The purpose of life is to figure out what your talent is, and to use it for the glory of God. The world will define you by your occupation and status, but in God’s kingdom you will be measured by the degree to which you made the most of the talent He gave you — see The Parable of the Talents.
No, I am not saying that you are saved by your works, but that you were created for good works to do those things which God has prepared you (Ephesians 2:10).
What is your talent? Can you sing? Are you good with your hands? How do you use those gifts to exalt the One who created you? I’m not talking about making money, or earning a living. Paul, for example, was a tent maker, but he wasn’t defined by that skill. The Apostle was purposed to achieve even greater things for the kingdom of God.
Me? I was born to write, but from that first op-ed (published in the local paper when I was 14 years-old) I exclusively wrote about politics. It wasn’t until much later that God told me to stop writing about politics, and glorify Him. That’s when Messiah Gate was born. It was the third time that the LORD intersected my life, and coincided with the passing of my Dad.
Years ago, back in my High School days, there was a Jewish girl who caught my fancy. Diane used to sit with her friend Carla on a bench in the campus garden. I had a crush on Diane, but her Dad was the gym coach. He was of small stature, but built like steel. I was afraid of him, and couldn’t drum up the courage to approach his daughter. If I played this wrong I’d be doomed to four years of hardcore calisthenics. Every night I’d sit by the phone trying to get the nerve to call her, but it never happened. What if her Dad answered? What if she didn’t like me? If I made the wrong move I was facing sixty minutes of push-ups … everyday until I graduated.
One day, I saw Diane sitting alone in the garden, and God poured over me a supernatural courage to approach her. No sooner had I gotten there that Carla sat down. The two girls opened up what appeared to be Bibles, and began a lunchtime Bible study. Okay, so these are two Jewish girls who sit alone everyday and this is what they do — read from, what, the Gospel of John? No, Jews do not believe in Jesus … do they? Does Diane’s steely Dad know that his daughter owns a Christian Bible? I didn’t know what to think. As I’m trying to process all of this Diane asked me if I wanted to join them. This was the first time God intersected my life.
I walked away, and Diane became a distant memory.
Years later I moved to a different city, and a couple invited me to go to church. I went several times (was even contacted about attending Bible college), but it was far away and, not having a car, I started attending a church nearer to home. After a couple of visits the pastor asked me to help a woman and her daughter move to a new apartment. Long story short, as I’m moving a sofa up two flights of stairs, the mother tells me that she and her daughter are Jewish. I dropped the sofa on my feet, and had a flashback to Diane and Carla. So, there are four Jews who believe in Yeshua? Is this some kind of conspiracy? The mother and I sat down on the stairs and she shared her testimony of Jesus Christ. It was quite remarkable.
As I walked home after a long, hard day it started to pour. The rain was so hard it left welts on my flesh. The wind blew with such gale force that it pushed me back two steps for every one step forward. I tried to find shelter under an oak tree, but then the lightning struck … much too close. God had intersected my life for the second time.
This was followed by a long period of exile — my prodigal stage, if you will. It was marked by spiritual, physical, personal and financial upheaval including four years when I was housebound with acute panic disorder. I couldn’t even walk downstairs to get the morning newspaper. At this time I had moved across the street from the church where I met the Jewish mother and daughter, but I could not find the strength to get up and go to church.
On the verge of homelessness, God yet preserved my life. It took time to break free from Satan’s grip, and then my Dad passed away. I remembered how he used to fix me a plate of sandwiches back in the day when no one spoke of anorexia and bulimia … when the neighbors thought I had cancer (that would come later). And it was Dad who taught me that Christians — not Jews — believe in Jesus. As I stood over my kitchen sink, washing the dishes, I couldn’t bear the burden of losing my Dad. I thought I would die. I can’t explain what happened at that moment, but it was almost a physical sensation — like an empty glass that is filled with water. I was being filled with the very spirit of the living and true God. There were manifestations, like speaking in tongues, and I felt unshackled of the grief that bound me … just as the Jewish mother tried to explain to me that day when we sat upon her stairs.
That was the third time that God intersected my life, and I have clung to Him ever since. Throughout all of this I did not turn to alcohol, drugs or sex to anesthetize my pain and suffering. Those are the world’s prescriptions for which I have at long last discovered there is only one cure …
… Jesus Christ.
If only I had listened so many years ago when God tried to speak to me through a young Jewess named Diane. I might have gotten married and had a family. I might have lived a life that made the most of all that God has given me. I might even have gotten over my fear of Diane’s father who most certainly would have had me doing a thousand sit-ups — on my wedding day. Or maybe, just maybe, things have unfolded as they should. Hard lessons are not soon forgotten, and a crown of life is awaiting.
Compelling stories of Jews finding Jesus:
Visit Us at Blogspot
Copyright © 2016 Messiah Gate