Joel Rosenberg
CBN.com –THE THIRD TARGET STORYLINE
ISIS has obtained chemical weapons inside Syria. A reporter for the New York Times as a foreign correspondent, J.B. Collins realizes he has to search out the story no matter the cost. Who really has the weapons, and what is their intentions? What is the country or countries they desire to target? "They uncover a plot that could lead to genocide. Already ISIS has attacked two governments, brutally killing anyone who stands in their way." The President of the United States has planned a visit to that area of the world that could inflame the terrorists to ignite a massive explosion. As he uncovers the dangers planned, Collins has to decide if he will lay his life and job down in order to let the world know of ISIS plans of mass destruction.
JOEL ROSENBERG:
Joel is a bestseller novelist who writes political thrillers. Using investigation along with his imagination, he writes novel after novel, and readers are convinced that what he has written is a reality. Joel's releases have repeatedly lined up with what is currently happening in the news.
Taken from Joel's website:
"My grandparents and great-grandparents were Orthodox Jews who had to escape out of Russia in the early years of the twentieth century because the czar was killing thousands upon thousands of Jews. As they hid in a hay wagon that was crossing a border into an Eastern European country, czarist soldiers drew their swords and plunged them into the hay to see if anyone was trying to escape. By God's grace, no one was injured. None of the children coughed, or sneezed, or said, "Are we there yet?" And by God's grace, after successfully getting out of the vicious anti-Semitism of Russia they didn't say, "Phew, let's settle in Poland. Or Germany. Or Austria." They made their way across the continent of Europe, got on a ship to the New World, landed at Ellis Island, and like any good Jewish family they set up shop in Brooklyn.
That's where my father was raised, in the Bedford-Stuyvesant section, in a devoutly religious home - religious, but sadly, almost devoid of love. Every meal was kosher, but often burnt (my grandmother was a horrible cook) and without the kind of warm and engaging family conversations children should grow up enjoying. Every day my father attended Hebrew school and every Sabbath he and his family went to synagogue, but he was never taught the meaning of the words he was reading, or why they mattered. His family celebrated every Jewish holiday, from Passover to Hanukah, but such times were often spent with arguing relatives and their significance was lost.
How could he even consider marrying a non-Jew? It was unthinkable to his parents. And an agnostic Methodist at that! But for my father the religious trappings of his childhood held nothing but bad memories. It's not that he was convinced Judaism was untrue. But he did not feel compelled to marry someone of a faith he did not share.
My mother wasn't just a Gentile. She was of English descent - a white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant, for crying out loud. A Methodist of all things. My parents were intrigued with the idea of finding God, but they had not found him yet. They would take long walks through the streets of suburban Syracuse, and later a little town called Fairport, New York, where they moved in 1969. They would talk about whether there really was a God and, if there was, how one could know Him.
They read the Koran, and the Baghavad Gita, and the Bible, and talked to neighbors and friends about their spiritual journeys. Then one Sunday they happened to visit a church where a group of visiting laypeople explained how they had found a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ, and how becoming followers of Jesus had totally transformed their lives. One day while riding home from work on a bus, my father read two little booklets published by an organization known as Campus Crusade for Christ. One was called, "The Four Spiritual Laws." It explained the Bible's plan of salvation just as simply and clearly as the laypeople at the church my parents had visited. The second was a little blue pamphlet that explained that when a person chooses to turn away from his own way of living and prays to receive Jesus Christ as personal Savior and Lord, he or she can experience a new life through the transformational power of God's Holy Spirit.
Suddenly, it all seemed to make sense. It all rang true. My father walked into our kitchen and announced to my mother that he believed Jesus was in fact the Messiah and that he had prayed to become a follower of this Son of the living God.
Well that was all fine and good for my parents. But then they started dragging my sister and me off to church every Sunday morning. They made us go to Sunday school. Worse, they sent us to something called Vacation Bible School. Ugh. I can't stand to sing. I hate crafts. And that's all you do in VBS. That and listen to stories about Jesus. It was horrible.
But I listened. I was curious about this person named Jesus. I wanted to know why He seemed so loving, so kind, and why He could do so many miracles. Over time it began to sink in that He was more than a man; He was and is the Messiah. What's more, I saw the lives of my parents changing before my very eyes. My mother was no longer wracked with anxiety and fear and stricken with constant migraine headaches. She had a peace that surpassed all of my understanding. My father was no longer the bitter man with a violent temper that I had long feared. He was becoming gentle and kind, a man who loved both to study and to teach the Bible, especially to kids.
Who were these people? They were followers of Jesus. That was the only explanation I could come up with. God was real to them. They knew Him, and He was changing their lives. Perhaps He could change mine. Perhaps Jesus could give me the purpose and direction I so desperately wanted and needed in my life. It was not until January of 1984, the winter of my junior year of high school that I became a deeply convinced and fully devoted follower of Jesus Christ. But when I did my life began to change in ways I never dreamt possible, and I began to see my place in God's plan and purpose for His chosen people. One of the most welcome but least expected changes God made in me as I began following Jesus was a sudden and growing interest in all things Jewish. With a name as distinct as "Joel Rosenberg" everybody in my little town knew that I was Jewish. But I had little idea what that really meant. I hadn't been raised going to Hebrew school or celebrating the Jewish holidays. I had never had a bar mitzvah or been to synagogue. But the more I read the Bible, the more intrigued I became by the fact that Jesus and His disciples were Jewish, and I started asking my father a thousand questions. To my surprise, he answered them. We began celebrating Passover as a family. We began studying the Jewish Scriptures together, especially the Hebrew prophets, with whom I became intrigued. In 1987, I had the opportunity to study for six months in Israel at Tel Aviv University, and I leapt at the chance to see the Holy Land for myself.
It is hard to describe the deep sense of connection I felt when I arrived in the land of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Jesus. It was as if I were home, where I belonged. For the first time in my life I was studying Hebrew (six hours a day!), eating falafel, and visiting ancient sites where the Bible was written and passed down through the ages.
I had a powerful sense that Israel was the epicenter of human history, a land chosen by God for the most important event of human history - the death and resurrection of the Messiah - and a land reborn in modern times as foretold by the prophets; a stage upon which the cataclysmic final events of history would be acted out. I knew right then and there I wanted to write about Israel and her enemies, about the forces of freedom and tyranny in the Middle East, about the clues the prophets told us to watch for so that we would know beyond the shadow of a doubt when the final chapter of history was about to unveiled."