan.

I died for your rejection of me.

I died for your pride.

I died for your teaching that led others astray.

I died for every sin you have committed and every soul you have misled.

I took all of it on myself on the cross.

I experienced the hell you deserve.

” so that you would not have to.

The question is not whether my sacrifice is sufficient to cover your guilt.

It is the sacrifice of the eternal son of God is sufficient to cover the sins of the entire world.

The question is whether you will receive it.

I did not understand.

In Islam, salvation is something you earn.

You pray five times a day.

You fast during Ramadan.

You give charity.

You make pilgrimage to Mecca.

You do good deeds and hope they outweigh your bad deeds and maybe if Allah wills, he will grant you paradise.

But Jesus was offering something completely different.

He was offering forgiveness I had not earned, could never earn, did not deserve.

He was offering to credit his perfection to my account to take my sin upon himself even though he had already paid for it 2,000 years ago.

It was grace.

Pure, unearned, undeserved grace.

And it was the most radical thing I had ever heard.

I asked why.

Why would you offer me mercy?

I have been your enemy.

I have spent 40 years opposing you, denying you, teaching others to reject you.

Why would you love someone like me?

Jesus said, “Because love is who I am, Hassan.

I loved you when you were born.

I loved you when you were memorizing the Quran as a child thinking you were serving God.

I loved you when you became an ayatah and taught against me.

I loved you when you ignored my call again and again.

I loved you when you died.

I love you now.

My love is not based on what you do.

It is based on who I am and I am offering you a choice right now.

He paused and the weight of the moment pressed down on everything.

He said, “You can accept judgment now based on your works.

You can face justice for every word, every deed, every soul you led astray.

You can have exactly what you deserve.

Or you can receive my grace.

You can accept that I paid for your sins.

You can believe that my death was sufficient.

You can receive forgiveness you did not earn.

And if you choose grace, I will send you back.

The word back hit me like lightning.

I said back to my body.

But I have been dead or unconscious or whatever this is.

For how long?

Jesus said in your world 72 hours have passed.

Your body is lying in a hospital bed in Thran.

The doctors say you should wake up or die soon.

But you are not going to die yet.

Hassan, if you choose to receive my grace, I am going to send you back to your body, back to your life, back to Iran, because there is something you must do.

There is a message you must carry.

There is a warning you must give.

He gestured with his scarred hand and suddenly the space around us changed.

I was no longer in the judgment hall.

I was somewhere else floating above the earth seeing Iran from a height and perspective I had never experienced.

Jesus was beside me and he said before you decide there is something you must see something that is coming to your nation.

Something that will happen in the year 2026.

Watch below me.

I could see Thran spread out like a map.

The whole city visible at once.

But then my vision focused, zooming in like a camera lens until I was hovering above a specific location.

The Musala Mosque in central tan, one of the largest mosques in Iran, a place where hundreds of thousands gather for Friday prayers and special occasions.

I could see it in perfect detail even though it was nighttime.

the massive prayer hall, the tall minoretses, the courtyard that could hold a million people and it was packed completely filled with worshippers dressed in white.

The way people dressed during Ramadan night prayers.

I could hear the call to prayer echoing from the min minetses.

I could see the imam leading the congregation in tarawi prayer.

the special prayers performed during Ramadan nights.

Everyone was moving in synchronized prostration, foreheads touching the ground, a sea of devotion stretching in every direction.

I had seen this scene hundreds of times in my life.

It was beautiful in its order and unity.

But Jesus said, “This is Ramadan 2026, the 15th night.

Watch what happens.

Suddenly, the sky above the mosques changed.

Light began to appear, not from the sun or the moon or any natural source, but light that seemed to tear through the fabric of reality itself.

It started as a small point above the mosque’s central dome, and then it expanded, growing brighter and brighter until it was overwhelming, until it filled the entire sky above Tan.

People in the mosque noticed.

Prayers faltered.

People looked up.

Some screamed.

Some tried to run but could not move.

Frozen by what they were seeing.

And in the light, a figure appeared.

Jesus Christ in glory standing in the air above Musa Mosque.

Visible to everyone in the crowd.

Visible to everyone watching on the live television broadcasts that always covered Ramadan prayers.

visible to the whole city and through cameras and phones to the whole world.

He was not hidden.

He was not a private vision.

He was physically, undeniably, unmistakably present in the sky above the mosque.

I could see his face from where I hovered in the vision.

The same face I was looking at now.

The same eyes, the same scars on his hands that were raised toward the crowd below.

And he spoke.

His voice was not loud, but somehow everyone heard it.

Whether audibly or in their hearts, I could not tell.

He said, “I am Jesus Christ, the son of God.

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

No one comes to the father except through me.

I died for your sins.

I rose from the dead.

I am calling you to turn from your idols and come to me.

Islam cannot save you.

Muhammad cannot save you.

The Quran cannot save you.

Only I can save you.

Come to me.

The reaction below was instant chaos.

Some people fell on their faces in terror.

Some stood with their hands raised, not knowing whether to pray or flee.

Some began weeping uncontrollably, deep wailing cries.

Some began shouting Allahu Akbar, trying to assert Islamic faith against what they were seeing.

But their voices sounded hollow and desperate.

I could see religious police scrambling, trying to control the crowd.

But they were just as shocked as everyone else.

I could see the imam who had been leading prayer, standing frozen on the minbar, his mouth open like unable to speak.

I could see government officials in the VIP section staring upward with expressions of absolute horror.

And above it all, Jesus stood in glory, his presence filling the atmosphere, holy and powerful and completely undeniable.

The appearance lasted several minutes.

Long enough that people fumbled for their phones and started recording.

Long enough that the live television broadcasts captured everything.

long enough that no one could later claim they had imagined it or that it had been too brief to be sure what they saw.

And then Jesus raised his scarred hands in a gesture of blessing and invitation and the light intensified until it was blinding.

And when it faded, he was gone.

But the effect remained.

The crowd erupted into confusion and shouting and weeping.

Some people were running out of the mosque.

Some were falling to to their knees crying out to Jesus.

Some were standing in shock, unable to process what had just happened.

And I knew watching this vision that within seconds the videos would start uploading to the internet.

Within minutes, millions would be watching.

Within hours, it would be the biggest story in the world.

Jesus Christ had appeared above the holiest Islamic site in Shiaan during the holiest month of the Islamic calendar and he had publicly undeniably declared his divinity and called people to himself.

But Jesus was not finished showing me what would happen.

The vision shifted and I was no longer hovering above Muzala Mosque.

I was seeing multiple locations at once as if I could observe different places across the world simultaneously.

That same night, the same hour that Jesus appeared above the mosque in Thran, millions of Bushia Muslims around the world were experiencing encounters with him.

In Kum, the holy city where I was born, I saw an elderly Ayatollah asleep in his home near the seminary.

Jesus appeared to him in his room, not in a dream, but physically present.

The old man woke up, saw Jesus standing there, and instead of fear, I saw his face filled with recognition and relief as if he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

He got out of bed, fell on his knees, and said, “I knew it.

” I always knew there was something more.

In Mashad, at the shrine of Imam Raza, where millions make pilgrimage every year, I saw a young woman praying at the tomb.

She was weeping, begging for help with a sick child.

Suddenly, Jesus appeared beside her in the crowded shrine, visible only to her.

He touched her shoulder and she turned and looked into his face.

I could not hear what he said to her, but I saw her expression change from desperation to peace, from confusion to understanding.

She whispered, “You are real.

You are God.

In Iraq, in the holy cities of Najaf and Karbala, where the great imams are buried, where millions of Shia pilgrims come from across the world, I saw the same thing happening.

Jesus appearing to people during their prayers, during their pilgrimages, in their homes, in their cars, at their workplaces.

Not to everyone, but to millions.

Some saw him with their physical eyes like the Ayatollah in Gome.

Some encountered him in dreams so vivid and real that they woke up knowing it was more than a dream.

Some heard his voice speaking to them while they were fully awake, calling them by name, telling them he loved them, inviting them to follow him.

And it was not just in Iran and Iraq.

I saw the same encounters happening in Lebanon among the Shia communities there in Bahrain and Kuwait and Saudi Arabia’s eastern province where Shia minorities lived in Pakistan and India and Afghanistan in London and Dearbornne and Toronto and Sydney.

Everywhere the Shia diaspora had spread across the world.

The encounters were all different but carried the same message.

Jesus identifying himself not as the prophet Isa but as the son of God.

Jesus showing his scars.

Jesus declaring that he died and rose again.

Jesus calling people to turn from Islam and follow him.

And I saw the responses.

Some people accepted immediately falling to their knees in surrender then praying to receive him as Lord and Savior right there in the moment.

Some resisted terrified of what it would cost them.

trying to explain it away as a satanic deception, trying to hold on to their Islamic faith.

Some ran to their imams and religious leaders demanding explanations, asking how this could be happening.

But the wave had started and I could see that it was not going to stop.

This was not a small movement.

This was not a handful of isolated conversions.

This was millions of people across the Shia world experiencing supernatural encounters with Jesus Christ all at once.

Jesus showed me what would happen in the weeks and months following that night.

I saw the Iranian government scrambling to respond to the appearance above Musalah Mosque.

The Supreme Leader calling emergency meetings with the Supreme Council, not intelligence services, trying to confiscate videos and arrest people who were spreading them.

But the videos were already everywhere, uploaded to platforms faster than they could be blocked.

State television trying to declare it a mass hallucination caused by American technology.

Psychological warfare from the West.

The Grand Muy of Iran issuing a fatwa declaring that anyone who claimed Jesus was God was an apostate who must repent or face execution.

But the official responses felt desperate and hollow because too many people had seen too many witnesses, too much evidence.

You cannot deny what millions experienced simultaneously.

I saw thousands then hundreds of thousands then millions of Shia Muslims publicly declaring faith in Jesus Christ.

They were doing it despite the danger, despite knowing they could be arrested, tortured or killed.

Families were converting together.

Underground house churches were forming across Iran.

former mosques in areas where entire neighborhoods had converted were being quietly transformed into Christian meeting places.

Ayatollah and religious scholars who had encountered Jesus were beginning to teach about him using their knowledge of Islamic texts to show as other Muslims how the Quran itself pointed to Jesus’s supremacy.

How Muhammad’s own words in the hadith acknowledged Jesus’s unique role.

These former Islamic leaders became the most effective evangelists because they knew exactly what arguments Muslims would raise and exactly how to answer them from both the Bible and the Quran.

I saw the persecution that came with this great harvest.

The revolutionary guard raiding homes and arresting new believers, but Evan prison filling with Christians, many of them former Muslims.

public executions of converts who refused to recent, families disowning children who accepted Jesus.

But I also saw something remarkable.

The persecution was not stopping the movement.

It was accelerating it.

Every martyr created 10 more seekers.

Every testimony of someone choosing death rather than denying Jesus convinced others that this faith must be real must be worth dying for.

The blood of the martyrs was becoming the seed of the church just as it had been in the first centuries of Christianity.

Jesus showed me specific signs that would appear before 2026.

So that when I went back and told people what I had seen, they would be able to watch for these signs and know that the vision was true.

You know, he showed me an increase in dreams and visions among Muslims that was already beginning to happen even now in 2024.

He told me to tell people to search online for testimonies of Muslims dreaming of Jesus, that they would find thousands of accounts from across the Islamic world, and that these accounts would multiply dramatically as 2026 approached.

He showed me political changes that would happen in Iran, specific events I cannot fully describe here because they have not occurred yet and speaking to specifically could endanger people.

He showed me technological developments that would make the 20 26 appearance impossible to fake.

advances in video authentication and artificial intelligence detection that would allow experts to verify that what happened above Mosala Mosque was not computerenerated imagery or holographic projection but an actual supernatural event.

He showed me natural phenomena, unusual weather patterns, and astronomical events that would occur in the months before Ramadan 2026.

Things that Iranian moolas would try to interpret as signs supporting Islam.

But that would actually be God’s way of preparing the ground for what was coming.

He showed me diplomatic events, specific meetings between world leaders, changes in international relations that would seem unrelated but were actually part of God’s sovereign plan to ensure that when Jesus appeared, the whole world would be watching Iran.

I cannot share all these signs in detail because I am in hiding and speaking to specifically would help the Iranian intelligence services narrow down my location or the location of the people helping me.

But those who truly seek will recognize these signs as they unfold.

They will see the pieces falling into place exactly as Jesus showed me.

and they will know that 20 26 is really coming.

Then Jesus asked me the question that everything had been building toward.

He extended his scarred hand toward me and said, “Hassan, do you receive my grace?

Do you believe that I died for your sins and rose from the dead?

Do you trust me as your Lord and Savior?

Will you confess me before others no matter what it costs you?

Will you go back to Iran and tell them what you have seen?

I knew what he was asking.

I knew what my answer would cost.

If I said yes, if I accepted Jesus and went back to tell others, I would lose everything.

My position as Grand Ayatollah would be gone instantly.

The title I had worked decades to achieve, the respect I had earned through years of scholarship, the authority I wielded in religious circles, all of it would be destroyed the moment I declared Jesus as Lord.

My family would reject me.

Zara, my wife of 35 years, would divorce me under Islamic law because apostasy breaks the marriage contract.

My children would disown me to protect their own reputations and positions.

My grandchildren would be taught to forget I existed.

My safety would be forfeit.

The Iranian government does not tolerate high-profile conversions from Islam to Christianity, especially not from someone at my level.

They would declare me an apostat.

They would issue a death sentence.

If they could capture me, they would either force me to publicly recant or they would execute me.

Even if I escaped Iran, I would spend the rest of my life in hiding.

Unable to return to my home, unable to see my family, unable to visit my father’s grave in Kum or pray at the mosques where I had spent my entire life.

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