{"id":18432,"date":"2024-12-23T00:04:32","date_gmt":"2024-12-23T07:04:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/?p=18432"},"modified":"2024-12-23T00:04:32","modified_gmt":"2024-12-23T07:04:32","slug":"forgiveness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/?p=18432","title":{"rendered":"Forgiveness"},"content":{"rendered":"

Corrie ten Boom on Forgiveness<\/b><\/span><\/span><\/h1>\n

In this story from November 1972, the author of\u00a0<\/span>The Hiding Place\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/em>recalls forgiving a guard at the concentration camp where her sister died.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It was in a church in Munich that I saw him, a balding heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was the truth 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\u2019s mind, I liked to think that that\u2019s where forgiven sins were thrown.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhen we confess our sins,\u201d I said, \u201cGod casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. There were never questions after a talk in Germany in 1947. People stood up in silence, in silence collected their wraps, in silence left the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

And that\u2019s 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 visored cap with its skull and crossbones.<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u2019s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!<\/span><\/p>\n

Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbr\u00fcck concentration camp where we were sent.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: \u201cA fine message,\u00a0<\/span>fr\u00e4ulein<\/i><\/span><\/em>! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

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\u2013how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women?<\/span><\/p>\n

But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. It was the first time since my release that I had been face to face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou mentioned Ravensbr\u00fcck in your talk,\u201d he was saying. \u201cI was a guard in there.\u201d No, he did not remember me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut since that time,\u201d he went on, \u201cI 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.\u00a0<\/span>Fr\u00e4ulein<\/i><\/span><\/em>\u201d\u2013again the hand came out\u2013\u201cwill you forgive me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

And I stood there\u2013I whose sins had every day to be forgiven\u2013and could not. Betsie had died in that place\u2013could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?<\/span><\/p>\n

It could not 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

For I had to do it\u2013I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. \u201cIf you do not forgive men their trespasses,\u201d Jesus says, \u201cneither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I knew it not only as a commandment of God, but as a daily experience. Since the end of the war I had had a home in Holland for victims of Nazi brutality.<\/span><\/p>\n

Those who were able to forgive their former enemies were able also to return to the outside world and rebuild their lives, no matter what the physical scars. Those who nursed their bitterness remained invalids. It was as simple and as horrible as that.<\/span><\/p>\n

And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart. But forgiveness is not an emotion\u2013I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cJesus, help me!\u201d I prayed silently. \u201cI can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust 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.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI forgive you, brother!\u201d I cried. \u201cWith all my heart!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

For a long moment we grasped each other\u2019s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God\u2019s love so intensely as I did then.<\/span><\/p>\n

And having thus learned to forgive in this hardest of situations, I never again had difficulty in forgiving: I wish I could say it! I wish I could say that merciful and charitable thoughts just naturally flowed from me from then on. But they didn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n

If there\u2019s one thing I\u2019ve learned at 80 years of age, it\u2019s that I can\u2019t store up good feelings and behavior\u2013but only draw them fresh from God each day.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe I\u2019m glad it\u2019s that way. For every time I go to Him, He teaches me something else. I recall the time, some 15 years ago, when some Christian friends whom I loved and trusted did something which hurt me.<\/span><\/p>\n

You would have thought that, having forgiven the Nazi guard, this would have been child\u2019s play. It wasn\u2019t. For weeks I seethed inside. But at last I asked God again to work His miracle in me. And again it happened: first the cold-blooded decision, then the flood of joy and peace.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had forgiven my friends; I was restored to my Father.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then, why was I suddenly awake in the middle of the night, hashing over the whole affair again? My\u00a0<\/span>friends!<\/i><\/span><\/em>\u00a0I thought.\u00a0<\/span>People I loved!<\/i><\/span><\/em>\u00a0If it had been strangers, I wouldn\u2019t have minded so.<\/span><\/p>\n

I sat up and switched on the light. \u201cFather, I though it was all forgiven! Please help me do it!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

But the next night I woke up again. They\u2019d talked so sweetly too! Never a hint of what they were planning. \u201cFather!\u201d I cried in alarm. \u201cHelp me!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

His help came in the form of a kindly Lutheran pastor to whom I confessed my failure after two sleepless weeks.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cUp in that church tower,\u201d he said, nodding out the window, \u201cis a bell which is rung by pulling on a rope. But you know what? After the sexton lets go of the rope, the bell keeps on swinging. First\u00a0<\/span>ding<\/i><\/span><\/em>\u00a0then\u00a0<\/span>dong<\/i><\/span><\/em>. Slower and slower until there\u2019s a final\u00a0<\/span>dong<\/i><\/span><\/em>\u00a0and it stops.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI believe the same thing is true of forgiveness. When we forgive someone, we take our hand off the rope. But if we\u2019ve been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn\u2019t be surprised if the old angry thoughts keep coming for a while. They\u2019re just the ding-dongs of the old bell slowing down.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

And so it proved to be. There were a few more midnight reverberations, a couple of dings when the subject came up in my conversation. But the force\u2013which was my willingness in the matter\u2013had gone out of them. They came less and less often and at last stopped altogether.<\/span><\/p>\n

And so I discovered another secret of forgiveness: that we can trust God not only above our emotions, but also above our thoughts.<\/span><\/p>\n

And still He had more to teach me, even in this single episode. Because many years later, in 1970, an American with whom I had shared the ding-dong principle came to visit me in Holland and met the people involved. \u201cAren\u2019t those the friends who let you down?\u201d he asked as they left my apartment.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said a little smugly. \u201cYou can see it\u2019s all forgiven.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBy you, yes,\u201d he said. \u201cBut what about them? Have they accepted your forgiveness?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey say there\u2019s nothing to forgive! They deny it ever happened. But I can prove it!\u201d I went eagerly to my desk. \u201cI have it in black and white! I saved all their letters and I can show you where\u2013\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCorrie!\u201d My friend slipped his arm through mine and gently closed the drawer. \u201cAren\u2019t you the one whose sins are at the bottom of the sea? And are the sins of your friends etched in black and white?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

For an anguishing moment I could not find my voice. \u201cLord Jesus,\u201d I whispered at last, \u201cwho takes all my sins away, forgive me for preserving all these years the evidence against others! Give me grace to burn all the blacks and whites as a sweet-smelling sacrifice to Your glory.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I did not go to sleep that night until I had gone through my desk and pulled out those letters\u2013curling now with age\u2013and fed them all into my little coal-burning grate. As the flames leaped and glowed, so did my heart.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cForgive us our trespasses,\u201d Jesus taught us to pray, \u201cas we forgive those who trespass against us.\u201d In the ashes of those letters I was seeing yet another facet of His mercy. What more He would teach me about forgiveness in the days ahead I didn\u2019t know, but tonight\u2019s was good news enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

When we bring our sins to Jesus, He not only forgives them, He makes them as if they had never been.<\/span><\/p>\n

*****<\/span><\/p>\n

I have my own story (I think most of us do), although it is not so dramatic as the ones she listed above. In fact, it\u2019s rather trivial.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Many years ago, I awoke to discover our mailbox had been beaten in, presumably with a baseball bat. I was angry, although my wife did not seem to share my reaction. As I recall, I finally ended up getting a new one as I could not save the smashed one.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

For weeks afterwards, every time I saw a smashed or dented mailbox, I relived what had been done to ours. I would seethe inside. Then I would pray such noble prayers as \u201cGet \u2018em, God!\u201d But this did not bring me piece.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Like Corrie Ten Boom, I finally made the mechanical, cold-blooded decision to forgive. I said the words, and I asked God to help me mean them. Besides, I knew I had to forgive if I wanted to be forgiven.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

It took a few days. Thoughts kept coming to my mind about our precious mailbox, destroyed, discarded and replaced. So I would remind myself that I had forgiven them. And I would pray for them again. It finally got to the point where seeing a dented mailbox in my travels no longer bothered me.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

There have been many more instances since then. Many times I have been hurt by those I thought cared about me. And I have needed to forgive.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes it took me a while before I finally said the words. But when I did, I would always ask God to change my heart so that I meant them. And He has always given me a peace, as though lifting a heavy burden right up from off my shoulders.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

Even after having moved back to be closer to mom, I kept running into instances where I needed to forgive. I\u2019ve even had a recent one. But God takes me all the way back to that mailbox <\/span><\/span>to remind me <\/span><\/span>that it is so much better on me, my health, and my spirit, if I will just forgive and release the offense.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I am reminded of A Christmas Carol, and old Jacob Marley and the chains and blocks he drags around. To me, each block represents another wrong committed against him, another wrong he refuses to let go of. He must remember it, nurture it, keep it fresh. But by doing so, he adds to his chains of unforgiveness until he can hardly move forward anymore, living a life full of nothing but misery, resentment, and remembered offenses.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

I struggle with high blood pressure. By forgiving others, it frees me from stress and anxiety that could be oh, so fatal to me one day. Besides, it reminds me of the sins I need to be forgiven of, the sins God has cast into the sea.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

If he can do that for me, an unworthy sinner, the least I can do is to forgive others. And if it\u2019s a struggle to forgive, I know that if I just say the words (when I may not feel like it) while asking God to help me change my heart, I know He will be faithful and will take the burden away and fill me with peace and joy.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Something a little different from my usual fare that I found online and that I thought I would share with you for Christmas. Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18432","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18432","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=18432"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18432\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18434,"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18432\/revisions\/18434"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=18432"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=18432"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/riwaslibrary.com\/story\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=18432"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}