GOD'S
GRACE
IS
SUFFICIENT

Betty Schoenfeld Smith
IN THE BEGINNING My father was born in Hungary.
He came to America when he was about 20 years old. My mother was born
in Poland and was just a young child when she arrived in this country.
Both came from strict Orthodox-Jewish families. They met, married and
had three daughters. My father was the dominant character in our lives.
Over the years he formed iron-clad opinions about the roles of men and women.
He was our protector, our provider and our authority.
Our father was also deeply religious. He adhered to
the Orthodox interpretation of the law. His household laws were consistent
with his understanding of God's law and European customs. As a result.
there were strict confines within where we were expected to behave and think.
I While my father was reserved and deliberate, my mother
was warm and easy-going. Although she was submissive to her husband's
rules and expectations, she was also our relief from his strictness.
I grew up within this nucleus of strictness and warmth. We were a close-knit,
self-contained family, alive and well in Charleston, West Virginia.
We attended a synagogue on most Friday nights and we always attended the
High Holidays. My sisters and I went to Sunday School.
In Charleston, West Virginia I first learned that we were
only allowed to associate with other Jewish people. At a very early
age I started to question why. We had neighbors who were not Jewish.
Were we so different just because they believed in Jesus and we did not?
When I was eleven years old we moved to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
My father purchased a building in an Italian neighborhood. It had an
apartment upstairs and we lived there while our new home was being prepared.
There were no Jews in this neighborhood and I met a lot of "different" people.
My father still wanted to keep us apart from non-Jews. But since there
were no Jews in this neighborhood, my acquaintances and friends were Italian.
When, in fact, some became my very best friends, my rebellion against my
parental wishes became pronounced.
My father was diligent about imparting his theology to us.
He read us the blessings and the curses. He convinced us that God must
punish us for our wrongdoings. He faithfully took us to religious services,
that I never comprehended, and assured us our salvation in God lay in our
Jewishness.
As I grew older, my religion and the pressures of my family
became more burdensome. I liked the life I saw around me and was drawn
to the "freedom" outside our house. I resented that I was born destined
to a peculiar life, subjected to the hand and law of a wrathful God.
I wanted freedom! My father and I were not of one mind. It scared him!
He saw me slipping away. The more he tried to keep hold of me the more
I tried to escape.
ESCAPE
At the age of fourteen I met a young Italian Catholic boy
and fell in love! I thought that all my problems would be solved if we could
run away and elope. He tried to convince me that it would be crazy
for us to marry. But after meeting secretly for about a year, I finally
persuaded him and we married. My parents were outraged. They
tried their hardest to convince me to leave my husband and return home.
I was very stubborn and determined to make this marriage work and chose to
remain with my husband rather than return to the wrath of my father.
My husband, Frank, became my sanctuary and my salvation.
Since my own father had disowned me, I believed that my heavenly father had
also turned his back on me. Frank was my god. We had four children
- three sons and one daughter. We raised our sons and daughter in Frank's
Catholic faith. I never considered rearing my children Jewish.
That way of life held only bitter memories for me. My father had instilled
in me that I would burn in hell for what I had done. I reasoned that
in Catholicism my children would be outside the wrath of God, free from the
restraints and responsibilities of Judaism. But I was a Jew!
I asked my husband to pray that the God of Abraham would have mercy on me!
My life was my husband and my children. I lived and
breathed with them and for them. Nonetheless, I experienced a gnawing
anxiety about God. I had breached God's contract with His people.
What would I do now to appease him? First of all I decided to remain
Jewish. I would not deny the Jewish God by converting to another religion.
Then I concentrated on doing good works. How I longed for forgiveness.
DISASTER
Life was status quo. Frank had been financially successful.
We lived in a nice house in a good neighborhood. The kids were great.
Our friends were pleasant. Yet somewhere out of the continuity of our
status quo, after twenty three years of marriage, Frank wanted out.
I was shocked! Frank was more than my husband. He was my saviour,
my hope, my strength and security. Now he was gone. It was all
over! I was rejected and abandoned, totally alone and empty.
One shattering event seemed to follow another. Our
youngest son became an addict, caught up in the pattern of hard core drug
usage. He was in trouble physically and legally. I began to dread
phone calls. Was my son sick, dead or in jail? I was frantic!
Life and confusion were synonomous.
REMARRIAGE
My solace during this time was a man named Bruce.
I met him through some friends and soon Bruce and I became friends.
Two months after my divorce from Frank, Bruce and I were married. My
motivation for marriage was mixed. Part of it was spite against Frank,
but Bruce was supportive and kind. He offered security. But there
were problems. Soon after our marriage, Bruce was transferred to Columbus,
Ohio. I refused to follow. A year later I gave in and my daughter
and I moved to Columbus. After only six weeks in Columbus I missed
Pittsburgh so much that my daughter and I left Bruce and moved back to Pittsburgh.
Alone again, I was confused when a "nightmare" occurred. My son was
arrested. His addiction had worsened and he had broken the law to maintain
his habit.
The world caved in around me. I was at my wits end,
backed into a corner with nowhere to turn. I did not know how to help
my son anymore, nor what to do about my own marriage. There were so
many problems. There was no answer.
SALVATION
On April 5, 1977, a friend called to tell me about
Jesus! She told me that He was God's Son -- that He loved me
and died for me. I listened. I had no source of hope. When
we hung up, I sat down and talked to God. I told him that I did not
believe in Jesus, or that God and Jesus were even related. However,
I asked God to rescue my son. If he could do this, then I would believe
in Jesus as His Son. If he would help my son I would serve Him and
witness about His Son all the rest of my life.
But I was a Jew I repeated to myself.
Would not my Jewishness be sufficient to bring me salvation rather than a
Christian interpretation of God? That morning I really wanted to believe.
I longed to have hope in this Messiah. But I could not deny the faith
of Abraham. God did a strange thing. He quieted me. He
let me know that it was okay to remain a Jew and accept Jesus as Lord.
I gave my life to Him that morning.
My son, instead of going to jail, was released to me by
the judge. He sought help with his drug problem. I received the
peace of mind for which I asked. Never in years had I felt so tranquil.
I started to read the Bible and began to fall in love with Jesus! My
life and family began to come into order. One month later, after sharing
the Lord with Bruce, he too accepted Jesus. God gently brought Bruce
and me back together in Columbus.
RESTORATION
We struggled. God's ways are not our ways. But
His ways are good and kind and right. He blanketed us with love as
we experienced the painful process of change and conformity to His likeness.
Also, to my delight, he brought us to a place to worship with other Jewish
believers. They knew what God had revealed to me -- it was not inconsistent
or treasonous to remain Jewish and accept Jesus as Messiah. In fact,
Jesus was a Jew.
The Lord has blessed me greatly.
He gave Bruce and me a beautiful daughter, Amy. All but one
of my other children have accepted Jesus as Lord and Messiah. I also
have healthy, wonderful grandchildren. I am not, however, immune from
tragedy. My sister and brother-law were killed in an automobile accident
leaving two children. Brian, the youngest, had been placed with us.
God gave Bruce and me the strength and wisdom to raise him up in the Lord.
When I consider my life, I think of all the years of searching,
of trying to fit the pieces together that would not mesh. Finally,
I have peace and an unwavering love that I had always hoped was out there
somewhere. I can attest to the goodness of God, and the merciful hand
of His Son, Jesus, all the days of my life. When you receive Jesus
who died in your place for your sins you too will proclaim that His Grace
is Sufficient.
Reprinted
with permission of
The Messianic Literature Outreach
6161 Busch Blvd., Suite 205 Columbus, Ohio 43229
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