The following post is my testimony on how I converted out of the death-cult of Islam into Christianity. It was a very long journey which I undertook just to find the truth and I am happy that finally I did. I wanted to share this testimony publicly because I want people to know what Islam’s true colors are and to show what it's like being born in a Moslem family in Saudi Arabia. I feel I have a duty to do so too. I want to show how the horrors of Islam change people’s lives, break relationships and destroy homes—these are the experiences that might not be fully understood in the west. I hope my testimony helps save lives both spiritually and physically and in the meantime I hope I don’t get caught in Islam’s deadly embrace. You will know why I say that once you read this.
My journey from my birth in Islam to the one out of it is kind of strange and very long. It didn't all happen in one day – I didn't see a special light or anything to show me the way out of Islam. It took me almost four years of research and study to conclude I was on the wrong path. But the sad thing about it was that this path was so dear to me that I couldn't just shun it and start a new life. It was about changing everything I had lived for. Let me take you on a journey with me here through my life – I hope you do learn something – something that is very important for you to learn because if you ignore this – you put yourself in the same danger I am in right now.
This story starts with my birth in a Saudi hospital in Riyadh (Saudi Arabia's capital). I was born in late summer, 1985. The youngest of my father's children – completing his family – he was very happy upon my arrival into the world, and so was my mother. Right when I was born, my parents recited the Moslem 'call to prayer' (this is an Islamic practice) – 'Allah is great...there is no god beside Allah and Mohammed is his apostle...' – and from that moment on I was a Moslem. I was supposed to be brought up as a Moslem – my parents were to teach me all the Moslem values and when of the right age – I was supposed to live my life according to them. My parents of course took the challenge because it was their religious duty. I was named – according to the Islamic custom – on the 7th day of my life.
Since I don't remember almost anything about my infancy (of course no normal human ever does) – I am going to start with my car accident which I remember like it was yesterday. It was in September – I had recently started school. I ran out to get in the car that morning; I jumped in the car but it started moving and I fell down – it ran over my right leg – it was broken. My dad rushed me to a hospital nearby and got a cast on my leg, and I came home. I was treated very well at the hospital but my mother wasn't satisfied. She called Pakistan (her native country, my dad's too and I hold its passport) and asked for some weird medicine with some Koranic verses written on it. She fed me that medicine day and night – after 3 months I was healed and she and my father attributed it to Allah's miracle and I was told to thank God for it every second of my life too because 'Allah' saved me. From that day on – I remember thinking everyday that nothing happens if Allah doesn't want it happening and so whatever I did – I said 'insha'Allah' (if Allah wills it) and this – I believed – made the thing to happen. I was taught that I was nothing but that Allah was doing everything. I was just another tool he was using – I was his slave and I had to submit myself to Allah's will. Being a Moslem – there is no question that I did all that.