“OK, What’s Your Shpiel?”
As a child, the idea that there was a God made perfect sense to me. Lying with the cool green grass on my back in the summer, the white sculptured clouds were a magnificent painting, the crisp blue sky as the canvas. This for me was so beautiful, so natural, that God’s existence made sense, perfect sense.
It wasn’t until many years later – after finishing school, working, and just living life as I saw fit – that a clear, straightforward talk with someone seized my heart. My boss shared about God and His Son, my sinful condition, and the truth of the gospel. I accepted the message of salvation in Jesus by faith.
I was truly transformed from the inside out. I did not suddenly try to change my life, to become “religious.” No, I really was completely different. I started to read the Bible and it was alive to me. Like eating or breathing, my soul was being nourished in a way I could not have imagined.
Twenty years later, I was standing on a sidewalk near an intersection in London hoping to tell others this same message. That’s when I met Morris. Well, sort of.
I had noticed this man because I stood in the same spot often, where there were many businesses and a steady flow of foot traffic. I offered tracts to all who passed, a tri-folded paper that had a message and Bible verses that told of a special servant[1] who would bring salvation for Israel and the nations. This fellow passed by daily, yet never stopped.
“OK, what’s your shpiel?”[2]
I was not daydreaming, but the words startled me. There stood the man from the nearby estate office whom I had seen often. For the next few minutes, I spoke about Jesus and briefly about the Scriptures.
He looked at me, pausing as if gathering his thoughts. I said, “Look, I know what I look like to you. C’mon, I’m a middle-aged man, standing on a corner handing out flyers. You probably think, ’Get a real job, do something with your life!’
“But you know what, I live a normal life. I have a family, and I know people look at me with suspicion, thinking I’m a religious nut or something. I can assure you that if I did not believe the message about Jesus was true, and true for everyone, I would not be out here.”
With that, he smiled slightly and said, “You are in the wrong place for this, it is a Jewish neighborhood.”
“Are you Jewish?” I asked. He indicated he was. “Then you will especially find this interesting.”
He took the brochure, folded it, and tucked it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Before walking off, he said, “I’ll read it, why not.”
The next time I saw this man he seemed to turn his head to avoid eye contact, so I did not try to speak with him. A couple of weeks later, I saw him approaching. He said, “I read your brochure. I’m sure the rabbis disagree. I would like to know what they think about those citations.”
We talked briefly, and I learned his name was Morris. I told him if he found the Scripture citations interesting, I had a small New Testament that also had Scripture citations from the Tanakh. And I would be happy to show him why I believe Jesus is the Messiah.
Morris hesitated, and then declined, but his demeanor was warm, less cautious than before.
I prayed for Morris each day, but in a couple of weeks I would be leaving London. I was certain from his hesitation that he was actually interested in the New Testament I had mentioned.
That night I wrote a personal note to Morris and took a brochure that had a few testimonies from Jewish people who had come to believe in Jesus,[3] I placed it along with the New Testament in a new vanilla-colored bubble mailer and sealed it. I placed the mailer in my shoulder bag, hoping to see Morris before I left.
Two days before departing London, I saw a familiar face walking toward me – Morris, with his satchel. “Morris, if you have a moment, I would like to say goodbye because I will be leaving in two days.”
He stopped, and before he spoke, I reached into my bag and produced the small packet. “This is a gift, the New Testament I spoke about, I hope you will take it.”
He looked at the plain package which could contain any number of things, just a small nondescript parcel.
“Why is it in a mailer?” asked Morris.
“Would you have taken it if it was not in an envelope?”
“No, I probably would not have. Thank you,” Morris said accepting the package. He wanted to read this without others knowing; it was personal. With that, he shook my hand and we wished each other well.
We do not just have a shpiel about a religious belief. We would like to show you and tell you the same things that Morris read, believing that God’s Spirit can show you the truth about who the Messiah truly is.
Written by Jeff, Life in Messiah staff
Are you ready to look at the Scriptures for yourself as well? You may not be willing to receive or talk about this on a corner in New York, London or Berlin, but you can contact us to hear more about the One of whom the prophets speak.
Check out these testimonies of Jewish people who found Messiah: www.insearchofshalom.com/all/storiesofshalom
Endnotes:
[1] Isaiah 42:1-9; 49:1-10; 52:13-53:12.
[2] Shpiel: Yiddish term for a story, persuasive argument, performance, or pitch. Also spelled spiel or schpiel.
[3] You can watch testimonies here: www.insearchofshalom.com/all/storiesofshalom.