As a young boy, I was raised in the unique world of being the child of two Presbyterian ministers, where faith wasn’t just a part of our lives—it was at the very heart of everything we did. Growing up as a pastor’s kid (PK) was not always easy. The pressures, expectations, and responsibilities often felt overwhelming—but over time, those early experiences became the foundation of a deep and personal faith journey.

It wasn’t until years later, during visits with my great aunt in Hungary (at age 91) and my great uncle in Jerusalem, that I began to truly appreciate the rich heritage I had been given. In those conversations, I uncovered something long hidden: our Jewish roots.

My father had once lived a life shaped by both danger and courage. Though born into a Jewish family, he became a follower of Christ and served as a pastor during one of the darkest periods in history—Nazi-occupied Hungary. Because of his conversion, the Germans allowed him limited freedom. He wore a white patch, not the yellow star, and used his position to do the unthinkable: he forged baptismal records and hid Jews—many of them considered “third Jews” under Nazi law—in the basement of his home. His bravery eventually brought him to America, where his legacy of faith continued.

As a child, one painting in our home captivated me. Over 100 years old, it depicted Christ with outstretched arms, embracing the broken and the lost. That image stayed with me—an emblem of the grace and redemption that only Jesus can offer.

Today, I look back with awe at how God wove together a story of deliverance, faith, and love through generations of my family. From hidden heritage to bold resistance, from Budapest to America, Christ’s redeeming love has been the thread holding it all together.

And now, I live to share that same message: Jesus meets us in our brokenness, restores what was lost, and offers eternal life to all who believe in Him.