I remember that night in 1977 very clearly. Two young men walked up to me and said, "Mister, do you know Christ? Because if you don't know Christ you're going to hell!"

I had grown up in New York City, one of the largest cities in the world. In my 26 years, I had never heard the good news of Messiah. Those two young men thought they were sharing the good news with me. Actually, they never did. They only made me want to stay as far away from it, whatever "it" was, as I could.

My family and my synagogue had prepared me for the confrontation of that night in 1977. They had taught me that Christians wanted to do one of two things to Jewish people: convert us, or kill us -- and they really didn't care which one came first!

I had learned about the crusades of "Christian" Europe -- how the crusaders, with crosses on their shields, murdered, raped, looted, and pillaged Jewish communities across Europe and the Holy Land.

I had learned about the Spanish Inquisition, where thousands of Jews who refused forced conversion were murdered, and thousands who accepted forced conversion were later tortured and murdered simply because they were Jews. I had learned about the murderous pogroms (organized massacre of helpless people) of Eastern Europe and Russia, often sanctioned and authorized by the "Church". And, of course, we were taught about the "final solution" of "Christian" Nazi Germany to completely exterminate the Jewish people.

As far as I was concerned, Christians didn't have a very good track record towards Jews. I told these two men that I was not interested in what they had to say, and that the way they treated me and the things they said to me proved that everything I had heard about those Christians was true.

You see, it was God who had made me a Jew. And if God had made me a Jew, I couldn't see why He would want me to convert and become something other than what He created me to be. Why would He want me to turn my back on my people, my culture, my heritage, and my religion? It just didn't make any sense.

Several years later I moved to Miami, Florida. I went to get a haircut and found myself engaged in a very interesting conversation about the meaning of life with the young Jewish woman cutting my hair. I had questions. Who was I? What purpose did my life have?

At the end of what had to be longest haircut of my life, she looked at me and said, "You are ready". Then this Jewish woman invited me to attend church with her. I was shocked! I said, "You don't go to church. You're Jewish!" She said it was just a Christmas party and there would be free food. As a bachelor, I never passed up an opportunity for free food! So I went with her to a local church for a Christmas "party".

I met a young man at the party and during the course of our conversation, I told him that I was Jewish and that my mother had recently passed away. This young man looked at me and said, "You are going to hell and your mother is already there!" In his mind, that was the "good news". I was so hurt and so angry that I just wanted to get as far away as I could from those hypocrites. But something made me stay.

Later that night, my young Jewish hairdresser took out her Bible and began to share with me from Isaiah, Jeremiah, Micah, and Zechariah. She showed me something I had never seen before: the Jewish Messiah in the Jewish Scriptures. She explained to me how as a Jew, the most Jewish thing I could do was to believe in and follow the Messiah of Israel. That night I did a lot of soul searching.

It made sense. If a Jew is going to be a true Jew, he must believe the words of the Torah and the Prophets and the Writings. He must believe in the one true and living God, and he must receive the promised Messiah. But who was the Messiah?

It seemed all too painfully clear that the Scriptures spoke of the one the Christians called Jesus. But how could he be the Messiah when for 2,000 years his followers have hated and killed Jews? I could not believe in Him!

But the more I read, the more I realized that my sins separated me from God and that there was no atonement left for me. If Yeshua (Jesus) was the Messiah, I needed to know. It was too important not to know. I cried out in prayer to the only God I knew, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I prayed that the Lord would show me the truth... and He did. I realized at that moment that believing in Him was the only thing that a good Jew could do. I realized that I was not converting or turning my back on my people or my God, but that I was embracing everything that God had made me to be. Now, for the first time in my life, it all made sense -- why God had made me who I was, and what my purpose was for being.

Two thousand years ago, all of the first believers in Messiah were Jewish and they continued to live as Jews, as God created them to be. These Jewish men and women took the truth of the Jewish Messiah to the ends of the earth -- yes, even to the Gentiles -- and they changed the world. Now, it was my turn to take my place alongside them.