Saudi Princess Faces Execution for Reading Bible, Then JESUS DID THIS… | Christian Testimony
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My name is Princess Amira. I am 32 years old, and on September 12, 2019, I was sentenced to die for reading the Bible in Saudi Arabia. However, Jesus had other plans for my life. This is my testimony of supernatural deliverance.
I was born into the Saudi royal family in 1992, the third daughter of Prince Abdullah bin Rashid. From my first breath, I was enveloped in unimaginable wealth and privilege. Our palace in Riyadh sprawled across 50 acres, adorned with marble floors imported from Italy and chandeliers that cost more than most people earn in a lifetime. I had my own wing with 12 rooms, each decorated in the finest silks and gold, with servants attending to my every need.
But let me tell you something about golden cages: they are still cages. Despite having everything money could buy, my soul was starving. I owned hundreds of designer gowns, drove luxury cars, and traveled on private jets to exotic destinations. Yet, every night, I would stare at the ornate ceiling of my bedroom, wondering if this was all there was to life. The emptiness inside me grew larger with each passing year.
My religious education began when I turned five. Every morning at dawn, my Islamic tutor would arrive to teach me Quran memorization. I spent hours reciting verses in Arabic, and by age 12, I had memorized over half of the Quran. The five daily prayers were enforced with military precision, but I felt absolutely nothing inside. The words felt empty, like reciting a shopping list. My mind wandered to questions that frightened me: Why did I feel so disconnected from Allah? Why were the prayers meaningless repetition? Why was I forbidden to question anything about our faith?
As I grew older, the pressure to marry intensified. My parents arranged meetings with various princes and wealthy men, discussing my future as if I were a business transaction. I felt like a beautiful ornament, valuable for my bloodline and appearance, but worthless as a human being. The longing for authentic connection and real purpose grew stronger each day. I was drowning in luxury while my soul cried out for something real.
In March 2018, my father invited me on a diplomatic mission to London. For the first time, I had my own room without supervision. One evening, I discovered a small black book in the nightstand drawer: the Holy Bible. My heart raced as I opened it. The words, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” pierced my heart. I had never read anything like it before. It spoke of love rather than fear, of grace rather than punishment. I spent the entire night reading, captivated by the stories of Jesus.
When we returned to Saudi Arabia, I knew I had to keep that book. I carefully hid it in an old Islamic commentary book. Every night, when the palace was quiet, I would retrieve my hidden treasure and devour every page. The emptiness in my soul was filled with hope, love, and purpose I had never imagined possible.
On August 15, 2019, my world collapsed. My cousin Fatima visited and discovered my Bible. The horror on her face still haunts me. Within hours, my father burst into my chambers with my uncle and religious advisers, furious. They demanded I burn the Bible and publicly renounce my faith. I looked at the Bible, remembering every precious word. “I cannot deny what I know to be true,” I told them. “Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior.”
The slap from my uncle knocked me to the floor. The religious police arrived, stripping me of my royal robes and dressing me in a gray prison uniform. I was no longer Princess Amira; I was prisoner number 4758, condemned for apostasy. The interrogation began immediately, lasting 18 brutal hours. They wanted names of other converts and confessions of crimes against Islam.
Three weeks later, I stood before the Islamic court, no longer recognizable as the princess who had lived in luxury. The judge read the charges against me: apostasy, blasphemy, and corrupting Islamic values. My parents sat in the front row, my mother hidden behind her hands, my father staring straight ahead. When the judge asked if I understood the charges, I replied, “I understand the charges, but I do not accept them as crimes.”
“Do you renounce your belief in Jesus Christ?” he demanded. The courtroom held its breath. I thought of Jesus on the cross, dying for my sins. “I cannot and will not renounce Jesus Christ,” I declared. “He is my Lord and Savior, and I would rather die as a Christian than live as a lie.” The gavel came down: death by beheading to be carried out on September 12, 2019.
They transferred me to death row. My new cell was smaller, with concrete walls that wept moisture. I was fed stale bread and murky water. The prison imam visited daily, offering salvation in exchange for conversion. Each time, I politely declined, my certainty in Christ growing stronger.
Three days before my execution, my mother visited. She begged me to save myself, but I refused. “I love you, but I love Jesus more,” I told her. She left, and my father sent word that I was dead to the family.
On the night of September 11, 2019, I lay on my thin mattress, knowing I would face execution in the morning. I spent the entire night in prayer, pouring out my heart to Jesus. “If you are real, please show me,” I whispered.
At exactly 3:33 in the morning, my dark cell filled with brilliant light. I saw Jesus standing before me in radiant white robes. “Fear not,” he said. “I am with you. Your deliverance is at hand.” He placed his hand on my head, and peace flooded my heart. “You will walk out of this place,” he continued. “Trust in me completely.”
Within an hour, the impossible began to happen. I heard the click of my cell door unlocking. I stepped into the corridor, expecting alarms to sound, but the hallway was eerily quiet. Every guard was in a deep supernatural sleep. I walked through locked doors that opened at my approach, guided by the Holy Spirit.
When I reached the main exit, the massive door clicked open. I stepped out into the cool pre-dawn air of Riyadh, a free woman when I should have been hours from execution. A taxi appeared as if by divine appointment, and the driver asked no questions as I requested transportation to the airport. My royal passport scanned normally at every checkpoint.
I boarded a flight to Amsterdam with tears streaming down my face, overwhelmed with gratitude. When I landed, I fell to my knees on foreign soil, weeping tears of pure joy. Three months later, I was baptized in Amsterdam, publicly declaring my faith in Jesus. As I emerged from the water, I felt reborn as a daughter of the King of Kings.
Now, I share my testimony across Europe, watching faces transform as people realize the power of God to save and deliver. I work with underground networks to help persecuted Christians escape Islamic countries. Each successful escape reminds me that God saved me to be his instrument in saving others.
In 2022, I married David, a Dutch missionary, and together we continue the work God has called us to. Right now, wherever you are listening to this testimony, Jesus is calling your name. What is Jesus worth to you? Is he worth your comfort zone, your reputation, your whole life? Every breath I take is a miracle. Never underestimate the power of our Savior. If God can free a Saudi princess from death row, he can handle whatever impossible situation you are facing today. Jesus is still performing miracles, and you might be his next.
