My Jewish name is Gittel Fruma. It is Yiddish for “Good Pious.” Only with Him can I be either of those things. I am wife to a truth-seeking man of God and mother to a precious baby boy.
I was born into an Orthodox Jewish home and studied at a Chabad Hebrew School until I was eleven years old alongside the children of two Rabbis. My parents divorced when I was fourteen, but our Jewish customs were not affected by the split. I grew up eating strictly kosher, not using electricity on Shabbos (Sabbath), sitting on the women’s side of the synagogue and saying the Shema every night before I went to sleep. I referred to God as “Ha-Shem”, which literally means “The Name”. Even though I was transferred to secular public schools for my later education, I went to a Chabad synagogue almost every Saturday, had a Bat-Mitzvah at twelve years old and attended Jewish classes at the Jewish Community Center until I was fifteen.
Why am I telling you all of this? Simply to provide context for the gravity of what happened next. I encountered the Ruach HaKodesh, the Holy Spirit, in the last place I expected and realized that my Messiah had come. After all those years of waiting, He was alive, sitting at the right hand of God. And He died on a cross for my sins. His name is Yeshua, Jesus of Nazareth.
I am not writing to gain glory or popularity. My words exist for the sole purpose of drawing people near to their Messiah.
Jesus Christ is the One true Savior and He came first to the Jew, then to the gentile. What kind of a Jew would I be if I didn’t cry out to the nations that the God of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov sent His only Son to die as a sacrifice for our sins?
Please, look for Him as you read. Don’t look to me; I am nothing. Open your heart to His consuming love and be made whole, in Yeshua’s name.
To Him be all the glory and honor forever and ever. Amen.