35. Little Witness for Christ (continued)

35. Little Witness for Christ (continued)

God' Word, the Sword—God' Perfect Weapon The authors do not offer any excuses for their own faults or sins.

5. The writers record some of the most harrowing scenes which affected them greatly, yet they never express one word of emotion. The Holy Spirit wanted the facts recorded, and not their feelings about the facts.

Many persons make the mistake of thinking they can measure the certainty of their salvation by their feelings. It is the Word of God that is their foundation. Therefore, it is essential for the new convert in Christ to have a practical knowledge of the Bible. More than anyone else it is the new convert who will come under the fire of the Enemy. He needs the knowledge of the Sword of the Spirit. As the Lord Jesus used this Sword to overcome the evil one in His temptation experiences, so we must learn to defend ourselves against every sort of attack.

But lay upforyourselves treasures in heaven. ...

For whereyour treasure is, there willyour heart be also.

Matthew 6:20-21 Where Is Heaven?

H appiness is not dependent on happenings, but on relationship in the happenings.

My father taught me this when I was just a child. He often told me of the early days of his marriage. He had opened a small jewelry store in a narrow house in the heart of the Jewish section of Amsterdam. Poor Mother! She had dreamed ofa home witha little garden. She loved beautiful things and spacious views. "I love to see the sky," she often said.

Instead, she found herself on a narrow street, in an old house— the kind with only a single room on each story—with worn-out furniture which they had inherited from Grandmother. Yet they were both happy, not because of the circumstances but because of the relationships in the circumstances.

There, in Amsterdam in that narrow street in the ghetto, they met many wonderful Jewish people. They were allowed to participate in their sabbaths and in their feasts. They studied the Old

Tramp for the Lord Testament together and, on occasion, even the New Testament.

I have remembered, many times, the lessons I learned from my father about happiness and happenings. But never was it so clear as whenI was in Korea, many, many years later.

I had been in the Orient for three months, spending much of the time in Korea. While there, I spoke in many meetings in schools, orphanages, children's homes and churches. One day, after I had spoken in a university, a theological student came to me. I had never seen such gloom on the face ofa man who said he wanted to be a minister of the risen Christ.

"Why is it that you are so full of unhappiness?" I asked.

"I have lost my way," he said sadly. "When I first became a Christian, my pastor taught me the Bible is true. In those days I had great happiness. But now I am studying the famous scholar,

Rudolph Bultmann, who says our Bible is full ofmyths and fables.

I have lost my way and no longer know where heaven is."

I was angry. It did not seem right that the simple boys of Korea had to struggle through this horrible theology. They studied many hours at the universities, going to school twice as long as students in America. Yet because of what they studied, they often lost their faith.

I answered his question about heaven by telling him what I had just seen and heard the day before while driving through the countryside.

There I saw the poorest shackI had ever seen. It was a tiny leanto, made from materials collected from the garbage heap—pieces of cardboard, tin cans which had been smashed flat, old boards.

As we drove past, though, I heard the beautiful voice of a woman singing. Seldom, even in the concert halls of Europe, had I heard such a sweet voice. We stopped the car and listened, for it was like the song of a skylark.

I said to the missionary who was traveling with me, "Do you know that song?"

"Yes," she said, "it says "Where Jesus is, 'tis heaven there."

Oh, how my heart leaped for joy as I heard this beautiful song Where Is Heaven? coming from such a poor place. It is one thing to hear such a song in a dignified church, or pouring through the speakers of an expensive stereo set. But when one hears it coming from the poorest shack in the midst of such poverty, then it means something else.

I looked at the young theological student before me. "Jesus said, "The kingdom of heaven is within you (Luke 17:21). Bultmann is wrong, and Jesus is right. Heaven is not a myth or fairy story; heaven is a prepared place for prepared people. Theology in the hands of the Holy Spirit is a beautiful science. But in the hands of unbelievers, it is death.

"If you want to find where heaven is, get out of your stuffy classroom and go back out into the countryside. Listen to the simple faith ofthose who read only the Bible and trust only in God, not in material things. What do they care if some theologian says that heaven is a fable? They have found Jesus, and where Jesus is,

Andhow shallthey preach, except they be sent?

When You Are Tempted to Quit , The enemy tries to make everything work out for the worst.

Usually it is not the big problems which depress me, but the multitude of inconveniences which stack up like small rocks to form an immovable mountain. Recently a series of such small incidents almost caused me to resign my commission from the Lord.

In my journeyings I often have to cross borders between countries. Knowing that smuggling is sin, I do not do it. My first irritation came through an encounter with a customs official.

"Do you have anything to declare?" he asked rudely.

"Yes," I replied. "Nylon stockings."

I had put them on top of my luggage to show him, for I knew that at that time it was necessary to pay duty on such items.

"There are four pair here," he said. "You told me one pair."

"No, I did not!" I answered.

Tramp for the Lord But he did not believe me. For the next hour he searched my baggage. He tried all the little boxes to see ifthey had false bottoms.

He squeezed my toothpaste tube to see if it contained diamonds.

He checked my shoes for false heels which might contain drugs. He felt the hem of my dresses to see if I had sewn pearls into them. He almost pulled the lining out of my suitcases. Of course he found nothing at all and finally allowed me to pass—after paying the duty on the four pair of stockings.

I was both offended and unhappy.

Later I understood why this incident had made me so upset. I had not surrendered my self-righteousness. I was so sure of my own honesty that I suffered from the consequence of wounded pride. It is easier to surrender one's sins than one's virtues!

Unaware of the reason for my depression, I then discovered that I had missed my plane connections due to the delay in the customs office. I was forced to sleep on a couch in the ladies' room at the airport. However, I am a good sleeper and enjoyed a sound slumber. When I awoke, the amazed cleaning woman (who was sweeping the floor around my couch) said with admiration, "How wonderful to be able to sleep so soundly with so much noise going on around you."

Eventually the plane on which I was traveling flew into a storm, making me feel airsick. Then the night following my arrival, there was an earthquake. I hate earthquakes, for they remind me of the bombs that fell during the war.

Then the kind people who should have arranged my meetings greeted my arrival with, "We thought you neededa holiday and rest, so we have not organized anything." Sometimes this is God's plan, but more often it is just a sign of people's laziness to make preparation. So I did not appreciate the fact they had not arranged any meetings for me.

The final inconvenience—the one which caused me almost to give up completely—had to do with my room. My hosts put me in a small room that had no writing table. Ordinarily this would not have disturbed me, for I am used to writing on my knee. But on When You Are Tempted to Quit top ofeverything else that had happened, I crumpled like the camel loaded with straw. I blew up.

The reason was not hard to find. Self-pity had come into my heart. Self-pity is a nasty sin, and the devil uses it and always starts his talks with "Poor Corrie."

This time he began by saying, "Why must you always live out of your suitcases? Stay at home and then you won' have trouble with customs officials, passports, luggage, plane connections and other things. Every night you will be able to sleep in the same comfortable bed; and there are no earthquakes in Holland. After all, you are no longer young. You've lived like a tramp for many, many years. It is time to hang up your harness and retire into a nice green pasture.

Let someone else do the work. You've earned your reward."

By this time I was nodding. "Yes, yes, Satan, you are right." So, having listened to his advice, I wrote a friend in Holland who managed an international guest house where at the time I had a room kept for me with my own few pieces of furniture.

"T believe the time has now come for me to work in Holland,"

I wrote. "I am tired of all this traveling, and I cannot stand having wheels beneath me any longer. Will you arrange to have a desk— a big one—put in front of the window in my room; and an easy chair—a very easy one—on the right.

." In my fantasy I had worked out a lovely dream ofheaven here on earth, and me in the middle of it!

That afternoon I posted the letter and then came back to my room to look over my calendar. I jotted down all the names of people I would have to write, canceling my appointments. Everyone would understand. Had not many said, "My, you must be tired at your age!"?

Everything would have gone all right (or perhaps I should be truthful and say "all wrong") had I not picked up my Bible. This old, black Bible has been my guidebook in times of light and in times of darkness. I began to read, asking, "Lord, what would You have me to do?"

Tramp for the Lord I opened to the Book of Romans, chapter 10:

How then shall they call on him in whomthey have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?..

. As it is written, How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel ofpeace, and bring glad tidings of good things! (10:14-15)

I remembered the words of a paratrooper instructor. He said that when he had his men in the plane and they were over the battlefield, he gave four commands:

First, "Attention!" ("Lift up your eyes," John 4:35).

Second, "Stand in the door!" ("Look on the fields for they are white already to harvest," John 4:35).

Third, "Hook up!" ("Be filled with the Spirit," Eph. 5:18).

Fourth, "Follow me!" ("I will make you to become fishers of men," Mark 1:17).

I sat for a long time—thinking. It is not our task to give God instructions. We are to simply report for duty.

I laid my Bible on the bed and picked up pen and paper. Balancing the pad clumsily on my knee, I wrote my friend in Holland.

"Forget about that last letter I wrote.

I am not coming home to Holland. I refuse to spend the rest of my life in a pasture when there are so many fields to harvest. I hope to die in harness."

Andso, dear brothers, Ipleadwithyou to give your bodies to God.

Let them 6e a living sacrifice.

Romans 12:1, LB >Pll Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord... but Not Up Ten Flights of Stairs | spoken that Sunday morning in a church in Copenhagen,

Denmark urging the people to present their bodies as living sacrifices to the Lord. I had said that even though I was an old woman

I wanted to give myself completely to Jesus and do whatever He wanted me to do, go wherever He wanted me to go—even if it meant dying.

After the church time two young nurses approached me. They invited me up to their apartment to have a cup of coffee. I was very tired. At almost eighty years of age, I found that standing on my feet for long periods of time was beginning to be exhausting. The cup of coffee sounded good, so I accepted their invitation.

But I was not prepared for the walk up to their apartment.

Tramp for the Lord Many of the houses in Copenhagen are old, high houses with no elevators. The nurses lived on the tenth floor of such a house, and we had to walk up the steps.

"O Lord," I complained as I looked up at the high building, "I do not think I can make it." But the nurses wanted me to come up so badly that I consented to try.

By the time we reached the fifth floor, my heart was pounding wildly, and my legs were so tired I thought they could not take another step. In the corridor of the fifth floor, I saw a chair and pleaded with the Lord, Lord, let me stay here a time while the nurses go on up the stairs. My heart is so unhappy.

The nurses waited patiently as I collapsed into the chair, resting. Why, O Lord, must I have this stair-climbing after this busy day ofspeaking?

Then I heard God's voice, even louder than my pounding heart.

Because a great blessing is waiting you, a work which willgivejoy to the angels.

I looked up at the steps, towering above me and almost disappearing into the clouds. Perhaps I am leaving this earth to go to heaven, | thought. Surely that will give joy to the angels. \ tried to count the steps. It seemed there were at least one hundred more to climb. However, if God said that the work would give joy to the angels, then I had to go. I rose from my chair and once again started trudging up the long flights of stairs, one nurse in front of me, the other behind me.

We finally reached the apartment on the tenth floor, and on entering I found a room with a simple lunch already prepared on the table. Serving the lunch were the mother and father of one of the girls.

I knew there was only a short time and also knew thata blessing of some kind was waiting us. So, without many introductions,

I started asking immediate questions.

"Tell me," I asked the nurse's mother, "is it long ago that you found Jesus as your Savior?"

Ill Go Where You Want Me to Go, Dear Lord... but "T have never met Him," she said, surprised at my question.

"Are you willing to come to Him? He loves you. I have traveled in more than sixty countries and have never found anyone who said they were sorry they had given their hearts to Jesus. You will not be sorry either."

Then I opened my Bible and pointed out the verses about salvation. She listened intently. Then I asked them, "Shall we now talk with the Lord?"

I prayed, then the two nurses prayed and finally the mother folded her hands and said, "Lord Jesus, I know already much about You. I have read much in the Bible, but now I pray You to come into my heart. I need cleansing and salvation. I know that You died at the cross for the sins of the whole world and also for my sins.

Please, Lord, come into my heart and make mea child of God.

I looked up and saw tears ofjoy on the face of the young nurse.

She and her friend had prayed so much for her parents, and now the answer was given. I turned and looked at the father, who had sat quietly through all this.

"What about you?" I asked him.

"T have never made sucha decision for Jesus Christ either," he said seriously. "But I have listened to all you have told my wife, and now I know the way. I too would like to pray that Jesus will save me."

He bowed his head and from his lips poured a joyful but very sincere prayer as he gave his life to Jesus Christ. Suddenly the room was filled with great rejoicing, and I realized the angels had come down and were standing around, singing praises unto God.

"Thank You, Lord," I prayed as I walked back down the long steps, "for making me walk up all these steps. And next time, Lord, help Corrie ten Boom to listen to her own sermon about being willing to go anywhere You tell me to go—even up ten flights of stairs."

For the earth shallbefilledwith the Rnowledge of the glory of the Loro, as the waters cover the sea.

To All the World— Beginning with One T? give a tract to someone in Russia is always a risk. Ifthe person you are talking to is alone, then there is a little more freedom.

However, ifa third person is present, both are always uneasy—each afraid the other might turn him over to the secret police.

Conny andI had been in a Leningrad hotel for about a week when one morning, on our way down to breakfast, I handed the cleaning womana tract. It was a simple tract, written in Russian, called "The Way of Salvation." It used only Scripture verses with no commentary.

She glanced at it and then glanced at the other woman cleaning the hall. She pushed the tract back to me, motioning with her hand as if to say, "That is nothing for me."

I felt sorry for her. The answer no hurts when you want to help someone. Conny andI continued on down the hall to the elevator,

Tramp for the Lord heading to the dining room for breakfast. We were the only ones on the elevator, and on the way downI cast this latest burden on the Lord. "Father, I can't reach this woman. Do bring her in contact with someone who can tell her the gospel in her own language.

Lord, I claim her soul for eternity."

I was shocked by the boldness of my prayer. Never in all my life had I prayed that way. Was it proper? Could I actually claim the soul of someone else? In a kind of postscript, I asked, "Lord, was this wrong or right? MayI say such a prayer?"

Then, even before I could receive His answer, I heard myself praying a prayer that frightened me even more. "Lord Jesus, I claim all of Russia for You."

The elevator stopped, and Conny and I walked through the huge corridor to the dining room. I was bewildered. My cheeks were red and hot. "Lord, was this right? Was this too much? But no, Lord, Your Word says, "The earth is the Lord's .

. the world and they that dwell therein' (Psalms 24:1). Surely that means Russia too."

Still confused, we entered the dining room. It was crowded, and the waiter came up and said, "There are only two of you. You cannot eat breakfast here since all the tables are reserved for big groups."

We looked around. A Japanese man had heard the waiter and motioned for us to come to his table where there were two empty places. "Just come," he said. "We will act as if you belong to our group."

But the waiter saw what had happened and refused to wait on us. I felt unhappy and unwelcome. Turning to Conny, I said, "At dinner yesterday I took some white buns up to my room in my purse. They are still there, and we have some Nescafé. Why should we sit here and wait? Let us go to our room."

It was quiet and peaceful upstairs. Our breakfast tasted good although it was only dry buns and Nescafé without any cream.

To All the World—Beginning with One Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Conny opened it, and there stood the cleaning woman, the one who had refused the tract.

Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and I noticed her heavy leather shoes squeaked when she walked. She closed the door behind herself. From her lips poured a stream of Russian words, not a single one ofwhich we could understand. Then she pointed a finger at my brown bag.

"Conny, she wants to have a tract," I almost shouted.

Conny gave her one, but it was not the same one as we had given her the first time. She looked at it, shook her head and pointed again at the bag.

"Conny, she wants to have "The Way of Salvation."

I got up, rummaged through my bag and found the original tract. I smiled and handed it to her. She looked at it, and her face burst into the great light of joy. Smiling and nodding in appreciation, she backed out of the room.

I was beaming with joy too, for God had answered my prayer.

I had not claimed too much after all. The first prayer had already been answered, and nowI was sure that the second prayer, the one the Holy Spirit had prayed through me without my first thinking up the words, was going to be given a yes answer too.

Conny, who was as excited as I, took her Bible and read, "For the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea" (Hab. 2:14). What a promise—the whole of Russia under the waters of God's glory!

There was another knock at the door. There stood our cleaning woman again. She entered and puta long loafoffresh white bread on the table. Her face was still wreathed in smiles as she refused payment for it. It was her thank offering to God.

I had never had such a good breakfast in all my life.

But I holdthis against you, that you have left yourfirst love.

Leaving My First Love At twenty years of wandering the world as a tramp for the ord, I was ill. At seventy-three years of age, my body had grown tired. A doctor examined me and said, "Miss ten Boom, if you continue at the same pace, you cannot possibly work much longer. However, ifyou will take a furlough for a year, then perhaps you can work for another few years."

I consulted my Lord. He said very clearly that this advice of the doctor was in His plan. It came to mind that I could live during that "Sabbath Year" in Lweza, a beautiful house in Uganda, East

Africa. Several years before I had contributed to this place so it could be used as a house of rest for missionaries and other workers in God's kingdom. Now the bread I had cast upon the waters was coming back to me. I made my plans, and soon Conny and I were safely ensconced in Africa.

Lweza was a paradise. Built on a hill in the midst of a garden that must surely resemble Eden, it looked southward out over Lake

Tramp for the Lord Victoria. The climate was ideal. Since there were many universities, churches, prisons and groups in Kampala, the nearby town, I was able to speak in two or three meetings a week. So while my body rested, my spirit remained active.

The greatest pleasure was to sleep every night in the same bed.

During the last twenty years, I had slept in more than a thousand different beds, always living out of my suitcases. This year I rested.

I put my clothes in a drawer, hung my dresses in a closet, and best of all, each night I laid my head on the same pillow.

In November the Sabbath Year had gone by. Conny and I took a map of the world and stretched it out across my bed, following our usual method of making plans for the next year—the same method I had used for the last twenty years. First, we listened to God's plan, then we signed it. This was unlike the method I once used when I made my own plans and then asked God to sign them.

Our desire was to be "planned" by the Holy Spirit.

God's plan looked very good to Conny. There would be three months in different countries in Africa, two months in America and then three months in Eastern Europe behind the Iron Curtain.

"Thank You, Jesus," Conny said. But inside I was not so thankful.

Conny was young, much younger than I. She loved to travel, but I was getting old and was still rather tired.

After Conny left I turned to the Lord. "I prefer to stay here," I said stubbornly. "There is so much to do in Kampala and Entebbe, the two nearest cities. I will work for You. I am willing to have meetings every day, counseling, writing books; but please, let me sleep every night in the same bed. Everyone can understand that at my age I should take it a bit easier."

I got up rejoicing. This new plan ofmine made me really happy.

Then Conny called. An African minister from far away Rwanda had come to visit. He started immediately to welcome me: "We are so glad that you are willing to come to Rwanda again. Five years ago you helped us so marvelously when you told what the Lord had been to you in your great need. You said that it was not your

Leaving My First Love faith that helped you through three prisons, for your faith was weak and often wavering. You said it was the Lord Himself who carried you through and that you knew from experience that Jesus light is stronger than the deepest darkness."

The African brother continued, "Five years ago, however, that was just theory to us. None of us had ever been prisoners. Now there has been a civil war in our country. Many of us have been in prison. I, myself, was in prison for two years. It was then that I remembered everything you had said. I did not have the faith of Corrie ten Boom, I did not even have faith for myself, but I knew to look to the same Jesus who gave you faith. He has also given it to me and that is why we are so happy that you are now coming again to Rwanda."

But I was not happy at all. His words were different from what I wanted to hear. I knew that in such situations I could change the subject by asking a question. Perhaps this would make God stop reminding me of His plans and leave me alone so I could follow mine.

"How is the church in Rwanda?" I asked. "What kind of message do they need now?"

Without hesitating one moment the brother opened his Bible and began to read:

Write this to the angel of the Church in Ephesus : These words are spoken by the one who holds the seven stars safe in his right hand, and who walks among the seven golden lampstands. I know what you have done; I know how hard you have worked and what you have endured . .

. I know your powers of endurance—how you have suffered for the sake of my name and have not grown weary.

But I hold this against you, that you [have lost your first love].

Remember then how far you have fallen." (Rev. 2:1-5, PHILLIPS) 'This arrow penetrated my heart. Not only Rwanda needed that message, but also Corrie ten Boom. I had lost my first love. Twenty years before I had come out of a concentration camp—starved, weak—but in my heart there was a burning love. It was a love for Tramp for the Lord the Lord who had carried me through so faithfully—a love for the people around me—a burning desire to tell them that Jesus is a reality, that He lives, that He is victor. I knew it from experience. For this reason I went to Germany and lived in the midst of the ruins.

For this reason I had tramped the world for twenty years. I wanted everyone to know that no matter how deep we fall, the Everlasting

Arms are always under us to carry us out.

And now? NowI was interested in my bed. I had lost my first love. I asked my African brother to continue to read.

Repent and live as you lived at first. Otherwise, if your heart remains unchanged, I shall come to you and remove your lampstand from its place.

Suddenly joy came in my heart. I could bring my sin, my cold heart, my weary body to Him who is faithful and just. I did it. I confessed my sins and asked for forgiveness. And the same thing happened that always happens when I bring my sin to God in the Name of Jesus: He forgave me. Jesus cleansed my heart with His blood and refilled me with the Holy Spirit.

As God's love—the fruit of the Holy Spirit—was poured out into my heart, I set out again on my journeys—a tramp for the Lord.

What a great joy it was to experience the love of God, who gave me rivers of living water for the thirsty world of Africa, America and Eastern Europe. Of course, it might be the will of God that some old people retire from their work. In great thankfulness to the Lord, they can then enjoy their pensions. But for me the way of obedience was to travel on, even more so than ever before.

Jesus warned us in Matthew 24:12 that the love of most men waxes cold because iniquity abounds. It is very easy to belong to the "most men." But the gate of repentance is always wide open.

But ifwe walkin the light, as he is in the fight, we havefellowship one with another, and the bloodof Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth usfrom affsin.

Walking in the Light O« last few weeks in Lweza proved to be the most fruitful of our entire time spent there, for it was in these weeks that I learned another valuable lesson—the lesson ofwalking in the light.

One afternoon Conny andI were sitting in the garden looking at the monkeys jumping from one tree to another. The trees and shrubs were a mass ofcolor and sound, causing my heart to be filled with the glory of God's grace.

Yet Conny was discouraged. She had started a girl's club in the YWCA in Kampala and had spent many hours' work with it.

However, the girls were not interested. I was concerned about her discouragement, feeling it went far deeper than the problems she was having with her class.

I started to ask her about it when we were interrupted by a man walking toward our hill. Conny squinted her eyes into the sun and then shouted, "It is William Nagenda!"

What a joy it was to meet that dear African saint again. I never Tramp for the Lord met an African with whom I could laugh so much and yet learn so much at the same time.

After we exchanged greetings William said, "When I saw you sitting here together, a question came to my mind: Do they walk in the light together?"

We answered almost simultaneously. "Oh yes, we do walk in the light together. We are a team."

Just at that moment a boy from the house called that there was a telephone message for me. I excused myself while Conny and William remained behind to talk.

Conny was sitting in a cane and wicker chair while William squatted on his haunches beside the path, his brown knees poking up beside his face.

"T have something to confess to you," Conny said to William.

"And what is that?" he answered gently.

"Your question gripped my heart. I must tell you that I do not really walk in the light with Tante Corrie."

William's face broke into a wide grin, and his eyes began to sparkle. "So that is why God had me ask that strange question."

Conny was serious. "Tante Corrie is so much more mature than J," she continued. "She has walked with Jesus for so many years. She has suffered much for Him in many ways. Thus, when

I see things in her life that are not right, I hesitate to speak them out to her."

"Oh," William said, startled. "That is not right. The Lord wants you to be very honest with Tante Corrie. That is one reason He has put you with her. Since she is walking in the light, then when you also walk in the light, you will help shed light for her path as well as yours."

That night, after we had gone to our room together, Conny sat on the side of the bed and said, "Tante Corrie, this is very difficult for me to say, but I now realize I must walk in the light."

I turned and looked at her. Her face was drawn and solemn.

One by one she began listing the things in my life which both Walking in the Light ered her—the things I did which she did not believe glorified God. It was not easy for me to hear the things which I had done wrong—things which had caused a shadow to come in Conny's heart. But how wonderful it was that Conny was being completely honest with me. I apologized for the things she had listed and then thanked her for bringing them into the light. "Let us always walk in the light together," I said seriously.

But it was still hard for Conny. She was much younger than I and felt she was still learning. Even though I wanted her to continue to correct me, she found it very difficult. The final breakthrough came after we left Africa and flew to Brazil.

'We had been in Rio de Janeiro, one of the most beautiful cities of the world, for a few weeks. As we prepared to leave—to fly south to Buenos Aires—we discovered our suitcases were overweight. The kind people in Rio had given us so many presents we were more than twenty kilograms overweight. It was going to cost us a great deal of extra money to go on to Argentina.

I unpacked my luggage and made three piles: one to send to Holland by sea, one to give away to the poor in Rio and the smallest one to go back in my suitcase to carry on to our next destination.

Finishing my repacking, I hurried next door into Conny's room and unpacked her suitcase also.

I went through the same procedure, sorting her belongings into three heaps and then repacking only her necessary items. I was in too much ofa hurry to notice that Conny said nothing.

A week later, after a beautiful time in Buenos Aires, we were walking along a lonely stretch ofbeach near our cabin. I was enjoying the beautiful view over a quiet bay when Conny began to talk.

Her voice was strained.

"I promised God I would walk in the light," she said, "and that means that I must get something settled with you. When you repacked my suitcase and decided what things to send to Holland and what to leave with me, I was not happy about it."

How stupid and tactless I had been to rush in and interfere with Tramp for the Lord Conny's life! I reached out and took her hand. "How thoughtless I have been," I said. "Forgive me for not leaving it up to you."

"I do forgive you," Conny said. Like myself, she had learned not to play lightly with sin, but to hear another's apology and then, instead ofpassing it off, to forgive it. We walked on for a long time in silence, and then Conny spoke again.

"Are you unhappy, Tante Corrie? You are so quiet."

Now it was my time to walk in the light. "There is something hindering me," I said. "Why did you not tell me immediately that you were disturbed? That way it could have been settled on the spot, and you would not have had to carry this darkness for all these days. From now on let us both 'speak the truth in love' and never let the sun go down on our misunderstandings."

It was a good lesson. From then until Conny married in 1967 and went to live with her husband, we walked all over the world— always trying to walk in the light.

I say therefore to the unmarriedandwidows, it is goodfor them ifthey abide even as I.

Secure in Jesus I is Satan who tries, in every way, to spoil the peace and joy that God's servants have in their work.

Ellen, my new traveling companion, had gone with me to a lonely mission field in Mexico. Our hostess was a lady missionary, unmarried, in her forties. One evening while we were alone in her little adobe, she confessed her bitterness and resentment over being unmarried.

"Why have I been denied the love ofa husband, children, and a home? Why is it that the only men who ever paid any attention to me were married to someone else?" Long into the night she poured out the poison of her frustration. At last she asked me, "Why did you never marry?"

"Because," I said, "the Lord had other plans for me than married life."

"Did you ever fall in love and lose someone, as I have?" she asked bitterly.

Tramp for the Lord "Yes," I said sadly. "I know the pain of a broken heart."

"But you were strong, werent you," she said in biting tones.

"You were willing to let God have His way in your life?"

"Oh, no, not at first," I said. "I had to fight a battle over it. I was twenty-three. I loved a boy and believed he loved me. But I had no money, and he married a rich girl. After they were married he brought her to me and putting her hand in mine said, 'I hope you two will be friends.'

I wanted to scream. She looked so sweet, so secure and content in his love.

"ButI did have Jesus, and eventually I went to Him and prayed, 'Lord Jesus, You know that I belong to You 100 percent. My sex life is yours also. I don't know what plans You have for my life, but Lord, whatever it may be, use me to realize Your victory in every detail. I believe You can take away all my frustrations and feelings of unhappiness. I surrender anew my whole life to You."

I looked across the little table at the bitter woman in front of me. Her face was furrowed, her eyes hard with resentment. I sensed she had been trying to run away from her frustrations. Perhaps that was even the reason she was on the mission field.

Sadly, there are some of God's children who go to the mission field to escape the pain of not having a husband. I know others, back home, who spend every evening away from their families, attending Christian meetings, because they are unhappy and frustrated in their marriages. Work—even mission work—can become a wrong hiding place.

"Those called by God to live single lives are always happy in that state," I said. "This happiness, this contentment, is the evidence of God's plan."

"But you loved and lost," she exclaimed. "Do you believe that God took away your lover to make you follow Him?"

"Oh, no," I smiled. "God does not take away from us. He might ask us to turn our backs on something, or someone, we should not have. God never takes away, however; God gives. If] reach out and Secure in Jesus take someone for myself and the Lord steps in between, that does not mean God takes. Rather, it means He is protecting us from someone we should not have, because He hasa far greater purpose for our lives."

We sat for long minutes in the semidark room. Only a small kerosene lamp gave its flickering light, casting faint shadows on the walls and across our faces. I thought back—remembering.

I had always been content in the Lord. Back when I was in my thirties, God gave me children—the children of missionaries whomI raised. Betsie, my sister, fed and clothed them while I was responsible for their sports and music. We kept them in our home in Holland, and I found deep satisfaction in seeing them grow to maturity. I also spent a great deal of time speaking and sharing in various clubs for girls.

But it was not the work that brought balance to my life, for work cannot balance our feelings. It was because my life was centered in the Lord Jesus that I had balance.

Many people try to lose their feelings in work, or sports, or music, or the arts. But the feelings are always there and will eventually, as they had done tonight in this missionary, come boiling to the surface and express their resentment and discontent.

I turned to Ellen, my companion. Ellen is a tall, blond, beautiful Dutch girl then in her early thirties. She is single, yet she has learned the secret of living a balanced life. While I believe God set me apart before I was born to live a single life, Ellen was different. She did not feel that God had called her to a single life; rather she felt that one day, in God's time, she would marry. However, until that time arrived—one year or thirty years from then—I knew she was secure in Jesus and was not looking to a husband or children for her security.

I spoke to the missionary. "There are some, like me, who are called to live a single life," I said softly. "For them it is always easy for they are, by their nature, content. Others, like Ellen, are called to prepare for marriage which may come later in life. They too are

Tramp for the Lord blessed, for God is using the in-between years to teach them that marriage is not the answer to unhappiness. Happiness is found only in a balanced relationship with the Lord Jesus."

"But it is so hard," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"That is so," I said. "The cross is always difficult. "But you are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God' (Col. 3:3). Dear girl, it cannot be safer. That part ofyou which would cling to a husband is dead. Now you can move into a life where you can be happy with or without a husband—secure in Jesus alone."

I do not know ifshe really understood me, for often we set our minds on some one thing we think will make us happy—a husband, children, a particular job or even a "ministry'—and refuse to open our eyes to God's better way. In fact, some believe so strongly that only this thing can bring happiness, that they reject the Lord

Jesus Himself. Happiness is not found in marriage, or work, or ministry, or children. Happiness is found by being secure in Jesus.

After these things the Lordappointedother seventy also, andsent them two andtwo before hisface into every city andplace.

I Have Much People in This City Msecond 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."

Tramp for the Lord I saw him scowl as he picked one of them up. My heart began to beat rapidly. Of, Lord, I prayed inwardly, what mustI 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 ifhe 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 ifthey 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.

I Have Much People in This City "Well, Tante Corrie, we will need a miracle. However, we know that all things are possible with God."

I founda 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 ofwater reminded us of our failure out on the street. I love to walk with Jesus, but after 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 knowwe arent in this country in vain."

Tramp for the Lord 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 I am with thee, and no man shall set on thee to hurt thee: for I have much people in this city.

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 ona 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.

Cast thy breadupon the waters:for thou shalt Sind it after many days.

The Blessing Box M any times, on my trips around the world, I am dependent on the hospitality of Christians. From the time of my first trip to America when I was befriended by God's people in New York, and later by Abraham Vereide in Washington, D.C., I have known the love and generosity of others in the Body of Christ.

It was on one of those continual trips, when my only home was my suitcase (that big red one), that I was invited to stay with friends in Colorado. I didn't feel well and needed rest. My hostess escorted me to her lovely house with tall white columns. Taking me up the carpeted stairs, she showed me to a beautiful room. From the windows I could see the clear, blue sky which framed the snowcapped Rocky Mountains. She then put her arms around me and said, "Corrie, this is your room. It will always be here for you."

"This room! For me?" I could hardly believe it was true. A place for me to unpack my suitcase! To hang up my clothes! To spread out my writing papers and put my Bible on a desk! Since that gray

Tramp for the Lord time in the concentration camp, I had longed for bright colors, as a thirsty man yearns for water. This room, and the scenery outside, was filled with color.

I wanted to cry, as a child cries when she is happy. But I have learned to control my tears (most of the time, anyway) and was content just to tell the Lord of my deep thankfulness. The Lord is so good, for He has given me so many friends, just like this, all over the world.

It was during one of my visits in this Colorado home that I received an early morning telephone call.

I was already awake, since we intended to leave that afternoon to fly to Washington to speak in a series of meetings arranged by Mr. Vereide.

The phone call was from Alicia Davison, Mr. Vereide's daughter. "Oh, Alicia, I cannot wait to see you today. I am looking forward to it and the meetings in your fellowship house."

There was a pause, then Alicia said, "Tante Corrie, Dad is with the Lord."

. ." I tried to speak, but nothing else would come out.

"Tt is all right, Tante Corrie," she said calmly. "I am calling to ask you to please come on to be with all of us. We will not have the meetings, but so many people are coming, and we want you to be with us."

"T shall be there this afternoon," I said. After a briefprayer over the phone, I hung up.

I hurried to finish my packing, remembering all the kindnesses that had been poured on me by this wonderful family and their many friends. I have faced death many times, but there is always an empty place in my heart when someone I know and love leaves to be with the Lord. Nor did it ever occur to me that almost two years later I would once again fly to Washington to sit in that same Presbyterian Church—not to attend a memorial for Abraham Vereide but to attend the meeting in honor of Alicia. Although still young and beautiful, she would die in Hong Kong while making a mission tour with her husband, Howard Davison.

I was warmly received by my friends in Washington. Although sad, they were rejoicing in the Lord. That night after I had gone to my room, I prayed, "Lord," I asked, "why are people so kind to me? I am just a simple old Dutch woman. Why amI treated so graciously and shown so much hospitality?"

Then the Lord reminded me of my mother's blessing box.

Our house in Haarlem was not really big, but it had wide open doors.

I do not suppose that the many guests who were always coming to the Beje ever realized what a struggle it was to make both ends meet. Yet many lonesome people found a place with us and joined in our music, humor and interesting conversation. There was always a place at the oval dinner table, although perhaps the soup was a bit watery when too many unexpected guests showed up. Our entire home was centered in the ministry of the gospel. All people who came to us were either workers in the kingdom of God or people who needed help.

Mother loved all her guests. She often showed her love by dropping a penny in the "blessing box" when they arrived.

The blessing box was a small metal box that sat on the sideboard near the oval dinner table. Here money was collected for the mission that was so close to our hearts. Every time our family was blessed in a particular way, Mother would drop money in the blessing box as a thank offering to God. 'This was especially true if Father sold an expensive watch or received extra money for repairing an antique clock.

'Whenever visitors came, Mother would spread her arms wide and welcome them, and then to show how she really appreciated their presence would say, "A penny in the blessing box for your coming." If it were a special visitor, she might even put in a dime.

Then, at the dinner table, Father would always bless our visi Tramp for the Lord tors, thanking God that our house was privileged by their presence.

It was always a special occasion for us all.

I well remember the sister-in-law of a minister who spent the night with us. The next morning Tante Anna went to her room and found her sheet twisted into a rope and lying across the bed.

"What is this?" Tante Anna asked.

The woman broke down in tears. "I must confess. Last night I wanted to commit suicide. I made my sheet into a rope and tied it around my neck to jump from the window. But I could not forget the prayer at the dinner table, as Mr. ten Boom thanked God that I could come and share in this hospitality. God spared my life through that prayer."

After a few days in Washington, I continued my traveling as a tramp for the Lord. However, fresh on my mind was the hospitality of my dear friends. And I remembered Mother's blessing box and Father's prayers.

Often I am dependent on the hospitality of Christians. God's people have been so generous to open their homes to me, and many times when I lay my head ona strange pillow, which has been blessed by the love of my friends, I realize that I am enjoying the reward for the open doors and open hearts of the Beje.

Heaven will be blessed, but here on earth J already am enjoying a "house with many mansions."

Ifwe confess our sins, he isfaithfulandjust toforgive us our sins, andto cleanse usfrom allunrighteousness.

Closing the Circle ik would seem, after having been a Christian for almost eighty years, that I would no longer do ugly things that need forgiving.

Yet I am constantly doing things to others that cause me to have to go back and ask their forgiveness. Sometimes these are things

I actually do—other times they are simply attitudes I let creep in which break the circle of God's perfect love.

I first learned the secret of closing the circle from my nephew, Peter van Woerden, who was spending the weekend with me in our little apartment in Baarn, Holland.

"Do you remember that boy, Jan, that we prayed for?" Peter asked.

I well remember Jan. We had prayed for him many times. He had a horrible demon of darkness in his life. Although we had fasted and prayed and cast out the demon in the name of the Lord

Jesus Christ, the darkness always returned.

Peter continued, "I knew God had brought this boy to me not Tramp for the Lord only so he could be delivered, but to teach me some lessons too."

I looked at Peter. "What could that boy, Jan, so filled with darkness, teach you?"

"T did not learn the lesson from Jan," Peter smiled. "But from God. Once in my intercession time for Jan, the Lord told me to open my Bible to 1 John 1:7-9. I read that passage about confessing our sin and asked the Lord what that had to do with the darkness in Jan's life."

Peter got up and walked across the room, holding his open Bible in his hand. "God taught me that if a Christian walks in the light, then the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses him from all sin, making his life a closed circle and protecting him from all outside dark powers.

But—" he turned and emphatically jabbed his finger into the pages of the Bible—"if there is unconfessed sin in that life, the circle has an opening in it—a gap—and this allows the dark powers to come back in."

Ab, I thought, Peter has really learned a truthfrom the Lord.

"Tante Corrie," Peter continued, "even though I was able to cast out the demon in Jan's life, it always crept back in through the opening in the circle—the opening of Jan's unconfessed sin. But whenI led Jan to confess this sin, then the circle was closed, and the dark powers could no longer return."

That same week the wife ofa good friend came to me for counseling. After I had fixed her a cup of tea, she began to tell me about all the people who had prayed for her, yet she was still experiencing horrible dreams at night.

I interrupted her conversation and drewa circle on a piece of paper. "Mary," I said, "do you have unconfessed sin in your life? Is this the reason the circle is still open?"

Mary said nothing, sitting with her head down, her hands tightly clasped in her lap, her feet together. I could see there was a strong battle going on in her life—a battle between spiritual forces.

"Do you really want to be free?" I urged.

Suddenly she began telling me about a strong hatred she had for her mother. Everyone thought she loved her mother, but inside there were things that caused her actually to want to kill her. Yet, even as she spoke, I saw freedom coming into her eyes.

She finished her confession and then quickly asked Jesus to forgive her and cleanse her with His blood. I looked into her eyes and commanded the demon ofhatred to leave in the name of Jesus.

What joy! What freedom!

Mary raised her hands in victory and began to praise the Lord, thanking Him for the liberation and forgiveness He had given her.

Then she reached over and embraced me in a hug so tight I thought she would crack my ribs.

"Dear Lord," she prayed, "I thank You for closing the circle with Your blood."

Having thus learned to close the circle by confessing my sins, I wish I could say that ever since then the circle has remained closed in my life. It is not so. For since Satan comes against us so often, then it is necessary to confess often also. Regardless of how old a person may be, or how long he has ministered in the name of Jesus

Christ, that man still needs to confess his sins again and again—and ask forgiveness.

This truth became painfully clear to me recently when I was invited to Washington, D.C., to speak to a luncheon of businessmen and women. I love to talk to businessmen and was very excited about the meeting. When I arrived, however, I found only women present. This upset me, for I felt that men needed to hear the message of forgiveness also.

After the meeting a fine-looking lady came up to me. "I am in charge of arranging the program for the world convention of our ladies' group," she said. "Some of the most influential women in the world will be present. Would you come speak to us in San

I was still miffed that no men had been present for the luncheon. It's not that I disapprove of women's meetings. But I am

Tramp for the Lord concerned when men leave the spiritual activity to the women.

God is calling men. Thus, I gave her a short, discourteous answer.

I must speak to men also. I don't like this business of all women."

She was very gracious. "Don't you feel that you are the right person?" she asked.

"No," I said, "I am not the right person. I do not like this American system where men go about their business, leaving the women to act like Christians. I will not come." I turned and walked away.

Later that afternoon I was in my room, packing to catch the plane. The Lord began dealing with me. "You were very rude to that woman," He told me.

I argued with the Lord. "But Lord, I feel that Your message is for all people, not just the women."

"You were very rude to that woman," He said again, gently.

He was right, of course. He always is. I had been speaking on forgiveness, but was unwilling to ask forgiveness for myself. I knew

I was going to have to go to that gracious woman and apologize— confess my sin. Until I did, the circle would be open in my life, and Satan would be pouring in many other dark thoughts as well.

I looked at my watch and saw I had only enough time to finish my packing and get to the airport. It made no difference. If I left

Washington without closing the circle, I would be no good anywhere else. I would just have to miss my plane.

I called the front desk and found which room the woman was in. Then I went to her room. "I must ask your forgiveness," I said as she opened the door. "I spoke to you rudely."

She was embarrassed and tried to pass it off. "Oh, no," she said, "you were not unkind. I understand perfectly. I too feel that men should be the spiritual leaders, not women."

She was returning my unkindness with kindness, but that was not what I needed. I needed for her to admit that I was wrong about not speaking to women, and forgive me. I know it is often more difficult to forgive than to ask forgiveness, but it is equally important. To withhold forgiveness often leaves another person in bondage, unable to close the circle, and thus open to further attacks from Satan. It is as important to forgive as it is to ask forgiveness.

This sensitive woman understood. Reaching out and tenderly touching my hand, she said, "I understand, Tante Corrie. I forgive you for your remarks about women's groups, and I forgive you for being unkind to me."

'That was what I needed to hear. In the future I would indeed speak to women's groups. I would also keep a watch on my lips when tempted to speak unkindly. I missed my plane, but the circle was closed.

And there came a certain poor widow, andshe threw in two mites...

And[He] saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than allthey which have cast into the treasury: For allthey didcast in of their abundance; but she of her want didcast in allthat she had, even allher fiving.

Mark 12:42-44 One Finger for His Glory W: arrived at her apartment by night in order to escape detection. We were in Russia (in the region of Lithuania, on the Baltic Sea). Ellen and I had climbed the steep stairs, coming through a small back door into the one-room apartment. It was jammed with furniture, evidence that the old couple had once lived in a much larger and much finer house.

The old woman was lying on a small sofa, propped up by pillows. Her body was bent and twisted almost beyond recognition by the dread disease of multiple sclerosis. Her aged husband spent all his time caring for her since she was unable to move off the sofa.

I walked across the room and kissed her wrinkled cheek. She tried to look up but the muscles in her neck were atrophied so she could only roll her eyes upward and smile. She raised her right hand, slowly, in jerks. It was the only part of her body she could control and with her gnarled and deformed knuckles she caressed my face. I reached over and kissed the index finger of that hand,

Tramp for the Lord for it was with this one finger that she had so long glorified God.

Beside her couch was a vintage typewriter. Each morning her faithful husband would rise, praising the Lord. After caring for his wife's needs and feeding her a simple breakfast, he would prop her into a sitting position on the couch, placing pillows all around her so she wouldn't topple over. Then he would move that ancient black typewriter in front of her on a small table. From an old cupboard he would remove a stack of cheap yellow paper. Then, with that blessed one finger, she would begin to type.

All day and far into the night she would type. She translated Christian books into Russian, Latvian and the language of her people. Always using just that one finger—peck.

. peck—she typed out the pages. Portions of the Bible, the books of Billy Graham, Watchman Nee and Corrie ten Boom—all came from her typewriter. That was why I was there—to thank her.

She was hungry to hear news about these men of God she had never met, yet whose books she had so faithful ly translated. We talked about Watchman Nee, who was then in a prison in China, andI told her all I knew of his life and ministry. I also told her of the wonderful ministry of Billy Graham and of the many people who were giving their lives to the Lord.

"Not only does she translate their books," her husband said as he hovered close by during our conversation, "but she prays for these men every day while she types. Sometimes it takes a long time for her finger to hit the key, or for her to get the paper in the machine, but all the time she is praying for those whose books she is working on."

I looked at her wasted form on the sofa, her head pulled down and her feet curled back under her body. Ob, Lord, why don't You heal her? \ cried inwardly.

Her husband, sensing my anguish of soul, gave the answer.

"God has a purpose in her sickness. Every other Christian in the city is watched by the secret police. But because she has been sick so long, no one ever looks in on her. They leave us alone, and she

One Finger for His Glory is the only person in all the city who can type quietly, undetected by the police."

I looked around at the tiny room, so jammed full of furniture from better days. In one corner was the kitchen. Beside the cupboard was her husband's "office," a battered desk where he sorted the pages that came from her typewriter to pass them on to the Christians. I thought of Jesus sitting over against the treasury, and my heart leaped for joy as I heard Jesus bless this sick old woman who, like the widow, had given all she had. What a warrior!

When she enters the beautiful city And the saved all around her appear, Many people around will tell her:

It was you that invited me here.

(author unknown) Ellen and I returned to Holland where we were able to obtain a new typewriter and have it shipped to her. Now she could make carbon copies of her translations.

Today we got a letter from her husband. In the early morning hours last week, she left to be with the Lord. But, he said, she had worked up until midnight that same night, typing with that one finger to the glory of God.

Haven't you yet learnedthatyour body is the home of the Holy Spirit Godgave you, and that he fives within you? Your own body does not belong to you. For Godhas bought you with a great price. So use every part of your body to give glory back,to God, because he owns it.

1 Corinthians 6:19-20, LB The Ding-Dong Principle I Holland we have many churches with belfries. The bells in the steeples are rung by hand, with a rope that is pulled from the vestibule of the church.

One day a young Flemish girl, who had repented and received deliverance from lust and impurity, came to me while I was speaking in one of these churches.

"Even though I have been delivered," she said, "at night I still keep dreaming of my old way of life.

I am afraid I will slip back into Satan's grasp."

"Up in that church tower," I said, nodding toward the belfry, is 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 ding, then dong, slower and slower, until there's a final dong and it stops.

"T believe the same thing is true of deliverance. When the demons are cast out in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, or when sin

Tramp for the Lord is confessed and renounced, then Satan's hand is removed from the rope. But if we worry about our past bondage, Satan will use this opportunity to keep the echoes ringing in our minds."

A sweet light spread across the girl's face. "You mean even though I sometimes have temptations, that I am still free, that Satan is no longer pulling the rope which controls my life?"

"The purity of your life is evidence of your deliverance," I said.

"You should not worry about the dings and the dongs, they are nothing but echoes."

Demons seldom leave without leaving behind their vibrations —dings and dongs. It is as though they give the clapper one big swing on the way out, scaring us into thinking they are still there.

They know that even though they have to flee at the name of Jesus, if we grow fearful over the remaining echoes, other demons can come in and take their place.

The same is true of forgiveness. When we forgive someone, we take our hand off the rope. But ifwe've been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn't be surprised when the old angry thoughts keep coming up for a while. They're just the ding-dongs of the old bell slowing down.

The Bible promises that after we confess and denounce our sins, God cleanses us from them by the blood of Jesus. Indeed, He says, "Your sins and iniquities will I remember no more" (see Heb.

8:12). However, we can do something God cannot do. We can remember our old sins. These are the dings and the dongs of our past life. When we hear them, we need to remember that through Jesus' sacrifice on Calvary, Satan can no longer pull the rope in our life.

We may be tempted. We may even fall back occasionally. But we have been delivered from the bondage of sin. Even though the vibrations may still sound in our lives, they will grow less and less, and eventually stop completely.

Once Satan has been cast out of the house of your life, he cannot return as long as you walk in obedience. Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. However, that does not prevent him (or The Ding-Dong Principle his demons) from standing outside the house and shouting through the windows, saying, "We're still here!"

But, hallelujah, we know Satan for who he is—the prince of liars. He is zor still here—he has been cast out. So whenever you hear one of those old echoes in your life—one of the dings or dongs—you need to stop right then and say, "Thank You, Jesus.

You have bought me with Your blood and sin has no right to sound off in my life."

Andwhen you standpraying, ifyou have a grievance against anyone, Sorgive him, so thatyour Father in heaven mayforgiveyou the wrongsyou have done.

Mark 11:25, NEB The Blacks and Whites of Forgiveness | a I could say that after a long and fruitful life, traveling the world, I had learned to forgive all my enemies. I wish I could say that merciful and charitable thoughts just naturally flowed from me and on to others. But they don't. If there is one thing I've learned since I've passed my eightieth birthday, it's that I can't store up good feelings and behavior—but only draw them fresh from God each day.

Maybe I'm glad it's that way, for every time I go to Him, He teaches me something else. I recall the time (and I was almost seventy) when some Christian friends whomI loved and trusted did something which hurt me. You would have thought that, having been able to forgive the guards in Ravensbruck, forgiving Christian friends would be child's play. It wasn't.

For weeks I seethed inside. But at last I asked God again to Tramp for the Lord work His miracle in me. And again it happened: first the coldblooded decision, then the flood of joy and peace. I had forgiven my friends; I was restored to my Father.

Then why was I suddenly awake in the middle of the night, rehashing the whole affair again? Myfriends! 1 thought. People I loved.

If it had been strangers, I wouldn't have minded so.

I sat up and switched on the light. "Father, I thought it was all forgiven. Please help me do it."

But the next night I woke up again. Theyd talked so sweetly too!

Never a hint ofwhat they wereplanning. "Father!" I cried in alarm.

Then it was that another secret of forgiveness became evident.

It is not enough to simply say, "I forgive you." I must also begin to live it out. And in my case that meant acting as though their sins, like mine, were buried in the depths of the deepest sea. If God could remember them no more—and He had said, "[Your] sins and iniquities will I remember no more" (Heb. 10:17)—then neither should I. And the reason the thoughts kept coming back to me was that I kept turning their sin over in my mind.

And so I discovered another of God's principles: We can trust God not only for our emotions but also for our thoughts. As I asked

Him to renew my mind, He also took away my thoughts.

He still had more to teach me, however, even from this single episode. Many years later, after I had passed my eightieth birthday, an American friend came to visit me in Holland. As we sat in my little apartment in Baarn, he asked me about those people from long ago who had taken advantage of me.

"Tt is nothing," J saida little smugly. "It is all forgiven."

"By you, yes," he said. "But what about them? Have they accepted your forgiveness?"

"They say there is nothing to forgive! They deny it ever happened. No matter what they say, though, I can prove they were wrong." I went eagerly to my desk. "See, I have it in black and white! I saved all their letters, and I can show you where.

The Blacks and Whites of Forgiveness "Corrie!" My friend slipped his arm through mine and gently closed the drawer. "Aren't you the one whose sins are at the bottom of the sea? Yet are the sins of your friends etched in black and white?"

For an astonishing moment I could not find my voice. "Lord Jesus," I whispered at last, "who 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."

I did not go to sleep that night until I had gone through my desk and pulled out those letters—curling now with age—and fed them all into my little coal-burning grate. As the flames leaped and glowed, so did my heart.

"Forgive us our trespasses," Jesus taught us to pray, "as we forgive those who trespass against us." 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't know, but tonight's was good news enough.

Forgiveness is the key which unlocks the door of resentment and the handcuffs of hatred. It breaks the chains of bitterness and the shackles of selfishness. The forgiveness of Jesus not only takes away our sins, it makes them as if they had never been.

Even so, come, LordJesus.

Getting Ready for the End Sons time ago, I was with a group of students in the Midwest.

Some of them were new Christians, but most of them did not know the Lord. They were interested in all kinds of other things, and a Christian professor had organized weekly meetings to answer their questions. So it was that at the last evening meeting of that semester the professor said, "Now you can hear something about Christianity in practice."

First, I spoke to those who were Christians. "How long have you known Jesus?" I asked.

One said, "Two weeks." Another said, "Three years." And still another answered and said, "I met Him only yesterday."

Then I said to them, "Well, I have good news. I have known Him seventy-five years, and I can tell you something, men. He will never let you down."

Next, I told the other students about Jesus Christ, and what He had done for me, and the great miracles also. When He tells you

Tramp for the Lord to love your enemies, He gives you the love that He demands from you. They were listening intently, and I was led by the Holy Spirit not to go into any doctrines or teachings other than the reality of Jesus Christ.

I told them of the joy of having Jesus with me, whatever happened, and how I knew from experience that the light of Jesus is stronger than the greatest darkness. I told them of the darkness of my prison experiences, realizing that only those people who were in a German concentration camp could ever fully understand.

However, I wanted these students to know that, even though I was there where every day six hundred people either died or were killed, when Jesus is with you, the worst can happen and the best remains.

Afterward the students came up and we had coffee. One said to me, "I would love to ask Jesus to come into my heart, but I cannot.

I said, "You cannot ask Jesus into your heart because you are a Jew? Then you do not understand that with the Jew (Jesus) in your heart—you are a double Jew."

He said, "Oh, then it is possible?"

"On the divine side He was God's Son. On the human side He was a Jew. When you accept Him, you do not become a Gentile.

You become even more Jewish than before. You will be a completed Jew."

With great joy the boy received the Lord Jesus as his Savior.

There is a great new surge of interest in spiritual things. Many are interested in Jesus Christ who have never shown any interest before. Churches—which have been dead and cold like mausoleums— are coming to life. All across the world, many are being saved and being filled with the Holy Spirit.

At the same time, however, many others are turning away from God. They are openly worshiping Satan. Many others are calling themselves Christians, but are involved in the occult, fortune telling, astrology, mind science and other things of Satan.

Getting Readyfor the End I see over the whole world that there are two huge armies marching: the army of the Antichrist and the army of Jesus Christ.

'We know from the Bible that Jesus Christ will have the victory, but now the Antichrist is preparing for the time that will come before Jesus returns.

The Bible says there will be a time of tribulation, and the Antichrist will take over the whole world. He will be a very "good, religious" man, and he will make one religion for the whole world.

After it has been arranged, he will proclaim himself as its god. The Bible prophesies that the time will come when we cannot buy or sell unless we bear the sign of the Antichrist; that means that world money is coming, and people know this today. If I did not believe in the Bible before, I should believe in it now. Because what was foretold in the Bible you can now read in the newspapers.

At a student meeting in California, a theological student approached me saying, "What's all this talk about Jesus' coming again? Don't you know that men have been prophesying for years that He would come, and He never has. Even the early church could not live their religion, because they were too busy looking for Christ to return. He is not coming back. It is all foolishness."

I looked at the young man. He was so smug, so full of scoffing, andI felt sorry for him.

"Indeed, Jesus is coming again, and soon," I said. "And you have just proved it to me."

He blinked his eyes. "How did I prove it to you?"

"Because the Bible talks about it in Second Peter 3:3, that in the last days there shall come scoffers walking after their own lusts and they will say, "Where is the promise of His coming? Ever since the early church men have been looking for Him and He has not come.' So you see, my young friend, you are one of the signs of His coming."

I am not afraid when I think about the coming of the Lord Jesus. Instead, I welcome it.

I do not know whether it would be better for me to die and be among that great host of saints who will Tramp for the Lord return with Him, or whether it would be better to remain here and listen for the sound of the trumpet. Either wayI like the words of the song that says:

God is working His purpose out, As year succeeds to year:

God is working His purpose out And the time is drawing near— Nearer and nearer draws the time The time that shall surely be, When the earth shall be filled with the glory of God,

As the waters cover the sea.

A.C. AINGER I find that when Communists speak of the future of the world, they show a pattern for peace through communism. But when I ask them, "What about when you die?" they say, "Then everything is ended. There is no life after this life." The Bible tells us that the Antichrist can imitate much, even the gifts of the Spirit. But there is one thing he cannot imitate, and that is the peace of God which passes all understanding.

But there are good things to tell about the future of the world.

For instance, the Bible says the Tree of Life will be used for the healing of the nations. This means that there will be nations to heal, and there will be Aealing. I am so thankful that we have the Bible and can know the future of God's plan.

As the end times draw closer and closer, so does the power of God grow greater and greater. One day, on a trip to Russia, I approached the customs officer with a suitcase full of Russian Bibles. I stood in the line and saw how carefully the customs officers checked every suitcase. Suddenly a great fear swept over me. What willhe do when hefinds my Bibles? Send me back to Holland? Put me in prison?

I closed my eyes to shut out the scene around me and said, "Lord, in Jeremiah 1, it is written that 'God watches over his word to perform it' (1:12). Lord, the Bibles in my suitcase are Your

Getting Readyfor the End Word. Now, God, please watch over Your Word—my Bibles—so I may take them to Your people in Russia."

NowI know that is not what Jeremiah meant, but I have found that if pray with my hand on the promises of the open Bible, I do not have to wait until my position is doctrinally sound. God sees my heart.

The moment I prayed I opened my eyes and saw around my suitcase light beings. They were angels. It was the first and only time in my life that I had ever seen them, although I had known many, many times they were present. But this time I saw them, only fora moment, and then they were gone. But so was my fear.

I moved on through the customs line, sliding my suitcase along the stainless steel table toward the officer who was doing such a thorough inspection. At last I was before him.

"Is this your suitcase?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I answered politely.

"It seems very heavy," he said, grasping it by the handle and picking it up.

"It is very heavy," I said.

He smiled. "Since you are the last one to come through the line, I now have time to help you. If you will follow me, I shall carry it for you out to your taxi."

My heart almost overflowed with hallelujahs as I followed him through the customs gate and right out to the street where he helped me get a taxi to the hotel.

So even though we are rapidly approaching the time when the Antichrist will try to take over the world, I am not afraid. For I have an even greater promise of the constant presence of Jesus who is greater than anything Satan can throw against me.

The apostle Peter said, "Because, my dear friends, you have a hope like this before you, I urge you to make certain that such a day will find you at peace with God and man, clean and blameless in his sight" (2 Pet. 3:14, PHILLIPS).

Surrender to the Lord Jesus Christ must not be partial—but Trampfor the Lord total. Only when we repent and turn away from our sins (using His power, of course) does He fill us with His Holy Spirit. The fruit of the Holy Spirit makes us right with God, and God's love in us makes us right with men. Through that we can forgive—even love—our enemies.

Jesus Himself makes us ready for His coming.

Adapted from Agape Power #2, © 1972. Logos journal, 185 North Avenue, Plainfield, NJ 07060. Reprinted with permission.

Suffer little children, andforbidthem not, to come unto me:

Sor ofsuch is the Ringdom ofheaven.

Little Witness for Christ Te Jans lost her husband before she was forty years old. He had been a well-known minister in Rotterdam, and she had worked faithfully beside him in the church. They had no children, and after he died it was clear that her place was to be in our house in Haarlem. She was a poet, author and organizer—especially was she an organizer! Soon after she moved into the Beje, she started a club for girls where she led the meetings and began publishing a small monthly paper for them.

It was long before World War I started, but a detachment of Dutch soldiers was stationed in Haarlem. Seeing many soldiers in the streets, Tante Jans decided to open a club for them too. She approached some wealthy people and within a short time had enough money to build a military home. Twice a week Tante Jans went to the house to lead in a Bible study.

Tante Jans also invited the soldiers to come to our house. Since they were lonely and did not like the street life, many of them ac Trampfor the Lord cepted. Almost every evening we had soldiers in our home.

One sergeant was a great musician, and Tante Jans asked him to teach me and my sister Nollie to play the harmonium—an old pump organ. It wasn't long before I was joining Tante Jans at the military home to accompany the singing.

One night, in my eleventh year, a large group of soldiers had gathered for the Bible study. Before I played, Tante Jans made me sing. The song I sang was about the lost sheep which was found by the shepherd. I sang it slowly and dramatically, climaxing it with the last line: "And the sheep that went astray was me."

As I finished singing, a big, blond Dutch officer reached out and pulled me to him. Picking me up and sitting me on his knee, he laughed and said, "Tell me, young lady, how did you go astray?"

All the other soldiers laughed, and I was red with embarrassment. It did seem odd that sucha little girl would describe herself as a lost sheep.

I had to confess that the line just belonged to the song and that I had never, never beena lost sheep. Then I told him that as a little girl, just five years of age, I had given my heart to Jesus Christ and could never remember not having belonged to Him.

The officer grew very serious, and his eyes filled with tears. "Ah, that is the way it should be, little Sweet-Face," he said solemnly.

"How much better to come to Jesus asa little child, than to have to stumble, as I have, always seeking the Shepherd."

Then he closed his eyes and said softly, "But tonight I think I shall stop seeking, and let Him find me instead."

That night there was deep joy in the Bible meeting. The Lord had used me to lead a man to Christ. It was the first time in my life, and it had taken place not because of what I said, but because of the Holy Spirit who was in me. It was a secret I have remembered all the years of my life as I have traveled the world—a tramp for the Lord.

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