I didn’t always care so much about Israel or the Jewish people. My world was pretty small, my view myopic. All my life, I’d seen Israel as merely our U.S. ally in the middle east, a destination I’d wanted to tour one day, the birthplace of my Christian faith. Something shifted for me October 7, 2023. The brutal attack on Israel hit me in the chest with a force that surprised me. Suddenly, I was punted out of my insularity. I was putting myself in the shoes of the Israeli people. I imagined our American homeland invaded by terrorists. How horrific! My husband, Bobby, is a Marine Corps combat veteran, who served during the Global War on Terror and the subsequent invasion of Iraq. I imagined him being only a stone’s throw away from us, just across a border, dodging enemy sniper fire and hidden explosives, to rescue kidnapped Americans. I considered our three sons. I imagined them being held by Hamas in underground tunnels, abused, starving, cold, and afraid. This was Israel’s reality. I couldn’t stop crying. God was seeding something deep within me, and I felt the soil of my soul being upturned. I cried out to God on Israel’s behalf. As I went about my day, it was like a part of me wasn’t in Tennessee, but across the world, with the people of Israel. Two months later, I was baptized at our church in Nashville, something long overdue. That same night, unbeknownst to me, a group of Israelis were in attendance. This was not a coincidence. They stood after my baptism to share their Oct. 7th story of surviving a vicious attack against their kibbutz. I had just shared my own testimony of how Jesus had saved my life and pulled me out of darkness many years prior. God did something amazing that night, something supernatural. I felt myself being knit together with those Israeli people. It’s difficult to explain, even now. I woke in the morning to the actual voice of God. I mean, I actually heard an audible voice: “The time is short and the workers are few; go to Israel.” And with it, I suddenly felt the passion and the power of a roaring lion within my chest. I was singularly driven to fight for, serve, and encourage the people of Israel. It was a watershed moment in my life. There is the before, and then the after, of that moment. I began going to Israel on service trips. I wanted to be with the people. I wanted to hear their stories. More specifically, I wanted them to feel heard. Everywhere I went, I encountered a nation in trauma and grief, folded inward, insular in its posture, and unsure of who they could trust. Israelis were confused by my presence initially. “Why had I come in the middle of a war?” they wondered - especially as an American Christian. When I shared that it was God who had sent me, simply to show support, they were deeply touched and moved, often to tears. I was drawn to the IDF almost immediately. They were especially broken. They were - and still are - facing the hardships of war (danger, trauma, injury, hypervigilance) with bravery, dutifully. But I could see that they are bearing an additional burden: the weight of a false narrative with a demonic root, perpetuated by the media. They are labeled “baby killers” and perpetrators of “genocide”, and accused of starving Gazans. Yet, I could see these men for who they really were. I could see that they didn’t want to hurt a single innocent soul. As I built relationships with IDF soldiers and their families, God deepened my desire to alleviate their suffering. I also honed in on the IDF Reservist Community. Unlike young active-duty soldiers, Reservists must balance war - constant deployments - with family life and work. This leaves them with little bandwidth for their own mental, emotional, and spiritual health. What could I do? Bobby and I launched Risen Hearts early in 2024, still unsure of how to best serve the IDF. On a hike one day in east Tennessee, while praying, something life-changing happened to me: a miraculous vision opened up before my eyes! Suddenly, it became dark all around me. Then, to my right I saw a group of men, moving towards me. They were IDF soldiers, in uniform! They were exhausted, with pained expressions on their faces, and their arms around each other, trudging through deep sand. There was a violent wind in their faces. I was in a state of shock! All of a sudden, I understood that they were coming to the U.S., and moments later I realized they were coming to the West, to Wyoming or maybe Montana. As the vision vanished, I heard a whisper, “Refuge.” Y’all, I can’t unsee that! I can’t unknow it. No one can tell me that didn’t happen. It was a gift from God for the purpose of placing a mantle on my family. He was asking us to create a “Refuge” for IDF Reservists. God used the miracle of that vision to give me the faith and courage to push forward with His plan. Bobby and I traveled to Jackson, Wyoming soon after the vision. Right away, we began building relationships with the amazing local Jewish and Christian communities there. They were already working together to stand for Israel and the release of the hostages - it was really something special. They welcomed us and our crazy idea. God said, “This is the place.” A year later, we launched our first Teton Refuge retreat in partnership with many of those local supporters, along with Christian and Jewish supporters from all over the country! We continue to offer this retreat to battle-weary IDF Reservists, who are in great need of respite and healing. I want you to take away a couple things from my story. First, if God put a burning fire for Israel within me, out of nowhere, and the vision and drive to build a Refuge for Israeli soldiers, He must really love them. Furthermore, they must really need it. Second, Christian Americans should adopt God’s heart for Israel and the Jewish people - regardless of what the world thinks. We should love and care for “the least of these brothers of mine,” the Jewish brothers of our Jewish Messiah Jesus (Matthew 25:40) - regardless of geo-politics. We are to be Jesus’ hands and feet, with no strings attached. God’s kindness is then warmly received. Relationships form. A strength and a hope is found in that unity. It is fertile ground for the work of God. I pray that you join us on our journey. May you say to God, as the prophet Isaiah once did, “Here I am; send me,” and come alongside us in loving the people God loves.