Tiferet Yeshua Congregation
Tel Aviv

At age twenty I decided to immigrate to Israel. As a young Jewish woman growing up in Argentina, I considered myself a Zionist and was very active in the Jewish community in Buenos Aries. For me it was a goal to reach the place where my grandfather and my father were not able to go – Israel. Even in the 1990s, all of us Jews still experienced antisemitism in Argentina.
On the eve of my immigration to Israel, there was a massive terrorist attack against the Jewish Community Center in Buenos Aries. This traumatic event strengthened me in the knowledge that I was doing the right thing.
All Alone in a New Country
The first year for new immigrants in Israel is the most challenging. I felt so lonely, but eventually found my place. Being a Zionist was still my main identity, and I became active working for political parties in Israel connecting the Spanish and Portuguese-speaking diaspora to the Jewish Agency. Over time I became the national absorption coordinator for Jewish immigration from Latin America. It was through this work that I met my future husband, and at twenty-eight, I was married. A year later, I had my first daughter. I was on cloud nine. My job was interesting and important; I was married and had started a family. I was living the dream.
Immune to the Gospel
I devoted myself entirely to my family, to my parents who had by then immigrated to Israel, and to our family business. My husband and I started a tourist agency for Spanish-speaking Christian and Jewish pilgrims to Israel. Through our work, I was constantly hearing the gospel, but I considered myself immune.
Worship – the Evangelist that Unlocked my Heart
In 2014, a tour group contacted us that wanted to worship at every site they visited. I was intrigued: “What is this worship they want to do?” At my synagogue, we barely had a cantor to lead us, and there were never musical instruments. I told my husband: “I have to go with this group and see what this worship thing is.” The first day I was with them, I thought, “They are so insolent! Don’t they have any respect for God and His holiness?” But very quickly my impression changed, and I found that I was deeply impacted by their worship. They praised God with such joy and freedom, and I could see they were experiencing a closeness to God and the presence of the Holy Spirit. I was torn. I wanted what they had, but I also did not want it because I was Jewish and what they were doing was Christian.
In 2015, my father became very ill. During the eight-month period I cared for him, I found myself constantly listening to a worship disc from that tour group. It was the only thing that brought comfort in that dark time. I would sing along with the songs, but instead of saying “Jesus” in Spanish, I would say “Luz” which sounds similar but means light – that way I wouldn’t have to say His name! I felt close to God when I worshipped with that disc, and I could feel His voice speaking inside of me in response.
Questioning Religion and Tradition
After my father passed away, I observed the traditional time of mourning for thirty days. According to Jewish tradition, many things are forbidden for the first year after the death of a parent, including travel. I was a good Jew, and I wanted to honor my father by mourning him according to the traditions, but I also needed to travel for my business. A voice inside me said, “Where is it written that you cannot travel the first year after parent's death?” This question bothered me, and I started searching. “Where was it written? Was it in the Bible?”
Eighteen years I had attended synagogue, but never once had I read the Bible. I started searching in the Bible and quickly discovered my Judaism was like a layer covering the Bible, a man-made layer that didn’t belong. Slowly, as I started asking questions, one thing after another broke away, allowing me to seek the truth more freely.
Powerful Encounters
Three months after my father passed away, I traveled to Peru for work and also attended a worship conference. At the conference, I experienced the powerful presence of the Holy Spirit for the first time, and I heard God’s voice speaking clearly to my heart, “I know you want to worship Me. I will show you how.”
Still, despite these powerful experiences and my deepening doubts about rabbinic Judaism, I could not let Yeshua into my heart. I was so afraid that I would be betraying my ancestors and my heritage. I wasn’t ready to believe in Yeshua until I knew that I would not automatically become a Christian and stop being a Jew. I begged God for confirmation, and He graciously obliged!
An Amazing Discovery
I asked my mother if there was something she could give me from my grandparents who had immigrated to Argentina from Europe. She had given my grandfather’s prayer book (Siddur) to my oldest daughter for her bat mitzvah. She said there was one more book. I looked at the book and recognized right away that it was a copy of the New Testament in Yiddish. My grandparents had ordered this New Testament from Europe when they were already in Argentina! My Jewish grandparents were believers! It was a powerful moment of revelation from God: I was not betraying my grandparents by believing in Yeshua, I was actually entering into the completed faith they had as Jews. However, I still felt torn.
The Final Confirmation – A Sign in the Desert
I wanted to devote myself to the right thing, and felt that it was Yeshua, but I asked God for one last confirmation.
I felt God tell me, “Meet me in the desert.” I had become very attuned to and obedient to His voice that I had been hearing in my heart. So, I took a friend and went down to Timnah Park in the Arava desert where there is a replica of the Tabernacle. After we parked and started walking, I wanted to go to the area of Tabernacle replica, but I felt the Holy Spirit say to me, “Stop right here.” I stopped and looked around me. God wanted to meet with me here? Nearby I saw a vibrant green bush – conspicuous in the desert landscape. As I got closer, I saw the name of Yeshua written out in stones in English across the ground next to the bush. My skeptic self rebelled and I wondered, “Why is His name written in English?” Just then, I saw that above the name “Jesus” the Hebrew word chai (חי)was written out which means “lives.” Jesus lives!
There in the desert, I dedicated myself completely to Yeshua. From that moment, He has taken me on an amazing journey of healing and a new life of freedom in my devotion to Him. Today I live to worship Him, and in Him I have my complete identity as a Jewish follower of the Jewish Messiah!
Editor’s note: Deborah serves at Tiferet Yeshua congregation and leads a Spanish worship ministry called Fundacion HALEL