So Phyllis's first experience of a Church was not a particularly good one. But she doesn't let this set-back slow down her momentum.

PHYLLIS

This indeed was a period in my life of searching. I wanted to know about Jesus. He was a complete stranger to me. I knew that, as a Jew, it was indecent to even talk about him unless it was to mock or swear. I knew he was Jewish and I had never questioned why we were not taught anything about him. You just didn't ask, it wasn't done. Look what the 'Christians' had done to the Jews in my own lifetime?

I was reading more and more of the Bible and especially the 'forbidden' part, the New Testament. It was interesting, and easy to follow. The first four books were basically the same story written four times by four different men, each telling the story in a different way. But the amazing thing I discovered was that I was reading a Jewish book. All the characters were Jewish, all were Jewish men talking about Jesus, what he said and what he preached. It told about the synagogues and prayers and Jesus was preaching from the same book that the Rabbis read today. What he was saying was that his people, the Jews, should love their God with all their hearts. He asked the Rabbis why they were more concerned about the rules and how they should be kept, but not why these laws were made, to honour God, not man. He hated hypocrisy. He preached that it was more important to feel in your heart, rather than to do things for people to see.

What seemed strange to me at this time was that my friend, Helen Degani, who'd been with me at the meeting with Howard and that first Church visit, was untouched by it all. The question that bugged me at the time was, how can God plant this seed in one heart but not in another? Helen had, at that time, problems of her own, with a divorced Israeli husband and two children. She had converted to Judaism to marry him many years before. Now she agreed to join me on my search, but I don't think her heart was in it. Helen was obviously not ready to receive at that time as it wasn't until four years later that she became a believer, through a chance conversation with a Christian colleague that brought it all alive for her. All the struggles and discoveries I was making and sharing with her were not touching her, in fact I could see the barriers go up as I was speaking to her. It was clearly not his timing.

STEVE

So my mum was moving ahead at a good rate. I knew what she was like, as I was the same type. We never do things by halves, it's all or nothing. It was clear that her religious search was taking up all of her energies and she wasn't going to give in until she'd either succeeded or exhausted herself. What surprised me was that my dad didn't suspect a thing. Of course she had to tell him eventually ...

PHYLLIS

I don't remember exactly when I told Hymie about his family, how we all, in different ways, had discovered Jesus. I don't think he took it too seriously at first, as it just seemed to him as one of my fads, though, of course, how that explains what my kids were going through, is anybody's guess! But as time went on and he could see the commitment I was making, things got heavy. He went berzerk, calling us all names, disowning us and calling us traitors. mainly attacked me as the mother, and therefore the culprit. I was the bad influence, he said. I had never shown enough Jewishness in our home, he added. It was my fault that they had both gone astray! It was a bad time for all of us, life was hell. We had been a happy harmonious family, but now we were split. I searched and prayed for wisdom. I needed patience and sensitivity. The insults and aggression were only bearable because I really felt that God was with me. He was becoming more real day by day. He gave me comfort, support, wisdom and carried me through. I sympathised with Hymie, part of me understood totally what he was going through. He was confused and so, I admit, was I. But because of his love for his family he realised that he had to go along with us, he didn't want to lose his family.

STEVE

You had to feel sorry for him. It's not every day that a happily married family man comes home only to find, in his own mind, that his wife and both of his children have turned their back on all that he held dear. Jewish identity was so much a part of his being that there couldn't have been a bigger insult to him. Like a kick in the teeth, even though, by then, most of his were false anyway. To him it must have seemed that we must have hated him so much that we plotted together to work out what we could do to hurt him the most. And succeeded. His life was shattered, it was to change as significantly as ours did, except he didn't have the assurances of a loving Saviour to uphold him.

PHYLLIS

I was now torn between Hymie and this new faith that my children had accepted and which was pulling me closer and closer in. I also thought about our family and friends. I was always the rebel, I didn't as a rule worry about what people thought of me. I knew that once I accepted this Jewish Messiah, there would be no turning back. Friends and family were going to have a field day over this. 'Have you heard the latest about that nut, Phyllis, she's become one of those Jesus freaks?' I could hear them now.

The knitwear business was still going strong, but my mind was elsewhere. One day the sewing machine broke down. But I had two, so I told the young girl who machined for me, 'use the other one, Linda'. But that one didn't work either. 'Oh, Lord, I'm not giving this up', I cried, guessing that He may have had something to do with it. 'If you are trying to show me that I have to give this up, then I'll give up searching for you!' I was not ready to give up this wonderful business that we had, I would be crazy if I did. All these thoughts went through my head as Linda and I tried to find out what was wrong with these machines. Eventually, we got one working again. I knew that it was all some kind of sign, but I ignored it and continued with the jumpers.

So many things happened over the next few months, good and bad. I can remember that we were coming up to Christmas, a quiet time for us with the knitwear. I made a decision. I told Michele that, although we were doing well, I was only prepared to work for one more year. I needed her to know this so that she and I could train someone else to do my job. It was not that I was bored, I loved it. It was the promptings of the Lord, and I was willing to accept it as that. Michele accepted this, as did Hymie and Tonino.

Michele said to me, 'it's about time you went to a Church'. So I ventured out in the world to see who could help me in my search. I ventured into Women's meetings at Church halls, to soften the moment when I would have to attend a Church service of my own. That didn't work, I wasn't looking for polite conversation or ways of using up an afternoon, I was serious in my search for Jesus. I didn't know him yet, but I felt that, if I was going to commit my life to him one day, I needed to know him in my own way that I could identify with.

The Bible did open up the history of my ancestors. It made sense that if I am going to believe the old bit, I needed to understand the new bit. I understood it but I didn't identify with Jesus, though I liked him. But here I was reading about Jesus the Jew, but how was it that my picture of him in my mind was a blond, blue-eyed man with a halo?

STEVE

Michele and I didn't have this trouble with the Gentile, blue-eyed Jesus, well not at first, anyway. My search for Jesus was conducted in a purely Gentile setting, sparked off by a Gentile girl at University and encouraged along by another Gentile girl (Monica, my wife) to this day. I think it was a similar situation for Michele, who befriended a Christian in her late teens. For us Jesus didn't have to be Jewish. For me he became Jewish later on, inspired no doubt, by my mum's search. I certainly benefited from the directions her search was to take her, through people we met and congregations we got to know. But more about that later.

PHYLLIS

One day at this time I was walking past this Church and I saw this notice for a meeting to be held at the Church. It took a lot of courage then, in those early days, to go into a Church, especially by myself. My experiences up until then hadn't been very positive. I had tried many such groups, but I wasn't interested in knitting circles, toy making or chatting. I wanted Jesus. In desperation, I even phoned a Church to ask if they had a Bible group that I could go to and also mentioned that I was Jewish and on a search for Jesus. The voice at the other end said that everything had closed down for summer because of holidays and, on the Jewish thing, he didn't think he had anything for me that could help.

Anyway, the notice said 'Prayer Meeting' and I entered the Church. In the hall everyone was sitting in a circle, so I joined them. All eyes were on me. Although they were very welcoming, I felt very exposed. I mumbled something about being Jewish and all eyes lit up - I felt even more embarrassed. A lovely elderly lady immediately took me under her wing. Then they sang, asking me if I had a favourite song - that was a joke, I didn't know any of their songs! Then they prayed and I wanted to creep out. I understood nothing of this world. But afterwards they were very kind and the elderly lady insisted that I visited the Church for a service. My thoughts were, 'OK, I will sit at the back and try to be invisible'. I didn't want the experience to be spoiled by too much attention to myself. So I arrived late and sat at the back. And, yes, my elderly lady spotted me and, being the friendly, enthusiastic, person that she was, dragged me down the front! I continued with this Church for two years and every Sunday morning my new friend would seek me out. She even started a Bible group for me. It was OK for a while. It's lovely to be given the floor, as much as you want, but after a while I felt that I was the one who was giving (Jewish culture, traditions) and not receiving the Bible teaching that my spirit needed. Also, I began to get really irritated with the expression 'Jesus died for you' that was repeated again and again to me. I was slowly learning the Bible, but in a Gentile way, as if I was in a Sunday School.

It was fairly soon after this time that I came through and accepted Jesus into my life. One day I just looked out of the window and said, 'are you there? If so, come into my life.' In my unbelief I cried out for belief, but I was open and prepared to search for the truth. I was a bit scared and remembered earlier experiments with spiritism and wondered what I had done. But nothing happened, no fireworks, no revelation, a bit disappointing in a way. I wasn't even sure that he'd heard. I knew now that my journey really had started and that now I had to find the real Jesus.

STEVE

At last she came through, although it was inevitable. Now her struggles will really start! Of course it would have been easier for her, and for me, if she hadn't been Jewish. It adds a new dimension not just to the initial struggles of coming to terms with Jesus the Messiah and the 2000 years of Church anti-Semitism, but to the blessings that come afterwards in bringing the Jewish world and Christian world together. But there are troubles in the early days with not just you coming to terms with the Gentile Church, but the Gentile Church coming to terms with you. I can appreciate a little of what my Mum went through because I am sure that I got more attention from the people in my Church than I would have done if I had been a Gentile. I was seen as someone special, just as I was at school when I was dropped into a dustbin. I was given excellent Bible teaching, in fact I had no complaints at all. It didn't worry me at all that there was little or no appreciation of the Jewish roots of Christianity at the Church. But this changed when I was asked to help organise a Church Passover celebration.

It was to be the centrepoint of a 'Jewish week' that Spring. On the Wednesday I did a talk on the Jewish Roots of the faith to a reasonably-sized and responsive audience. On the Saturday, John Fieldsend from CMJ (Church's Ministry to the Jews) came to take part in a couple of seminars and to conduct the Passover service in the evening. The day went really well and was an eye-opener for me to see just how much ignorance and interest there was in these subjects. As a result of the research I needed to do for this week, thanks mainly to the teaching tapes of Arnold Fruchtenbaum, it kindled within me a powder keg of interest in Jewish matters. I have been studying ever since and have seriously enriched my faith as a result. An amusing aside concerning that week was that, on the Sunday, I invited my mum and dad over to meet John Fieldsend, because we felt he would get on really well with my dad. The only problem was that he was preaching in the Church in the morning, wearing a sort of Anglican dog-collar one-piece. It would have sent my dad over the edge to see a typically Jewish man dressed in a dog-collar, so I smuggled out one of my shirts for John to change into, before the meeting. It was lucky that it wasn't one of the many items of clothing that my dad regularly passes on to me when they go out of fashion (he's the trendy one, I'm a self-declared toe-rag!)

PHYLLIS

I was also asked to help organise a Passover service in my church, Ashurst Drive Baptist church as a local outreach to the Jews in the area. I was involved in the planning of it, along with Frances, who was to become one of my best friends. Towards the end of the meeting I realised that an important area had not been discussed. 'What about the food?', I cried. To Jewish people food was of the utmost importance and I volunteered to look after that side of things. I knew that it would have to be the full menu, chicken soup, kneidlach (dumplings), roast chicken etc etc. By the time all tickets were sold I realised I had a real job on my hands - 100 people to be catered for! I was really challenged, but I prayed and knew that the Lord was not going to let us down.

I had two tiny ovens, one at each end of the church, about 50 yards apart. The facilities were basic, to say the least, so we had to plan really well. Every step of the way the Lord showed me what to do, what to freeze and when. I just seemed to be working under instruction the whole time, in a peace and calmness that was unbelievable. On the day I had my helpers standing by in the two kitchens, with full instructions. It went like clockwork. Serving 100 people is a mammoth task, but all went well, even down to every bowl of soup being piping hot! Every time in the kitchen that we had a problem, we prayed openly to God. Even an unbeliever came up to me and said, 'Pray, Phyllis. Tell him the gravy's running out!'. There was peace and joy in those kitchens, as if we were working with the Lord. I, who had no experience with catering, could never have accomplished this enormous job if the Lord had not been with me all the time. This was the beginning of many more catering jobs that I was given.

STEVE

Now I can guess who that 'unbeliever' in the kitchen was ... none other than my Dad. You see, although he hated the spiritual and religious side of our new life, he loved the social and the catering aspects. He enjoyed the company of these new friends and the thought of helping with the catering for 100 people sent him into a frenzy of delight. Forget your quiche and soggy sandwiches, let's show them what real Jewish catering is all about! This was his religion, and there was no better evangelist. As time went by my Mum and Dad were to cater for a wide variety of events, Jewish festivals, dinner parties, receptions and concerts.

PHYLLIS

I can look back now and see that it was about this time that my mother became ill, and my life turned upside down. At the time I questioned so many times, 'Why Lord?'. I was living in a nightmare of service to my sick mum. I am ashamed when I look back at the selfishness of my thoughts and prayers when I see around me the most unselfish people spending their whole lives in service to others. How shallow I was, maybe I still am? I resented having to spend my day doing everything for my mum, bathing her, feeding her and the like. I did it with gritted teeth, smiling to the outside world but frustrated inside. My family thought me such a good daughter, devoting so much time to her, but this always made me feel so guilty inside. Many times I took this to the Lord, repenting of this lack of love, but try as I might I could not soften my heart.

The Lord revealed to me many memories of my childhood. I remembered that my mum had never shown me much affection, no cuddles or kisses. I knew that she loved me, but with a coldness. Sometimes I used these memories to excuse my feelings towards my mum, justifying my lack of love. But I knew that was wrong. All of my memories of my childhood were sad and I knew that deep inside me was a sadness. I dreaded ever becoming like my mum. Now here I was, with an exciting business, with challenges and outlets for my creativity. I was making decisions, meeting people, the telephone always ringing. A very busy life, and now .... dead. Loads of time on my hand and my house turned into a nursing home. Constantly watching the time for her pills, food to be prepared and forced down the throat of the world's worst eater. She never complained. She allowed me to bully and shout at her, with nothing but praise for her wonderful daughter. She was forever singing my praises, I could do no wrong in her eyes.

I couldn't suffer in silence, I let my frustrations out in my moods. I enjoyed in a way being the martyr, the Godly one. Oh, how we deceive. We do not know each other as we think we do, we hide our true feelings inside and project the image that is pleasing to others. Except for one person. He knows the true person inside, He knows us better than we know ourselves. And he deals with us in His own way. And He spoke.

I decided that I would go for a walk each day and spend the time as a quiet time, a refreshing time. I also decided to keep a diary as I searched for a deeper relationship with Jesus. I needed to find this now badly and in my own way. The Lord taught me to be still and to search for him. I began to get closer, a lot closer to Him ...

STEVE

Nana Lily, my mum's mum, died soon afterwards. We believe that she grew to know the Lord before she left us, which helped us in our grief, especially at the funeral. We also believe that this thought and the help that God gave my mum in this time of grieving, was a valuable witness to the rest of our family, especially to my Mum's two brothers, Syd and Dave. My memories of Nana Lily were vastly different to my Mum's experiences with her. We always seem to look on our grandparents with rose-tinted glasses. To me Nana Lily was a kind, warm and funny person, though a bit timid. Monica and I had a good relationship with her, staying overnight in her flat every Friday night for the first few months of our marriage. My recollections of her husband, Phil, who died when I was 13, were also positive. I didn't see the selfish philanderer but just the kindly old man who stuffed sweets down our throats and money into our pockets. It's funny when I think about my family as a whole. Unlike the popular image of Jewish families, our family have never been particularly warm towards each other. Emotions are kept well away, even those of us who are now Christians are as far away from the 'happy-clappies' that you can get. On the other hand, Germans are meant to be cold and unemotional, yet when I see Monica and her parents together, it only takes the slightest little problem to send all three of them into a blubbing, quivering, emotional mess! So stuff the stereotypes, let's all live in the real world!

PHYLLIS

By now Michele had been going to an Elim Pentecostal Church in Harlow. The minister there was a good teacher and held regular Bible teaching classes. I was now enrolled in one of these and really enjoyed it. The course was brilliant, though I didn't understand it all. It taught me a great deal about what you commit yourself to when you accept Jesus. It's hard, it's a discipline and it's a sacrifice.

Many times since making my decision, I cried out as a Jew and asked God to reveal to me whether it was OK to believe in Jesus. I was made to feel guilty and a traitor by my family and Hymie, which always helped to put doubts in my mind. But the Lord convinced me more and more that believing in Him completed me as a Jew. I looked at the whole sacrificial system and how man still sinned. I looked at my life and the things I had done and knew absolutely that how could I stand before God, who was so holy, without the blood of Jesus. He revealed Himself to me over and over again by answering prayers. He made his presence known to me when I cried out, usually in confusion. But I knew I had been forgiven as a sinner. He revealed to me the darker side of me, although we all like to see just the good bits.

I had nothing to lose by then. I felt, at this time, that Steve had done all the research and it had convinced him. So if it was good enough for him and Michele, it was good enough for me. The funny thing about life in those days was that, in the evenings, I was going to my new Church's home group teaching these experienced Christians what I had just learnt during the day! This made me realise just how little teaching the Churches offer.

STEVE

Actually I remember the actual day I became a believer, August 26th 1986. Monica and I had just got back from the Greenbelt (Christian Arts) festival. Why did I go if I wasn't a Christian? As I told you earlier, I had a 'head' belief at the time and, like a good Biblical Jew, I was provoked by jealousy of these Christians. Why I went to a place where the chief features were fixed grins, inane chanting (for some reason people kept shouting 'Wally' at each other all through the day and night - most strange!) and dubious music, is anybody's guess? But I was transfixed by the message and the answers that Christianity seemed to have to everything. Well we got back and, for some reason, Monica and I had a good old row. Uncharacteristically for me I stormed out of the house and sat in the car, uncertain what to do or where to go. I opened my wallet and out dropped a piece of paper. On this piece of paper was the address of St Andrew's Church, Plaistow, some 5 miles away and on uncharted territory. It had been given to me, ironically enough, by a Christian couple, Brian and Chris Austin at an Occult exhibition a few weeks earlier and left untouched in my wallet. Also uncharacteristically for me I acted on impulse. I started the car and headed for the unfamiliar hinter-lands west of Ilford.

I believe that something just snapped inside me. I was fed up of pussy-footing about, sitting on the fence of indecision. It was time to act and to apply for full membership of the club! As I drove uncertainly along the Barking Road, my mind was in a dream, which was just as well, as otherwise I would have noticed the muggings, the old ladies being accosted by 5 year old delinquents, the shops being torched out of racial hatred. You know, the usual stuff you associate with the East End of London. (Actually I'm joking - how could I have described these things to you anyway, if I was in a dream-like state!) I arrived at St Andrew's Church, just in time to witness the final shots of a gangland gun battle raging in the grounds of the Vicarage.

I knocked on the door of the Vicarage. The minister, Patrick Sookhdeo, was actually in, which was a minor miracle in itself, as he was an international evangelist, equally at home in African villages, or Brazilian shanty-towns, as the streets of East London. We went to his study, and I gave in to God, after 10 years of struggle. It was a relief. Now, at last, I could get on with my life.

PHYLLIS

The first time that I sat down with my brother and sister-in-law to explain about my new faith was in a crowded noisy restaurant. I should not have picked that time and place, on reflection. I knew that I didn't explain myself very well and there were many interruptions. I was frustrated with the feeble attempt I had made, but they received it with tolerance ..... and a total lack of interest. I did the same with friends I had known from school days. They laughed and made comments about this being a passing phase, another project, another fad. I still believe that Hymie thought this too, at this time. As time went on I found it more and more difficult to make conversation with them. I wanted them to share with me this incredible journey I was making. But there was no interest. I listened to what were the most important things in their lives and thought, 'that was me, in the past'. I realised that I was changing, my priorities and goals were different. But they were still the same people, I was still very fond of them, and desperately wanted them to catch this vision that I had. What I wanted was to show them that there was a mighty and great God who wanted to come into their lives. There were times when deep problems that they had were shared with me and I would have loved them to have known The Helper who I could call on. I was considered a wierdo, a nutter. In fact, one friend actually said to me one day, 'We don't like the new you, we want the old one back'. I said, 'sorry, the new one is here to stay.'

STEVE

By now our whole family knew about us, the lunatic fringe. One lady, an elderly aunt, who had shown the most interest, has recently died. It is our prayer and belief that she has gone to be with her Messiah. We also believe the same is true with Nana Lily, my mum's mum, who died a few years ago. Just before her mind went into decline we had a concerted campaign of preaching to her and we believe that, in some way, it sunk in and that she, too, is in heaven waiting for us. But as for the rest of them, some have come to the festivals that we have celebrated with our Messianic fellowship, but we feel that, in good Jewish tradition, they were more interested in my parent's catering than the preachers message.

PHYLLIS

By now I was coming to the end of my relationship with my first Church. I had persevered for two years. The songs were pleasant and soon picked up the words. I had never attended synagogue on a regular basis and so I had no experience to compare Church with. The people were brilliant, some I got on with very well (some I didn't). But the overall feeling was one of a square peg in a round hole. I was different. My thoughts were somehow on a different channel. By that time I knew that I would have to leave as, on my inside, I felt the fire going out.

At the same time as this was going on I was receiving extra help from Paul Morris, an evangelist living in Wanstead. I got to hear from him through a roundabout route that started when Michele read a book about Christianity, written by a German. She was so impressed that she wrote to him, mentioning that she was Jewish. The German chap wrote back to her, thrilled that he had reached a Jewish heart and told her about Paul Morris, who, in fact, only lived about 5 minutes away from me! So I contacted him and, as a result, met him for weekly Bible sessions for about 18 months.

STEVE

Paul Morris is in fact quite a high-profile evangelist among the Jewish people. You can see him in Ilford town centre or at Gants Hill Underground station, both firmly in the land of the Gefilte Fish, handing out leaflets with Robert Weissman, a Jewish believer, to the unsuspecting Jewish public. They are both evangelists for CWI (Christian Witness to Israel) and are absolutely tireless, considering the abuse and indifference they come up against. In fact, I believe Paul Morris has written a book about his work, so look it up if you're interested.

PHYLLIS

I was beginning to discover for the first time in my life, the love that some Gentiles have for the Jew. My childhood had been sprinkled with racist remarks about me being a 'dirty Jew', even being chased from school by a gang from a 'Christian' school. As a believer I attended a meeting of 'Prayer for Israel' (P.F.I) and cried on hearing the love and commitment they had for Israel, the Jewish nation. Such love as I had never felt for my Jewish brothers and sisters. It is such a shame that the Jewish world does not hear of the many many works done lovingly by Christians for Israel. The prayers, the donations, the works. We Jews are a suspicious lot, suspecting some devious motive from Gentiles if they show any affection for us, but now, as a Jewish believer, I know about the love that God puts into the heart of these Gentile believers and I thank Him for it.

STEVE

So it was clear to both my mum and I by this time that there was a certain type of Gentile, people like Paul Morris for instance, who were motivated by a true love of the Jewish people. This was new to us, to discover that some Christians saw it as their mission to reach Jews with love, rather than forcing themselves upon their targets. This impressed us greatly and I made a mental note to embrace the next Gentile I met. Then my mother-in-law arrived at the house and I locked myself in the toilet!