It Pays to Talk to the Right Person

It’s never too late to place your faith in Jesus— even if you’ve rejected him for 99 years.
You may recall my mother, the five-star kvetch, from the previous issue of Israel My Glory. She perfected the art of kvetching (complaining), treating it like a game she had to win; and, boy, did she ever like to win. If she was not a satisfied customer, she found the right person to ensure her satisfaction. She often shared her victory stories with me; and, with her permission, I used them in my writing and preaching.

My mother passed away in January, two months shy of her 100th birthday. However, during her final hours, she provided one last story of victory; and, like all her stories, she won because she spoke to the right Person.

Blanche (Wulkan) Herzig was the youngest of five children, all first-generation Americans. Her parents fled Eastern European antisemitism by coming to America, the Goldene Medina, as it was called in Yiddish—the Golden Land. She grew up during the Great Depression and World War II. Unlike my father, who served in the war, Mom rarely spoke about those days. Instead, she talked about enjoying life no matter what. She and Dad were married for 62 years when he passed away.

Mom was a proud Jewish woman, but she wasn’t religious. Dad’s family was Orthodox. So we attended an Orthodox shul (synagogue), Hebrew school, and Sunday school. Family meant everything to Mom. In the early years of her marriage, she struggled with her mother-in-law. My dad’s mom, a proud Polish Jew, belittled my mother’s Hungarian roots, even calling her a derogatory name. As a result, Mom didn’t speak to her for quite some time. But years later, when my grandmother came to live with us, it was my mother who took care of her.

Mom had two primary desires: She wanted whatever was best for us, and she always wanted to be proud of us.

In her mind, those two desires were thwarted when my elder sister and I came to faith in Christ. Mom considered our salvation a betrayal of our people and heritage. It brought her great shame. She did not understand how we could believe in “that name” (Jesus), a name used as a curse in our home. Mom was so frustrated that she told me, “I would rather you were on drugs. At least then the doctors could detox you.” She and Dad discussed disowning us. One thing was certain: They would do anything and everything to keep our faith a secret.

I was not surprised. Jesus warned us to expect family division for His name’s sake (Lk. 12:51–53). So, after I was saved, I moved from my native Ohio to California to make things easier for my parents.

God gave Mom many opportunities throughout her life to understand her spiritual situation better. Two stories stand out.

Hiding the Traitors
Mom and Gertie were friends for more than 60 years. They often enjoyed lunch together, but one particular time was memorable.

“Blanche,” Gertie said, “I have something to tell you. It’s killing me, and I’ve never told anyone.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom said, “you can always talk to me. You know that.”

Then, with a deep breath and a long pause, Gertie whispered, “My son believes in Jesus.”

Mom burst out laughing. Gertie was mortified.

“I just shared with you the most heartbreaking news imaginable, and you laugh at me?” Gertie said. “I have kept this shame to myself for years; and when I finally share it with you, you laugh in my face?”

Still laughing, Mom said, “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. You see, I’ve kept a heartbreaking secret from you for years. I have two traitors—Michele and Steven. They are Christians. You have one, but I have two. Can you believe it?”

Mom found comfort in her conversation with Gertie because she realized she was not alone in her shame.

Aunt Florence’s Change of Heart
Though she was close to her elder sister, Florence, Mom had never shared her shameful secret with her. One time while visiting Cleveland, I stayed with Aunt Florence. When I arrived, she immediately asked me, “What did you do?”

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“Your parents act crazy whenever I bring your name up,” she said. “They don’t like talking about you. They change the topic every time I ask. You must have done something. What was it?”

“Do you really want to know?” I asked.

“Yes. What could you possibly have done to make them like this?”

“I believe that Jesus is my Messiah and Savior.”

“That’s it? That’s all you did?”

“Yes. Doesn’t hearing that I believe in Jesus upset you?”

“No, I am not like your folks,” she said. “I watch Billy Graham all the time.”

She agreed to hear why I trusted in Jesus as my Savior. And there, in her apartment, I pointed her to Christ, using the prophecies of the virgin birth (Isa. 7:14), the Son given (9:6), and the suffering Servant (chap. 53). Since she already had heard evangelist Billy Graham’s preaching, I even shared John 3:16 with her: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

Then I asked if she would like to receive Jesus as her Messiah and Savior. I was thrilled to hear her say yes, and I asked if we could seal her commitment to Christ with a prayer. We bowed our heads together, and she acknowledged her sin and need for a Savior. Then, she looked at me and said, “If you think I’m telling your mother, you’re out of your mind!”

Aunt Florence did not want to be on the wrong side of Mom. From then on, Aunt Florence received Israel My Glory magazine, even when she lived in a Jewish nursing home. Mom never talked to her or me about it. After my aunt passed, my wife, Alice, told Mom that Aunt Florence trusted Christ, hoping to open the door to share the Good News with her. Mom initially showed disbelief but then, with disappointment, said, “Well, whatever made her happy.”

The Satisfaction Found Only in Christ
After Dad died, Mom stayed active. She volunteered for various Jewish organizations. She played mahjong for 70 years. She bowled; and when she no longer could roll a real bowling ball, she rolled a virtual one in a Nintendo Wii bowling league. She had her hair done every Friday for more than 70 years. And she always found a deal. Though her body gave her some trouble over the years, her mind was sharp until the end.

During my years of ministry, people often prayed for my parents. Many times, when I returned to churches to speak, congregants asked me, “Does Blanche believe yet? We pray for her every day.” How encouraging and humbling it was to hear from believers who were praying for someone they had never met! At times, I neglected to pray for her; and their faithful prayer convicted me to pray for her more consistently.

As Mom’s 100th birthday approached, our family planned a special day for her. But two months shy of that day, she suffered a stroke. Alice and I drove from Philadelphia to Cleveland to see her. When she was awake, she could only communicate using single words and hand-squeezes. I found opportunities to share Christ while we were alone, making sure I didn’t upset my unbelieving family members.

I called my children and put the phone next to Mom’s ear, allowing them to share the Good News with her. Mom indicated she understood the gospel by squeezing my hand several times.

After a few days, she was transferred to a lovely hospice facility. Michele and I arrived early to visit her on her first full day there. I felt the Holy Spirit prompt me to read Scripture to her from the Old and New Testaments. As I read, Michele knelt in prayer at Mom’s bedside.

After a while, Michele spoke in Mom’s ear and again presented the gospel.

“Mom,” she said, “Florence wanted you to believe. She will be there to welcome you in heaven. Please squeeze my hand if you understand and believe that Jesus died for your sins.” Mom squeezed her hand, and Michele could not hold back her tears. Neither could I.

Shortly afterward, Mom died. Michele and I both knew that the Lord had truly saved her.

Why are so many of us surprised when God answers our prayers? After all, people prayed for her salvation for 50 years, since Michele was first saved. And God is faithful.

In Acts 12, King Herod imprisoned the apostle Peter for his witness, “but constant prayer was offered to God for him by the church” (v. 5). God answered and sent an angel who led Peter to freedom. So, Peter ran to the house where he knew the believers were gathered.

And as Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a girl named Rhoda came to answer. When she recognized Peter’s voice, because of her gladness she did not open the gate, but ran in and announced that Peter stood before the gate. But they said to her, “You are beside yourself!” Yet she kept insisting that it was so. So they said, “It is his angel.” Now Peter continued knocking; and when they opened the door and saw him, they were astonished (vv. 13–16).

I must admit, so were we.

As people began to hear about my mother’s deathbed conversion, I soon heard from others dealing with elderly loved ones who repeatedly rejected Christ. My mother’s salvation brought them renewed hope.

Mom always knew it was never too late to talk to the right person to find satisfaction. In this case, the right Person was Jesus; and her satisfaction was salvation through Him.

Photos Courtesy of Steve Herzig

Steve Herzig is the Vice President of North American Ministries and a Bible teacher for The Friends of Israel.