The Hiding Place

This past Saturday, a friend was kind enough to introduce me to McKay's- a used bookstore in Nashville.  As I perused the Christian aisle, I came across The Hiding Place:  The Triumphant True Story of Corrie Ten Boom.  I had heard of her (referenced in some other books) but knew little of her story.  It was 50 cents so I decided to purchase it.  It was a story I couldn't put down.

Briefly, The Hiding Place is the story of Corrie and her family- faithful Christians who relied on God every step of the way as they risked their lives to help Jews escape Nazis occupying Holland.  They were part of the "underground" operation to find safe houses for Jews and they themselves hid Jews in a secret room built within Corrie's own bedroom.  She and her family were eventually caught and though most of them were released, Corrie and her sister Betsie remained and both were sent to Hitler's concentration camps.  It's there, in her imprisonment (at the lowest point and her weakest state), she displays the greatest strength.  In her weakness, we see not the perfect Christian but the perfect Christ. We see an extraordinary woman doing extraordinary things because of an extraordinary God.  In the book, Corrie displays fear, hurt, anger, doubt, lack of faith, and hopelessness but she never stays there long and she always credits God for that.  She is keenly aware that it is God who is at work, who provides, and who never fails to grant her what she needs at the right time and in the right way.  In the darkest moments, God's light shines and she continually reminds us of that.  There are so many wonderful truths that Corrie points out but the one that made the most impact on me was in the realm of forgiveness.  Toward the end of her story, Corrie shares this moment:

"It was at a church service in Munich that I saw him, the former S.S. man who had stood guard at the shower room door in the processing center at Ravensbruck.  He was the first of our actual jailers that I had seen since that time.  And suddenly it was all there- the roomful of mocking men, the heaps of clothing, Betsie's pain-blanched face.  He came up to me as the church was emptying, beaming and bowing.  "How grateful I am for your message, Fraulein." he said.  "To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away!"  His hand was thrust out to shake mine.  And I who had preached so often to the people in Bloemendaal the need to forgive, kept my hand at my side.  Even as the angry, vengeful thoughts boiled through me, I saw the sin of them.  Jesus Christ had died for this man; was I going to ask for more?  Lord Jesus, I prayed, forgive me and help me to forgive him.  I tried to smile, I struggled to raise my hand.  I could not.  I felt nothing, not the slightest spark of warmth or charity.  And so again I breathed a silent prayer.  Jesus, I cannot forgive him.  Give me Your forgiveness.  As I took his hand the most incredible thing happened. From my shoulder along my arm and through my hand a current seemed to pass from me to him, while into my heart sprang a love for this stranger that almost overwhelmed me.  And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His.  When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself. (p. 238)