Because Corrie ten Boom’s
family had been hiding Jews during WWII to keep them safe from the Nazis, the
entire family was sent to the concentration camps. Corrie and her sister Betsie found themselves
in one of the darkest of those camps – Ravensbruck. Betsie died in that awful place, but Corrie
was released due to a “clerical error.”
After the war she
returned to Germany
to declare God’s forgiveness and grace.
The following story is an excerpt from the book “Tramp for the Lord”
found in a sermon by John Leffler on https://sermons.logos.com
Writes Corrie, “It
was 1947, and I’d come from Holland to a defeated
Germany
with the message that God forgives. It was the truth that they needed most to
hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental
picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to
think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown. ‘When we confess our sins,’ I said, ‘God
casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. And even though I cannot find
a Scripture for it, I believe God then places a sign out there that says, ’NO
FISHING ALLOWED.’
The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a cap with skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush—the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! That place was Ravensbruck, and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard—one of the most cruel guards.
Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: "A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!" And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women? But I remembered him. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze…
"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he was saying. "I was a guard there." No, he did not remember me. "But since that time," he went on, "I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein,"—again the hand came out—"will you forgive me?"
And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again been forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place. Could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking? It could have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a cap with skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush—the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! That place was Ravensbruck, and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard—one of the most cruel guards.
Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: "A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!" And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women? But I remembered him. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze…
"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he was saying. "I was a guard there." No, he did not remember me. "But since that time," he went on, "I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein,"—again the hand came out—"will you forgive me?"
And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again been forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place. Could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking? It could have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
In a similar
fashion, Job is now asked to enter into a very short, yet difficult phase of
his trial.
Job 42:7-9, “It came about after the LORD had spoken
these words to Job, that the LORD said to Eliphaz the Temanite, ‘My wrath is
kindled against you and against your two friends, because you have not spoken
of Me what is right as My servant Job has.
8 Now therefore, take for yourselves seven bulls and seven rams, and go
to My servant Job, and offer up a burnt offering for yourselves, and My servant
Job will pray for you. For I will accept him so that I may not do with you
{according to your} folly, because you have not spoken of Me what is right, as
My servant Job has.’ 9 So Eliphaz the
Temanite and Bildad the Shuhite {and} Zophar the Naamathite went and did as the
LORD told them; and the LORD accepted Job.”
Being called before
an earthly judge is frightening enough, but being called before the Judge of
the Universe? After Job’s repentance, God immediately summoned Eliphaz, Bildad,
and Zophar to the bench. “My wrath,”
said God, “is kindled against you three!”
The Message puts verse 7 this way, “After GOD had finished addressing
Job, he turned to Eliphaz the Temanite and said, "I’ve had it with you and
your two friends. I’m fed up! You haven’t been honest either with me or
about me—not the way my friend Job has.”
(Hartley remarks
that the absence of any mention of Elihu at this point is puzzling.)
“You have not
spoken of me what is right as my servant Job has” is a rather remarkable
statement. To me, this just doesn’t seem
to square with what Job had passionately accused God of doing (and some pretty
horrible actions at that). Remember
these words from chapter 19?
19:6 Know then that God has wronged me and
has closed His net around me. 7 Behold,
I cry, "Violence!' but I get no answer; I shout for help, but there is no
justice. 8 He has walled up my way so
that I cannot pass, and He has put darkness on my paths. 9 He has stripped my honor from me and
removed the crown from my head. 10 He
breaks me down on every side, and I am gone; and He has uprooted my hope like a
tree. 11 He has also kindled His anger
against me and considered me as His enemy.”
And yet…“You have
not spoken of me what is right as my
servant Job has.”
Barnes writes, “It
is to be remembered…that there was a great difference in the circumstances of
Job and the three friends — circumstances modifying the degrees of
blameworthiness chargeable to each. Job…expressed himself with irreverence and
impatience…but this was done in the
agony of mental and bodily suffering, and when provoked by the severe and
improper charges of hypocrisy brought by his friends. What (Eliphaz,
Bildad, and Zophar) said, on the contrary, was unprovoked. It was—when they
were free from suffering, and when they were urged to it by no severity of
trial. It was, moreover, when every consideration required them to express the
language of condolence, and to comfort a suffering friend.”
Matthew Henry
writes, “... (this story reminds us that) we cannot judge of men and their
sentiments by looking in their faces or purses.”
Did you catch the
title of honor ascribed by God to Job four times in verses 7-8? Four
times it’s “My servant Job!” How
reassuring and comforting those three words repeated four times in such a short
speech must have been to Job.
42:10 “The LORD restored the fortunes of Job
when he prayed for his friends, and the LORD increased all that Job had
twofold.”
Job wasn’t healed
when he repented, he was healed when he stepped out in faith and prayed for his “friends!”
To set aside his feelings of
anger and outrage toward his three closest associates, to pray FOR Eliphaz,
Bildad, and Zophar perhaps had been one of the most difficult chapters of Job’s
trial.
The KJV translates
it “God turned the captivity of Job…” Unforgiveness,
bitterness, a desire for revenge holds us in a horrible captivity. And as appalling as the open, running sores
were that scarred his body, they would pale in comparison to the repugnant sore
of the soul that festers due to a lack of forgiveness.
Job obeyed…and GOD
HEALED HIM! The noble sheik of Uz
stepped out in faith, and, as the cutting accusations of Eliphaz, Bildad, and
Zophar still echoed in his heart, prayed FOR his friends!
Corrie continues
her story, “For I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a
prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. "If you do not
forgive men their trespasses," Jesus says, "neither will your Father
in heaven forgive your trespasses." And still I stood there with the
coldness clutching my heart.
But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart! "Jesus, help me!" I prayed silently. "I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling." And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust out my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
"I forgive you, brother!" I cried. "With all my heart!" For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then. But even then, I realized it was not my love. I had tried, and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit.
But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart! "Jesus, help me!" I prayed silently. "I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling." And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust out my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
"I forgive you, brother!" I cried. "With all my heart!" For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then. But even then, I realized it was not my love. I had tried, and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit.
Conclusion: Perhaps you feel as though you are trapped in
your own “ash heap” experience and need to have your captivity turned. Perhaps you yearn for your own “Restoration Times Two.”
Forgiveness may be
the key that is needed to open the door into a renewed freedom in
your spirit.
To hear Corrie’s first hand account of the above story, click on the below "YouTube" link:
