Posts Tagged the hiding place

Corrie ten Boom – From Generation to Generation

Nov 21st, 2011 Posted in Excerpts | Comments Off on Corrie ten Boom – From Generation to Generation

By Corrie ten Boom
(from chapter 1 of In My Father’s House)

Willem ten Boom, my grandfather, was not strong like his father, so he chose a work which was not physically difficult. In the year 1837, Grandfather purchased a little house in Haarlem for four hundred guilders and set up shop as a watchmaker.

It was in 1844 that Grandfather had a visit from his minister, Dominee Witteveen, who had a special request. “Willem, you know the Scriptures tell us to pray for the peace of Jerusalem and the blessing of the Jews.”

“Ah, yes, Dominee, I have always loved God’s ancient people —they gave us our Bible and our Savior.”

Beginning with this conversation, a prayer fellowship was started, with Grandfather and his friends praying for the Jewish people. This was an unusual idea among Christians at that time. The Jews were scattered throughout the world, without a country or a national identity; Jerusalem was a city torn by centuries of conflict. The attention of the world was not upon the Middle East, and yet a small group of Dutch believers met in a little Haarlem house, a watchmaker’s shop (later called the Beje), to read the Scriptures and pray for the Jews.

In a divine way which is beyond our human understanding, God answered those prayers. It was in the same house, exactly one hundred years later, that Grandfather’s son, my father, four of his grandchildren, and one great-grandson were arrested for helping save the lives of Jews during the German occupation of Holland.

Another strutting dictator, more arrogant and insane than Napoleon, had planned to exterminate every Jew in the world. When Holland was controlled by Hitler’s troops, many Jews were killed.

For helping and hiding the Jews, my father, my brother’s son, and my sister all died in prison. My brother survived his imprisonment, but died soon afterward. Only Nollie, my older sister, and I came out alive.

So many times we wonder why God allows certain things to happen to us. We try to understand the circumstances of our lives, and we are left wondering. But God’s foolishness is so much wiser than our wisdom.

Because the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men. (1 Corinthians 1:25)

From generation to generation, from small beginnings and little lessons, He has a purpose for those who know and trust Him.
God has no problems—just plans!

Blessed is that man that maketh the LORD his trust, and respecteth not the proud, nor such as turn aside to lies. (Psalm 40:4)

(from chapter 1 of In My Father’s House by Corrie ten Boom)

Fear No Evil . . . Except – by Corrie ten Boom

Aug 22nd, 2011 Posted in Excerpts | Comments Off on Fear No Evil . . . Except – by Corrie ten Boom

In-My-Father-s-HouseFrom In My Father’s House by Corrie ten Boom
(released 2011 by Lighthouse Trails Publishing)

A child is not fearless, contrary to what his parents may think at times. A child is often a bundle of unexpressed fears, unknown terrors, and shadowy worries. I was afraid of the doctor’s office, my family’s leaving me, and the mystery of death.

Nollie’s nightgown was my contact with security. We slept in the same bed, and I can remember clinging to Nollie’s nightgown as long as she would allow me. Poor Nollie, when she would try to turn, she would be anchored by my little fist clasping her tightly.

One time, Mother took Nollie and me to visit a woman whose baby had died. I wished Nollie had been allowed to wear her nightgown on that journey, because I needed desperately to hang onto it.

We climbed a narrow staircase and entered the poorly furnished room of one of Mama’s “lame ducks” (the name we children had given to her protégées). Although we often did not have sufficient money for ourselves, Mother always found someone who was in greater need.

In that shabby little room was a crib with a baby inside. It didn’t move at all and its skin was very white. Nollie stood next to the crib and touched the baby’s cheek.

“Feel that,” she said to me, “it’s so cold.”

I touched the little hand and then ran to my mother and buried my face in her lap. I had touched death for the first time, and it seemed that the impression of cold remained with me for hours and hours.

When we returned home, I ran up the narrow stairs to my bedroom and leaned against the antique chest of drawers. There was an enormous fear in my heart—almost terror. In my imagination, I pictured the future in which I saw myself all alone, my family gone, and I left desolate. My family was my security, but that day I saw death and knew they could die, too. I had never thought about it before.

The dinner bell rang downstairs, and I was so grateful to go to the big oval table, get warm again, and feel the security of being with my family. I thought how stupid the grown-ups would think I was if I told them about the fear which was still in my heart.

I ate dinner quietly that night, which was not easy when you are in the midst of such a lively family. Our dinner table spilled over with conversation.

After dinner, Father took the Bible, as he always did and began to read the lines from Psalm 46:2:

Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.

I sat up straight in my chair and stared at my father. I didn’t know much about mountains, living in flat, flat Holland, but I certainly knew a lot about fear. I thought Papa must have known exactly what my problem was that night.

My faith in Papa, and in the words he read from the Bible, was absolute. If they said not to fear, then God would take care of it. I felt secure again. (from chapter 2 of In My Father’s House)

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