When I was about four years old I decided to jump into a river rapid.
I remember the white water and boulders.
I remember it being fast and thrilling for a moment,
until the water started to fill my nose and throat and pull me down to darkness.
And then I remember large arms and hands and legs all around me,
I remember those hands struggling to keep my face above the water and my body protected from being crushed against those unmoving river rocks.
The water was moving even faster and I was riding the river with someone else,
a someone who struggled to save my life,
a someone who took every jagged rock against his own body to protect my own.
I remember this person dragging me along with his heavy body through the water and climbing out of the rapids and rocks to shore.
I remember looking at his legs covered in blood and his burly body heaving for breath.
I had a few scratches but this someone took the brunt of it and saved my life.
I was so little but I remember bits and pieces of this like flashes of white, and black and red...
and I remember this because I can.
Because of that someone I'm alive with memories today.
That someone happened to be a Jewish rabbi friend of my mom's.
We were at the river for the day and my mom had warned me many times not to play near the rapids.
I specifically remember choosing to disobey and jump in.
A rabbi delivered me.
It's ironic because a Jewish physician also delivered me into this world on the day I was born,
and when I chose to put my faith in Christ, a Jewish Nazarene known as Jesus, delivered my soul from eternal death and gave me everlasting life. (John 3:16)
Because of this, I am a life that lives grateful for the Jewish people and the nation of Israel.
I believe that they are God's chosen people and their story is not yet finished.
And when I listen to testimonies like the ones shared here: http://www.imetmessiah.com...my spirit sings.