Speak Less
Before this is taken the wrong way, let me start with a disclaimer:
**We are to speak up about wrongs and injustice. We are to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, etc., but those are not related to this particular instance.**
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I think this blog is mostly a confessional of my failings. It's so much easier to be brutally honest in print than it is face to face, right? We all say things in print that we would never say straight to someone's face or if we did, we would probably word it a whole lot different.
But right now, it's hard to let you know what is going on over here. I have started a new post four times and I can't seem to get my words straight. They are still swirling around in my head trying to find the truth and the right order and the correct feelings to go with the words. Confused? Me too.
Satan is the author of confusion. I hate him. He has caused such a mess. Sin makes such a mess.
I have been confused, angry, shocked during the past few weeks. I'm sure you are so tired of the vagueness. Just out with it already. There is a time for everything
The new Aladdin movie added a new song, "Speechless". I LOVE it. It seems so right. I would rather "know that I won't go speechless" as the new Aladdin song says. I would much rather tell you the other side of the story. I want to name names and point fingers. I want the truth to be splashed across page 6 of the New York Times. When I think about that, I feel justified. Vindicated.
Then when I think about it again, I know it is also wrong. Do I want to be named and fingers pointed at me? Do I want all my wrongs splashed across page 6? Do I have a stone to throw? No.
Sometimes some situations call for you to "speak less". Do you know how many times the Bible tell us to "be quiet"?** I don't know the exact number, but I'm sure it's more than twice. Do you know that God says that revenge is His? He says He fights our battles. He says to "let. go.". Do you know He says to LOVE your enemy and to pray for those who falsely say all kinds of things against you!?! Even to turn the other cheek. Do you know what love is? It is kind and gentle, it is not self-seeking, it is forgiving, it keeps no records of wrongs, etc., etc., etc. What in the world? That is so opposite of how I feel and the exact opposite of how I want to act.
It takes a lot of restraint for me to be quiet and let God. I know in my core that God is trustworthy, He loves truth and hates lies. God is always good. God is the perfect Father. He loves redemption and second chances. He loves justice and mercy. I know God fights for us. But my feelings tell me that I might need to handle this one, just in case, God doesn't handle it like I think it should be. Feelings lie!
God fighting for us must look different than we think it should. There are plenty of times I have thought, "Hello? Where are You? Don't You see me here?" I don't understand why a lot of things that happened were allowed to happen. Like in my view above, just out with it all, why be silent? One of God's names is El Roi - the God who Sees Me. There are a lot of things that happened where God worked, protected, changed minds, etc. that I failed to see at the time. I don't see what is going on in hearts. I don't see the future. I may not see the other side of the story either. God sees, all of it. And He can turn the hearts of kings.
Recently I read The Hiding Place (go read it now if you haven't). Corrie Ten Boom shares memories and lessons from her childhood in the first part of the book. One with her father applies to some of this situation. Little Corrie asked a question that she wasn't quite read for the answer being so young. Her father answers her by telling her:
"some knowledge is too heavy for children When you are older and
stronger you can bear it. For now, you must trust me to carry it for you."
Corrie later wrote how that conversation stayed with her and as she lived in the camps, she understood that there are answers to all the hard questions - for now she had to be content to leave them in her Father's keeping. He would carry the answers until she was able.
So all these things that I don't understand, there are answers, I have to be content to trust my Heavenly Father's to carry them for me. I'm not sure I even understand how to do that. God actually told Job something similar beginning in Job 38. Maybe that's where Mr. ten Boom got his answer from. These chapters always put me in my place and calls for praise to a Holy God.
I can't really wrap this thing up with a pretty bow and a happy ending. It's still an open-ended subject for me. I have a lot to learn about loving enemies. I am far from it. For that matter, I have a lot to learn about love. Instead, I'll leave with you a few other quotes from Corrie ten Boom and her father concerning love. If there is anybody in this world who learned the miracle of showing love to their enemies, it was Corrie ten Boom and her family.
"Love. How did one show it?
How could God Himself show truth and love at the same time in a world like this?
By dying."
- Corrie ten Boom -
"Whenever we cannot love in the old human way, Corrie, God can give us the perfect way."
- Casper ten Boom -
"And so I discovered that it is not on our forgiveness anymore
than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but on His.
When He tell us to love our enemies He gives,
along with the command,
the love itself."
- Corrie ten Boom -
Do we need to read that last quote again? God gives the command AND God gives us the love to fulfill His command. We literally cannot do something like this on our own. It is not our nature. It is His nature.
You really have to read the circumstances surrounding the last quote for your self. I can't fathom it. You can read the book, but I copied and pasted from this website for you to read it here. Or you can click on the link and read the author's entire post.
"After the war she returned to Germany to declare the grace of Christ.
“It was 1947, and I’d come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives. It was the truth that they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown.
“It was 1947, and I’d come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives. It was the truth that they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown.
‘When we confess our sins,’ I said, ‘God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. And even though I cannot find a Scripture for it, I believe God then places a sign out there that says, ’NO FISHING ALLOWED.’
The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a cap with skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush—the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! That place was Ravensbruck, and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard—one of the most cruel guards.
Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: "A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!" And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women? But I remembered him. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.
"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he was saying. "I was a guard there." No, he did not remember me. "But since that time," he went on, "I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein,"—again the hand came out—"will you forgive me?"
And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again been forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place. Could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking? It could have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
For I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. "If you do not forgive men their trespasses," Jesus says, "neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses." And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart.
But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. "Jesus, help me!" I prayed silently. "I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling." And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust out my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
"I forgive you, brother!" I cried. "With all my heart!" For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then. But even then, I realized it was not my love. I had tried, and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit."
The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a cap with skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush—the huge room with its harsh overhead lights, the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor, the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were! That place was Ravensbruck, and the man who was making his way forward had been a guard—one of the most cruel guards.
Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: "A fine message, Fraulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!" And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women? But I remembered him. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.
"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he was saying. "I was a guard there." No, he did not remember me. "But since that time," he went on, "I have become a Christian. I know that God has forgiven me for the cruel things I did there, but I would like to hear it from your lips as well. Fraulein,"—again the hand came out—"will you forgive me?"
And I stood there—I whose sins had again and again been forgiven—and could not forgive. Betsie had died in that place. Could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking? It could have been many seconds that he stood there—hand held out—but to me it seemed hours as I wrestled with the most difficult thing I had ever had to do.
For I had to do it—I knew that. The message that God forgives has a prior condition: that we forgive those who have injured us. "If you do not forgive men their trespasses," Jesus says, "neither will your Father in heaven forgive your trespasses." And still I stood there with the coldness clutching my heart.
But forgiveness is not an emotion—I knew that too. Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart. "Jesus, help me!" I prayed silently. "I can lift my hand. I can do that much. You supply the feeling." And so woodenly, mechanically, I thrust out my hand into the one stretched out to me. And as I did, an incredible thing took place. The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands. And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being, bringing tears to my eyes.
"I forgive you, brother!" I cried. "With all my heart!" For a long moment we grasped each other’s hands, the former guard and the former prisoner. I had never known God’s love so intensely, as I did then. But even then, I realized it was not my love. I had tried, and did not have the power. It was the power of the Holy Spirit."
[Holocaust Victim Forgives Captor, Citation: Corrie Ten Boom, Tramp for the Lord (Berkley, 1978), pp. 53-55]
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