The Just shall live by faith: Shabbat Re'eh

 The Just shall live by faith

Shabbat Re'eh 25 Av 5786

By Bob Mendelsohn

7-8 August 2026

Torah (Deuteronomy 11:26- 16:17)

Haftarah (and extension): (Isaiah 54:11 - 55:13)

 

Greetings

Shabbat shalom.

Thank you, Rabbi Kevin, for your kind invitation, and thank you to each of you here at Beth Hallel for welcoming me today. It's always a privilege to open the Scriptures together. My prayer is that what we study this morning will strengthen this congregation, encourage God's Kingdom here in Georgia, and reach even farther through the livestream and YouTube.

Let's see what the Lord has to say to us.

Introduction

Over the last two weeks, Rabbi Kevin has been leading us in a wonderful direction.

Two weeks ago, he began with Habakkuk 2:4: "The righteous shall live by faith." He called the message "Have Faith," and reminded us from Hebrews 11 that faith is not merely believing something is true—it is trusting God enough to live accordingly. I especially appreciated his illustration of praying for his mother during her illness. Faith allows us to remain faithful.

Then last week he spoke about Caleb and the ten spies. His message was titled Tenacity. Caleb refused to surrender to fear because he trusted God's promises. As we sang, God is worthy to be praised, why? He keeps his promises. Along the way Kevin quoted his father, my dear friend Rabbi Robert Solomon of blessed memory, who said, "Hanging on is like a loose tooth."

Now, in Tennessee, where I've been spending part of the summer, we have another expression: "He's hanging on like a hair in a biscuit." I'm not recommending either illustration before dinner, but both describe perseverance. Faith keeps holding on because God is worth trusting.

Today’s parashah is Re'eh—"Look."

That simple command becomes the thread running through everything I want to say today. Because I believe this week's Torah portion, together with its Haftarah, answers one of the biggest questions many sincere believers wrestle with:

How do we obey God without becoming trapped in performance? Or to say it another way:

How do righteousness, peace and joy fit together? I want to suggest today that the answer begins with one simple command.

Look. Look to the Lord.

This is easy to say; it’s not easy to make happen. So many other things cause us to look away. We sang, “lift up your eyes and see him coming.” Like Peter in the water, he stood distracted, divided, by the water and the call of Yeshua. 

My question—how do we see God when so many other things are grabbing at our attention?  Today we will try to unpack the answer to that enigma.

What is the summary of the Tanakh?

There's a famous discussion in the Talmud (Makkot 24a). It traces how the 613 mitzvot were gradually summarized through Israel's history.

Moses gave us the 613 commandments.

David summarized them into eleven in Psalm 15.

Isaiah reduced them to six. (Isaiah 33:15)

Micah famously reduced them to three:

"Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God." (6.8)

Isaiah later summarized them into two: "Maintain justice and do righteousness." (56.1)

Then comes the final question. What is the one great summary of the whole Tanakh? The answer may surprise you.

Habakkuk 2:4. "The righteous shall live by faith."

That is why I appreciated Rabbi Kevin beginning there two weeks ago. He wasn't simply choosing a favourite verse. He was pointing us toward one of the great summary statements of all Scripture. And that verse becomes the key that unlocks much of what we're reading today.

What does emunah really mean?

The Hebrew word in Habakkuk is emunah. It's richer than simply "believing." It carries the ideas of faithfulness, steadfastness, trustworthiness and loyal dependence upon God. Over the centuries Jewish interpreters have understood this verse in slightly different ways.

Some emphasized our faithfulness—that God's people are called to remain loyal to Him, especially during difficult times.

Others, particularly through the Septuagint, emphasized God's faithfulness—that life depends upon His covenant promises rather than our own strength.

Still others connected faithfulness with careful obedience to Torah.

Then comes Yeshua and the writers of the New Testament. Rather than choosing only one of those ideas, they bring them together. We live because God has proved Himself faithful, supremely through Messiah Yeshua. And because He is faithful, we place our complete trust in Him.

Faith is not passive agreement. Faith is active reliance. That's why Habakkuk became such a foundational verse for Paul and for the writer to the Hebrews. (Romans 1.17; Gal. 3.11, Heb 10.38)

When I was growing up as an Orthodox Jewish boy in Kansas City, I understood religion largely in terms of performance. Be Torah compliant. Try harder. Do better. The weight rested on my shoulders.

Many sincere religious people—Jewish and Christian alike—still live that way today. But after coming to know Yeshua, I discovered something wonderfully freeing. Our acceptance before God rests first on His faithfulness, not ours. Our response matters enormously. Obedience matters. Holiness matters. Torah matters.

But they become the fruit of a relationship, not the price of admission. That changes everything. Because once you know you are right with God, something remarkable follows.

Righteousness produces peace. And peace produces joy. That's where we're going today.

Righteousness, Peace and Joy

There's a verse in Romans that has become increasingly precious to me over the years. At the end of Paul's discussion about Torah, food laws, and life together in the community of believers, he writes: "The Kingdom of God is not only about eating and drinking, but righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit." (Romans 14:17)

Notice the order. Not peace, righteousness and joy. Not joy, peace and righteousness.

First comes righteousness—being right with God. From that flows peace. And from peace comes joy. I don't think that's accidental.

So many people are trying to find peace by trying harder. They're striving to become acceptable to God. They're hoping that if they pray enough, obey enough, give enough, serve enough, perhaps then they'll finally experience peace.

But Paul reverses the order. When you know that you're right with God through His grace, peace follows naturally. And when peace settles into your soul, joy isn't far behind. That's why Paul says the Kingdom isn't ultimately about eating or drinking. It isn't about arguing over what we may eat or when we may eat it. Those discussions have their place, but they aren't the centre of the Kingdom.

The centre is this: Right with God. At peace with God. Filled with joy because of God.

Let me make one clarification. Joy is not the same thing as happiness. Happiness depends on things happening to happen the way you want them to happen. If everything goes your way today, you're happy. If it doesn't, happiness disappears almost as quickly as it arrived. Joy is different. Joy remains because your relationship with God remains. Joy is the quiet confidence that comes from knowing you belong to Him.

That's why Yeshua could say on the night before His crucifixion, "My peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you—not as the world gives." (John 14.27) And a little later, "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16.33)

Notice what He did not promise. He didn't promise an easy life. He promised His peace in the middle of a difficult life. That's a very different promise.

Paul later says of Messiah, "He Himself is our peace." (Ephesians 2.14) Not merely the giver of peace. He is our peace. When we're right with Him, peace follows. And where peace lives, joy begins to flourish.

A lesson I never forgot

May I tell you a story? More than twenty years ago, at Messiah Conference, I learned something I'll never forget.

Rabbi Robert Solomon was there, as always, with Miss Dottie. I was representing Jews for Jesus in the marketplace. One afternoon I was invited into a gathering of rabbis. The discussion turned to a book that hadn't even been published yet, but somehow it had already become controversial.

Then my friend, Rabbi Joe Bell from Tennessee, looked across the room and said, "Bob can answer that." I remember thinking, "Really?" None of us had read the book—including me. Yet suddenly I found myself standing at the front of the room answering questions about it. Most of the rabbis had welcomed the author of this book to their pulpits over the years to share his story of faith.

To be honest, it felt less like a question-and-answer session and more like an inquisition. After collecting my thoughts, I simply said, "None of us has read the book. I haven't read it. Let's not judge a brother before we've even read what he's written." The conversation continued. Questions came. Answers came. Eventually the meeting ended.

People were gracious—they even applauded. I survived. About ten minutes later Rabbi Robert walked past me in the hallway, smiled that wonderful smile of his and said, "Bobby... you dodged a bullet." I'd never heard him use that expression before. By the end of the week, he'd said it several more times. I've never forgotten it.

Not simply because it was funny. Because throughout that entire afternoon I experienced something remarkable. Peace. Not because I knew every answer. But because I honestly believed I was trying to honour the Lord with the right spirit. Sometimes peace doesn't come from having all the answers. It comes from knowing you're standing in the right place before God.

Holiness is a community project

That experience also taught me something else. One of the great temptations in both churches and Messianic congregations is to make holiness almost entirely personal. When I visit congregations around the country, I often notice something before the service even begins.

I watch where people sit.

Seriously. People naturally sit near people they know and love. If everyone is scattered with great empty spaces between them, I already know I'll have an uphill battle talking about community. Because biblical holiness was never intended to be a solo project.

Suppose today we were studying Leviticus 19. Most of us would immediately start examining our personal behaviour. How am I doing? Am I praying enough? Reading enough? Giving enough? Serving enough?

Those are good questions. But they aren't the only questions. Much of Torah isn't simply asking, "Am I holy?" It's asking, "Are we becoming holy together?"

Think about leaving the corners of the field unharvested. (Lev. 19.9-10, 23.22) That command wasn't simply about making the landowner holy. It was about feeding the poor while preserving their dignity.

Think about Job. (31.13-28). Or think about the prophets. Think about Yeshua teaching the disciples to pray,

"Our Father..." Not My Father. "Give us..." not me. "Forgive us..." "Deliver us..."

Biblical faith is wonderfully personal. But it is never merely private. We need one another. That's why encouragement matters. Like Rabbi Robert gave me that week. That's why accountability matters. That's why we pray together. That's why we confess our sins to one another. That's why congregations matter.

God isn't simply creating holy individuals. He's creating a holy people.

Resting instead of striving

Let me bring us back to this week's readings. Shabbat is God's weekly reminder that the world keeps turning even when we stop working. That's harder for some of us than we'd like to admit. If I'm always striving, I'm never truly resting. If I'm always trying to prove myself to God, I'll never enjoy the God who welcomes me. Shabbat was never intended to become another competition.

It's an invitation. An invitation to trust. An invitation to stop performing. An invitation to rest in the goodness and faithfulness of God.

Checklist Religion is how many people simplify their walk with God. If you satisfy his commandments, then you are feeling good about yourself. You think you have succeeded, and honestly, we often feel smug and prideful. Alternatively, if you fail last week, reviewing your actions or inactions, and you determine that you didn’t get a perfect score. You often feel condemned by your failures. Listen, to every checklist religionist, there are only two possible outcomes—pride or condemnation. Neither of which are from heaven.

Isaiah points us in the same direction (55.7-13)

To counter the notion of a checklist religion, listen again to our Haftarah. God says, "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways." We often quote those words in isolation but look at the context. Just before that He says, "He will abundantly pardon." That's the point.

God's ways are not our ways. If we were God, we'd probably keep score. We'd make people earn another chance. We'd remember every failure. God says, "I abundantly pardon." Do you believe that? Or do you secretly think God spends His time waiting for you to make your next mistake?

Isaiah goes on to say, "You shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace." There it is again.

Joy. Peace. Exactly where Paul takes us in Romans. When we're right with God, peace follows. When peace settles into our hearts, joy begins to overflow. No wonder Isaiah pictures the mountains singing and the trees clapping their hands. Creation itself celebrates the grace of God.

Re'eh—Look. Don't miss the title of this week's parashah.

Re'eh. Look. The rich young ruler came to Yeshua. (Mark 10.21) Mark tells us something beautiful. "Yeshua looked at him and loved him." Before He challenged him... Before He called him... Before He exposed the one thing that held his heart... He loved him. What if that's how God looks at you?

Then think about Peter. After denying Yeshua three times, the rooster crowed. Luke tells us, "The Lord turned and looked at Peter." (Luke 22.61) Can you imagine that moment? Not a look of hatred. Not a look of disgust. A look that broke Peter's heart because it reminded him that he was still loved.

Then think about Stephen. As the stones began to fall, what did he do? He looked up. He saw the glory of God. He saw Yeshua standing to welcome him home. (Acts 7.55)

Three different people. Three different situations. One command. Re'eh. Look. Look to Him.

One last story

Years ago, I heard a story about an Italian peasant who looked into the sky and became convinced that Jesus was returning. He ran to tell his parish priest. The priest looked up and immediately hurried to tell the bishop. The bishop hurried to Rome. Eventually they stood before the Pope.

"Holy Father," they cried, "look up! Jesus is coming!" The Pope went to the window and looked out and quickly returned to his desk, grabbed a pen and started writing furiously.

Finally, the peasant asked, "Holy Father... what are you doing?" The Pope replied, "Jesus is coming... Look busy!"

I love that story. Because I'm afraid that's exactly how many religious people think. "Quick! Do something religious! God's watching!" No. That's not the Gospel. That's not Isaiah. That's not Paul. That's not Yeshua.

So, what should we do?

Should we obey?

Of course. Should we pursue holiness? Absolutely. Should we care for the poor? Without question. Should we love one another deeply? Yes.

But none of those things earns God's love. They flow from God's love. Good works are the fruit of salvation. They're never the price of admission. That's why Isaiah invites us, "Why do you spend your money on what is not bread? (55.2)... Listen to Me (.2)... Come to Me (.3).. Hear, that your soul may live. (.3)"

The invitation isn't, "Try harder." The invitation is, "Come to Me."

This is the season of comfort

These weeks after Tisha B'Av are called Nachamu—and include seven weeks of comfort. For Israel, they prepare us for hope after judgment. For those of us who have found Messiah, that comfort doesn't last merely seven weeks. It lasts forever.

Isaiah says, "Turn to Me and be saved." (45.22) Not, "Impress Me." Not, "Perform for Me." Not, "Earn My approval." Turn to Me.

Conclusion

So let me leave you with the simplest word in this week's parashah.

Re'eh. Look.

Look to the One whose faithfulness never fails. Look to the One who abundantly pardons. Look to the One who makes us righteous—not because we have earned it, but because He is faithful.

And when you know you're right with Him... You'll discover peace. A Shabbat of peace, or as we say Shabbat Shalom. And beyond today, where peace lives... Joy quietly follows.

Yes, the King is coming again. Until then... Let's care for one another. Let's make holiness a community project. Let's encourage one another. Let's welcome the stranger. Let's lift the weary. And above all...

Let's not merely look busy. Let's look to Him. For the righteous shall live by faith.

Amen?

One final word. 

You might know that I’ve worked with Jews for Jesus for the last 47 years and had the privilege to know your founding rabbi when this gathering was called Jewish believers and friends. I remember hosting Miss Dottie when she was going to NYC to get the Torah decorations, the rimmonim, the Ner Tamid, and making a deal. She trusted me to help her both on the Lower East Side and over in Brooklyn. Good times. I remember being there near the beginning of the congregation in Indianapolis where little Dara was learning to play piano with her family, and her dad who was a university music professor – imagine!

God has been kind to keep me for all these decades and to bring His will in my life. To help me “look up and live” (Numbers 21.4-9) like the wilderness Israelites did when the snakes were biting our life out of us. God has saved me and kept me by his promises. I’m surrendering to him, that I will look up this Shabbat, and will make this commitment again on Sunday, and God willing every day until He returns. 

As a missionary, I’ve served in the US and the last 28 years in Sydney. Let us keep serving him as a fruit of our looking up to gain his life in us today and from now on.

Shabbat shalom!

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For more information about Bob, check his website TheRealBobM.com

For more information about Jews for Jesus, check the web at JewsForJesus.org

For more information about Congregation Beth Hallel, check out https://bethhallel.org/

 

Between the holidays... from Kansas City on Shabbat Bamidbar

Introduction 

Shabbat shalom to each of you here at the congregation and to any who will watch us on YouTube later. I appreciate the opportunity to address you this morning on Shabbat Bamidbar. You might know that I’m originally from Kansas City, from Prairie Village, born in 1951 and even graduated KU back in the 1970s. But when I drove here this morning from Overland Park, I passed through Ruskin Heights, and I had a flashback of 1957 and the tornado that devastated that area. Perhaps some of you were around then and remember that season as well. (For full details, see https://www.weather.gov/eax/RuskinHeights ) The anniversary of that tragic meteorological event is next Wednesday on the 20^th. Next year will be its 70^th anniversary. 

You see, I was only 5 years old at the time, but every year during tornado season which was then defined as 2 months, April to June, at our home, from then on, we had a practice drill, and then often real actions when someone would report a sighting of a twister. The drill included flipping the sofa onto its back in the living room and bringing the transistor radio into the small cavern that created. We each had a glass of water and some reading materials. We were ready for the tornado if it came. We had no basement. No real safe place. But that posture and that position is how we prepared for the eventual weather problem. As you can see, we survived and never had to survive any more than a drill. 

You will understand why when I passed the exit for Blue Ridge Boulevard this morning, I pondered that fateful day when 44 people died and hundreds more were injured. Even though we are officially here in Tornado Alley, it was only 1957 and Ruskin Heights which are fixed in my mind. You might be thinking, ok, Bob, why are you telling us about this?

A packed series of holidays

Let me give you some Jewish context. Next week we will celebrate Shavuot. In fact during the last six weeks, we have celebrated Passover, as well as the Feast of Matzot, and that mysterious 3^rd day holiday, First Fruits. We have also noted during the counting of the Omer other Yomim. These holidays are Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance), Yom Hazikaron (Memorial Day), Yom Ha'atzmaut (Independence Day), and Lag BaOmer. Then last week we noted Yom Yerushalayim. Are you weary of such continuous observances? Perhaps if you lived and worked in Israel, then Memorial Day (Zikaron) and Independence Day (Ha’atzma’ut) and Jerusalem Day would make much more sense. But think about it. We have similar events in the US; they are just more spread out. Shoah in January is even noted worldwide. Memorial Day will feature next weekend. July 4 is in a couple of months. We don’t have a special day for a city like Jerusalem or even a region that came into the Union after our Founding, but otherwise, we, like other countries, honour the past. 

Let me ask you. What is the point of all these holidays? Or really, what is the point of any holiday? Is it just to take time off work and get paid for it? Like Presidents’ Day or Labour Day? Is that why we have those holidays? Or is it only to look backwards?

What is the point?

Today

You see, I believe that as people, set apart people, we have responsibilities in time. We must live as godly people today. That’s the present. We are called to holy living. We are commanded to do what God wants. And what is that? Micah the prophet says, “What does the Lord require of thee? To do justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with thy God.” (6.8)

James, or Ya’akov, the apostle taught us that “pure and undefiled religion is to take care of widows and orphans in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.” (1.27)

OK, that’s part of the mandate for believers in our day. And on this day. Care for the stranger. Love of neighbour. Love God with everything you have. Lock it in. That’s a today thing.

What about the future? What will God want from us in the future? Read through the tochacha which we saw in last week’s parasha, the short list in Leviticus 26 (Behar-Bechukotai) and even if you have time the long list in Deuteronomy 28. The commands are detailed, and the consequences of failure is repeated so clearly, that we must surely take it all on board. We think we do ok, now and then, with biblical compliance, but if we are honest, rigorously honest, we will admit to continuous failures. Listen to this warning in Deuteronomy 28.47 and following: 

“Because you did not serve the Lord your God with joy and a glad heart, for the abundance of all things;  therefore you shall serve your enemies whom the Lord will send against you, in hunger, in thirst, in nakedness, and in the lack of all things; and He will put an iron yoke on your neck until He has destroyed you.” (.47-48)

I love that passage. God doesn’t want us to function as machines. He loves us personally. Not privately, don’t get that wrong. Personally, and communally. That’s why you meet together. That’s why you are a congregation.  And together we are responsible for one another to help support each other to do justly, love mercy and walk together humbly with God, with joy and a glad heart, for the abundance of all things. I don’t have everything, but together we have all things. I’m not the body of Messiah; we are. Together. And as the body, we take care of one another, like a comforting hand to a stubbed toe. That’s an honest future hope.

I’m not called to fulfill Torah by myself. I’m not called to love in the new commandment that Yeshua invoked on us. We are. I’m part of y’all. You are part of me. And there are other parts of the Body of King Messiah here in KC meeting even this morning. And there are other parts of His body meeting tomorrow and Tuesday and any and every day. We are not in another body; we are in His body. And together we can, as the first disciples were, called to monitoring and support, to make His great name known on the planet. To the Jew first, and also to the Gentiles. 

So that’s present and that’s the future. But what about the past? 

That’s where holidays come in. And memory. And history. And grandparents. You see, in our days, for many looking backwards is considered passé. Even though we know the citation of Santayana from over 100 years ago, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." This famous aphorism by philosopher George Santayana, published in his 1905 work The Life of Reason, emphasizes that learning from history is essential to avoid repeating past mistakes, failures, and conflicts.

It’s shocking, isn’t it, when you speak with some people near us or online, especially those who are fuelling racism and antisemitism, when we try to speak to them, and help them with history about Jewish people, that they are surprisingly ignorant of us. It’s disappointing. 

Friends, here at B’nai Yeshurun, I’m keen to help us all find meaning looking at all times. Whether that is looking backwards, or looking in the mirror, and in the Word of God, and in the future plans of the Lord. Those backward looks are designed to strengthen us for today. They are designed to remind us of good times and bad times in our own history and in the history of the people in the Bible. 

So we have holidays and Scripture and memories. And here’s one—corroboration. You see, as we age, we tend to certain mistakes. We forget things. Not the whole thing, but certain aspects of an event or a situation. And thus we amplify, amend, exaggerate, or omit data points. The time I hit a home run becomes the time I hit three home runs and a double and stole a base. The time we made a pumpkin pie for Mrs Goldberg becomes the time that our whole family brought pies and cakes and soda pop to the entire Goldberg family for a couple of days in a row. The purpose of telling and retelling the stories, the tribal history of our clan, of our family, of our nation—the purpose is to ensure that the story is correct, and the results of the encounters remain accurate and repeatable.  We tell stories and others corroborate the story.

For instance, how many people finally escaped Egypt in the Exodus?

How many of our people over the age of 20 entered the Promised Land under Joshua?

When did Yeshua die and rise again?

Who were the first people to testify about him after the Resurrection?

All of these are facts found in the Book, and by them we are strengthened in our faith and in our confidence in the rest of the Book. Faith comes. Hearing the Word of God increases our trust, our faith, our belief that the Scripture is reliable. We corroborate the Word in our own lives!

And I know, I know, holidays are tiring at times. But they also are times of retelling of stories, whether the modern stories of taking Jerusalem as we recounted last week on Yom Yerushalayim or as we did in early April by retelling the story of Passover. The stories are corroborated and find their way into us. It’s tradition, for sure. And remember, it’s not you who keeps tradition. Traditions keep you!

Bamidbar

Today’s sedra is not about twisters and holidays. It’s fairly diagrammatic. Duties are dispensed and a census is taken. That’s pretty ordinary. After all it’s “in the wilderness.” Out there, nothing much is supposed to happen. It’s usually barren. It’s commonplace. Compare where we are just now in Greenwood or as I drove here this morning with where I live in Sydney Australia—those are two very different locations. But whether you are near the ocean or near Kauffman Stadium, most of your life, and most of my life is fairly ordinary. Most of our lives are ‘in the wilderness.’ Nothing to write home about; nothing to celebrate. We eat and drink, but not much to be merry about.

I’m not complaining, mind you. In fact, coming to that realization that most of life is mundane and ordinary gave me a wonderful sense of relief. I didn’t have to have a ‘great day’ in capital letters. I didn’t have to win lottery, or the Chiefs didn’t have to win each game they played. My lawn didn’t have to be the greenest and most manicured on the street; my kids didn’t have to be the most spectacular in their schools. Ordinary is ok; it’s not a failure. It’s normative. 

And in those ordinary times, in the wilderness, we remember. What is it we are to remember? The words of God. The stories of God and his people. The stories of God, his people and us. And if we tell those stories, and they are corroborated, then others are benefitted by them as well.

The Jewish prophet Hosea didn’t have many good things to say to our people in his prophecies during 14 chapters of the Older Testament. But even he said this of the wilderness and the Jewish people.

“Therefore, I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt.”  (Hosea 2.16-17)

Rabbi Sachs of blessed memory said this of that passage, “Hosea used the wilderness as a symbol of the betrothal between God and the Israelites. God had ‘married’ the people, but they had acted unfaithfully. God would punish them. They would suffer disasters. Yet He could not abandon them, so great was His love. So, in an act of reconciliation, He would bring them back and renew their marriage vows in the wilderness, understood as a kind of second honeymoon.” 

It was for me in 1971 when I was 19 years old that I finally heard the story of Yeshua, our Messiah. I’d probably read the Kansas City Times or Star in my youth and read the daily column, “My answer” by Billy Graham, the evangelist. Of course I also read the comics with Blondie, Charley Brown, and Dennis the Menace. I’d probably given as much weight to all four. 

But there I was at 19, walking in Volker Park, right next to the Nelson Art Gallery, and there I met two young people, my age, who were out to share their newfound faith. They were members of the community nicknamed the House of Agape and they met on Sunday nights at 55^th and Oak. There these two, John and Pam, were sitting on the steps and saw me in my hippie clothes, haircut and attitude, and they called out to me. I stopped in my tracks. We had a Bible argument, and they were overwhelming in their love of the Lord and although I might have said later that “I won that battle”, they pointed me to the Messiah, to our Saviour, and I couldn’t shake their impression. They lived it. They wanted me to experience the salvation that only comes from Messiah.

Three days later, in Leawood, I sat again on a stoop, this time of a house. This time with a Christian gal I had met only a week previously. I knew she was born again. I knew she believed in Jesus. And yet, she had helped me read the Bible after meeting John and Pam. In fact, we stayed up all night that Friday night and read Matthew and even parts of Revelation. I pummelled her with questions. She answered as best as she could. 

So here I was on the stoop at her parents’ house. I told her I wanted what I was reading in the Bible. I wanted peace and I wanted to follow this Nazarene. I really liked this man—a classic hippie. He had peace and love and that’s what I wanted. But I said, “I don’t want Jesus.” I knew that my Orthodox family would not have understood. We were members of Kehilath Israel. 

She replied, “you don’t get this Jesus stuff unless you take him as your Messiah and Saviour.” Surprise of surprises, that was enough for me. I prayed with Marva that night, May of 1971, 55 years ago, one week before Shavuot, to receive Yeshua as my Saviour. I cried. I was forgiven. Hallelujah! 55 years ago this weekend!

After we sang “Amazing Grace” and she gave me some words of assurance, I returned to my parents’ house in Prairie Village. I told them of my newfound faith. They didn’t like it. They were enraged. They kicked me out of the house; I got a new apartment near Westport, got a new job, and a new life in Yeshua—all within 12 hours. 

My life as an adventure began with a start, maybe with a jump start. And since that evening in May of 1971, I’ve lived in KC, then Lawrence, San Francisco, New York, Chicago, Washington DC, Sydney Australia, and now split time between Sydney and Nashville.  My life is an adventure in the wilderness. Even though I have home, and a wife of 49 years, 3 adult children and 7 grandchildren, I still consider myself a wanderer in a wilderness. 

I joined our mission, “Yehudim l’ma’an Yeshua” which is usually known as Jews for Jesus, in 1979, and love our work of living out the Gospel and sharing with our Jewish people. This weekend I have visits set with three more Jews here in KC to help them unpack the issue of Messiah and maybe to make a decision to follow him. 

Our teams worldwide are working again this week. 70 full time staff in Israel; 250 full time staff worldwide. Here’s a quick glimpse of our latest work, on this video.

On the screen you will see a QR code that I hope you will use with your phone to sign up to hear more from our organization about the good work of partnering we are doing in Israel, in London, New York.. Sydney… friends, it’s global. I hope you will consider supporting our efforts financially and in prayer. And I hope we can cooperate to make Yeshua known in Kansas City among our people here as well. 

If you don’t like using QR codes, you can use the brochure like this “Nets are breaking” brochure which you will find up the back and sign up in the traditional method to hear from us. We are your partners in Ukraine and Israel; we are working in South Africa and Russia, and reopening new branches this year in Boston and South Florida. We aren’t done by a long shot!

My wilderness wandering continues and I am glad.

 Next week, I’m sure you will speak much about Torah and the giving or the receiving of Torah, about the lightning and thunder and fear on and around Mt Sinai. But that was of course, not near a city, not an urban centre—it was out in the wilderness. In fact, so much of holy life and biblical activity is found in the wilderness.  And maybe Rabbi Yosef will again mention Ruskin Heights and the tornado in 1957 and the commensurate fear and violence of the storm and lightning and thunder. After all Ruskin Heights was not exactly an urban center those 69 years ago. 

But here you are, today, in a major city readying to host The World Cup of soccer, with over 2 million residents in the metropolitan area and it does not seem like the wilderness that it was back then. (As of 2024–2025, the Kansas City, Missouri, city population is over 508,000, while the 14-county bi-state metropolitan area (MO-KS) has surpassed 2.25 million residents. The metro area is experiencing steady growth, with suburban counties like Clay, Cass, and Jackson seeing population increases, with an estimated metro population of 2,270,682 in 2025). 

But don’t you feel like you are in one every now and then? 

So what are you supposed to take away from today’s service and today’s sermon? 

1)     That Jewish people can find Messiah and are doing so in surprising numbers since October 7 two and a half years ago.

2)     That your ordinary life is not less, it’s not weak, it’s not without meaning. God uses the valleys as a training ground for us. Oswald Chambers emphasized this when he said that ordinary life is the primary, sacred venue for spiritual growth and service to God, stating that "we are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or for the other beautiful attractions in life" but for the "valley" and the "ordinary things". He maintained that true spiritual character is revealed through mundane daily routines, not in spectacular, emotional experiences.

3)     That holidays have a solid place in our walk with the Lord, to remind us of his actions in the past and even of our actions then, so that we can trust him today.

4)     That God is Sovereign over all times, past, present and future, and we can trust him in each of those throughout our days, even to the end of our days.

Thanks again to Rabbi Yosef and all of you here this Shabbat Bamidbar, as we walk the journey together, today here, and tomorrow and from now on, with the entire Body of Messiah, and make His name known, for there is no other name given under heaven by which anyone can be saved. Shabbat shalom!