I spent the night in the airport, keeping vigil with a copy of the New Testament that I had brought with me on the trip. And it was sometime during that bizarre night, in reading account after account of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection in the Gospels, that I became convinced that all of this really was true, and I could deny the truth of God’s corresponding claims upon me and my life no longer. Not everyone can pinpoint the precise moment of his or her salvation, but I know that this was mine. Appropriately, it was the night that bridged Saturday to Sunday. Overwhelmed with gratitude for a God who drew me to himself, for the first time in my life I prayed.

As a Christian, I have a greater appreciation for all my faithful Jewish ancestors.