I grew up in a Jewish family with Jewish friends. I went to a Jewish school and lived in a Jewish neighborhood. I didn’t know anything about Christianity. I thought everyone was Jewish. 

I learned about God through the Old Testament, but I didn’t know Him personally. As I became a teenager, God was not relevant to me. 

In December of my sophomore year of high school, my older brother Mark was in a car accident. While we waited for the news, I did something I had never truly done before. I prayed. “God, I don’t know who You are. I don’t know if You’re real. I don’t know if You care about us, but if You’re there, save his life.” 

A few moments later, we learned that Mark had been driving home on a snowy highway and was hit by a semi-truck. He was not wearing a seatbelt, and he died in the hospital before my parents could be with him.  

I angrily said to God, “Where were You? If You really cared, if You were really powerful, You could have saved his life.” 

The grief in our home was stifling, and big, deep questions haunted me. “Where is God? Where do we go when we die? Why do bad things happen to good people?” I studied hard to get into a good university, but on the weekends, I distracted myself from the pain in my heart and the questions no one could answer. 

I attended the University of Michigan and met a Catholic girl named Sarah who lived down the hall. We had nothing in common except we were both athletes. We started going to the gym, and we developed a friendship. 

One day in class, an English professor assigned us an essay on the Book of Romans. The New Testament was off limits to me, but Sarah loaned me her Bible for the assignment. I didn’t know who Jesus or Paul were, but what caught my eye was this Bible that Sarah obviously read often. She had underlined and highlighted so many passages; she wrote her prayers, thoughts, and questions on the margins. I thought, “This is a conversation. She’s talking to this Word that she believes is alive, that she believes is God, and this Word is talking back to her.” 

A few months later, Sarah invited me to watch Jesus of Nazareth. As I watched, I exclaimed, “He’s Jewish!” My whole life, I had not known anything about this man Jesus, who was not only a good Jew but one of the best men I had ever seen. 

I had a lot of shame in my life, and watching the loving way He related to women amazed me. I watched the scene unfold as Martha and Mary greeted Jesus, who was too late to save Lazarus from death. “Lord, if you had been here, our brother would not have died.” I thought, “This is like the script from my own life. I need to leave. I cannot watch death triumph again.” 

But I felt an invisible force holding me there. I watched as Jesus went to the tomb where Lazarus had been dead for four days, and He called forth his friend from the dead. I was stunned. “Who is this man? Could He be the Messiah?” 

I couldn’t sleep that night. I went to Sarah’s room and knocked on her door. She opened it and handed me her Bible. Back in my room, I read the Gospels for the first time. I got to that place where Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life, the one who believes in me will never die, the one who believes in me will live forever” (Jn 11:25-26). I didn’t really understand it, but I knew it contained a promise, and a seed of hope sprang up in me. For the second time in my life, I prayed. “God, I don’t know who You are, but if Jesus is the Messiah, show me and give me the faith to believe.” 

A month later, I went home for the summer, and like Nicodemus at night, with a flashlight, I began reading the Scriptures. I studied the messianic prophecies in the Old Testament, and I read what Jesus said about who He was and the cost of following Him.  

When I returned to school in the fall, I continued to pray and read the Scriptures daily. I was seeking the truth. At Thanksgiving, I asked my parents, “Did you ever think Jesus could be the Messiah?” That weekend was a difficult sneak preview of the cost. If I chose to believe that Jesus was the Messiah, my family might alienate me, and the course of my life would change. 

I went back to school, and a few nights later, I had a vivid dream. I was standing in a long, dark hallway. A voice called out: “Who do you say that I am?” I couldn’t see anything. Then, a second time: “Who do you say that I am?” and I saw the shape of a person. And then a third time: “Who do you say that I am?” In my dream, Jesus stood in front of me. I said, “You’re Jesus, You’re Jesus, You’re Jesus.” 

The next morning, I confided to Sarah my dream and my doubts. “I’ve done my homework. I’ve studied the Scriptures and I have an intellectual assent to the faith, but I don’t have the conviction and strength to stand firm.” Sarah wisely responded, “Continue to pray, to seek, to ask, and to knock.” 

A few nights later, I was in my dorm room speaking that now familiar prayer: “God, I don’t know who You are, but if Jesus is the Messiah, show me and give me the faith to believe.” The room filled with an incredible presence and light, and I knew God was there. I didn’t know what He wanted, but I knew He was there, and I was afraid. I said, “God, I don’t know who You are, but I’ve messed up my life. I’ve broken many of your commandments. If you give me another chance, I want to live differently. I want to live my life for You.” As I prayed, Jesus was with me in the room holding his hand out toward me as if offering me something. 

He spoke, not in an audible voice but to my heart: “This is for you. This is the faith you sought for. You did nothing to deserve it or to earn it, but this is the gift of faith.” At that moment, I knew Jesus was the Messiah. I knew He loved me, had a plan for my life, and was guiding me.  

I knew that no matter what trials and sacrifices came with my family, He would be with me. And I knew He was worth it. He was the pearl of great price, and I wanted to give all for Him. 

My story is dramatic, but that same God wants to meet each one of us every day. He wants to meet our children, neighbors, co-workers, and everyone we pray for. I want to leave you with two challenges. One, be a Sarah—a courageous man or woman not afraid to show Jesus’ love to those least likely to receive Him. And two, don’t stop praying for others. Even after the estrangement I experienced with my family, God brought tremendous healing to our relationships. I was able to be with and pray for both my parents in the moment of their deaths. Let my story inspire you with hope; no one is too far away for God to reach in his love and mercy.

This article is condensed from Debbie Herbeck’s talk at the 2024 Lift Jesus Higher Rally. It originally appeared in Renewal Ministries’ May 2024 newsletter. You can hear her talk here. You can access all the 2024 Lift Jesus Higher talks here.