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Yeshua is My Messiah

“Mom, Dad, I found the Messiah! It’s Jesus!"

I excitedly shared those words with my Orthodox Jewish parents when I had just turned 16 years old. Four months earlier I had come to faith in Yeshua (Jesus’ name in Hebrew) as my Messiah, Savior and Lord. But that is getting ahead of my story.

Witnesses of Evil

My parents, born in Russia, told me horror stories of going through the pogroms (Russian for “devastation”). During the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, mob attacks against Jews were often approved or condoned by authorities. In some pogroms, Jews were rounded up and locked in the village synagogue.  The building would then be set ablaze, burning the captives alive while gang members outside sang hymns. Years before Hitler annihilated six million of my people, my mother’s and father’s families immigrated to North America.

 My family attended synagogue regularly, kept a kosher home and observed the Sabbath. I attended Hebrew school. The day after my thirteenth birthday I stood at the bema (podium) of our synagogue and chanted my bar mitzvah passage in Hebrew. I had become a “son of the Law.” In our faith, I was now spiritually a man.

We lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the city of “brotherly love.” However, by the time I was 14, I had been beaten up three times and had sticks ands stones thrown at me by “Christian” young people who called me a “Christ killer.”  One day I was playing in the park when a 16-year-old “Christian” boy from the neighborhood pulled out a knife and said, “I’m going to kill you, you dirty Jew!” I ran into the hills, but he chased me and cornered me on a ledge about 30 feet high. He came at me with the knife; he cursed me for being Jewish and again threatened to kill me. I jumped off the ledge and hit an outcropping about halfway down and then landed in a dirt trail. I broke my leg but I got away. 

Convinced that Christians hated Jews, I wanted nothing to do with them.

Joining Up

When I was 15 a friend invited me to join a basketball team.  What he didn’t tell me was that the coach, George, required players to come to a Bible study after games. To play ball, I went, along with about 10 Jewish teammates.  During the studies I cut up and made fun. George told me that if I was not quiet, I could not stay. The next week I continued my disruptions, and George asked me to leave. I ignored him. He then grabbed me by the back of the neck and escorted me through the door.

I waited outside until the meeting was over because George was our ride home. Angry that he had embarrassed me in front of my friends, I said, “I’m never coming back here again!”  I came back the next week. If you asked me why, I couldn’t have told you. (Later, I learned that George had written to hundreds of Christians for prayer that I would come back, that I would be quiet—and that I would be saved.)

I began to listen to what George was saying.  One night, he read a passage of Scripture—Isaiah 53—but did not tell us where it was found. “Who do you think it’s talking about?” he asked.  “It’s about Jesus,” I immediately said, “but I don’t believe in the New Testament!”  George then handed me the Bible. I was shocked to see that the passage was in the Tanakh, the Hebrew Old Testament. “It must mean something else,” I responded. And then it hit me! He had a fake Bible; it really wasn’t in there. I went home and checked my Jewish Bible, and there it was.

George clearly outlined on a chalk board the messianic prophecies found in the Tanakh: Messiah would come from Bethlehem Micah 5:2 (1); He would have a miraculous birth and be born of a virgin Isaiah 7:14; He would suffer and die for our sins Isaiah 53; He would die by crucifixion Psalm 22; He would rise from the dead Psalm 16:10. Then George explained the prophecy of the 70 weeks in Daniel 9:24– 26. This says that the Messiah would come and die for our sins to make atonement for all people before the destruc­tion of the Second Temple, which took place in 70 C.E./A.D. That nailed it for me; I knew who fulfilled these prophecies.  It was Yeshua/Jesus.

I’ll never forget the night of December 21, 1956. Alone in my room, I  prayed: “God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, I know that I have sinned and broken your command­ments, and I deserve your punish­ment. But I believe that Jesus is the promised Jewish Messiah and that He came to take my punishment for me. Messiah Jesus, come into my heart, cleanse me with your blood and make me your child. Help me to read the Bible every day, to pray and tell others about you. Amen.”

‘All My Heart’

You might think I had peace at that time, but I didn’t. The first thing I remember learning when I was a little boy was the Shema, “Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohenu Adonai Echod” (Deut. 6:4): “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” Now I came face to face with the Trinity. What did I do? I thought. Now I have three gods! I was afraid I had become an idolater.  When I told George I had prayed, he gave me a New Testament. “Just read it,” he said. This also was a struggle because I had been taught it was a sin to touch a New Testament, let alone read it. I snuck the book into my room.

“Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, help me to know the truth,” I prayed. Then, I began in Matthew and read through to Revelation three times in four months, and the Lord took the veil off my eyes. I saw that Jesus truly was our Jewish Messiah.  He was the Son of God that came to redeem all mankind.  I prayed again. “Lord, I don’t care what happens; I’m going to follow Jesus with all of my heart!” That’s when God’s peace flooded my soul, and I knew my name was written in God’s Book of Life.

I was so filled with joy that I went to my parents and blurted, “Mom, Dad, I found the Messiah. It’s Jesus!”

Dead or Alive

At first my parents thought that if they humored me, it would pass. However, after a few months they realized I was serious. Then they threatened to have a funeral for me. Some Jewish families actually bury some belongings of those who become believers in Jesus, throw them out of the house and consider them dead. My grandpar­ents, uncles and aunts told me not to visit them anymore.  When I shared with my brother Jack, two years my senior, he grabbed his shotgun out of the closet and put it against my head. “If you don’t stop talking about Jesus, I’m going to blow your brains out,” he yelled. Thankfully, he never pulled the trigger, and I didn’t stop talking.

My parents didn’t throw me out, but for six years they did not acknowledge me as their son. After I graduated from high school, the Lord led me to attend Bible College, where I prepared for the ministry. There, my classmates and professors prayed for my family’s salvation. My mother wrote to me twice during my fresh­man year. The first letter told me to never come home again unless I gave up Jesus. Before summer break she wrote: “You can come home but don’t talk about Jesus.”

Answered Prayers

For many years my mother cared for my father, who had Par­kinson’s disease. Finally, physically and emotionally broken, she was hospitalized for months. It fell to me to care for Dad. I was annoyed; I had just completed my first year of Bible College and wanted to get a job to earn tuition money. After two weeks, the Lord convicted me of my bad attitude, and I asked both God and my father to forgive me. I then cared for Dad with love, getting his meals, helping him dress and shaving him. He listened as I shared why I believed Yeshua was our Jewish Messiah. Later that year, shortly before he died, Dad came to faith in Jesus.

After graduating from college, I married Janet. Mom lived with us for the last 16 years of her life. She had always kept a very strict kosher home, so we installed a separate kitchen for her. When she joined us on Jewish holidays, we always made sure her meal was kosher.  After eight years of observing us, she said, “You’re still Jewish, aren’t you?”   “Yes,” I said. “The only difference is that I believe our Messiah has come, and you believe He has not come yet.” Shortly before she died, she received the truth that our Messiah has indeed come.

My brother Jack and I eventually renewed our relationship. “I can see that you really have something,” he said, “but I’m not ready to accept Jesus. Maybe God just has to hit me over the head to see it.”   I began to pray that God would “hit” Jack over the head. And He did. Sometime later Jack’s apartment house burned. Trapped on the second floor, his only way out was to jump. He shattered a leg and lost a tremendous amount of blood. To complicate the situation, Jack had leukemia and could not reproduce the plate­lets his body needed to heal. The doctors were not sure he would survive.  I grabbed my brother’s hand in the emergency room and prayed in Messiah Jesus’ Name that God would bring him through. I then asked many friends to pray.

After three days Jack’s bone marrow started producing plate­lets. The doctor said, “This is amazing.” By the end of the week, Jack’s blood count was absolutely normal, and the doctor said, “This is a miracle!”  Jack said, “I know I’m getting well because you prayed to Messiah Jesus.” It took a few more years, but one day Jack con­fessed faith in Yeshua as his Savior.

My brother Herman, 18 years older than me, played the French horn in the symphony orchestra. For years I shared the messianic prophe­cies and invited him to believe. Each time, he said, “I’m glad for what it did for you, but I just don’t need it.”   One day his wife called and said that Herman, stricken with brain cancer, had just six months to live. I flew to California and shared Yeshua with him. Again he rejected the message.

Months later his wife told me Herman had just three weeks to live. She advised me not to come because he had lost the abil­ity to speak and would not recognize me. I felt strongly that I should go.  I arrived at their home, and when I walked into Herman’s room, he said, “Abe, it’s so good to see you. I’m so glad you came.” His wife about fell on the floor.  The night before I was to leave, I sat in Herman’s room, not knowing what to say. For 29 years he had rejected my witness. I began to pray silently, and at that moment, Herman said, “Abe, ever since you were here last time, I have been thinking about Jesus, and I would like to make Him part of my life.”  I said, “Herman, do you believe that Jesus is our Jewish Messiah?”  He said, “Yes.”  I then said, “Do you believe that it is only through His sacrifice for you that you can be forgiven of your sins?”  Again he said, “Yes.” I then led him in a prayer of repentance, and he received Yeshua as his Messiah and Savior. “Abe,” he said, “I feel great! We have to tell my wife about this.” I left the next morning, and three weeks later Herman died.  But I know I will see him, Jack, and my parents again in heaven.  

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What about you? 

Have you honestly examined the issue of Jesus being the Messiah and Savior for all people?  If you have, wonderful.  If you have not why not?  If Jesus is the Jewish Messiah, it is the most Jewish thing in the world to believe in Him.  You can search for more answers on our website, and/or you can contact us with your questions.  We'd like to talk to you!

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A Prayer for Salvation:

“Lord God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, I confess that I have sinned and broken your commandments. I deserve your punishment, but I repent and believe that you sent your son, Messiah Yeshua/Jesus, to be my sin bearer and to suffer and to die for my sins. I believe that Jesus died, was buried, and rose from the dead. Messiah Jesus, come into my heart, cleanse me with your blood, forgive me of my sins, make me your child, help me to live for you, to read the Bible daily and to tell others about you. Thank you for cleansing me of sin and writing my name in your Book of Life forever. Amen.”