Testimonies
I first met Itamar when we were helping soldiers during the war — bringing food and non-military equipment to those serving at the front. We stayed in touch after that, and when he was promoted to major he reached out and asked if he could come visit us in Haifa with his family. He arrived one Hanukkah evening with his wife and two daughters. We sat together, lit the hanukkiah, and sang Ma Oz Tzur. What surprised me that evening was that he came with questions — real, searching questions about Yeshua. I showed him a modern Hebrew Bible and watched his face as he read it. Something moved in him. That evening stays with me because what began as a simple act of wartime help became an open door to one of the most meaningful spiritual conversations I have had.
I met Nof through an American missionary family in our congregation. She had come to help them pack when they were leaving Israel, and during those hours together something about the peace in that family stopped her. She could not explain it. When I first sat with her I could sense straight away that she was searching — intelligent, serious, and carrying a lot of pain. We began meeting regularly. I answered her questions, we read Scripture together, and I prayed with her and for her. The war had added a heavy layer to everything she was already carrying — she had lost relatives on October 7 and had been evacuated from the north. There were moments of tears and real darkness. But I watched something shift in her over time, until one day she called me and said she was ready. She wanted to follow Yeshua. She had made her decision. I had the joy of being in the water with our pastor when she was baptized, and her family came to watch. Since then I have seen her faith begin to touch her father and her sister — a Reform rabbi who told Nof that what she has with Yeshua is very real.
I invited Eli and Adi to our Passover Seder more than a month into the war. I wanted them to sit at a table, to feel warmth, and to hear in a natural and unhurried way how the Seder points to the Gospel. The evening was simple but something about it clearly reached them. I could feel it around the table. Later that night as I drove them home they told me how much the message had affected them. And then before they got out of the car, they asked me when the next congregational meeting would be. That question told me everything. Something real had begun to open.
I met Judy in one of the Haifa shelters during the war. She had come from Ohio on her own, served in the Israeli army, and then stepped forward to volunteer in a shelter in one of the harder neighborhoods of the city. She was the kind of person who moves toward need rather than away from it. What happened to her in that shelter was painful — she was harmed and the system around her failed to protect her. I prayed for her and looked for opportunities to speak with her about Yeshua. Her story has stayed with me. She came to serve and was wounded in the place where she served. My prayer for her has always been the same — that her pain would not close her heart but lead her, in time, toward truth and healing.
“These are not statistics. These are souls. And every soul touched by Yeshua is a sign that God has not finished with Israel.”
Stories like these are only possible because of people who pray and give.
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