Such Nonsense
In the fall of 1988, I lived in Holland. I was lecturing at a small Bible college in the town of Zeist. It was there that I met Pope. Not THE Pope, but a lady by the name of Pope. Thankfully, she wasn't Catholic or there could have been some real confusion in her life.
Knowing that I was an avid (fanatical, over-the-top, borderline hero-worshipping) Corrie ten Boom fan, Pope asked me to take the train with her into Haarlem to see The Hiding Place Museum—newly opened in memory of the ten Boom family.
The ten Boom family sacrificed their lives to save Jews during WWII in Nazi-occupied Holland. I had been to the home two years earlier, but it was still a private residence then with the ten Boom watch repair shop still on the first floor. (BTW, Corrie ten Boom was the first female licensed watchmaker in Holland). The fact that it was now a museum, and that I'd actually be able to go in and see where Corrie lived and where they hid the Jews—well, that was way too cool to pass on. So, of course I went.
The tour was amazing. It was just Pope and me on the tour and the really knowledgeable tour guide did a great job. I felt a little sorry for the tour guide because I couldn’t stop crying throughout the tour. Not subtle little tears or an occasional sniffle. No. I was bawling my eyes out and having trouble breathing. I’m like that when it comes to Corrie. Always have been. I cried the moment we walked in the door. I felt badly for both my friend Pope and the tour guide, because the Dutch don't show a lot of emotion. I, on the other hand, was completely out of control.
I can't quite explain my love for Corrie ten Boom. If you have read the book, The Hiding Place, or have seen the film, you know how powerful her story is.
The museum had cut out a small square in the false wall where the hidden room was. This was where the ten Booms hid their Jewish friends during Nazi raids and home searches. It was unbelievable to see the actual place where six people stayed hidden for 47 hours while the Nazis searched the ten Boom house. The space was the size of a small closet (about 4' by 6'). The Jews hidden in the secret room were finally rescued once the Nazis left the premises, but the ten Boom family (Corrie who was about 54; her sister Betsie was around 60; and her father, Papa ten Boom, was 90 years old) were all taken to concentration camps for suspicious activities under Nazi occupation of Holland. Papa ten Boom died within a week of imprisonment and Betsie died in a German concentration camp nine months after being taken prisoner. Corrie was released after nearly a year on a technical error just hours before all the women her age were gassed at Ravensbrück—the camp where she was held. The ten Boom family were real heroes willing to die for their faith and willing to obey God no matter what. And yes, Corrie ten Boom has had a tremendous impact on my life through her books (she’s written 14) and her powerful preaching.
Our tour guide had known the ten Boom family and she was very patient with me. I mean, it was just Pope and me on the tour, but I was a mess. When we were leaving, she asked if she could have a word of prayer with us. Probably for my mental health! It was so AWESOME being there and being prayed for by a woman who loved the ten Boom family also!
Pope and I said goodbye to the nice tour guide lady and headed out the door. Well, there was this brass plaque on the side of the building I hadn't seen when we came in. It was a tribute to the ten Boom family. In several languages it had engraved Papa ten Boom's favorite saying, “The best is yet to come.” And I started crying again. Poor Pope. I was stroking the plaque, crying, when I heard an old man's voice behind me say something.
Well, I don't speak Dutch, so I looked at Pope and asked her what the old man was saying.
He looked 100 years old. He had on this big trench coat that was cinched tightly around his waist and he was wearing one of those wool driving caps like Daryl wears in the winter. Pope looked at me and said, “I don't think you want to know what he said.”
“Yes, I do,” I answered back.
He just kept repeating himself, standing there next to me, pointing to the plaque.
Pope started telling me what he was saying, “Well, he says that it's such nonsense.”
“Uh, excuse me? What's nonsense?” I stopped crying.
Pope whispered, “Uh, the words on that plaque. He says he knew the ten Boom family and that they all died, the father was buried in a pauper's grave—and for what? For nothing. And there is no best yet to come.”
Wait a minute! My heart started racing. No one disrespects Corrie! Not while I’m around!
I looked this old, scrunched-up man right square in the face and I said to Pope, “Translate this…
“Nonsense, huh? Died for nothing, huh? Well, let me ask you this, old man: If you died tonight, do you know where you’d go? Do you? When a person dies, where does his spirit go? His personality? His memories? His soul? Huh?” I will admit, I was angry.
And right then the old man got teary-eyed. He spoke, less self-assured this time, as Pope told me his answer. No. He didn't know where he'd go if he died. In fact, he started telling us that it was one of his greatest fears. His health was failing; he was all alone and, if he died tonight, he had no idea what would become of him.
Oh my, I felt terrible. I softened, and the three of us huddled closer together. The conversation had taken a different turn, and I was grateful for Pope’s gentle translation and tender care for this old man.
I put my hand on his small, frail shoulder and asked, “Do you want to know? Because you can. You can know and you can be sure of where you go when you die.”
That was when he started speaking English to me and Pope didn't have to translate anymore. It made the conversation a lot easier. I don’t know why he didn't just speak English to me in the first place?
So he told me that he did want to know. He told me that he was scared of dying.
I told him about Jesus and how, if a person believes in Jesus and asks Jesus to come into his heart, then he doesn’t have to be afraid of death because Jesus will give him Eternal Life.
I explained that this was good news. And not only does a person get Eternal Life, which is awesome in and of itself, but he also gets God’s peace…today…immediately. And let’s be honest—that is such an added bonus.
He told me he wanted that; he said he needed that. And right there, outside of Corrie ten Boom's house, the old man respectfully removed his woolen driving cap. He held hands with Pope and me. And we all prayed. I said to him, “Just repeat after me.” And he did. And I led him through a prayer of forgiveness and he asked Jesus to come into his heart. As we prayed, I felt a few hot tears splash onto my hand as he silently cried. After we prayed, he looked up at me and said, “I feel it! I feel it! I feel God's peace!” and, quite honestly, he looked different. He started hollering, “I have peace!” Then I asked him, “Old Man, if you die tonight, where will you go?”
“To heaven!” he shouted. “To heaven!” He put his cap back on and headed down the street kind of skipping. This was huge for me. Seriously huge.
I looked over at Pope and she said, “Do you know what just happened?”
I said, “Y-e-a-h! We just led an old man to the Lord outside of Corrie ten Boom's house. Is that not the most amazing thing ever? Pope! What if she knew him? What if Corrie knew this guy and she had prayed for him! Like when he was a little boy or something? If that’s true, then we just got to be a part of her prayers being answered. Oh my word, Pope! This is going in my journal tonight!”
Pope just stood there. She looked funny, like she was in shock or something. I mean, it was awesome that we got to lead this guy to Christ, but it wasn't shocking.
Pope whispered to me, “No. Do you know what just happened?”
“What?” I was a little confused.
“Well, you spoke English and he was speaking Dutch.”
Then she started repeating it as if to herself, “The old man was speaking to you in Dutch and you were answering him in English and I wasn’t translating.”
Yes. That’s right. I wouldn’t believe it either, but it happened to me! I was speaking English to the old man, and he was speaking Dutch, and for a brief moment in time, God broke the language barrier to make things go a little more smoothly. Who knows why? But it happened. And it was miraculous. But it wasn’t quite as big a miracle as the old man giving his heart to God. Well, they were both great. Not such nonsense after all. Peace.
— Teri
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