A Life in Pursuit of the Most High

 

When I was but a child, I always had this love for God. My mother taught me to love Him and to always pray to Him. I would read my little storybooks, and my heartbeat pulsed with the love I’ve carried ever since. Time moved on, and before I even became a teenager, God was already my refuge, always there for me. I had a deep and unexplainable love for Him.

 

Eventually, I began going to church off and on. Once, during a summertime service with my sister, a man invited anyone who wanted to come to know the “Lord” to stay after. I stayed. I prayed what I was told to pray and accepted Jesus as my savior. When I walked outside, my sister asked, “Did you just get saved?” I shrugged and said, “I don’t know… I guess.”

 

Not long after, we moved to a new place. My parents were going through problems, and my father left. I was heartbroken. They sought counsel from an old Apostolic preacher—one of the old-school kind. I remember one service when I was around twelve years old. He invited anyone who wished to come pray at the altar. With tears streaming down my face, I looked at my mother. She nodded knowingly, and I went forward. Kneeling at the altar, I poured my heart out to God, asking Him to bring my father back home. Not long after that, my dad returned—and I was overjoyed.

We started attending that preacher’s church, and it was there that I was baptized in Jesus’ name and spoke in tongues. I lived deeply and sincerely in the church. I memorized scripture until I was nearly a walking Bible. But in high school, I felt alone and began longing for companionship—a good girl, someone to share my heart with. I slowly drifted from church and eventually joined the U.S. Navy.

 

I was stationed in Mayport, Florida, just outside Jacksonville. One night, I called a church far across Jacksonville—a city so large, it’s the biggest in the U.S. by land area. The church I found was affiliated with the United Pentecostal Church, the largest Oneness organization in the world at the time. While I was going there, I dated like anyone else. But then I saw her—a redhead, the most beautiful I’d ever seen. And that was odd, because I never really liked redheads. I always leaned toward blondes and brunettes. But this one… she caught my eye.

 

She had a boyfriend already, but little did I know, he had another girlfriend in secret. We met and became friends. Before my ship went underway, we were at a fundraiser, and she gave me her address. I knew I wouldn’t miss that opportunity. While I was deployed, I wrote to her often—and she wrote me back. When I returned, I found her at a church event. First thing she said: “I got your letters—did you get mine?” Her boyfriend, now awkwardly standing nearby, had just walked in.

 

Later, my ship deployed overseas for six months. I decided to write to her the whole time—and she did the same. Long story short: we got married soon after. I was ordered to a new duty station across the country, and though she wasn’t happy about it, I told her I wasn’t going without her.

 

During my time in the Navy, we traveled a lot. We had our two sons and called it complete. Though I wanted to stay in the service, I couldn’t. We attended church and genuinely loved God. But all throughout that time, I felt something was off. I didn’t know what it was—but I knew it was there.

 

You see, I’ve always been a truth-seeker. It’s in my blood. I studied, researched, wrote articles and books. But still, that nagging emptiness lingered. I didn’t know what I was searching for, but I knew I’d recognize it when I found it.

 

Later in life, I became a locksmith and started my own business. One day, an elderly woman called me to do some work for her. I didn’t know then that this meeting would flip my world upside down. We began talking, and I noticed Hebrew books on her coffee table. I asked if she could read Hebrew. She said no, but she was learning. That conversation grew into more.

 

She told me she wanted to be baptized in the name of Yeshua. I said I knew someone who baptized in Jesus’ name. She said it wasn’t the same. I disagreed. We went back and forth, making little progress.

 

As I was leaving, she loaned me two books: Come Out of Her, My People by C.J. Koster, and Fossilized Customs by Lew White. When I got home, I read the first—and I was stunned. I told my wife what I read: how “Jesus” was really “Yeshua”—or so I thought. My wife, raised in church all her life, couldn’t understand why our church never used that name. In our denomination, if you weren’t baptized in the name of Jesus, you were headed to hell. She blamed the organization leaders—why didn’t they use the real name?

 

The following Sunday, I approached our pastor. I asked if he would baptize a woman in the name of Yeshua. He gave me an adamant no. I pressed, “Why not? Isn’t that the name He walked the earth with?” He refused to discuss it and walked away. That moment changed everything. I knew something wasn’t right.

 

I had to dig deeper. I discovered that Yeshua likely was His name. This journey led my wife and me to a local Messianic congregation. It was a step forward—but still felt empty. I kept reading, seeking, hoping. Then I met a Jewish man who taught from the New Testament—exposing how it may have been altered to serve a theological agenda.

He invited me to weekly online teachings. One night, he taught that Jesus was not God. At first, I was horrified. Didn’t the Bible say He was? But the more I listened, the more I had to study for myself.

 

I also befriended a scholar translating the Aramaic New Testament. I bought his book—but it didn’t feel revolutionary. One day I asked him: “If Jesus was the Messiah, how could He be, if He was born of a virgin? Doesn’t the Messiah need the bloodline of David and Solomon?” He said Joseph adopted Him. I knew that wasn’t right. Jewish adoption wouldn’t fulfill the royal bloodline requirement. That shook me to the core.

Everything I believed felt like it was crashing down. I was scared. I didn’t want to be a man without God. But I couldn’t ignore what I was learning.

 

Eventually, I found peace. I’m not Jewish—but I try to live by the Torah. Both my wife and I do. I now study Hebrew and have discovered deep, profound truths hidden in the language. The Torah is for anyone who embraces the covenant of YHWH. It’s not a list of harsh do’s and don’ts—it’s a love letter.

 

And if you’re reading this, thank you. Thank you for visiting my site. I believe you’ll find things here you’ve never heard before. If you don’t agree, that’s okay. We can disagree and still be friends. But if you do see what I see, then praise be to the Most- High. You are about to walk ancient paths few have dared to seek.

 

This website is living, breathing, and growing—just like its author. Everything shared here is based on the Hebrew Scriptures. It’s not about opinions or traditions. Let the Scriptures speak.

 

In my years in the church, I watched how people lived—how they spoke of God but acted without kindness. At home, at work—some of the most dishonest people I knew were sitting on pews. I wasn’t perfect either. Looking back, I said and did things that bring me shame. But something was always off. I could feel it.

 

When I transitioned to a Messianic mindset, I felt I was finally on a journey—but I didn’t know where it would lead. I was scared again, unsure if I’d end up lost. But I couldn’t turn back. I longed for truth. I found teachers like Tovia Singer and Michael Skobac. What they taught made sense. For a time, I thought about converting—but I’m glad we didn’t. No one I found was truly living Torah. I kept studying and learning on my own. Over time, I found that many things I’d discovered were confirmed by other teachers and even rabbis.

 

Today, I even use AI to assist me—but I’ve told it plainly: “Don’t give me Christian or Jewish theology. Just Scripture.” And it has helped me.

I’m not doing this to make money. I want to show others the Truth of the Living YHWH. Most people never ask where their beliefs come from. I do. I question everything—except His existence. He is. He was. And He will always be. He is more real than breath.

 

My heart’s desire is to please Him. To make Him smile. From Adam to now, mankind has disappointed Him again and again. Why? Pride. Greed. Rebellion. But His Torah—His Instructions—are like a loving parent’s rules for the home. They’re not burdensome. They’re beautiful.

 

Since stepping into what I call Torah Pursuance, I’ve found peace and joy like never before. I know now that living by YHWH’s Instructions is the path of life—not manmade religion, not cultic confusion, but the divine Manual of the Creator. This is life. This is joy. This is truth.

 

YHWH revealed Himself to thousands at Sinai. They heard His voice. They accepted His covenant. I want to do the same. I’m not perfect—but He’s not looking for perfection. He’s looking for loyalty. For someone to say, “Whatever You say, I will do—because I love You.”

 

That is my heart.