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This week’s report is a re-run from two years ago. For me at least, it is always the latest news. Here’s why. At its deepest root, the reason I am a Zionist is not because I am Jewish. I’m not. And while the Biblical basis for loving and standing with Yeshua’s human family is both clear and compelling, that’s not what won my heart. Something else did. Or, more accurately, someone else.

The Jewish people first captured my imagination when I was twelve. My dad, a pastor, befriended a Holocaust survivor named Manny Offman. Listening to him, a man who had walked out of Auschwitz, lit something in me that never fully went out. The liberation of Jerusalem in the 1967 Six Day War only deepened it. Then we moved, and that fascination faded. For almost thirty years.

In 1998, just before he turned ten, my impish, blond-haired, blue-eyed, smart and witty son went to get an x-ray. He was limping. I thought it was growing pains. It wasn’t. A huge, bony tumor was hiding in his pelvic dish. The cancer, osteosarcoma, was vicious. The only hope for its removal was amputation of Taylor’s left leg and his hip’s left hemisphere. In the two-year battle that followed, there were times he suffered. Horribly. But when there was no pain, he climbed trees, played four-square on one leg, rode horses, flew down the mountain on an alpine slide, rode his bike, went Trick or Treating as a one-legged pirate, and gleefully pranked his friends, their parents, his school teachers, doctors and nurses. No one was spared; everyone adored him. From the first day of diagnosis, he made a choice. He chose to focus on life, to celebrate life and love, until the day, twenty-eight years ago, just as the rising sun broke through the barrier of night, and with a mischievous smile on his face, he breathed his last and made the transition from life……to life.

His spirit changed my life. It was his gift of visceral love, his determination to live, fully live, that both rocked my faith and, in the cracks of sorrow, poured the binding agent of wonder at the Father’s sacrifice of His Son and His visceral love for life. For the life of His uniquely chosen human family, and for all of us grafted into it by faith. Somehow, that re-awakened the dormant seed planted in my early adolescence. What I came to see in the Jewish people, and in Israel, was something I knew and loved with all my heart. I saw the spirit of my son. And His. That’s why I’m a Zionist. For life.

If the story of Taylor’s spirit wins your heart, what you will see, if you are willing, is not only Taylor’s heart, but also the spirit of Israel, of Jewish people, both here and everywhere they live.

A Shelter for the Children of the Galilee

The Regba Clinic in Western Galilee has served vulnerable children for 51 years — and right now, kids who are healing from war trauma are doing so without a shelter. When rocket sirens sound, they scatter into hallways and parking lots, re-living the very terror they’re trying to recover from. A certified safe room — blast-proof door, reinforced concrete, sealed ventilation — would change everything. Your gift to Tipping Point Ministries makes that possible. When your arms can’t reach, your dollars can.

With a gift of any amount to Tipping Point Ministries — $25, $100, $1,000, $10,000, or more — you’ll help us continue sharing Bible prophecy and fund this shelter for the children of the Galilee.

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