The biography of Moishe Rosen has been in the works for a long time—and we hope to have the completed manuscript this August!
This book will explain how an ordinary Jewish man from Denver became an extraordinary force in missions to the Jewish people. It will reveal who influenced him as well as how he influenced others. We also explore his strengths and weaknesses, his successes and failures. This look at his life is so close-up and personal it could only have been written by a family member.
Please pray for Moishe’s daughter, Ruth—she is in the “home stretch” of writing the manuscript. Please also pray that we find the right publisher/editor. We promise to keep you posted and to make a big announcement when the book is ready to order.
The following is just a tiny snippet and has been edited down to fit in this space. We hope it will whet your appetite for more.
Moishe had never been further from home than Kansas City and had never personally driven more than a hundred miles from home. To say it was exciting to drive across the country with his wife and their three-year-old daughter would be an understatement; he was having the adventure of his life. Yet that adventure might easily have come to an abrupt and tragic end.
Moishe later explained, “I had been informed that our Hudson automobile was in excellent working order. We got to Columbus, Ohio, and checked into one of those old-fashioned motels. They rented out one-room cottages and on either side of each cottage there was a carport.
“I have always been a somewhat cautious person. That night I inspected the car, checking all the fluids under the hood and noting the air pressure in the tires.
“The temperature had been hovering near a hundred degrees each day of the trip. Who knew from air-conditioning? The heat did not seem to bother us so much. But that night I had difficulty sleeping. It was like my own voice was speaking to me and saying ‘Tires, look at the tires.’ Well, I was in my pajamas, but I got dressed and went out with the flashlight to check all around the tires. I did not find anything wrong, so I went back to bed. Just as I was dropping off to sleep, I heard it again: ‘Tires, tires, tires, tires.’
“Once again I went outside, and this time instead of looking at the outside of the tires, I got under the car with a flashlight and shined it on the inside of the tires. At first I did not see anything unusual, and then, there it was: a big bulge on the sidewall of my right front tire. The following day we would have entered the Pennsylvania Turnpike, which had no speed limit at that time. I couldn’t help but think that in the hundred-degree heat that front right tire would have blown at the worst possible time. ‘Thank you Jesus,’ I said. I knew that it had not been my voice but God’s.
“The next morning I went to get a new tire and the man who looked at the old one marveled that I made it from the motel to the tire shop.
“Tragedy averted, and that is what I can say about many of the ‘God-incidences’ in my life. I can’t say that things like that happened on a regular basis and I have always been reluctant to use the words ‘God told me, or God showed me.’ But He certainly showed Himself able and willing to watch over our family that evening.”