Debbie Herbeck
My journey of faith began the day I was born. As a Jew, my identity was shaped by my traditional grandparents, the Jewish community, and a religious education that culminated in my Bat Mitzvah (a ceremonial rite of passage) at age thirteen. My world of family, friends, and school was predominantly Jewish, and as a young child I thought everyone in the world was Jewish!
By external standards, our family with four children was successful—a nice home, material possessions, fun vacations, and prestige within the Jewish community. But as a young child I sensed my mother’s unhappiness, observed her excessive drinking, and experienced her emotional distance. My father was caring and generous, yet he refused to acknowledge our family dysfunction and enabled my mother’s alcoholism. Our clear but unspoken family protocol for handling difficult circumstances and feelings was to avoid them.
By sophomore year of high school, I had mastered the art of denial, and put all my energy towards academics, athletics, and popularity. The illusion of my self-reliance was shattered one snowy December night, when my older brother, a freshman in college, was killed in a car crash. I was filled with grief, anger and confusion, and my faith, expressed only through Jewish customs and traditions, now seemed shallow, if not empty. There were so many painful questions and no helpful answers. I did not know how to process my grief or make sense of this tragedy, and a powerful fear of death settled over me. Throughout high school I turned to partying, drinking, music, and promiscuity to dull my pain and find acceptance.
Studying away from home at a large university brought new focus to my life, and broadened my exposure to different kinds of people. My first roommate and other girls in my dorm not only called themselves Christians, they claimed to know their Christian God in a personal way. I didn’t know anything about Jesus and His teachings, but I had been taught as a Jew that Christianity was off limits. Near the end of my freshman year, a friend invited me to watch a movie with her in the dorm lounge. If I had known it was called Jesus of Nazareth, I never would have gone, but as I watched, I confronted the alarming and intriguing reality that Jesus was Jewish! Watching that night, I was drawn into an unfolding story; who was this man, and why did people place their hope in Him? In particular, I was stunned as I watched the scene as two bereaved sisters approach Jesus and exclaim, “Lord, where were you? If you had been here, our brother would not have died.” The pain and sense of abandonment over my own brother’s death came rushing back to me. I watched as Jesus went to the tomb of his dead friend, and brought Lazarus back to life. Could this Jewish man be the Messiah, the Promised One? That night I prayed that God would reveal Himself to me and show me Jesus’ true identity.
I began to do the unthinkable. I borrowed a Christian bible, read the Gospels, examined the messianic claims of Christ, and daily asked, “God if you’re real, show me!” After nine months, which included a divinely inspired dream, a powerful vision of Christ, and budding faith, I was ready to welcome Jesus into my life as my Lord and Messiah. There were so many things about my life that changed for the better as Jesus began to occupy first place. Despite my family’s disapproval and distance, I grew in faith and confidence, and the fear of death no longer gripped me. I grew as a disciple, studied Scripture, exercised leadership gifts, and helped others know Him. I fell in love with Peter, joined the Catholic Church, and got married. I brought my past sins into the light of the confessional, but in fear and shame, I hid the deepest wounds of my past from myself, Peter, and even God. I worked hard for God, served others, and stayed busy and focused on my responsibilities to our growing family and ministry. But there were still wounds from my past and my family of origin that impacted me in areas of self-reliance, trust, and intimacy. Over the past 40 years I have experienced greater freedom in these areas as I’ve opened myself to others and to God’s healing power, and I have seen the beautiful fruit from living in obedience to God and His plan.