From Mecca to the Messiah: My Journey of Transformation

I was born and raised in Yemen as a devoted Muslim. From my earliest days, my family and community taught me how to pray, fast, and read the Qur’an with deep reverence. I strictly followed every Islamic tradition, believing with all my heart that Islam was the ultimate truth.

But along with my devotion came something darker—I was taught to hate the West and believe that all non-Muslims were destined for hell. The ideology of radicalism surrounded me like the air I breathed. I was encouraged to shout the slogans:

“Death to America! Death to Israel! Curse the Jews! Victory to Islam!”

These weren’t just words—they shaped how I saw the world.

Marriage and Religious Dedication

In 2012, I followed the traditional path expected of me. I entered an arranged marriage with my cousin, and together we had two beautiful daughters. I loved my family and was determined to be a good husband and father.

By 2014, I was a university student studying Business Administration. I prayed, fasted, gave to charity, and obeyed Allah’s commands—but something was wrong.

Inside, I felt spiritually empty.

A Season of Doubt and Searching

I couldn’t understand why I felt so disconnected from Allah. I was doing everything Islam required, yet there was no peace—only silence. I began to ask dangerous questions:

“Who is the real Creator? Is Allah truly God? Why am I here? What is my purpose?”

When I sought answers from Islamic leaders, they told me:

“Do not ask about Islam—it will be bad for you.”

That only deepened my doubts.

The Pilgrimage That Changed Everything

In 2014, desperate for answers, I traveled to Mecca, believing that in the holiest place of Islam, I would find peace.

But as I walked around the Kaaba, surrounded by millions of Muslims, a shocking thought entered my mind:

“Are we really worshiping the Creator—or this black stone? This is man-made!”

I tried to push it away, but it stayed with me. I completed the rituals, but instead of feeling Allah’s presence, I felt emptier than ever.

By the end of my pilgrimage, I knew the truth—my faith in Islam was gone.

A Dangerous Secret

When I stepped back onto Yemeni soil, my family and friends looked at me as if I had returned cloaked in holiness. To them, visiting the most sacred place meant I was now some kind of holy man. But the truth inside me was the exact opposite. I was empty, terrified, and utterly lost. I had been stripped of the identity I had always known, because in Yemen, Islam isn’t just a faith—it’s the very fabric of who you are. It’s your tribe, your family, your entire world wrapped into one. Losing that identity was like wandering in darkness without a sword, without a spirit, utterly vulnerable.

Those three years were the darkest valley of my life. I lived each day in a suffocating disguise, pretending to be a devout Muslim in front of my own family and friends, all while my soul was silently crying out. I was constantly asking, "God, if You’re there, where are You? How do I find You?" But in a place with no religious freedom, no human rights, and no space to question, that cry felt like shouting into a void.

It was a painfully hard and lonely journey, one where I was stripped down to nothing but a hidden, desperate search for the real God. It was a radical breaking point, a time of deep darkness before any glimpse of light.

A Divine Encounter in Greece

In 2017, I left Yemen, traveling through several countries until I arrived in Greece. There, I met a Syrian man with a cross tattooed on his hand.

I asked him about it, and he replied:

“This cross is the sign of the Messiah—Jesus Christ. He died for our sins, rose on the third day, and He is alive today. He is the only way to salvation.”

I knew Islam’s version of Isa, but this Jesus was different—God in the flesh, the Messiah, the Savior.

He invited me to a Bible study, and then to church.

My First Time in a Church

I had never set foot in a church before. As I watched people worship with joy and confidence, I felt something powerful—something divine—in that place.

When the pastor preached the Gospel, his words cut straight to my heart. At the end of the service, I was given an Arabic New Testament.

I went home and began reading the Gospel of Matthew. When I reached Matthew 3:16-17, I read about Jesus’ baptism—heaven opening, the Spirit descending like a dove, and the Father’s voice declaring, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.”

In that moment, the Trinity became real to me—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Encountering the Living God

As I continued to read, especially the Sermon on the Mount, I felt Yahweh Himself speaking directly to me. For the first time in my life, I experienced the presence of the Creator.

The following Sunday, I returned to church. When the pastor asked, “Who wants to give their life to Jesus Christ?”—I raised my hand without hesitation.

I prayed:

“I am a sinner. I believe Jesus Christ died for me and rose again. Islam is behind me, atheism is behind me—Jesus is before me! He is my Lord, my God, and my Savior forever!”

When I said Amen, I felt like I was seeing the world in new colours.

Baptism and a New Name

Over the next year, I studied the Bible from Genesis to Revelation with the help of an American missionary.

In 2018, I was baptized. I also left behind my old name, Mohammed, and took the name John—a symbol of my new life in Christ.

As I came out of the water, I heard Jesus speak to my heart:

“You are going to share Me with the nations.”

Persecuted but Unstoppable

When I declared my faith in Jesus Christ to the world, the cost was staggering. My testimony spread like wildfire, and soon Yemeni YouTubers and Muslims were making videos against me, making my story even more known. My family learned of my conversion, and the imam of my village issued a fatwa, calling me an apostate, an infidel, unclean under Sharia law.

Death threats became a daily reality. The imam divorced my wife from me, and the community put immense pressure on my family to disown me. In a tribal society like Yemen, where the collective identity is everything, I was completely cut off. I lost all contact with my daughters. I lost my family. I lost my homeland. I lost every earthly anchor of safety.

But in that devastating loss, I gained Christ. I knew that I had chosen Him above my family, my country, my very life. That verse from Matthew 16 echoed in my soul: "What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?" I had lost everything, but I had gained the One who died publicly for me and rose again. In Him, I found a love so powerful that I could never turn back.

So I said to Jesus, "I will continue to share You, but I need Your help—I can't do it alone." And then, like a wave, His peace, His shalom, filled me. The missionaries I stayed with prayed over me and encouraged me, and I grew stronger in my faith. I chose to obey Christ over everything else—over family, over homeland, over the world. And in that radical choice, He gave me strength, He gave me purpose, He gave me a mission: not just to share Him publicly, but to live every single day for Him. Every morning I wake up and say, "Lord Jesus, I belong to You. Here I am, send me." And that is my radical, unshakable reality.

A Mission to the Nations

Today, I stand as a full-time missionary, evangelist, speaker, and a herald of the Gospel through social media. Jesus has called me to proclaim Him openly, for as Paul said in Romans 1:16, "I am not ashamed of the Gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes."

I share Jesus with my people—the Arabs, over 300 million souls—and I proclaim Him to the nations in English as well. I travel globally, equipping churches and declaring the message that transformed my life. God has given me a dual mission: to strengthen the Body of Christ and to bring His truth to the lost.

Yes, I have lost everything for Christ—my homeland, my country, my family. But He has given me a greater family wherever I go. I live as a testimony and a living sacrifice every single day. My videos go where I cannot—reaching millions not only in the Arab world, but also in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Israel, Europe, and far beyond.

Praise the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave me my voice and to whom my voice belongs! My media belongs to Him. My life belongs to Him. I no longer belong to myself. This is the radical truth I live by: I have lost everything for Jesus Christ, but in Him, I have gained everything. My family may have rejected me, but I belong to the family of God. My country may have cast me out, but I am a citizen of Heaven. The world is behind me, Jesus is before me, and I will proclaim His name until my last breath!

I have decided to follow Jesus—no turning back. As Paul declared in Philippians 1:21, "To live is Christ, and to die is gain." This is my anthem. This is my life. I will proclaim His name with every breath until the end.