Some years ago, a Jewish Rabbi was visiting a friend of his. While they were talking together in the parlor, the Rabbi noticed a small book on the table.
“What is this?” he asked, picking it up.
“Oh, that is the Christians’ book,” answered the unbelieving friend. “Don’t bother yourself with it.”
But the young Jew had already glanced at the Book, and had read the opening words of Matthew’s Gospel.
“The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham.” These few words had made this book most interesting. He had been taught to despise Jesus Christ of Nazareth, and he was surprised to find that He was the Son of David, and the Son of Abraham. As his friend noticed him still reading it thoughtfully, he spoke again, “Don’t read it, it is the Christians’ book, and is no good.”
“But I would like very much to read it.”
“Very well, take it. I give it to you as a birthday present.”
God watched over that young Rabbi as he took that blessed Testament home, and there, where nobody could see him, he read it through and through. He found in it the story of Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God. He found that he, who formerly had hated this same Jesus, was a sinner in need of a Saviour, and he bowed at the feet of the Lord Jesus and became a Christian. For many years, and with much suffering, he told others of this some Jesus—his Saviour.
ML 08/20/1950