Corrie ten Boom, Her Story
After these things the Lord appointed other seventy also, and sent them two and two before his face into every city and place....
Luke 10:1
28. I Have Much People in This City
MY SECOND TRIP to Cuba was much different from the earlier one because this time Cuba was in the hands of Communists. Ellen was with me and we had come from Mexico with our bags loaded with books. Friends had told us that the Communists in Cuba were burning Bibles and confiscating Christian literature, so I was not at all sure if we could be allowed to bring all these books in with us. We had also heard that most of the churches were closed and many of the Christians were in prison—some of them for passing out literature. Thus we were very cautious.
At customs, in Havana, the officer pointed to my suitcases. "What are these books?" he asked.
"They are written by me," I said. "I am going to give them to my friends."
I saw him scowl as he picked one of them up. My heart began to beat rapidly. "Oh, Lord," I prayed inwardly, "what must I do?"
Then I heard myself saying brashly, "Would you like to have one of my books? Here, I will autograph it especially for you."
The customs officer looked up. I took the book from his hand and wrote my name in the front and then handed it back. He grinned broadly and thanked me. Then, glancing once more at my suitcase filled with books, he nodded and motioned us through the line. I closed the suitcase and stepped out on the streets. Hallelujah! The miracle had happened.
But why were we here? What kind of plans did the Lord have for us on this island? Had all our former friends been put in prison? Were any of the churches still open? These and many other questions pounded at my mind as we turned our faces toward the city.
An Intourist limousine brought us into the heart of Havana where we found a hotel room. After washing up we went out onto the streets, hoping to find some Christians. But how do you find Christians in a strange city when you cannot even speak their language? We walked up and down the sidewalks, hoping God would show us someone to speak to, but we received no guidance whatsoever.
I finally approached an old man who was leaning against the side of the building. He had a kindly face, I thought. I asked if he knew where there was a church.
He shrugged his shoulders but then, motioning us to wait, went to one of the free telephones along the street. Ellen and I stood praying. Was he going to call the police? Had we broken a law and would we be put in jail? Then we realized he was calling some of his friends, asking if they knew the whereabouts of a church. No one knew anything and he returned, saying he could be of no help.
We were discouraged and to make matters worse, it started to rain. Neither Ellen nor I had a raincoat and soon we were soaked to the skin. We had been walking for hours and I was exhausted.
"Ellen, can we try to get a taxi?" I asked.
"Well, Tante Corrie, we will need a miracle. However, we know that all things are possible with God."
I found a little stool and sat down while Ellen walked on down the street, hoping to find a taxi. I looked out over the sea and felt as if I had just waded out of the surf, so wet was I. I thought of the words of the driver of the Intourist limousine as he had brought us from the airport. "This is the hospital," he had said as we drove by. "Everyone who is ill can go there and it does not cost a penny. Here is a cemetery. When you die, we bury you and even that does not cost your relatives anything."
I had been in many countries, but this was the first place they had offered to bury me!
We knew that the Lord had sent us to Cuba, but we had no idea of our mission. Where were the churches? We had seen some, but they were closed. Some even had trees growing in front of the doors. We had tried to call some Christians, but the ones we knew were no longer living in the area. I sat, waiting, while the water poured down my face. Then I heard a car stopping in front of me. Looking up, I saw Ellen's face in the rear window of the ancient, rusted vehicle.
"Tante Corrie," she called above the sound of the rain, "here I am again." I hobbled to the taxi and got in the back door. "Be careful where you put your feet," Ellen laughed, "or you will touch the street."
The taxi took us to our hotel and soon we were in dry clothes, our wet garments hung across the fixtures in the bathroom where the steady drip, drip of water reminded us of our failure out on the street. I love to walk with Jesus, but after
TRAMP FOR THE LORD Doo eight decades I realized I was not as young as I used to be. It was in such moments that I started to feel old.
Ellen could not sleep that night. We were supposed to stay in Cuba for two weeks, but if we could not find any Christians then what would we do? She arose in the middle of the night and prayed, "Lord, give me a word so I may know we aren't in vain in this country."
Sitting on the side of her bed, she reached for her Bible which was on the small table. She began to read where she had stopped the night before. She had learned that God does not want His children to be fearful, and the best way to overcome fear is through the Word of God.
She read Acts 18:9, 10.
Then spake the Lord to Paul. . . Be not afraid, but speak, and hold not thy peace. For Iam with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee: for I have much people in this city.
What an answer! The next morning Ellen could not wait to find all those people, and neither could I. She had one address which we had not contacted. It was the address of a small house on a side street where some Christians we had once known used to live. Walking from the hotel, she finally found the street and made her way to a dingy door, weatherbeaten and cracked. She knocked boldly.
A small man, deeply tanned and with wrinkles around his eyes, cautiously opened the door. Ellen could speak no Spanish, but she held up her Bible and one of my books (Amazing Love) which had been translated into Spanish.
The man glanced at the books and then back to Ellen. Ellen smiled and pointed to my name on the book, then pointed back toward the city. Suddenly his whole face came alive. He threw open the door and shouted, "Corrie! Corrie ten Boom esta aqui. Ella esta en Havana!"
Ellen walked in and found the room was filled with men, all kneeling on the floor. They were pastors who met each week to pray for God's help and guidance in their difficult ministry. Ellen hurried back to the hotel and soon I was meeting with these wonderful men of God. We distributed all our books and made many new friends among God's people. Indeed, God did have "much people" in that city.