Corrie ten Boom, Her Story (continued)
Let him have all your worries and cares, for he is always thinking about you and watching everything that concerns you. is Reter si
7. Don't Burden Yourself
MANY YEARS AGO, shortly after World War II had come to a close, I was invited to speak in a Japanese church in Tokyo. The nation was still reeling from the impact of the war. All that the Japanese people had believed in had been snatched away, and two of their greatest cities had been destroyed by the atomic bomb. If ever a people had reason to worry, it was the Japanese.
Because of the language barrier, it seemed practical for me to give them an object lesson. "Do you know the feeling," I began, "when your heart is like a suitcase with a heavy load?"
The sad-faced people in the little church all nodded. They knew the feeling.
I picked up my suitcase and put it on the table. It was very heavy. I told them how weary I was from tramping all over the world, carrying that suitcase filled with heavy objects.
"My heart was like that until just last week, when J read a glorious verse in the Bible. It says, 'Cast all your anxieties on him, for he cares about you.' I did that.
I brought all my burdens to the Lord—all my cares—and I cast them upon Him."
I opened my suitcase and spread it out on the table to demonstrate. "Lord," I continued, "here are my co-workers. They are so tired." I reached down and took two items out of the suitcase and laid them on the table.
"And here is my trip, Lord—the one I have to make next week to the town where I don't know a single person. You know how worried I am about that, and how afraid I get when I think about it. I cast this care on You, too, Lord." I took a big package out of the suitcase and laid it on the table next to the two smaller packages.
JESUS IS VICTOR
"Here are my friends at home, Lord. They wrote about a car accident. Will You please heal them?" I took out one more object and placed it on the table.
"And here is that boy who refused to give his life to Jesus. Dear Lord, You know how much I have worried about him." I placed a heavy piece on the table.
"This is my unbelief. Almost always when our hearts are heavy, it is because we have an unconfessed sin. Forgive me, Lord, and cleanse me with Your blood. Holy
Spirit, give me faith and trust."
I took object after object out of the suitcase, mentioning each one as a particular burden or worry. "This is my pride. This is my self-seeking. . . ." In the end, the suitcase was empty, and I said, "Amen!" I closed the empty suitcase and pretended to walk out of the room, swinging my light bag as though it was made of paper.
The people immediately got my point, and the light of understanding broke on their faces. I could tell by their smiles and polite bows when I was finished that the Holy Spirit had spoken truth to them.
After the meeting I quickly threw all the items back into the suitcase and dashed off with my host, to go to the home of the wonderful Japanese Christians who entertained me until it was time to fly on to Hong Kong.
Many years passed, and then I found myself in Berlin, at an international congress on evangelism. After one of the morning seminars, a distinguished-looking Japanese evangelist approached me. "Corrie ten Boom," he said with a broad smile, "every time I hear your name, | think of your trouble suitcase."
"Oh," I said, flattered, "I am so glad you remembered what I said that night."
"It was not what you said that I remember," he smiled courteously, "it is what you did."
"You remember me taking all those objects out of my suitcase and laying them on the table as an illustration of how to pray?"
"No, that is not what I remember most," he said. "What I remember most is that after you finished your talk, you took all the objects, put them back in your suitcase, and walked out of the hall just-as burdened as when you came in."
Oh, what a vivid object lesson! That afternoon, back in my hotel room, I began to take a good look at myself. Was I guilty of doing that in my life? How easy it is to unpack my trouble suitcase each morning and cast all my cares on the Father, because He cares for me. But then, as the day goes on, I keep coming back and picking up first this care and then that one, slipping them back into my suitcase. By the end of the day, I am just as burdened as I was at the beginning, and far more exhausted, for I have had to keep slipping back to pick up the cares originally given to my Father.
What about you? Did you unpack your trouble suitcase this morning? Good! But what did you do afterwards? Is your heart still as burdened and heavy as it was before you prayed? Did you repack your suitcase as soon as you emptied it?
If so, perhaps you need to return to the Lord, casting all your cares upon Him— for He cares for you. Tell it to Him. The Holy Spirit will teach you how to pray and leave your burdens with the Lord.
Live One Day at a Time
When Jesus told His disciples, "Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself," He was saying, "Don't try to carry today's burden and tomorrow's burden at the same time."
One evening a man stepped into the kitchen to help his wife with the dishes. As he was working, he thought, "If that poor woman could just look ahead and see the dishes that remain to be washed in the future, towering like a mountain ahead of her, she would give up right now!" Then he laughed. "But she only has to wash tonight's dishes, and she can handle that."
As you may know, I grew up ina clock shop. My father was a watchmaker, and I was the first woman in Holland to be licensed as a watchmaker. Our home, the Beje, was filled with the sound of ticking clocks. I still remember the old Dutch parable about the clock that had a nervous breakdown.
The little clock had just been finished by the maker, who put it on a shelf in the storeroom. Two older clocks were busy ticking away the noisy seconds next to the young clock.
"Well," said one of the clocks to the newcomer, "so you have started out in life. Iam sorry for you. If you'll just think ahead and see how many ticks it takes to tick through one year, you will never make it. It would have been better had the maker never wound you up and set your pendulum swinging."
"Dear me," said the new clock. "I never thought about how many ticks I have to tick in a year."
"Well, you'd better think about it," the old clock said.
So the new clock began to count up the ticks. "Each second requires 2 ticks, which means 120 ticks per minute," he calculated. "That's 7,200 ticks per hour; 172,800 ticks per day; 1,209,600 ticks per week for 52 weeks, which makes a total of 62,899,200 ticks per year. Horrors!" The clock immediately had a nervous breakdown and stopped ticking.
The clock on the other side, who had kept silent during the conversation, now spoke up. "You silly thing! Why do you listen to such words? That old grandfather clock has been unhappy for years. Nobody will buy him, and he just sits around the shop gathering dust. Since he is so unhappy, he tries to make everyone else unhappy, too."
"But," the new clock gasped, "he's right. I've got to tick almost sixty-three million ticks ina year. And they told me I might have to stay on the job for more than one hundred years. Do you know how many ticks that is? That's six billion, two hundred million ticks. I'll never make it!"
"How many ticks do you have to tick at a time?" the wise old clock asked.
"Why, only one, I guess," the new clock answered. "There, now. That's not so hard, is it? Try it along with me. Tick, tock, tick, tock. See how easy it is? Just one tick at a time."
A light of understanding formed on the face of the clock, and he said, "I believe
I can do it. Here I go." He began ticking again.
"One more thing," the wise old clock said. "Don't ever think about the next tick until you have your last tick ticked."
I understand that was seventy-five years ago, and the clock is still ticking perfectly, one tick at a time.
No man sinks under the burden of the day. It is only when yesterday's guilt is added to tomorrow's anxiety that our legs buckle and our backs break. It is delightfully easy to live one day at a time!
From My Notebook
I took a burden to the Lord To cast and leave it there. I knelt and told Him of my plight, And wrestled deep in prayer.
But rising up to go my way
I felt a deep despair, For as I tried to trudge along, My burden was still there!
Why didn't You take my burden, Lord?
Oh, won't You take it, please. Again I asked the Lord for help, His answering words were these: My child, I want to help you out
I long to take your load.
I want to bear your burdens too As you walk along life's road.
But this you must remember, This one thing you must know...
I cannot take your burden
Until you let it go.