Noel
Hundreds of miles from civilization, I was sure this was the end. The agony of waiting was unbearable. Two of my buddies had died violently in a span of two weeks, and I was terrified that I might be next. My liberal Jewish upbringing had not prepared me for this. I was too occupied coping with life - how could I possibly be ready for death? What would happen to me then?
I tried to put these thoughts behind me and concentrate on the task at hand. In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, on an amphibious Marine assault ship, our full attention was demanded. But eerie memories of the burials at sea, raining, gray, dumping coffins overboard, intruded into every thought.
I stole a moment and wrote to my sister, Holly. So many times Holly said she was praying for me. Was she praying now, I wondered? Would it make any difference? I had thought she was a lunatic. How my own sister, raised in a Jewish home, could turn to Christianity was beyond my comprehension. I wanted nothing to do with her religion. If I was ever going to "get religious," it would have to be through Judaism. I supposed that God was lurking somewhere in the sky, but Jesus? I was Jewish! I had never given Jesus much of a thought.
Yet in the heat of the moment, against my better judgment, I prayed. I struck a bargain with God. If He could keep me alive, I would go to chapel in the next place they sent me, whether it was a synagogue or a church, or whatever.
Wouldn't you know it? By some "miracle," I was transferred. The tension was over, I was safe, and I was stuck with my rash promise.
So Sunday came, and I found myself sitting in the back of a Christian chapel service. My shirt felt unusually tight around my neck. I didn't hear a word of the sermon.
When it was over, I bolted for the door, but it was blocked. I looked up and saw a huge, six-foot-eight marine with blonde hair standing there, smiling. He introduced himself and offered to take me out to lunch. It's hard to say no when you're a foot shorter! Over a slice of pizza, this stranger shared the gospel with me. How could he possibly know about my bargain with God? After my encounter with eternity, his words rang true, and I prayed with him to receive Jesus. At that moment, I knew God was real and He had heard me.
But oh, did I feel guilt! For the next two weeks I was filled with angst over being Jewish and believing in Jesus. Had I made the wrong decision? How could I be Jewish and believe in Christ? I thought my sister and I must be the only Jewish aberrants in the world - until I met Mitch Glaser, that is.
Behind my back, the pastor of the church had written to Mitch and told him about my new faith. Mitch befriended me and helped me through those early difficulties. He introduced me to other Jewish people who believed in Jesus, and explained to me that if He was the Jewish Messiah, then it was natural for me to believe in Him.
