She worked behind locked doors. Concrete walls. Iron bars. Rules that allowed no compassion and no questions.She was an officer in the central women’s prison in Yemen—trained to enforce order, not to listen for God.

She never imagined that the turning point of her life would begin with a prisoner the authorities called dangerous.

The Prisoner No One Was Allowed to Speak To

Among the women held in the prison was one inmate singled out for isolation. The orders were explicit:

Do not let her mix with others. Do not speak with her. Do not show mercy.

Her crime was not violence or rebellion. It was apostasy.

She had abandoned Islam and was accused of following Christ.

At first, the officer obeyed. She placed the woman alone, just as instructed. But something inside her resisted the silence. A pull she couldn’t explain. A curiosity that felt deeper than curiosity. When she asked about the prisoner’s case, the answer unsettled her.

“She worked with Christians,” they told her. “That is enough.”

Later, she would understand: this was not a chance. It was the beginning of God’s pursuit.

Dreams That Would Not Leave Her

Long before the prison, there had been dreams.

As a child, she dreamed again and again of praying with a group. In the dream, the sky would split open. Someone would descend and call to her:

“Come to me. Stay with me. Do not pray here—come to me.”

When she asked who was speaking, the answer came clearly:

“I am Isa. I am Jesus. Come stay with me.”

The dreams terrified her. She sought guidance from sheikhs who interpreted dreams, hoping for peace. Instead, she received condemnation.

“Who is having this dream?” they demanded.“You must be committing sins. Return to God.”

Afraid, she denied the dreams were hers. But they did not stop. As she grew older, they returned with greater force—persistent, insistent, unresolved.

Drawn to the One She Was Meant to Fear

Despite strict orders, she found herself drawn to the isolated prisoner. Eventually, she brought her into her office—not to accuse her, but to understand.

She asked about faith. About apostasy. About why she was imprisoned.

The woman was cautious. Fear had taught her silence.

Rumors soon spread through the prison that the officer was giving special treatment. That she was breaking protocol. That she could not be trusted.

Authorities intervened. Warnings were issued.

Then came accusations.

She was charged with aiding terrorism. Conspiring to corrupt the state. By violating prison orders.

She was suspended. Investigated. Watched.

Her career collapsed.

She was forced to leave everything behind.

A Mother’s Cry

A year later, the former prisoner was released.

She reached out carefully. Phones could be monitored. Nothing felt safe.

Then another crisis struck—closer to home.

Her eldest daughter fell ill. Night after night, the child woke screaming from nightmares—visions of evil spirits, someone chasing her. Nothing helped. Scripture. Prayer. Exhaustion.

She was alone.

One night, overwhelmed, she prayed through tears:

“Oh God, my daughter is sick. I don’t know what to do. I am tired. Please—give me a sign.”

She fell asleep beside her child. That night, she dreamed of Mary. The Virgin placed a red book in her hands and said,“Take this book and read it. Your daughter will be fine.” She woke to find her daughter sleeping peacefully on her shoulder.

The Red Bible

Not long after, there was a knock at the door. It was the former prisoner. She was holding a book.

“What is that?” the officer asked. “A gift,” the woman replied.

When she shared the dream—Mary, the red book—the woman fell silent.

“This is not a coincidence,” she said. “This is a message from God.”

She placed the Bible in her hands.

“Read it,” she said. “But don’t lose it. I need it back.”

In that moment, everything aligned. The dreams. The prison. The woman was forbidden to meet. God had not been absent. He had been arranging.

Understanding the Call

They met often after that. Quiet conversations. Careful questions. Scripture opened slowly, then hungrily.

The confusion that had followed her for years began to lift. She understood now what the dreams had been saying all along.

God had been calling her—not to fear, but to Himself.

What She Lost—and What She Gained

Following Jesus cost her everything she once relied on. Her position. Her reputation. Her sense of safety. But she does not speak of loss.

“I gained,” she says. “I gained knowledge of the Lord. I gained myself. I gained my soul.”

Eventually, she fled her country in search of safety. Yet she says she does not feel like a foreigner.

She feels held.

“My life is full of wounds,” she says, “but I thank God. I feel that He healed me. I feel His embrace. I feel safe.”

A God Who Still Speaks

Her story is a reminder that God is not limited by walls, systems, or fear.

He speaks through dreams. Through prisons. Through suffering. Through the people we are told to avoid.

And when He speaks, it is not to condemn—but to call.

To come closer. To stay. To find life.