Showing posts with label motivation monday's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motivation monday's. Show all posts

September 5, 2011


It was in a church in Munich that I saw him, a balding heavy-set man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken.

It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives..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 visored cap with its 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!

Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbruck concentration camp where we were sent. ...

"You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk," he was saying. "I was a guard in 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, ..." his hand came out, ... "will you forgive me?"

And I stood there — I whose sins had every day to be forgiven — and could not. Betsie had died in that place — could he erase her slow terrible death simply for the asking?It could not 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 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.

Corrie ten Boom has long been honored by evangelical Christians as an exemplar of Christian faith in action. Arrested by the Nazis along with the rest of her family for hiding Jews in their Haarlem home during the Holocaust, she was imprisoned and eventually sent to the Ravensbruck concentration camp along with her beloved sister, Betsie, who perished there just days before Corrie's own release on December 31, 1944. Inspired by Betsie's example of selfless love and forgiveness amid extreme cruelty and persecution, Corrie established a post-war home for other camp survivors trying to recover from the horrors they had escaped. She went on to travel widely as a missionary, preaching God's forgiveness and the need for reconciliation. Corrie's devout moral principles were tested when, by chance, she came face to face with one of her former tormentors in 1947. The following description of that experience is excerpted from her 1971 autobiography, The Hiding Place, written with the help of John and Elizabeth Sherrill.


July 25, 2011

Pay it Forward



This morning my 14 year-old-son who loves to sleep got up early and made breakfast for his 9 year-old-sister.

She had no idea why. It was one of her favorites-egg on toast. He also made bacon. We usually only have bacon for breakfast if it's a holiday or something special. He put the plate, neatly arranged with a folded napkin, silverware and a glass of juice in her bedroom. When she came out of the bathroom a minute later and went back to her room she was pleasantly startled to find it.

Someone knocked on my door.

"Yes?" I said sleepily.

"Mom, you've got to see this," my daughter exclaimed from the hallway.

I yawned. "What is it?"

Disbelief accented her words. "I have to show you."

She walked in, carrying a plate of delicious-looking food and thrust it underneath my gaze. For a second I thought she was bringing me breakfast. Sweet!

"Some one put this in my bedroom."

Her words instantly popped that thought, but it was okay.

"Really?" her dad asked. "It looks great. Who made it?"

"Zach," she said, with puzzlement.

My husband and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows."Zach? why would he make you breakfast?"

"I don't know," she giggled, holding the plate in front of her like a treasure.

"That was really nice of him," her dad said. "Why are you so lucky this morning?"

"I don't know..." her eyes sparkled and a huge grin filled her face. "I even checked the calendar
to see if it's a special day today." She suddenly looked confused. "But, it isn't."

"Guess that means you're the special one today. Go eat it before it gets cold, sweetie."

She nodded and left the bedroom, walking like she owned the world.

Later that morning we gathered together in the living room for scriptures, and family prayer. Afterwards, she turned to her brother. "Why did you make me breakfast today?"

Everyone got quiet.

"Because I love you."

She stared at him, looking as if she might tumble off the couch in disbelief and mine and her dad's mouths practically dropped to the floor. Had we heard him right?

Zach just smiled.


When was the last time you did something nice for someone, unexpectedly?