Choosing not to be a member of this cult did not preclude me from still thinking I had to be good enough, and work hard enough to earn favor with God. I did not yet know that without some divine intervention I was lost.
I had a semblance of Jewish education and a strong sense of Jewish identity. But since my home was a home without God – and since the Christians and the Jews I knew did not seem to truly believe – I assumed that God must be present elsewhere.
I know that I am still Jewish. I don’t use the word “converted” because it implies that I’ve left something behind. I do not feel I have left anything.
Hans handed Rich the Bible. “In that millisecond,” Rich recalls, “my life was shattered. The name that I saw at the top of the page was Isaiah! Hans had been reading to me from MY Bible, from my Hebrew Scriptures, and I felt as though someone had taken a sword and cut me to pieces.”
I started being nagged with the idea of Jesus being the Jewish Messiah and the only way to know God. It wasn’t so much that it was a problem for me because I was Jewish and didn’t want to believe in Jesus. It was more that I didn’t want to close myself into what I thought was a narrow way of thinking.
I was happy for Lisa, and I’m certain that I already believed intellectually that Jesus was who he said he was. But I wasn’t ready to follow him.
The doctor had already come in that morning to tell me about the cancer. I got emotional and cried. But I was already prepared by the time Jeff came in. Then Jeff told me that he had received Jesus as his Messiah, and that God told him I was going to be okay. And I felt pretty confident that I would be.
When the crowd asked Jesus one day, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” he answered, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent” (John 6:28–29). And who is the one God has sent? Yeshua.
We canceled hospice. Dad got better. Five weeks later he was in good health. To me, this was a miracle. Pain and despair brought me to the Messiah.
By my third year of grad school, my life, externally, was great. I had friends and a boyfriend who made a lot of money. I was in great shape, competing in a triathlon. But inside I was miserable. I found myself questioning everything: If life has no meaning, what does it matter if I live another day? And what happens after I die?
At that very moment, I heard a still, small voice in my heart that said, “Alisa, you have a choice. You can either trust me, or you can go your way . . . to your doom!”
I grabbed the New Testament from where I had hid it in the cupboard and opened it. It happened to open to the Gospel of Matthew, chapter one. I was completely overwhelmed when I read the very first sentence: “This is the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah the son of David, the son of Abraham.”
We don’t always recognize the significance of events as they happen in our lives until we look back and see how everything fits together.
The missionary asked my great-great-grandfather, Hakim, “Did you know that the Messiah you are expecting has already arrived?” and told him that Jesus was the Messiah. Hakim was so upset that he slapped the missionary in the face and threw him out of the synagogue. But that wasn’t the end of the story…
Ceil Rosen, wife of Jews for Jesus founder, Moishe, had a unique Christmas experience, leading her to consider Jesus seriously as the alternative to religious Judaism or atheism.
Following Yeshua will mean going against the flow of the values and priorities of the world. It may cost us relationships with family and friends, our reputations and opportunities. We might encounter suffering, heartache and rejection. But God will never desert us.
I take comfort in Jesus’ words: “Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life” (Luke 18:29–30).
Although my faith made for some uncomfortable times with my parents, it also led to some thoughtful and fruitful discussions. And, much to their credit, they never allowed it to rupture our relationship.
How a Jewish kid with an Irish name found his Messiah – Ron Mcdevitt’s story Hi, my name is Ron Mcdevitt. I’m a Jewish believer in Jesus Christ. I was born in New York City. My mother and father are both Jewish. My father’s family was living in...
“Why didn’t God just kill me if He hated me so much? Why did He let this happen to me?” young Gregory silently screamed. How Greg came to believe in a God who loves him is at the heart of his autobiography.