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The last I remember of my old self I was hyperventilating on my bed fourteen years ago, crying out to God for help. I knew I was sinking in despair and my heart’s cry was to let God know that I could not live this life by myself anymore and that I desperately needed his help. The reason I did not cry out to Jesus was because I grew up Jewish and did not have any real understanding of who Jesus was. When I look back now, I can recall how more than a few people invited me to go to church with them and others who handed out tracts of the gospel. I thought it was all religious rubbish and scoffed at the thought of it all, having no idea that God was actually pursuing a sinner like me.