I’m an unlikely source for book recommendations. My list of perused titles is pitifully short. At Christmas, however, Jane gave me one I had mentioned earlier and forgotten about. It’s an old story which I should have read years ago.
The Hiding Place was originally published in 1971. Corrie ten Boom, with assistance from John and Elizabeth Sherrill, gave a personal account of Nazi Germany’s invasion of her Dutch homeland. Holland was neutral in World War II, hoping such politics would provide them a degree of protection. Neutrality, however, is often lacking in reward.
It only took five days for Hitler’s forces to take control of the peace-seeking country. Holland’s substantial Jewish population suffered tremendously. They were crammed into trucks and trains then taken to prisons and labor camps. Some were killed without delay while others died slowly from sadistic brutality and inhumane conditions.
Corrie ten Boom’s family wasn’t Jewish by birth or religion. They were Christians who led an unassuming life guided by their steadfast faith. Days were spent running their small shop where they sold and repaired clocks and watches. On Sundays they worshiped the One whose guidance they trusted.
The ten Boom family could have maintained a tolerable lifestyle under German occupation. The only thing required was to look the other way, to ignore the atrocities being committed against Holland’s Jews. Instead they took a risky path, knowing it would likely cost them dearly. They helped their suffering countrymen in multiple ways, most famously by providing a hiding place in their home for people who had no other options.
Their refusal to ignore the plight of others led to unspeakable tragedies in the ten Boom family. Corrie miraculously survived confinement, but her elderly father and sister Betsy did not. Yet despite the cruelties she endured and witnessed, Corrie thanked God for using her to minister to others.
That’s all I’ll share about The Hiding Place. If you’ve read it you already know the story. If you haven’t, please don’t settle for my brief overview. Details of her experience are not what I want to elaborate on today. It’s Corrie ten Boom’s decision, along with other family members, to remain faithful during times of relentless persecution.
Sometimes I wonder how moral people, especially Christians, could have allowed such horrific abuses. But what I find most troubling is thinking I might have been among them. When safety is assured by doing nothing, the easy path is tempting. Fear of repercussions can take us further down that road. Concern for loved ones adds another dimension.
Most of us probably won’t face anything akin to the dire circumstances of the ten Boom family. Yet each of us makes regular decisions of who to put first, Christ and those in need, or ourselves. Such choices begin in childhood and never end.
There’s always a kid who doesn’t fit in, one who sits alone in the cafeteria or waits awkwardly on the playground, hoping for an invitation that never comes. Some are bullied while others are made unwelcome. Decisions on taking a stand or staying quiet begin early and are no less challenging when we become adults.
The Christian response to injustice has often been silence. Examples are abundant, but I don’t know if it’s productive to recount our imperfect past. Instead I’ll close by suggesting that each of us consider more intentionally how God can use us today.
Mr. Heard George, son of U.S. Senator Walter F George, was an elderly gentleman when I first met him in 1975. He was a member of Vienna First Baptist and belonged to the men’s Sunday School class taught by Mr. John Bonner.
I’ve been told that in Mr. Heard’s prayers he often said, “Help me do something for someone who can’t do anything for me.” That strikes me as a perfect request, one God would appreciate hearing and likely answer without delay.
So, I’ll end today’s musiings with that borrowed prayer and a recommendation of a good book. The Hiding Place has many lessons, all of them best learned by reading Corrie ten Boom’s account.
Perhaps the most important lesson is to focus on love instead of hate. But as I reflect on my tendency to linger in the safety of the sidelines, another point comes to mind. Neutrality is often lacking in reward.