Popular Muslim Imam from Tehran Breaks His Silence On When Jesus Spoke To Him About the Iran-US War

Ali Kam is dead. On February 28th, 2026, fire fell from the sky on his compound in central Thran.

His daughter burned, his granddaughter burned. His son-in-law burned. Jesus didn’t tell me the exact date this would happen, but 2 years ago in 2024, he showed me it was coming.

He showed me the fire. He showed me the strike. He showed me the compound in flames.

And he told me to run or I would die with them. My name is Imam Hussein Kashani and this is the first time I am showing my face since I fled Iran in 2024.

I warned them this was coming. They called me a traitor. They called me an Israeli spy.

They called me an American agent. They hunted my family. They tortured people I loved.

But everything Jesus told me came true down to the smallest detail.

The fire from heaven.

The joint American and Israeli strike. The supreme leader dead in his own home. And now I’m going to tell you everything.

This is April 2026. The 40 days of mourning in Iran just ended 3 weeks ago.

Moshtaba Kam Ali’s son is now sitting on his father’s throne as the third supreme leader.

The regime is pretending everything is under control. They are pretending the Islamic Republic is strong and will continue forever.

But I know what’s coming next. Jesus showed me that too. And before this year is over, the whole world will see that the God of heaven is tearing down the throne of the Ayatollas piece by piece.

I have been silent for almost 2 years. I have been hiding in a place I cannot name in a country I cannot reveal.

I have watched from the shadows as everything Jesus showed me in 2024 unfolded exactly as he said it would.

I have carried the weight of knowing what was coming and not being able to stop it.

I have lived with the guilt of running away while my family paid the price for my obedience to Christ.

But now the time has come to break my silence. Now the world needs to hear my story.

Not because I am important, not because I am special, but because what happened to me proves that Jesus Christ is alive.

He is real. And he is moving in iron right now in ways the regime cannot stop.

Let me take you back to the beginning, back to early 2024, before any of this started.

Back when I was still Imm Hussein Kashani, one of the most respected Friday prayer leaders in Tehran.

Back when I had everything a man in the Islamic Republic could want. By 2010, I had become wellknown in Thran religious circles.

I was invited to speak at larger mosques. I appeared on religious television programs. I was asked to give advice to government officials.

In 2015, I was appointed as the lead Friday prayer imam at the Javadia mosque in eastern Thran.

This was a significant position. The mosque was large and influential. Thousands of people came to hear me preach every week.

I had connections to people in the revolutionary guards. I had access to regime officials.

I was living a comfortable life. I had respect. I had influence. I had security.

The year of the November protests. You remember what happened? The government raised fuel prices suddenly and drastically.

People poured into the streets all across Iran. They were angry. They were desperate. They chanted against the regime.

They burned pictures of Kamina. And the regime’s response was brutal beyond words. I watched from my position of privilege as the revolutionary guards and besid militias opened fire on unarmed protesters.

I saw the videos that were smuggled out on the internet. I saw young men shot in the streets.

I saw bodies being dragged away by security forces. I heard reports that over 1500 people were killed in just a few days.

1500 Iranians, most of them young, gunned down for daring to say they were hungry and tired of corruption.

And through all of this, I was expected to preach submission. I was expected to tell my congregation that the protesters were enemies of Islam.

I was expected to justify the killings as necessary to protect the revolution. I did what I was told.

I stood in the pulpit of Javad mosque and I repeated the regime’s talking points.

I called the protesters misguided. I said they were being manipulated by foreign enemies. I said the security forces had no choice but to restore order.

But inside my soul was screaming. I went home that night after preaching and I locked myself in my study and I wept.

I wept for the young people who had been killed. I wept for their mothers who would never see them again.

I wept for Iran and I wept for myself because I had become a mouthpiece for murderers.

I had sold my soul for a comfortable position and the approval of evil men.

That night I got on my knees and I cried out to Allah. I begged him to show me the truth.

I begged him to give me peace. I begged him to take away the crushing weight of hypocrisy that was suffocating me.

But the heavens were silent. I felt nothing. It was like praying to an empty sky.

Then came the night that changed everything. It was April 12th, 2024. A Friday night.

I had just finished leading the evening prayers at Javad Mosque. I had preached that afternoon about patience and submission to Allah’s will.

The sermon was wellreceived as usual. People came up to me afterward to thank me and ask for my prayers.

I smiled and blessed them and played my role perfectly. But when I finally got home and everyone in my house was asleep, I went into my study and closed the door.

I sat at my desk with my head in my hands, I felt like I was suffocating.

The walls of that room felt like they were closing in on me. I had spent years in that study reading the Quran and Islamic texts.

I had prepared thousands of sermons there. But that night it felt like a tomb.

I got down on my knees on the floor and I did something I had never done before.

Yeah. I stopped reciting the formal prayers I had been taught. I stopped using the religious language I had used my whole life.

I just spoke from my heart like a desperate man with nothing left to lose.

I said, “If there is a real God anywhere in this universe, I am begging you to show yourself to me.

I am dying inside. I have nothing left. If you are real, if you can hear me, please, please show me the truth.”

I stayed on my knees with tears running down my face. And then everything changed.

The room suddenly became very bright. I opened my eyes because the light was so strong I could see it even with my eyes closed.

At first, I thought maybe there was a fire or someone had turned on all the lights in my house.

But this light was different. It was not yellow like electric light or orange like fire.

It was pure white. It was the kind of white that should hurt your eyes, but somehow it did not hurt at all.

Instead, it felt warm and peaceful. I stood up from my knees slowly. My heart was beating so fast I thought it would explode out of my chest.

I looked around my study and everything looked different. The light was coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

It filled every corner of the room. And then I saw him. There was a man standing in my study about 2 m away from me.

He was wearing white robes that seemed to glow with the same light that filled the room.

His face was kind but strong. His eyes were looking straight into mine. And I felt like those eyes could see everything about me, every secret, every sin, every doubt, every moment of my entire life.

But there was no judgment in those eyes. Only love. A love so powerful and so pure that I had never felt anything like it in my entire life.

I knew immediately who he was. I do not know how I knew but I knew.

This was Jesus. This was Isa al- Masi. The one I had been taught about in the Quran but never really understood.

The one I had been told was just a prophet, nothing more. But standing in front of me now was not just a prophet.

This was someone far greater than anything I had ever imagined. I fell to my knees again.

Not because anyone told me to, not because it was the religious thing to do, but because my legs could not hold me up anymore.

The presence of holiness in that room was so strong that I felt like I would die if I stayed standing.

I tried to speak, but no words came out of my mouth. My whole body was shaking.

I was terrified and amazed at the same time. I had prayed for God to show himself to me and now he was standing in my study.

But he did not look anything like what I had expected. He did not look like Allah, the distant judge that I had served my whole life.

He looked like someone who actually cared about me. Jesus smiled at me. It was a gentle smile, the kind of smile a father gives to a frightened child.

He spoke to me in Farsy. His voice was quiet, but it filled the entire room.

He said my name. He said, “Husen.” Just hearing him say my name made me start crying.

Nobody had ever said my name with that much tenderness. Nobody had ever looked at me with that much love.

He said, “I know your pain. I know your questions. I know the emptiness you carry inside.

I know you have been searching for truth your whole life and never found it.

I know you are tired. I know you are broken. I know you feel like you are dying inside.

Every word he spoke was true. He knew me. He knew everything about me. Not just the things I did on the outside, but the things I felt on the inside that I had never told anyone.

He knew the doubts I had hidden for years. He knew the guilt I carried for serving a regime that murdered its own people.

He knew the shame I felt for being a hypocrite. He knew all of it and he was still standing there looking at me with love.

Then Jesus said something that shook me to my core. He said, “You have been praying to a god who does not exist.

You have been serving a system built on fear and control and violence. You have been teaching people to submit to a religion that keeps them far from the father.

But I did not come to give you religion, Hussein. I came to give you life.

Real life. I came to set you free from the chains you have been wearing your whole life.

I came to fill the emptiness inside you with something real. I came to show you what love actually looks like.

I could not stop crying. His words were cutting through me like a knife, but not in a painful way.

It was like he was cutting away all the lies I had believed. All the false ideas about God that I had built my entire life on.

Everything I thought I knew about Allah and Islam and salvation was being torn down in front of my eyes.

And instead of feeling angry or defensive, I felt relief. Deep overwhelming relief because somewhere deep inside I had always known that what I was teaching was not the whole truth.

I had always felt that something was missing. And now I was standing face to face with what had been missing all along.

Jesus stepped closer to me. He reached out his hand and placed it on my shoulder.

The moment he touched me, I felt something like electricity run through my whole body.

But it was not painful. It was like life itself was flowing into me. Like I had been dead my whole life and now I was waking up for the first time.

The emptiness that had lived in my chest for years suddenly started to fade. It was being replaced by something warm and real and alive.

I looked up at his face and I saw tears in his eyes. He was crying too, not because he was sad, but because he cared so much.

He cared about me, a broken imam from Thran who had spent his whole life serving the wrong master.

He cared enough to leave heaven and come into my study in the middle of the night to rescue me.

That was when I understood what grace meant. Not the cheap grace that Islam talks about where Allah might forgive you if you do enough good works, but real grace.

The kind of grace that pursues you when you are running away. The kind of grace that finds you when you are lost.

The kind of grace that loves you when you do not deserve it. Then Jesus began to show me things.

He did not speak out loud anymore. Instead, pictures started appearing in my mind like I was watching a movie.

But these were not normal pictures. They were so real and so vivid that I felt like I was actually there.

I saw myself as a young boy in com studying in the seminary. I saw myself memorizing the Quran and learning Islamic law.

I saw myself graduating and becoming an imam. I saw myself preaching to thousands of people.

But then I saw something else. Yeah. I saw what was really happening in the spiritual realm while I was doing all these things.

I saw that I was serving darkness while thinking I was serving light. I saw that the system I was part of was not from God at all.

It was from the enemy of God. I saw the blood of innocent people crying out from the ground.

I saw the chains on the souls of millions of Iranians who were trapped under religious oppression.

I saw demons sitting on the shoulders of regime leaders whispering lies into their ears.

I saw the whole Islamic Republic for what it really was. Not a godly government, but a kingdom of darkness pretending to be holy.

The vision changed. Jesus showed me what was coming. This is when I saw the strike for the first time.

I saw the sky over Thran at night. I saw missiles flying through the air.

They were coming from two different directions. I somehow knew in the vision that they were American missiles and Israeli missiles flying together toward the same target.

I saw them hit a large compound in central Thran. I recognized the compound immediately.

It was one of KA’s official residences. The missiles hit and massive explosions lit up the night sky.

Fire erupted everywhere. Buildings collapsed. I saw people running and screaming. Then the vision zoomed in and I saw Kam himself.

He was trying to escape, but he could not. The fire caught him. I saw his face twisted in terror as he realized he was about to die.

And I saw other people dying with him. Family members, guards, staff, all of them burning in the flames.

The vision was so real that I could almost feel the heat of the fire.

I could almost smell the smoke. It was terrible and terrifying. Jesus spoke to me again.

He said, “This is what is coming to Iran. The supreme leader will fall. Fire will fall from heaven and consume him in his own house.

His family will die with him. This is the judgment of God on a man who has shed innocent blood for decades.

This is what happens when someone sits on a throne that belongs to me alone.

I was shaking as I watched the vision. I wanted to ask when this would happen, but before I could speak, Jesus said, “You do not need to know the exact time.

You only need to know that it is coming soon in your lifetime. While you are still breathing, it will happen.

And when it happens, the whole world will know that I am the Lord and there is no other.

The vision faded, but the images were burned into my mind. I would never forget what I had just seen.

I would never forget the fire or the explosions or the look of terror on Kam’s face.

Jesus showed me more. He showed me what would happen to me if I stayed in Iran.

I saw myself being arrested. I saw revolutionary guards breaking down my door in the middle of the night.

I saw them dragging me out of my house while my wife and children screamed.

I saw myself thrown into Evan prison. I saw interrogation rooms and torture and beatings.

I saw my own body broken and bloody on a prison floor. I saw a rope being put around my neck.

I saw myself hanging from a crane in a public square with a crowd watching.

Jesus said, “This is what will happen to you if you stay here. They will kill you.

Not because you are guilty of any crime, but because you will speak my name.”

And that is the one thing the regime cannot tolerate. If you stay in Thran, you will die before the year is over.

Fear gripped my heart. I did not want to die. I was not ready to be a martyr.

I was just starting to understand who Jesus really was. I did not want my life to end before I could know him better.

But then Jesus showed me a different path. He showed me leaving Iran. I saw myself crossing the border into Turkey.

I saw myself in a small room in a city I did not recognize. I saw myself safe and hidden and alive.

Jesus said, “You must leave this place, Hussein. You must run. Leave your position. Leave your mosque.

Leave everything behind and go where I send you. If you stay, you will die.

But if you go, you will live and you will be my witness. You will tell the world what I showed you.

You will warn people that judgment is coming. You will call Muslims to turn from darkness and come into my light.

That this is your purpose. This is why I came to you tonight. Not just to save your soul, but to give you a mission.

I was overwhelmed. Everything was happening too fast. Just an hour ago, I was a broken imam praying desperately in my study.

Now I was being told to abandon everything and flee the country. Now I was being told that I had been chosen to be a witness for Jesus Christ.

Me, a man who had spent his whole life fighting against Christianity. Me, a man who had taught thousands of Muslims that Jesus was just a prophet and nothing more.

Jesus looked at me with those eyes full of love. He said, “I know you are afraid.

I know this seems impossible, but I will be with you every step of the way.

When you cross the border, I will be there. When you hide in the darkness, I will be your light.

When you speak my name, I will give you the words.” Yeah, you will not be alone.

Hussein, I did not call you because you are strong. I called you because I am strong and my strength will be enough for both of us.

Then he said something that I will remember for the rest of my life. He said, “You have been wearing a mask your whole life.

You have been pretending to be someone you are not. You have been an imam on the outside while dying on the inside.

But I am about to set you free. I am about to show you who you really are.

You are my son. You are loved. You are forgiven. You are chosen. And nothing in hell or on earth can change that.

The vision began to fade. The light in the room started to dim. Jesus was still standing there, but he was becoming less visible.

Before he disappeared completely, he said one last thing. He said, “Go. Leave before Ramadan ends.

Do not delay. Do not tell anyone what you are planning. Just go. And when you are safe, then you will speak.

Then you will tell them everything I showed you.” Then you will warn them. The fire is coming, Hussein.

The fire is coming soon. And then he was gone. The light vanished. My study looked normal again.

I was alone on my knees on the floor. But everything had changed. I was not the same man who had knelt down to pray an hour before.

That man was dead. In his place was someone new, someone who had met Jesus face to face and would never be the same again.

I stayed on the floor of my study for a long time after Jesus disappeared.

I could not move. My whole body felt weak like I had just run for miles without stopping.

My mind was racing with everything I had just seen and heard. Part of me wondered if I had imagined it all.

Part of me wondered if I had lost my mind. But deep inside, I knew it was real, more real than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life.

The presence I had felt in that room was not something my imagination could create.

The love I had experienced was not something I could make up. And the visions I had seen were too detailed and too specific to be just dreams.

Jesus had really been there. He had really spoken to me. And now I had to decide what I was going to do about it.

I finally stood up and looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost 3:00 in the morning.

I had been in that study for over 5 hours. It felt like only minutes had passed.

Time had done something strange during the encounter with Jesus. I walked quietly through my house checking on my family.

My wife was asleep. My children were asleep if nobody knew what had just happened to me.

Nobody knew that their husband and father had just met Jesus Christ and that everything was about to change.

I could not sleep that night. I lay in bed next to my wife staring at the ceiling.

My mind kept replaying the vision of the missiles striking Kemin’s compound. I kept seeing the fire and the explosions.

I kept seeing his face in those final moments. And I kept hearing Jesus’s words echoing in my head.

Fire will fall from heaven. The supreme leader will fall. This is the judgment of God.

I had been taught my whole life that Kam was appointed by Allah. I had preached that opposing the supreme leader was opposing God himself.

I had told my congregation that the Islamic Republic was the perfect Islamic government. But now I knew it was all a lie.

The regime was not from God. It was from the enemy of God and judgment was coming.

I did not know when exactly. Jesus had not told me the date or the time, but he had said it would be soon in my lifetime.

While I was still breathing. That could mean months or it could mean years. But either way, it was coming and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The next morning, I got up and went through my normal routine like nothing had happened.

I washed for prayer. I led my family in morning prayers. I ate breakfast with my wife.

I kissed my children before they went to school. But inside, I was not the same person.

Everything looked the same on the outside, but everything was different on the inside. I kept thinking about what Jesus had told me.

I had to leave Iran. I had to run before Ramadan ended. Ramadan had started in mid-March that year.

It was now midappril. Yet, that meant I had less than 2 weeks to figure out how to escape the country, 2 weeks to plan everything, two weeks to leave behind the life I had built for 52 years.

The thought terrified me. How was I supposed to leave? Where would I go? How would I cross the border?

What would I tell my family? What would happen to them after I was gone?

A thousand questions flooded my mind, but I had no answers. All I had was the command that Jesus had given me.

Go, leave. Do not delay. Over the next few days, I tried to continue my normal life while secretly planning my escape.

I preached at the mosque on Friday like I always did. But this time when I stood in the pulpit looking out at the thousands of faces staring back at me, I felt like a fraud.

These people trusted me. They believed I was teaching them the truth about God. They had no idea that their imam had met Jesus and was planning to run away.

I went through the motions of the sermon, but my heart was not in it.

I talked about fasting and prayer and obedience to Allah. But the whole time I was thinking about what Jesus had shown me.

After the prayers were over, people came up to me like always. They shook my hand.

They thanked me for the sermon. They asked me to pray for their sick relatives and their financial problems and their troubled marriages.

I smiled and nodded and blessed them. But inside I felt like I was dying.

I was lying to these people. I was still pretending to be something I was not.

And I hated myself for it. That night, I did something I never thought I would do.

I went looking for a Bible. I knew it was illegal to own a Bible in Farsy in Iran.

Here, the regime banned them because they did not want Muslims reading the actual words of Jesus.

They wanted to control what people knew about Christianity. But I had to find one.

I had to read it for myself. I had met Jesus face to face but I barely knew anything about him.

The Quran talks about Isa but it does not give many details. I needed to know more.

I needed to understand who this person was who had appeared in my study. I remembered hearing whispers about underground Christian networks in Thran.

Places where converts met in secret. People who smuggled Bibles into the country. I had always dismissed these rumors as western propaganda.

But now I needed to find these people. I started asking very careful questions to people I thought I could trust.

I did not tell anyone why I was asking. I just said I was curious about what Christians believed so I could better refute their arguments.

After several days of careful searching, I was finally connected to a man who said he could help me.

His name was Amir. We met in a quiet corner of a tea house in the Tajish district in northern Thyran.

He was about 40 years old with a tired face and nervous eyes. He kept looking around to make sure nobody was watching us.

I told him I needed a Bible in Farsy. He asked me why. I could not tell him the whole truth.

So, I gave him the same excuse I had been giving everyone else. I said I wanted to study it to understand the enemy better.

He did not believe me. I could see it in his eyes. He stared at me for a long time without saying anything.

Then he said something that shocked me. He said, “I know who you are. You are Imam Kashani from Javadia Mosque.

I have heard you preach before. You are a famous imam. Why would someone like you want a Bible?”

I felt my stomach drop. I had been found out. I thought about getting up and leaving immediately.

But something made me stay. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit. Maybe it was just desperation.

I looked at Amir and I made the decision to trust him. I said, “Because Jesus appeared to me and I need to know more about him.”

Amir’s eyes went white. He leaned forward across the table and whispered, “Say that again.”

I repeated it. I told him that Jesus had come to me in a vision.

I did not give him all the details, but I told him enough. I said I had encountered Jesus and that my whole understanding of God had been shattered.

I said I needed to read the Bible because I needed to know the truth.

Is Amir sat back in his chair and shook his head in amazement. He said, “Do you know how many Iranians are having dreams and visions of Jesus right now?

Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. All across this country, Muslims are meeting Jesus in supernatural ways.

The regime does not know what to do about it. They can arrest people. They can ban Bibles.

They can torture and kill converts. But they cannot stop Jesus from appearing to people in their dreams.

They cannot stop what God is doing in Iran right now. His words sent chills down my spine.

I was not alone. There were others like me, other Muslims who had encountered Jesus, other Iranians who were discovering that everything they had been taught was wrong.

Amir told me to meet him again in 3 days. He said he would bring me a Bible, but I had to be very careful with it.

If I was caught with it, I would be arrested immediately, especially someone in my position.

Any mom caught with a Bible would be considered a traitor of the worst kind.

3 days later we met again in a different location. This time it was a park near the Melat tower.

Amir handed me a plastic bag. Inside was a book wrapped in brown paper. He said, “This is the most dangerous book in Iran.

Guard it with your life. Read it in secret and may Jesus open your eyes to the truth.”

I took the bag and thanked him. I asked him how he had become a Christian.

He said that was a story for another time. Then he said something that has stayed with me ever since.

He said, “If Jesus appeared to you personally, then he has a special plan for your life.

He does not show up like that for no reason. Whatever he told you to do, you must obey.

Or even if it cost you everything, because nothing in this world is worth more than knowing him.”

I went home and hid the Bible in my study. I waited until late at night when everyone was asleep.

Then I locked the door and unwrapped the brown paper. I held the Bible in my hands and felt the weight of it.

This book had been illegal in my country for decades. People had been tortured and killed for owning it.

And now I was holding one in my own hands. I opened it to the first page.

It said the New Testament of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ in Parsy. I turned to the Gospel of Matthew and started reading.

The very first page talked about the genealogy of Jesus. It listed all his ancestors going back to Abraham.

I had never seen anything like this in the Quran. Is the Quran mentions Jesus but it does not give this kind of detail about his human lineage.

I kept reading. I read about his birth in Bethlehem. I read about the wise men coming to worship him.

I read about Herod trying to kill him. I read about his family fleeing to Egypt.

Every word felt like it was alive. It felt like the book was speaking directly to me.

I read through the night without stopping. I read about Jesus’s baptism and his temptation in the wilderness.

I read about him calling his disciples. I read about his first miracles. And then I came to the sermon on the mount.

I read Jesus’s words. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Tears started rolling down my face as I read these words.

This was nothing like what I had been teaching my whole life. Islam taught strength and power and dominance.

But Jesus was teaching about humility and meekness and spiritual poverty. Islam taught that the righteous would conquer the earth through force.

But Jesus was teaching that the meek would inherit the earth through love. Everything was backwards from what I had learned.

Or maybe everything I had learned was backwards. And this was actually right side up.

I kept reading. I read Jesus saying, “You have heard that it was said, love your neighbor and hate your enemy.

But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” I stopped reading and stared at those words.

Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you. I had never heard anything like this in my life.

The Quran talks about fighting enemies and defeating them. But Jesus was teaching something completely different.

He was teaching a kind of love that was so radical it seemed impossible. How could anyone love their enemies?

How could anyone pray for people who were trying to hurt them? But then I remembered the vision.

I remembered Jesus looking at me with those eyes full of love and I realized that this was exactly what he had done.

I was his enemy. I had spent my whole life teaching against him. I had told people he was not the son of God.

I had rejected everything he stood for. But he still came to me. He still loved me.

He still saved me. That was the kind of love he was talking about. A love that pursues enemies and turns them into sons.

By the time the sun came up, I had read through the entire Gospel of Matthew.

My eyes were burning from lack of sleep, but I could not stop. I move on to the Gospel of Mark.

I read about more miracles. I read about Jesus healing the sick and casting out demons and raising the dead.

I read about him feeding 5,000 people with just five loaves of bread and two fish.

I read about him walking on water and calming storms with a word. This was not just a prophet.

This was God in human flesh. This was the creator of the universe stepping into his own creation to rescue the people he loved.

I read about Jesus’s confrontations with the religious leaders of his day, the Pharisees and the teachers of the law.

He called them hypocrites and whitewashed tombs. He said they loaded people down with religious burdens but would not lift a finger to help them.

He said they honored God with their lips but their hearts were far from him.

As I read these words, I saw myself. I was like the Pharisees. I was a religious leader who cared more about position and power than about truth.

I had burdened people with rules and regulations while my own heart was empty and dead.

Then I read about Jesus’ death. I read about his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane.

I read about his trials before the religious leaders and before Pilate. I read about the mockery and the beatings and the crown of thorns.

I read about him being nailed to a cross. I read about him hanging there for 6 hours in agony.

And I read his words from the cross. Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.

Even while he was being murdered, he was praying for his enemies. Even while he was suffering the most painful death imaginable, he was asking God to forgive the people who were killing him.

I had to stop reading because I was crying so hard I could not see the words anymore.

This was love. Real love, not the conditional love that Islam taught where Allah loves you only if you obey perfectly, but unconditional love that pursues you and forgives you and dies for you even when you do not deserve it.

Over the next several days, I spent every free moment reading the Bible. I read the Gospel of Luke and the Gospel of John.

I read the book of Acts about the early church. I read the letters of Paul.

Every page was opening my eyes to truths I had never known. Every chapter was tearing down the lies I had believed and replacing them with something real and solid and true.

And then one night about a week after I got the Bible, Jesus appeared to me again.

This was the second time I saw him. I was lying in bed trying to sleep when suddenly my room filled with that same white light.

I sat up and there he was standing at the foot of my bed. He looked exactly the same as before, the same white robes, the same kind eyes, the same overwhelming presence of love and holiness.

My heart started pounding. He said, “Hussein, I am pleased that you are seeking me.

I am pleased that you are reading my words, but now it is time to make a choice.

You cannot serve two masters. You cannot keep preaching Islam while following me. You must choose you.

Will you surrender your life completely to me or will you hold on to your old life?

I knew what he was asking. He was asking me to let go of everything.

My position as imam, my reputation, my income, my status in society, my comfort, my security, everything.

He was asking me to become a follower of Jesus publicly even though it would cost me everything.

I thought about my family. I thought about my wife and children. How could I abandon them?

How could I destroy their lives by leaving? But then Jesus spoke again. He said, “I know you are worried about your family, but I will take care of them.

They are safer in my hands than they ever were in yours. You must trust me, Hussein.

You must obey what I have called you to do. Time is running out. Ramadan ends in 5 days.

You must leave before then. If you wait any longer, you will miss the window and you will be trapped here when the persecution comes.

I felt fear rising in my chest. 5 days. I had 5 days to leave everything behind and escape to another country.

It seemed impossible. But then Jesus showed me one more vision. He showed me standing in front of a camera.

I was older than I was now. My hair was more gray. My face looked tired but peaceful.

And I was speaking. I was telling my story. I was telling the world about how Jesus had appeared to me and warned me about what was coming to Iran.

I was calling Muslims to turn from Islam and follow Jesus. And I saw thousands of comments under the video.

People from all over Iran and all over the world saying that my testimony had changed their lives saying that they had given their hearts to Jesus because of what I shared.

And Jesus said, “This is why I saved you. This is your purpose. You will be my witness.

You will warn people. You will call them out of darkness into light. But first, you must be willing to lose everything.

First, you must be willing to run. Will you obey me? I looked at him and I knew I had no choice.

How could I say no to the one who had loved me enough to die for me?

How could I refuse the one who had appeared to me personally and called me by name?

I said, “Yes, Lord. I will obey. I will leave. I will do whatever you ask me to do.”

Jesus smiled. He said, “Then go and I will be with you every step of the way.”

And then he was gone. I had 5 days to plan my escape from Iran.

5 days to figure out how to leave behind everything I had ever known. 5 days to arrange travel documents and money and a road to the border.

Five days to decide what to tell my family and what to leave on set.

I woke up the morning after Jesus appeared to me the second time and I felt a strange mixture of fear and peace.

Fear because what I was about to do was incredibly dangerous and could get me killed.

Peace because I knew Jesus was with me and that I was finally doing what I was created to do.

I got out of bed and started making plans. The first thing I needed was money.

I could not use my regular bank accounts once I left because the government would track every transaction.

I needed cash that could not be traced. Over the next 2 days, I withdrew small amounts from different ATMs around Tehran.

Not enough to raise suspicion, but enough to survive for a few months in another country.

I converted most of it to US dollars through black market money changers in the bazaar.

By the third day, I had about $8,000 hidden in my study. It was not a fortune, but it was enough to get me started.

The second thing I needed was a way to cross the border. Iran shares borders with seven countries.

Turkey was the closest and the safest option for someone like me. There were established routes that refugees and smugglers used to cross from Iran into Turkey through the mountains.

I reached out to Amir again and asked if he knew anyone who could help me get across.

He was surprised that I was planning to leave so soon, but he understood. He connected me with a man named Kazm who worked as a smuggler helping people escape Iran.

Kazam and I met in a small restaurant in the Sharaki Garp district in western Thran.

He was a rough-looking man in his 50s with scars on his face and hands that looked like they had seen hard work.

He told me his rates, $5,000 to get one person across the border into Turkey.

It was expensive, but I had no choice. I agreed to his price. He told me to be ready to leave in 3 days.

He said I should pack only what I could carry in a small backpack. No suitcases, no extra clothes, just essentials.

He said the journey through the mountains would be difficult and dangerous. We would be walking at night to avoid border patrols.

If we were caught, we would be shot. I noted and said I understood the risks.

The hardest part was not the planning or the money or the danger. The hardest part was knowing I had to leave my family without telling them where I was going.

I could not tell my wife the truth. If I told her I had become a Christian and was fleeing the country, she would either try to stop me or she would be implicated when the regime came looking for me.

I could not put her in that position. I could not put my children in that position.

So, I decided to lie. It was the only way to protect them. On the fourth day before my planned escape, I sat down with my wife in our living room.

I told her I needed to travel to Mashhat for a few days to visit some religious scholars there.

I said I was working on a new series of sermons and needed to do research.

She believed me because I had made similar trips before. She asked when I would be back.

I said probably within a week. That lie cut through my heart like a knife because I knew I would never be back.

I would never see her again. I would never see my children again. But I could not tell her that.

So I smiled and kissed her forehead and pretended everything was normal. That night I spent time with each of my children.

My oldest son was 23 and studying engineering at university. My daughter was 19 and had just gotten engaged to a young man from a good family.

My youngest son was 16 and still in school. I talked with each of them separately.

I asked them about their lives and their dreams and their plans for the future.

I gave them advice and told them I was proud of them. I hugged them longer than usual.

They did not know it, but I was saying goodbye. I was memorizing their faces because I knew I might never see them again.

My daughter asked me why I seemed sad. I told her I was just tired from work.

She hugged me and told me to get some rest. I went to my room that night and I wept silently into my pillow.

I was about to abandon my family. I was about to break my wife’s heart and disappoint my children.

I was about to become a deserter and a traitor in their eyes. The guilt was crushing.

But then I remembered what Jesus had said. He said he would take care of them.

He said they were safer in his hands than in mine. I had to trust that I had to believe that God loved my family even more than I did and that he would watch over them when I was gone.

On the fifth day, the day before my planned escape, I went to Javadia Moscow one last time.

It was a Thursday afternoon. I walked through the courtyard and looked at the building where I had preached for almost 10 years.

Thousands of people had prayed here under my leadership. Isa had taught their children and blessed their marriages and buried their dead.

This mosque had been my whole world. But now I was leaving it all behind.

I went into my office and sat at my desk. I looked at the bookshelves filled with Islamic texts and commentaries.

I looked at the awards and certificates hanging on the walls. I looked at the photographs of me with various government officials and religious leaders.

All of it meant nothing now. All of it was wood and hay and stubble that would burn up when the fire of God’s truth touched it.

I opened the drawer of my desk and took out a piece of paper. I wrote a short letter to the mosque council.

I said that I was resigning from my position as I imam for personal reasons.

I did not give details. I just said I could no longer continue in this role.

I signed the letter and left it on the desk. Then I walked out of the office and locked the door behind me.

That evening, I went home and had dinner with my family like it was a normal night.

We ate rice and stew and talked about ordinary things. My wife mentioned that her sister was coming to visit next week.

My daughter talked about her wedding plans. My sons talk about school and sports. I sat there listening and smiling and pretending that everything was fine.

But inside, I was screaming. Inside, I was already saying goodbye to all of them.

After dinner, I told my wife I needed to leave very early in the morning for my trip to Meshhat.

I said I would be gone before she woke up. So, I was saying goodbye now.

She kissed me and told me to travel safely. I hugged my children one last time.

I held them tight and tried to memorize the feeling of their arms around me.

Then I went to my study and closed the door. I packed a small backpack with just the essentials.

A change of clothes, some food, my Bible wrapped in a plastic bag, the cash I had collected, and a USB drive where I had saved some important documents and photos of my family.

That was all I was taking from my entire life. Everything else I was leaving behind, I could not sleep that night.

I lay in bed next to my wife, listening to her breathing. I thought about all the years we had spent together.

25 years of marriage, 25 years of sharing a life. And now I was about to walk away from it all.

I wanted to wake her up and tell her the truth. I wanted to explain everything.

I wanted to tell her about Jesus and the visions and the mission I had been given, but I knew I could not.

It would put her in danger. So, I let her sleep. At 4:00 in the morning, I quietly got out of bed.

I picked up my backpack and walked out of the bedroom. I stopped at the door and looked back at my wife, sleeping peacefully.

I whispered, “I love you. Forgive me.” Then I walked through the house, stopping at each of my children’s rooms.

I looked at them sleeping in their beds. I prayed over each of them. I asked Jesus to protect them and provide for them and one day helped them understand why I had to leave.

Then I walked out of my house for the last time. I closed the door quietly behind me and stood on the street in the darkness.

The sun had not come up yet. The whole city was still asleep. I took one last look at my home.

Then I turned and started walking. I met Kazim at a predetermined location on the western edge of Thran.

It was a small garage behind a mechanic shop. There were three other people there waiting to make the crossing.

Two young men in their 20ies and a woman in her 30s. Kazm did not introduce us and we did not ask each other questions.

Everyone who was trying to escape Iran had their own reasons and their own secrets.

It was better not to know too much. Kazm loaded us into the back of a covered truck.

He told us to stay quiet and stay hidden under some blankets and boxes. He said we would be driving for about 6 hours to get close to the border area.

If we were stopped at any checkpoints, we needed to remain completely silent. If the police found us, we would all be arrested.

The truck started moving and we began the journey toward the Turkish border. I sat in the darkness under a blanket with my backpack clutched to my chest.

My heart was pounding. I kept thinking about my family waking up in a few hours and discovering I was gone.

I kept thinking about my wife calling my phone and getting no answer. I kept thinking about the moment when they would realize I was not coming back.

The drive took longer than 6 hours because Kazm had to take back roads to avoid major checkpoints.

We stopped once so everyone could use the bathroom and stretch. We were in a remote area surrounded by mountains.

The landscape was beautiful, but I could not enjoy it. I was too nervous. We got back in the truck and kept driving.

Finally, around 2:00 in the afternoon, we arrived at a small village near the border.

Kazim told us to get out and follow him. He led us to a house where an old woman gave us some food and tea.

She did not speak to us. She just served the food and left. Kazm explained the plan.

We would rest here until nightfall. Then we would begin the crossing. It would take about 8 hours of walking through the mountains.

The terrain was rough and dangerous. We needed to follow his instructions exactly. If anyone fell behind or made noise or tried to go their own way, they would be left behind.

He was not being cruel. He was just being realistic. This was a life or death situation and there was no room for mistakes.

We all nodded that we understood. As the sun began to set, Kazm gave us each a small flashlight and told us to only use it if absolutely necessary.

We left the house and started walking into the mountains. The path was steep and rocky.

Within an hour, my legs were burning and my lungs were gasping for air. I was 52 years old and not in good physical shape.

I had spent most of my adult life sitting in offices and standing in pulpits.

I was not used to this kind of physical exertion. But I pushed through the pain.

Every step was taking me further from my old life and closer to freedom. We walked in single file following Kazm through the darkness.

Sometimes the path was so narrow that one wrong step would send you tumbling down the side of the mountain.

I prayed constantly as I walked. I prayed for strength. I prayed for protection. I prayed that Jesus would get me across this border safely.

Several times I almost gave up. My body wanted to quit. My mind was telling me to turn back.

But every time I thought about stopping, I remembered the vision Jesus had shown me.

I remembered seeing myself speaking to the camera and telling my story to the world.

I remembered the purpose I had been given. And I kept walking. Around midnight, we heard voices in the distance.

Kazm immediately signaled for everyone to get down and be quiet. We all dropped to the ground and tried to make ourselves invisible.

Through the darkness, I could see lights moving on a path below us. It was a border patrol.

Iranian soldiers with flashlights and guns searching for people trying to cross illegally. We stayed frozen on the ground for what felt like an hour, but was probably only 10 minutes.

The patrol passed by without seeing us. Kazm waited until their lights disappeared completely before signaling us to move again.

We got up and continued walking. My heart was racing. We had come so close to being caught.

If those soldiers had found us, I would be in prison right now or dead.

But Jesus had protected us. He had hidden us in the darkness just like he promised he would.

We kept climbing higher into the mountains. The air got colder and thinner. I was exhausted beyond anything I had ever felt, but I could not stop.

Around 3:00 in the morning, Kazm stopped and pointed ahead. He said, “That is Turkey.

We are across.” I looked and saw lights from a small Turkish village in the valley below.

We had made it. We had actually made it. I fell to my knees and thanked Jesus.

I thanked him for protecting me. I thanked him for getting me across. I thanked him for being faithful to his word.

We walked down the other side of the mountain into Turkey. Kazm took us to a safe house in a border town where other Iranian refugees were staying.

He collected the rest of his payment and left. I never saw him again. I was in Turkey now, but I was not safe yet.

I was an illegal refugee with no papers and no status. I had to figure out my next steps.

But first, I needed to rest. I found a corner in the safe house and collapsed on the floor.

I slept for almost 12 hours straight. When I woke up, it was late afternoon.

I checked my Iranian phone and saw dozens of missed calls and messages. My wife had been trying to reach me.

My children had been calling. The mosque council had been calling. I turned off the phone and took out the SIM card.

I could not contact any of them. Not yet. It was not safe. I spent the next few days in that safe house trying to figure out what to do next.

I connected with eight organizations that helped refugees. I registered with the UN refugee agency.

I started the long process of trying to get legal status in Turkey. But while I was doing all of this, I kept thinking about the warning Jesus had given me.

He had told me to speak. He had told me to warn people. He had told me to tell the world what was coming to Iran.

I knew I could not stay silent. I had to record my message. I had to send my warning, even if it meant putting myself in even more danger.

I spent 2 weeks in that safe house in the Turkish border town trying to adjust to my new reality.

Every morning I woke up and for a few seconds I forgot where I was.

Then reality would crash down on me. I was no longer I imam Hussein Kashani.

I was no longer a respected religious leader in Tehran. I was now a refugee hiding in a foreign country with nothing but the clothes on my back and a mission from Jesus that I did not fully understand how to complete.

The safe house was crowded with other Iranian refugees. Some were political dissidents running from the regime.

Some were young people who just wanted freedom. And some like me were Muslims who had converted to Christianity and had to flee before they were killed.

We did not talk much about our stories. Everyone understood that the less you knew about other people, the safer everyone was.

But at night when the lights were off and everyone was trying to sleep, I could hear people crying quietly.

I could hear them whispering prayers. I could hear the sound of broken hearts trying to process the cost of freedom.

During those two weeks, I spent most of my time praying and reading my Bible.

I was still very new to following Jesus. I had so many questions about what it meant to be a Christian.

I read the Gospels over and over trying to understand who Jesus really was and what he expected from me.

I read about his disciples and how they had also left everything to follow him.

Peter left his fishing business. Matthew left his tax collector job. They all walked away from their old lives to follow Jesus.

And most of them ended up being killed for it. I realized that I was in good company.

I was walking the same path that followers of Jesus had been walking for 2,000 years.

The path of sacrifice and suffering and total surrender. It was not an easy path, but it was the only path worth walking.

I also spent time thinking about my family back in Thran. I wondered how they were doing.

I wondered if they knew yet that I was not coming back. I wondered what they were thinking and feeling.

The guilt was crushing sometimes. But then I would remember what Jesus had told me.

He said my family was safer in his hands than in mine. I had to trust that.

After two weeks in the border town, I moved to a larger city in western Turkey.

I cannot tell you which city for security reasons, but it was a place where many Iranian refugees lived.

There was a small underground community of Iranian Christians there who helped new believers get settled.

They helped me find a small room to rent in a cheap apartment building. They connected me with people who could give me out jobs to earn money.

They invited me to secret house church meetings where we would worship Jesus and study the Bible together.

These people became my new family. They understood what I was going through because they had all been through similar experiences.

They had all left everything behind to follow Jesus. They had all paid a high price for their faith.

And they were all living with the same mixture of joy and sorrow that I was feeling.

Joy because we had found the truth. Sorrow because of what it cost us to find it.

It was in one of these house church meetings that I met a man named Dav.

He was about my age and had been a Muslim cleric in Tabris before he converted to Christianity 5 years earlier.

He had escaped to Turkey just like I had. And now he spent his time helping other Iranian converts adjust to their new lives.

David and I became close friends very quickly. We would meet for tea several times a week and talk about theology and scripture and our experiences with Jesus.

He helped me understand the Bible better. He answered my questions. He encouraged me when I was discouraged.

And he was the first person I told about the visions Jesus had given me.

I told him about the prophecy of Kamina being killed in an air strike. I told him about the fire falling from heaven.

I told him that Jesus had said it would happen soon. David listened carefully and did not interrupt.

When I finished, he said quietly for a long time just thinking. Then he said something I will never forget.

He said, “If Jesus had given me a specific prophetic word like that, then I had a responsibility to share it.”

He said, “I could not keep it to myself.” He said, “The whole reason Jesus showed me these things was so I could warn people.

I knew Dav was right, but I was afraid. I was afraid of what would happen if I spoke publicly.

I was afraid the Iranian regime would hunt me down and kill me. I was afraid they would hurt my family even more.

I was afraid people would think I was crazy or a liar. But Dav kept pushing me.

He said fear was a tool of the enemy. He said, “If I let fear control me, then I would never accomplish what Jesus had called me to do.”

He said, “I needed to step out in faith and trust that God would protect me.”

We prayed together and asked Jesus to show me what to do. And that night, Jesus appeared to me again.

This was the third time I saw him since that first night in my study in Tehran.

I was lying on the thin mattress in my small rented room when the room filled with light.

Jesus was standing there just like before. He said it was time. He said I needed to record my message and send it to Iran.

He said I should not worry about my safety or my family. He said he would handle all of that.

My only job was to obey. The next day I told Dvood that I was ready.

He helped me figure out how to do it. We decided I would record a video message explaining who I was and what had happened to me.

I would tell the story of how Jesus appeared to me. I would share the prophecy about Kam.

I would call on Muslims in Iran to turn from Islam and follow Jesus. And then we would upload the video to social media and send it to Iranian news channels and religious websites.

David said it would spread quickly because Iranians were hungry for this kind of content.

He said thousands of people were questioning Islam and searching for answers. He said, “My testimony as a former imam would carry a lot of weight.

We borrowed a decent camera from someone in the house church. We set it up in Dwood’s apartment because the lighting was better there.”

I sat in a chair facing the camera. That would stood behind it ready to press record.

I took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Then I nodded and he pressed the button.

I spoke in Farsy directly to the camera. I said, “My name is Hosin Kashani and until 2 months ago, I was the lead imam at Javadia Mosque in Tehran.

I said I am recording this message from outside Iran because if I was still in the country, I would be dead by now.”

Then I told my story. I told about the emptiness I felt as an imam.

I told about the night I cried out to God for truth. I told about Jesus appearing to me in my study.

I described what he looked like and what he said. I told about the visions he showed me.

And then I shared the prophecy. I said Jesus showed me that Alamina would be killed in a strike from the sky.

I said it would be a joint operation by America and Israel. I said fire would fall on his compound and he would die along with members of his family.

I said Jesus told me this was the judgment of God on a man who had shed innocent blood for decades.

I said I did not know exactly when it would happen, but Jesus said it would be soon.

I warned everyone watching that the Islamic Republic’s days were numbered. I said the regime that pretended to speak for God was actually an enemy of God and that judgment was coming.

Then I spoke directly to Muslims across Iran. I said, “I know what you are feeling because I felt the same thing.

I said, I know the emptiness of Islamic prayers and the burden of trying to earn Allah’s favor through good works.”

I said, “I know the fear that controls everything in the Islamic Republic. But I said, there is another way.

His name is Jesus. He is not who the Quran says he is. He is not just a prophet.

He is the son of God. He is God in human flesh. He died on the cross to pay for your sins.

He rose from the dead to prove he has power over death. And he is calling you right now to come to him.

I said you do not have to earn his love. You cannot earn his love.

He loves you already. He died for you already. All you have to do is surrender your life to him and ask him to save you.

I said if you call on the name of Jesus, he will answer you just like he answered me.

I said he is appearing to thousands of Iranians in dreams and visions right now.

I said a great revival is coming to Iran and nothing the regime does can stop it.

The video was about 20 minutes long. When I finished, I was exhausted emotionally. That would stop the recording and we both sat in silence for a while.

He said it was powerful. He said it would impact many lives. We spent the rest of that day editing the video and preparing it for upload.

We created accounts on multiple platforms using fake names and VPN connections to hide our location.

Then late that night, we uploaded the video simultaneously to YouTube, Telegram, Instagram, and Facebook.

We sent links to Iranian news websites and exile media organizations. Then we waited to see what would happen.

Within hours, the video started spreading. By the next morning, it had the thousands of views.

By the afternoon, it had tens of thousands. Iranian exile news channels picked it up and wrote articles about it.

People were sharing it across social media. The regime controlled media in Iran condemned it immediately.

They called me a traitor and an apostate. They said I was an agent of Israel and America.

They said I had been bribed to make false claims against the Supreme Leader. But ordinary Iranians were watching and many were responding.

My phone started getting messages through encrypted apps. People I did not know were reaching out to thank me for my testimony.

Some said they had been having dreams about Jesus, too. Some said they wanted to know more about Christianity.

Some said they were ready to give their lives to Christ. But the backlash was also severe.

Within 3 days of the video being posted, the Iranian government issued an official statement condemning me.

They declared me an astate from Islam, which carries a death sentence. They accused me of spreading lies and propaganda against the Islamic Republic.

They said anyone who helped me or supported me would be considered an accomplice. And then the worst part happened.

They went after my family. My wife was arrested and taken in for questioning. They interrogated her for hours asking where I was and how to contact me.

She told them the truth, which was that she did not know. She said I had told her I was going to Mesh hat and then I just disappeared.

They did not believe her. They accused her of helping me escape. They accused her of being a Christian too.

They kept her in detention for 3 days before releasing her. My oldest son was also arrested.

They beat him and tortured him trying to get information about me. He had no information to give because I had not told him anything.

But they did not care. They wanted to punish my family to send a message to anyone else who might think about leaving Islam.

My daughter’s engagement was broken off. Her fiance’s family wanted nothing to do with us anymore.

We were now considered traitors and apostates and nobody wanted to be associated with that.

My youngest son was expelled from school. The principal said they could not have the son of an epistate attending their institution.

My wife lost her job. Her employer fired her because of the scandal. Within a week of my video being released, my entire family’s life had been destroyed.

They lost their income, their reputation, their future. All because of what I did. When I heard about what was happening to them, I broke down completely.

I cried for hours. I felt like the worst person in the world. I had destroyed the lives of the people I love most.

I had brought suffering on innocent people who had done nothing wrong. The guilt was unbearable.

I wanted to die. I thought about turning myself into the Iranian authorities. Maybe if I surrendered, they would leave my family alone, but that would stop me.

He said that would not help anyone. He said the regime would kill me and continue punishing my family anyway.

He said the only thing I could do was trust that Jesus would take care of them.

Over the following weeks and months, more news came from Iran about my family. My wife and children were under constant surveillance.

Intelligence agents followed them everywhere. Their phones were tapped. Their home was searched multiple times.

Some of my extended family members were also arrested and questioned. My brother-in-law was held for 2 weeks in Evan prison.

He was tortured and beaten. When he was finally released, he was a broken man.

All of this was happening because of me. Because I had obeyed Jesus and spoken the truth.

I struggled with tremendous guilt and doubt during this time. I questioned whether I had made the right choice.

I questioned whether God really cared about my family like he said he would. I questioned everything.

But every time I fell into despair, Jesus would meet me again. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes in visions, sometimes just in a strong sense of his presence.

He kept reminding me that he was in control. He kept showing me that my family was in his hands.

He kept telling me that their suffering was not in vain and that he would use it for his glory.

Then in late 2024, something began to shift in Iran. The tensions between Iran and Israel escalated dramatically.

There were attacks and counteratt attacks. The rhetoric from both governments became more and more hostile.

The United States got involved and started making threats against the Iranian regime. Intelligence reports suggested that Iran was getting very close to having nuclear weapons.

Israel made it clear they would not allow that to happen. Throughout all of this, I watched from Turkey with my heart pounding.

I remembered the vision Jesus had shown me. I remembered the missile streaking through the sky.

I remembered Ham’s compound in flames. I knew it was coming. I did not know when exactly, but I knew it was close.

I started praying more intensely. I prayed for Iran. I prayed for my family. I prayed for the Iranian people who would be affected by what was coming.

And I prayed that when it happened, people would remember my warning and turn to Jesus.

As 2024 turned into 2025, the situation got worse. There were rumors of Israeli special forces operating inside Iran.

There were mysterious explosions at Iranian nuclear facilities. The Iranian government blamed Israel and America.

They vowed revenge. They made threats. The whole region felt like was on the edge of war.

I knew the time was getting close. I could feel it. And then in early 2026, the tensions reached a breaking point.

Iran launched missiles at Israeli targets. Israel responded with massive air strikes. The United States joined Israel in the military operation.

For weeks, there were bombings and attacks back and forth. The world watched wondering if this would turn into a full regional war.

I watched too, knowing that somewhere in all of this, the prophecy was about to be fulfilled.

And then on February 28th, 2026, it happened. I woke up that morning and checked the news on my phone.

The headline made my heart stop. Massive USIsraeli air strikes hit Thran. Supreme Leader compound targeted.

Casualties reported. I sat up in bed, unable to breathe. This was it. This was what Jesus had shown me almost 2 years earlier.

I kept refreshing the news, waiting for more details. The Iranian government was denying everything at first.

They said it was fake news. Yes, they said Kamina was safe. But I knew better.

I knew he was dead. I could feel it. For 3 days, the Iranian government denied what had happened.

Their state media kept showing old footage of Kam and claiming he was alive and well.

They said the reports of the air strikes were Western propaganda. They said it was psychological warfare designed to weaken Iranian morale.

But people inside Iran knew something was wrong. Kame had not appeared in public since the strikes.

There were no new photos or videos. The government was being unusually secretive. Rumors spread across Thran that the Supreme Leader’s compound had been completely destroyed.

People whispered that bodies had been pulled from the rubble. And then on March 1st, in the early hours of the morning, Iranian state television made an official announcement.

They confirmed that Ayatollah Ali Kam had been killed in the American and Israeli air strikes on February 28th.

They said he died as a martyr defending the Islamic Republic. They announced 40 days of national mourning.

When I saw that announcement, I felt my knees in my small room in Turkey and I wept.

Not tears of joy, but tears of awe and fear. Everything Jesus had shown me had come true.

Every detail of the vision had been fulfilled, the joint USIsrael operation, the strike on the compound, the supreme leader killed, even his family members dying with him just like Jesus had shown me.

It was all exactly as I had been told it would be. The news reports over the following days gave more details.

Kamina had been at his residential compound in central Thran when the missiles hit. The strike happened at approximately 9:30 in the morning.

Multiple precisiong guided missiles struck the compound simultaneously, destroying most of the buildings. Kamina was killed instantly along with several family members who were visiting him that morning.

His daughter died in the strike. His granddaughter died. His son-in-law died. His daughter-in-law died.

The report said at least 15 people total were killed in the attack. The Iranian government declared it an act of terrorism and an assassination.

They vowed revenge against America and Israel. They called for the entire Muslim world to unite against the enemies of Islam.

Mass demonstrations were organized across Iran. Millions of people poured into the streets to mourn the Supreme Leader and chant death to America and death to Israel.

Is the regime was using Kam’s death to rally support and distract from their own failures.

But I knew what was really happening. This was not terrorism. This was the judgment of God.

Jesus had warned me this was coming. He had told me it was divine judgment on a man who had shed innocent blood for decades.

And now everyone could see that God keeps his word. Within a week of ham’s death, the assembly of experts met to choose a new supreme leader.

This is the council of senior clerics who have the authority to select and remove the supreme leader.

Everyone expect them to take their time and carefully consider different candidates. But instead, they moved with unusual speed.

On March 8th, just 8 days after Kam’s death, they announced their decision. They had chosen Moshtaba Kam as the third supreme leader of Iran.

Moshtaba was Ali Kam’s second son. He was 54 years old and had been working behind the scenes in his father’s administration for years.

Many Iranians had suspected that Ali was grooming Moshtaba to be his successor. Now those suspicions were confirmed.

The regime was keeping power within the same family. The throne was being passed from father to son like a monarchy.

This was not what the Islamic revolution had promised. The revolution in 1979 was supposed to end royal dynasties and established rule by religious scholars.

But now the same dynastic system was back. The common family was cementing their control over Iran.

Many Iranians were angry about this. But there was nothing they could do. Anyone who spoke against Moaba’s appointment was arrested.

If the regime was cracking down hard to prevent any challenges to the new supreme leader.

As I watched all of this unfold from Turkey, I knew I had to speak again.

I had been silenced since my first video in 2024. I had been hiding and watching and waiting for the prophecy to be fulfilled.

Now it had been fulfilled exactly as Jesus said it would. Now people needed to hear the full story.

They needed to know that this was not just politics or military strategy. This was God moving in history.

This was prophecy being fulfilled in real time. And they needed to know what was coming next because Jesus had shown me more than just Kam’s death.

He had shown me what would happen after. So I contacted David and told him I was ready to record another message.

This time I would show my face fully. This time I would use my real name.

This time I would tell the complete story from beginning to end. David agreed and we started making preparations.

We found a better location with better equipment. We wanted the video quality to be professional so people would take it seriously.

We spent several days preparing exactly what I would say. I prayed and fasted asking Jesus to give me the right words.

And then in midappril 2026, we recorded the message you are watching right now. I want to tell you what else Jesus showed me about Iran’s future.

When he appeared to me in 2024, he did not just show me Kamina’s death.

He showed me what would come after. He showed me that the new supreme leader would not last long either.

He showed me that Mushtaba Kam’s reign would be filled with trouble and chaos. He showed me that the Iranian people’s patience with the regime would run out.

He showed me protests and uprisings that would make 2009 and 2019 look small. He showed me the revolutionary guards splitting into factions and fighting each other.

He showed me the Islamic Republic collapsing from within. He did not tell me exactly when all of this would happen, but he told me it would happen soon.

He said the regime’s time is almost over. He said the same God who brought down Pharaoh and Nebuchadnezzar and every other tyrant in history is about to bring down the Islamic Republic.

The throne that the Ayatollas built with blood and fear and oppression is going to crumble and when it falls it will fall completely.

But Jesus also showed me something beautiful. He showed me what would rise from the ashes of the Islamic Republic.

He showed me millions of Iranians turning to him. He showed me the greatest spiritual revival in Iran’s history.

He showed me house churches multiplying across every city and village. He showed me former Muslims worshiping Jesus openly in the streets.

He showed me the Persian church becoming one of the strongest and most passionate communities of believers in the world.

He showed me Iranian Christians taking the gospel to other nations in the Middle East and Central Asia.

He showed me Iran transformed from a center of Islamic extremism into a center of Christian faith and love.

This is what is coming. This is the future that God has planned for Iran.

The darkness is not going to last forever. The oppression is not the end of the story.

Jesus is coming to Iran in power and nothing can stop him. Not the regime, not the revolutionary guards, not the supreme leader, not all the guns and prisons and propaganda in the world.

The King of Kings is marching toward Iran. And when he arrives, everything will change.

I know many of you watching this are Iranians living inside Iran right now. I know you are afraid.

I know you are tired. I know you have suffered under this regime for your whole life.

I know you have lost hope that anything will ever change. But I am here to tell you that change is coming.

The God of heaven is on the move. He has already struck down one supreme leader.

He will strike down the next one too if he does not repent. And he is calling you personally to come to him.

Maybe you have been having dreams about a man in white. Maybe you have been feeling a strange pull toward Jesus.

Maybe you have been secretly reading the Bible on your phone. And maybe you are watching this video right now and something inside your chest is burning.

That is the Holy Spirit. That is God calling your name. Do not ignore it.

Do not push it away. Do not let fear stop you from responding. Jesus loves you more than you can imagine.

He died for you. He rose for you and he is waiting for you to come home.

I want to speak specifically to my fellow former Muslims who have already given their lives to Jesus but are hiding in fear.

I know there are thousands of you across Iran right now. You are secret believers.

You follow Jesus in your heart but you cannot tell anyone. You are afraid of what your family will do.

You are afraid of what the regime will do. You are afraid of being arrested or killed.

I understand that fear because I live with it too. But I want to tell you that Jesus is worth it.

He is worth losing your family. He is worth losing your job. He is worth losing your reputation.

He is worth losing everything. Because when you gain Jesus, you gain everything that actually matters.

I am not saying you should be foolish. I am not saying you should put yourself in unnecessary danger.

But I am saying do not let fear control your whole life. Ask Jesus to give you opportunities to share your faith.

Ask him to show you who you can trust. Ask him to connect you with other believers.

You are not alone. There is a whole underground church in Iran and it is growing every single day.

Find it. Join it. Be part of what God is doing. To those of you who are imams and moolas and religious teachers in Iran, I have a special message.

I was one of you. I know what you are thinking and feeling. I know the doubts you hide behind your religious robes.

I know the emptiness you feel when you lead prayers. I know the questions you are afraid to ask out loud.

I know because I lived that life for 30 years. And I am here to tell you that there is a way out.

Jesus is calling you just like he called me. He is not angry at you for teaching against him.

He is not waiting to punish you. He is waiting to save you. All those years I spent as an imam teaching people to reject Jesus, he still loved me.

All those sermons I preached against Christianity, he still pursued me. All that time I wasted serving a false religion, he was patient with me.

And when I finally cried out for truth, he answered me immediately. He will do the same for you.

It does not matter how deep you are in the religious system. It does not matter how many years you have spent teaching Islam.

It does not matter what you have said or done against Christians. Jesus will forgive all of it if you come to him with a sincere heart.

I also want to speak to my family. I know you are watching this. I know the authorities will make sure you see it even if you do not want to.

I want you to know that I love you. I have always loved you and I always will.

I know you do not understand why I left. I know you think I betrayed you.

I know you are angry and hurt and confused. I am sorry for the pain I caused you.

I am sorry for leaving without explanation. I am sorry for the suffering you have endured because of my choices.

But I want you to know that I did not leave because I stopped loving you.

I left because I found something more important than life itself. I found the truth.

I found Jesus. And once you encounter him, you cannot go back to living a lie.

I could not keep preaching Islam after meeting Jesus. It would have been like trying to convince people that darkness is light.

I had to leave. I had to obey what God called me to do. And I pray every single day that one day you will understand.

I pray that one day Jesus will appear to you too. I pray that one day we will be reunited not just as family but as brothers and sisters in Christ.

To the new supreme leader Moshtabakam, I say this directly. You are sitting on your father’s throne but it will not keep you safe.

Your father was one of the most protected men in the world and he still died when God decided it was time.

You have inherited a regime that is built on lies and blood. You have inherited a system that oppresses millions of people in the name of God.

You have a choice to make. You can continue your father’s path and face the same judgment he faced.

Or you can humble yourself before the true God and turn from this evil. I know that sounds impossible to you.

I know you think I am a traitor and a fool. But I am telling you the truth.

Jesus Christ is real. He is the son of God. He is the King of Kings and every knee will bow to him eventually, including yours.

The only question is whether you will bow now in repentance or later in judgment.

I am praying for you just like I prayed for your father. I am praying that God will give you dreams and visions.

I am praying that he will soften your heart. I am praying that before it is too late, you will see the truth and surrender to Jesus.

To Christians around the world, I want to ask you to pray for Aaron. Pray for the underground church that is growing despite persecution.

Pray for the new believers who are risking their lives to follow Jesus. Pray for the secret house churches that meet in fear but also in great joy.

Pray for protection over Iranian Christians. Pray that God will continue to appear to Muslims in dreams and visions.

Pray for the complete collapse of the Islamic Republic and the rise of religious freedom in Iran.

Pray for my family and for the families of thousands of other Iranian Christian refugees who left everything behind.

Pray that God will do miracles to provide for them and protect them. And pray for more workers to go into the harvest because the harvest in Iran is ready.

Millions of Iranians are searching for truth. Yet they are hungry for something real. They are tired of empty religion and brutal government.

They are ready to hear about Jesus. But they need people to tell them. They need Bibles in Farsy.

They need disciplehip and teaching. They need the global church to stand with them. Before I finish, I want to tell you one more thing that Jesus showed me in one of my visions.

He took me into the future and let me see what Iran will look like after the regime falls.

I saw the streets of Thran filled with people celebrating. I saw the prisons opened and political prisoners walking free.

I saw the morality police disbanded. I saw women taking off their forced hijabs and throwing them in the air.

I saw statues of the Ayatollas being torn down. I saw people dancing and singing in the streets.

But most importantly, I saw churches. I saw thousands and thousands of churches all across Iran.

I saw former mosques being converted into places where Jesus is worshiped. I saw millions of Persians lifting their hands and singing praises to the lamb of God.

I saw the Persian language being used to declare that Jesus is Lord. I saw Iran becoming a light to the nations.

This is what is coming. This is the future that God has prepared and nothing in hell can stop it.

So I want to end this message with a call to action. If this testimony has touched your heart, if something inside you is responding to what I have shared, then I want you to do something.

I want you to write in the comment section below these words. Jesus is coming for Iran.

Write it in Farsy or in English or in whatever language you speak. Let it be a declaration of faith.

Let it be a prophecy over the nation. Let it be a prayer that goes up to heaven.

And then I want you to share this video. Send it to your Iranian friends.

Send it to your family members in Iran. Send it to anyone who needs to hear that God is real and that he is moving in our time.

Do not be afraid. The regime cannot stop the truth from spreading. They can block websites and arrest people and make threats.

But they cannot stop Jesus. He is already in Iran. He is already appearing to people.

He is already building his church. And very soon the whole world will see what God can do when he decides to move.

The fire has already started and nothing can put it