My Story

Shalom, y’all! Welcome to my blog! Before I get too deep into other confessions or discussions, I wanted to share a little bit of my testimony so you’ll have a better understanding of where I’m coming from and why.

The Questions

I was blessed to grow up in a family that emphasized personal Bible study and prayer time. My mother would pray Scripture over my siblings and me every night as she tucked us into bed. To this day, I still hear her voice when I read Proverbs 3, because night after night, she would speak those words of life into us: “Dear G-d, please help my children to trust in You with all their hearts and to lean not on their own understanding; in all their ways, may they acknowledge You, and may You direct their paths. In Jesus’s Name, amen.”

My mother also taught my siblings and me about G-d’s love for Israel and the Jewish people, which is evident through both Testaments of Scripture. In short, I was taught early on that Jesus did not come to start a new religion—He came to complete Judaism.

A high school classmate helped me understand this at a new level. He was a Gentile by birth, but his stepfather led his entire family to convert to Messianic Judaism. “You have to understand Judaism in order to truly understand Christianity,” he once told me. And I thought, “He’s right… I still have a lot to learn.”

As I grew in my study of the Word and my understanding of Judeo-Christian interconnectedness, I ran into apparent contradictions. If Christianity was meant to complete Judaism, why had we done away with so many of the commandments G-d gave the Jews? After all, those commandments are a part of the books we Christians revere as Scripture. So, why weren’t we keeping them?

But when I went to my parents or Church leaders with questions, the response was always the same: “Well, yeah, that’s a part of the Old Testament… but look! Now we have grace!” The word “grace” was presented like a shiny new toy. Thus, grace was used as a distracting point rather than as an actual answer (grace is the answer, by the way; but no one took the time to break it down for me).

After receiving the same general response, I eventually gave up my questions and continued on with my life.

Then, in 2012, G-d called my cousin on a trip to Israel. She came back different, passionate about the Jewish State and the Jewish people… and Torah-observant.

Both of her parents were appalled. What did she mean she wouldn’t work on Saturdays? Why would she have a problem with eating pork or lobster? How could she think that Torah was relevant to a Christian lifestyle? She was tearing her family apart!

All the while, I watched her family’s struggle with my own growing bewilderment. What was the problem? Given that Jesus was a Torah-observant Jew, my cousin’s choice wasn’t unbiblical. Of course, I certainly wasn’t going to give up bacon—especially not the maple kind (yum!). But if my cousin wanted to abstain from it, that was her choice. And given my own life experiences, I could understand the logic behind her decision.

But watching her walk in accordance with G-d’s Law brought all those long-buried questions to the forefront of my mind.

The Answer

In January of 2016, that same cousin showed me a video published by Psalm 119 Ministries entitled “The Deuteronomy 13 Test” (you can check out the video for yourself here). In short, the video explains that any Torah-observant Jew looks at non-Torah-observant Christians and declares Yeshua to be a false prophet… and they are right to do so. If Yeshua broke the Law and taught others to do the same, He could not have been the Messiah.

The notion struck me like a blow to the gut. I had always known He had “not come to abolish [the Law and the Prophets], but to fulfill them” (Matt. 5:17). But I had also been taught that Gentile Christians don’t need to observe all the little rules and regulations of the Law of Moses… right? While this apparent contradiction wasn’t enough to shake my faith, it is enough to prevent the majority of Torah-observant Jews from knowing their Messiah.

How was it, then, that I had become convinced that I was somehow “free” from Torah? That eating a ham sandwich or working on Saturdays was “no big deal”? If it’s enough to prevent someone from coming to Christ, it’s a big deal to me.

It took a long while for this understanding to sink in, though. I started trying to work less on Saturdays, trying to eat less pork, trying to do this and that… but in the words of a wise, little green man, “Do or do not; there is no try.” Ultimately, as much as I was “trying,” I wasn’t doing anything to truly change.

The breakthrough didn’t occur until that summer, though. And (I’m embarrassed to say) it only occurred because of a selfish request on my part.

By the summer of 2016, I’d completed my junior year of university. I’d also spent the last few months eating healthier and working out more, hoping to shed some of the freshman fifteen and get back to a place where I just felt healthy. But nothing seemed to work. “G-d,” I thought or prayed, “I’m doing everything I can, but nothing is working. What am I doing wrong?”

Now, you have to understand, when I ask G-d for help or guidance, I typically don’t expect an immediate and direct response. He doesn’t speak to me in an audible voice very often—I can count on one hand the number of times that’s happened. But apparently, it was taking me too long to accept His message, and He had to hammer the point into my thick skull somehow.

As I finished praying, He called my name with distinct dryness—as if irritated that I hadn’t been listening previously. “You do realize,” He reminded me, “that I’ve outlined an eating plan…”

Oh…

Well, then…

“Yes,” I finally managed. “I suppose You did.”

So, then, what would I do with His answer?

The Decision

Given G-d’s response, I resolved to abstain from biblically unclean meats, at least for the summer or until I was at that “healthy” place again. And while I was at it, I might as well set aside Saturdays for Him. I’d try it out, I told my cousin, though I might reconsider by the fall.

Unfortunately, not only was my commitment to Torah impermanent at best, but I treated my new eating plan like a diet… which includes cheat days. At my brother’s birthday party, when shrimp fried rice was served, I thought, “Well… it would be rude to refuse. I might as well eat it. Besides, it’s just shrimp—eating it is no big deal.”

But then deep inside my spirit was the sting of betrayal and the solid weight of conviction. It was as if G-d was telling me, “That’s nice… you keep My commandments only when they’re convenient for you?” Beneath it all was the anger and pain of infidelity.

It’s hard to explain what it felt like; there wasn’t the type of guilt that says, “You’re a horrible person,” but there was the type of conviction that says, “You’re capable of doing better things.”

That was when I realized I had to make a permanent decision.

In the following days, I came clean to my family and let them know He had called me to keep kosher. And I realized this wasn’t simply a temporary commitment but a long-term lifestyle change. From then on, even though no one but my cousin understood, there was peace—shalom—and a blessed assurance that I was where G-d wanted me to be.