Miracle of Miracles by Mina Nevisa

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I have just finished reading a book that has made a really deep impression on me. It is Miracle of Miracles by Mina Nevisa available from Touch of Christ Ministries, P.O. Box 2861, Fairfax, VA 22031. Web site: www.touchofchrist.net . The following is a sketch:

The book is about the life of Mina Nevisa. As a child Mina was the youngest of seven children in a very wealthy and influential fundamentalist Muslim family in Iran. Her father was a professor of theology at Iran’s most influential university, the University of Tehran, and was an author and world-renowned authority on Islamic issues. He spoke and read Arabic fluently and served as a Persian-Arabic interpreter. Her grandfather (father’s father), a very wealthy man, was one of Iran’s most respected authors on Islamic issues, had authored more than 65 books and taught the Koran and Islamic theology at the Feizieh Islamic Center in the holy city of Ghom.

The family was a family of readers. A lot of emphasis was placed on reading, starting at an early age. Her six brothers and sisters (four brothers and two sisters) were all graduates of the University of Tehran, were fluent in at least one foreign language (Arabic, English, or French) and became professionals of one sort or another. Her oldest sister became a heart surgeon and one brother became an eye doctor. Most of her male relatives were mullahs and many held prestigious positions in the government.

At the age of fourteen Mina’s parents enrolled her in a famous, high-society, private high school and secured a teacher to teach her English. It was at about his time that she started to feel dissatisfied with Islam, to question some of its ideas and practices. She states that complete obedience to the Sharia, reciting her salat, and reading the Koran left her feeling empty. She started questioning why she had to say her salat prayers in Arabic instead of her native language, Farsi (Persian). She asked, “Doesn’t Allah understand Farsi? Why do I have to say my prayers in a language I don’t understand?” Then she rebelliously started saying them in Farsi, making her father angry. He told her to just do as she was told with no questions.

Because her family was comprised of fanatical Muslims she was expressly forbidden to read books about Christianity or Judaism. She was not even allowed to learn about their ideas or claims.

One day, at the age of 17, while studying at the university library she looked down and saw a book on the floor. It was a copy of the Christian Bible in Persian. She thought a student must have left it there and attempted to turn it in to the librarian. The librarian said no one had reported it missing and suggested she just keep it and read it. (She later learned that that librarian was a Christian and had placed it there.) She took it home and this was the beginning of secret reading of the Christian Bible. She read the New Testament, learned about Jesus, all the miracles he performed, the things he said, the teachings of Christianity. And she compared the teachings of Jesus and the kind of person he was and his lifestyle with Mohammed, his teachings, the kind of person he was and his lifestyle. Jesus was kind and good and was always healing people. He didn’t raid caravans, have multiple wives, and wasn’t cruel. The Allah of Mohammed was vindictive, harsh, and unforgiving while the Christian God was kind and forgiving. Thus she admired Jesus and Christianity and felt conflicted and confused. A battle was raging inside her. She wished she could meet and talk with some Christian. She reasoned that since there were Christian bibles in her own language in her country there must be some Christians around. It turned out that a twenty eight year old sister of one of her brothers-in-law was a Christian. Her name was Monir. They were close friends and the discovery was made on an occasion when she invited Monir into her room and Monir saw the Christian Bible that she had inadvertently left on a bedside table. Monir rushed to the table, grabbed the Bible, held it to her heart, and inquired, “Mina, do you read this book?” She told her she did. Later Monir said to her, “Jesus will show himself to you sooner or later. Do you know why? Hallelujah, its because he is alive!” She learned that Monir was a member of a group of Christians who met secretly and that she was distributing Bibles to people and testifying. Monir invited her to one of the meetings where she met the group leader, a middle aged man named Ali who gave her some books on the faith and his phone number. Several months later she gave her heart to Christ, became a Christian. Then, later, she married Javid, one of the fellows in her Christian group.

Some time after that Monir was caught distributing Christian material and was arrested. She was put in the notorious Evin prison and executed (and presumably also tortured and raped). Then right after that the authorities broke into Ali’s home, arrested him, confiscated all of the Christian materials in the home and also found and took his personal diary which contained the names and telephone numbers of everyone in the group. The authorities were closing in very fast and Mina and her new husband knew they had to get out of the country very quickly. If they were apprehended their fate would be the same as that of Monir.

Javid found a fellow who specialized in helping people escape out of the country and arranged for his help. It was a long, very hard, rough two week journey through the mountains of northern Iran to Turkey traveling by vehicles, horses, and donkeys. Just before leaving Mina learned that she was eight weeks pregnant. After arriving in Ankara, Turkey she had a miscarriage.

From Turkey they flew to Madrid, Spain and lived there for seven years. They attended an Iranian church in Madrid and Javid attended Madrid’s Bible University in pursuit of a theology degree. Finally they received a letter from the immigration office saying that their visas would not be renewed and they would have to leave the country. They decided to go to Holland. After arriving there Javid resumed his theological studies in Amsterdam. They discovered that there were large numbers of Muslim refugees in Holland living in refugee camps and they started holding evangelistic services in the camps. In 1990 they launched a full-time ministry under the name Touch of Christ Ministries. In 1993 they planted Amsterdam’s first Farsi-speaking church in the heart of the city and started evangelizing on Amsterdam’s street corners using a megaphone reaching many Muslims as well as Dutch people. Dutch churches started inviting them to share their testimonies.

Around 1997 threatening calls started coming into their home from Muslim extremists. Then one night, while walking home on a dark street from the metro station to her apartment, Mina was kidnaped by four Muslim extremists who forced her into the back seat of their car, taped her mouth shut, and took her to an old dilapidated house. There were two younger men in the back seat and an older man and a woman in the front seat. After arriving at the house, they forced her into the basement where they took turns hitting her, slapping her, pulling her hair, throwing her from one wall to another and demanding that she repent, renounce Christianity. She also heard one of them on the floor above, talking on a cell phone to a superior. He said, “Hajji (holy man), it is done. Tomorrow we will finish the job.” They locked her in and left. The next day she heard them reenter the house and heard voices that were unfamiliar to her making and receiving numerous telephone calls. The third night the old driver appeared, untapped her mouth, gave her a drink of water, and instructed her to run away as fast as possible after everyone had left. He said he would leave the door unlocked. She waited until dark and made her escape, running as she had never run, and flagged down a car, the driver of which took her to the nearest police station. She called her husband and he and others came to get her. They filed a complaint with the police but the police told them they were powerless to prevent religiously incited attacks on refugees and recommended that they flee to another country. They fasted and prayed about where they should go and God told Javid: Washington D.C. In March 1998 they flew to the U.S.

The above is a brief sketch of the main events however what is so impressive about the book is all of the divine involvement, divine actions that are related: all of the miracles, the appearances of angels (or Jesus himself), all of the divine interventions, all of the amazing coincidences that one could only explain by divine involvement.

Example: When Mina’s father learned that she had become a Christian he disowned her. For 20 years he never spoke to her. For years Mina, her husband, and many others prayed that he would become a Christian. Finally, after 20 years, he had a experience similar to the one the apostle Paul had on the road to Damascus: Jesus appeared to him and had a little talk with him — and he immediately became a Christian. And Mina’s mother also became a Christian. The following is the father’s account of the incident (as told to Mina):

“Early Thursday morning I left Tehran for our farm in the country, and arrived there around noon. Even though it is not Ramadan, I decided to spend the day fasting. I was alone as your mother was at one of our other estates. I was scheduled to return home later that evening. There were errands to run and I was tired and hungry when I got to the farm. I walked around a little and then decided to return home, only to find that I had accidently locked the keys in the car. I did not welcome the prospect of walking all the way to town to fetch a locksmith. I decided to recite my salat before the cold darkness closed in and before attempting the journey.

“The waters of the well were cold as I splashed them over my face, loins, and feet in ablution before kneeling in prayer. I was famished with hunger and as I knelt I saw a package of warm, freshly baked bread lying in the grass. There was not a soul around for miles and I began to thank Allah for his provision. I put a piece to my mouth and heard a thunderous voice telling me to arise to my feet. I obeyed and as I arose a heavy rain began to fall over me. To my astonishment, the voice commanded me to look around. It was then that I noticed that it was only raining on me and nowhere else on the farm. The ground under my feet was soaked and everywhere else the ground was perfectly dry.

“The voice came again, ‘Do you know who I am? I am the Bread of Life.’ My response was, Allaho Akbar, God is Great. ‘No, you are mistaken. I am not Allah. You don’t know me at all. Kneel before me.’ When I knelt, a radiant figure appeared before me. The light from it was so bright that I had to lift my hands to shield my eyes.

“‘You are to repent of your sins. I am the Bread of Life and today My blood washes your sins away.’ I fell face-forward into the wet ground and cried out the name of Jesus repeatedly. As I did so something that felt like a heavenly electrical honey pulsated through my entire body. I screamed into the muddy ground, “‘Even though I am now an old man please accept me, Jesus, and I will serve you the rest of my life.’

“The voice became even louder and continued, ‘You are to prepare a feast of salvation at your home for all to see.’ I knew I had to rush home and tell your mother what had occurred. To my amazement, when I reached for the open package of bread, which was beside me, it and the ground that I had been lying upon were completely dry. However, my clothes were still completely soaked, and I had no choice but to head home in that condition. In my excitement, I had forgotten that the keys were locked in the car, and I put my hand on the door handle. Miraculously, it swung open and I found the keys in the ignition where I left them.

“I explained every detail about my divine encounter with your mother. I enthusiastically announced that I now believed as you do because I had experienced the same type of visitation that you had once described. She gently reprimanded me for my previous attitudes and then hugged me as she wept for joy.

Another example: Mina was in the Fairfax Hospital for some time due to a succession of mistakes by doctors and was close to death. First she was bleeding to death and a team of doctors were for days trying unsuccessfully to stop the blood flow. Finally, when it seemed like death was just around the corner something occurred. I quote from the book:

“I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was not dreaming. A tall figure stood glowing with heavenly glory in the corner of my room. Every molecule in the room was glistening with the Shekinah presence of the Holy Spirit. I cried out to the Lord and I heard His familiar voice coming to me from the corner of the room. It was Jesus, the Son of God.

“Lift up your hands”.

I complained that I couldn’t and his voice boomed out again. “Lift up your hands”.

Miraculously, I lifted them up from the restraints of the intravenous entrapments that bound me. The moment that I did so I saw beams of light continuously bouncing from one of Jesus’ hands to the other. Suddenly my two hands were added to the process. His hands and mine were like the four corners of a rectangle with the radiant beams of healing light connecting them.

“Mina, your bleeding has stopped and you will live.” The voice spoke with such authority that I knew that my bleeding was over. I looked at my sheets and bed cloths and they were dry and unspotted by blood.

Several days after this incident it was discovered that her liver was badly damaged and she needed a liver transplant. In the frantic effort to stop her bleeding the doctors had accidently administered medications that counteract one another and cause liver damage. The doctors wanted to replace the liver but Javid said “no” and they decided to depend on Jesus to give her a new liver. You can read the book for the account of how God bestowed on her a new, healthy liver.

Finally there was a third problem: her incision was not healing. The doctors were just unable to resolve that problem. Finally God healed her. Quoting:

“During the night the Lord gave me a spiritual vision. ... My body felt like it was soaring somewhere. I saw myself dressed in my hospital gown lying in a lush garden and all of the I-V tubes were hanging from my body.

Suddenly, I heard a voice speaking from behind the foliage and saw the face of a holy angel peering at me: “Mina, Mina, stand up. You are healed. Go home.” To my amazement I opened my eyes and found that I was standing in the hospital’s lobby. No one had wheeled me there in a wheelchair. God had transported me there in the vision. The medical attendants began to scurry around asking one another how I had gotten there. The doctors quizzed me, “Who brought you here?” I was so elated that all I could say was, “I really don’t know. I just know I that I am going home.”

“On that 27^th day of April, the nurses unplugged all of the medical devices under Dr. David’s supervision. I took off my gown and dressed myself in street clothes. All of the floor’s medical staff applauded as Javid and I walked triumphantly to the elevator. Dr. David humbly approached me with tearful eyes for some parting words: “Mina, when you came out of that surgery room, none of the experts thought that you would live more than a few days. Today you are walking out. I have seen what can only be described as miracles occurring in your life. The bleeding stopped. Your liver is perfect. And somehow you got down into the lobby that night when you couldn’t even walk. You know, I have never said these kinds of things to anyone. You guys are really people of God. Would you please remember me in your prayers?” While he embraced me, I assured him that he would be in our prayers, and gave him a copy of my book (Don’t Keep Me Silent). He promised he would read it.

Seven months later Mina received a call from Dr. David informing her that he had given his heart to Jesus and been baptized.

Over and over in this book angelic beings (or Jesus) make appearances and perform miracles. If you don’t believe in a God or miracles you should read this book. If you want to know the real truth about Islam (instead of politically correct falsehoods) you should read this book. If you want to know what real Christianity is all about, read this book. It is the kind of book that could change your life.

2 June 2021

Later note. I just finished reading the book Forbidden Miracles by Mina Nevisa, also available from Touch of Christ Ministries, P.O. Box 2861, Fairfax, VA 22031. Web site: www.touchofchrist.net . The speaker in almost this entire book (Chapter 2 - 13) is Ali Nevisa, Mina Nevisa’s father. He says much that gives profound insight into the Moslem mind and mentality.

I was very impressed by this book. I present some excerpted portions:

The following are the words of Ali Nevisa. He has just driven to one of the vineyards he owns, gotten out of his car, and then discovered he has locked himself out of his car.

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In dismay, I plopped to my knees on the prayer rug. I tried to find my composure. My thoughts were to recite my midday prayers before walking to find a locksmith. As I knelt there I felt hungry. ...

I wish there was something to eat, I said to myself — not out loud but silently in my head.

Instantly, I smelled freshly baked bread. I glanced down beside me. There sat a fragrant loaf wrapped in bakery paper! This shocked me into concern about my momentary blasphemy against Islam. “Thank you, Allah!” I exclaimed.

The kindest yet most authoritative voice I’d ever heard responded in stereo surround-sound that permeated every fiber of my being.

“I am not Allah. I am the Bread of Life, Jesus of Nazareth, whom our Mina has followed through all of her years of exile. I am calling you now just as I called her into my fold way back then.”

Startled by this voice, I threw myself facedown with such force that my head landed beyond my rug’s edge in the vineyard’s plowed dirt. It is difficult to explain what I then experienced. It was as though I was suspended in midair above myself. Looking down on the scene, I saw Jesus, the Son of God, standing in front of me. At the same time I saw myself kneeling on my Islamic rug that was spread beneath the folds of His glistening robe with his pierced feet on either side of me. His bodily form was transparent, majestic in height.

“Sit up and look about,” he implored me.

I looked, only to discover the bewildering patter of raindrops. Miraculously, a private downpour was soaking me, yet not falling anywhere else on the vineyard. I flung my face into the mud as I groveled in repentance for all of my sins. Every aspect of Islam that came to mind I renounced with urgency.

Again the voice boomed, “Rise and look about!”

I did so, amazed to find that it was raining as far as I could see — everywhere, that is, with the exception of on me.

“Ali,” the voice again said, “I am going to pour out my spirit on Persia in an unprecedented manner, and many will witness encounters and miracles. You will play an essential initial role through your witness of this day. Expect more visions of the night and strategic happenings.”

The vision and voice lifted and there I sat, dry as a bone, mud caked on my face. In my excitement, I forgot that I had been locked out of my car. I grabbed my satchel, Quran, and prayer rug and reached for the driver’s door handle. To my astonishment, all four of the doors swung open without being touched.

As I closed the doors and slipped in at the steering wheel, a strange sensation swept through my whole body. I felt a tingling drip down each of my bones, as if my skeleton were being dipped in electrified honey. My thoughts raced with the revelation that, though I had not known the meaning of born-again, I had just been born-again through a divine visitation from the God of Creation. I knew that the vision of seeing myself within the folds of his garment symbolized the fact that I had been born-again into Him.

Starting the car, I raced off. I disregarded speed limits as I sped into our estate’s driveway.

Though in my late 70's I hoped out of the car like an agile cat, shouting at top volume as I ran into the kitchen where Kian was. “I have just seen Mina’s Jesus with my own eyes! He spoke to me as though a friend who knew me better than any earthly one. Kian, Kian, I have seen Jesus!

She leaped up from the kitchen table and embraced me. We were both sobbing with unspeakable joy.

“Ali jan, dear Ali, you better know I have prayed for this day for more than 20 years!”

Spasms of holy laughter intermingled with tears shook us both as Kian told me of her many encounters with Jesus in our Tehran and Shiraz homes.

Unbeknownst to us, our faithful housekeeper, Zenab, was listening from a hallway that led to the kitchen. Her husband served as one of our groundskeepers and handymen. The couple had worked for our households so long that we considered them members of our extended family. They joined in our caravan each time we traveled between Shiraz and Tehran. They kept a small house on our property and lived with their youngest daughter who’d become deaf at age six, two years earlier.

As Zeynab heard our ecstatic conversation, the presence of the Almighty overwhelmed her. She woozily sat on the floor and began repenting of her sins while asking Jesus to take over her life. She was hesitant to come into the kitchen as she didn’t want to be disrespectful by barging in on the privacy of her employers. Finally, she could not contain herself any longer. Zeynab stood at the kitchen’s entrance trembling, tears running down her cheeks. She bowed her head and begged permission to enter.

We went to her and embraced her with open arms. She told us what she had overheard and experienced while in the hallway. She asked that we pray for her to receive Jesus just like we did, but neither Kian nor I knew how to lead Zeynab or anyone in a confession of Christ.

I suggested that we all kneel with our faces to the floor just as we always had in our in our Islamic prayers. Then each of us was to tell Jesus that we were done with Islam while confessing that Jesus was God’s son. The agreement was to end the prayer by asking Jesus let us become born-again.

We all prayed that immature prayer in garbled unison that only God could decipher. I’m absolutely sure that Jesus heard and accepted our salvation prayer for our beloved housekeeper. The presence of God was all over our house. It was so thick and strong that none of us could stand on our feet. We collapsed to the floor with joyous giggles mixed with weeping.

Zeynab insisted that she didn’t want to keep her conversion secret from her husband as Kian had to do with me. She asked that we go to her place so her husband could hear Mr. Nevisa’s testimony and the story of Jesus’ visitation from his own lips. Everyone, including me, was astounded when I said that we would pray for her daughter to be healed from deafness while there. For some reason I just knew that God wanted to restore Zeynab’s daughter and that she would be healed as soon as we entered her house.

Zeynab was the first to enter. She shouted for her husband to come and hear about what happened to Mr.Nevisa. When we entered the room, the tangibility of God’s holiness swept in with billows that felt like effervescent innocence. I instinctively reached for the little girl and gently drew her near me. I placed my hands on her head and then realized that I had no idea what to say. The presence of Jesus incited a pleasant dizziness, adding to my bewilderment.

I gave Kian one of those “please help me” looks that befuddled husbands often give their wives. I knew the presence of God was there and I knew the girl would be healed, but I really did not know what to say.

I was relieved when she had an answer to my unspoken question. “Ali, stick your fingers in her ears, and as you pull them out say, ‘Ephphatha!’ That’s what the Bible says Jesus did to heal a deaf man.”

Not knowing what to expect, I complied and then began to share my vision with the girl’s dad. His eyes brimmed with tears and he conveyed that he must have the Lord’s salvation like the rest of us. I was about to ask that we all kneel for the confessional prayer when I felt a tug on my belt loop. It was the child we had just prayed for.

“Me too! I heard what you said to my father and I want it too.”

The girl was crying, jumping up and down in the middle of the room as she asked how to receive Jesus. I still have yet to find adequate words to relay this story when I tell it to this day. I wish we could have filmed those moments, those tears, that joy, and the movement of the Holy Spirit in that house.

Another wave of God’s glory then rolled into their little house. It was so saturated with God’s holiness that we dared not speak. If we breathed between words, the glory might make us feel as though we were experiencing heavenly drownings.

In order to recount the impact that first day of my salvation had on me, the events of that day must be recapitulated against the backdrop of my lifetime in Islam. My heritage included multiple generations of accomplished scholarship in all facets of Islam, the world’s largest religion. I had no ancestors who’d ever seen visions of Allah or Muhammad, much less heard either speaking directly to them. And, now, here I was who had seen the Living God — Jesus — even receiving audible instructions from Him. Freshly baked bread had appeared by my side out of nowhere. As I rushed to head home, angelic hands unlocked and swung open four doors. Furthermore, I was able to perform impressive signs not ever experienced by any new convert to Islam throughout its miserable history. Within seven hours of being born as a new creation in Christ, I led two adults and an eight-year-old girl to Christ. I prayed for a child with Jesus’ method and she was miraculously healed. It’s unheard of for healing to happen at the hands of Islamic theologians.

I experienced the miracles of healing, even soul-winning, within hours of being born-again myself. What proof this is that you don’t have to be mature to receive or minister salvation and spiritual gifts. However, you can mature in the exercise of those ministries. God rewards righteous boldness. You don’t want to languish in spiritual malaise until life’s end.

That night, Jesus fulfilled his promise to give me instructions via spiritual visions. In my vision, I saw a lone Persian oak in the middle of a luscious dew-covered pasture. Initially it was bare of leaves. As I watched, an invisible craftsman carved and inscribed names on the limbs. With each cut of the artist’s tool, the smaller branches began to bud and glowing jewels and gold filled in the completed carved indentations.

I recognized most of the names. One was a famous TV news anchorman and talk-show celebrity whom I knew personally. My son Ab and several other members of my near and extended family were listed, along with many of my Muslim business and university associates, whose testimonies were yet in progress.

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Mina’s first book earned the title Miracle of Miracles because we’ve learned by experience that any time a Muslim comes to Christ, it takes a miracle. No matter a person’s background, the new birth is admittedly miraculous, but Muslims have greater spiritual and cultural obstacles to overcome than a person of European, Christian heritage who lives in the USA. Our cultural identity is Shariah Law, Islam, and the sunnah (lifestyle or path) of Muhammad. In the minds of serious Muslims, to embrace any belief system other than Islam can be interpreted as a betrayal of hundreds of years of family traditions. Conversely, in the US, if one is born-again, it’s likely to be regarded by relatives as a fleeting whim that will soon pass when the next fad comes down the road. Usually, people are not offended by a person’s conversion because it is viewed as solely a matter of personal persuasion. It is not perceived as a national crime, nor is it taken as a personal insult against the friend’s and relatives in the convert’s life.

Not so with Muslims.

For Muslims to choose another religion is to disown their entire heritage and family environment. The spiritual side is even worse. Muslim schoolchildren have far more rigid academic structures than most any other group. Beginning in the first grade, students are obligated to memorize and endlessly recite large portions of the Quran and Hadiths (Muhammad’s words and teachings) every day. I never had a truly free recess during school hours. The Middle Eastern concept of learning something by heart is to say it out loud often, even during supposed leisure moments. At recess in Muslim schoolyards, children jumping rope or playing soccer or volleyball can be heard calling chronological passages alternately one to another. The rope-jumper leaps up and shouts, “There is no God but Allah.” The rope-swingers respond, “And Muhammad is his prophet.” The principle is that the more it is declared with the mouth, the deeper it is embedded in the human psyche.

Muslims seemingly have more dramatic conversions than people in Christianized America, don’t they? I’m speaking of visitations of Jesus — visions and interactive dreams of the night. The phenomenon is directly related to the almost nonexistent exposure that Muslims have to information about Jesus and the gospel. Romans 10:14 and 20 convey that the Lord would be found by those who didn’t know enough to seek him because they didn’t have a preacher to tell them of his love — an apt description of Muslims in Islamic stronghold countries. Unlike the USA, we have no TV programs about the benefits of salvation and living by biblical principles. Christian preaching and worship music cannot be located on radios 24/7. No billboards litter the highway that advertize church schedules and weekly sermon topics. Worse of all, it’s a prosecutable offense to invite a Muslim to any form of Christian meetings.

This being said, the only way that many Muslims can be exposed to preaching or the opportunity to find Christ is by supernatural spiritual experiences. Most Muslims are converted to Christianity by the salvation testimonies of former Muslims. In those instances, the abiding fruit is the same whether the believer is transformed through a dramatic event or simply by a heartfelt conviction unto repentance that Jesus is Lord. The treasured abiding fruit is the inner witness of the Spirit that one is a child of God. This vital sign is a visa into supernatural experiences as a way of life dictated by personal faith.

5 Sept 2021