I grew up with my mom talking about The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boon. She told and retold several of the stories until I felt like I had already read the book. In my university ethics class, the professor referenced Corrie Ten Boon's ethical disagreements with her sister about whether it is ever OK to lie - even when lying might protect a human life. Corrie Ten Boon's story has taken on the aura of a modern Christian legend.
As I picked up the book to read, I honestly had a mixture of interest and skepticism. The interest came from the recognition that it must be a classic for a reason, and I guess the skepticism came from the postmodern distrust of easy answers from modernism. Both my interest and my skepticism were rewarded, though not in equal measure.
I was entranced by the story of Corrie's Dutch family's resistance to Nazism through underground work and care for the weak. This was one of those books that I found myself reading at every spare minute at home. Also, the way Corrie's family engages their faith in a good God while evil triumphs temporarily was fascinating and heart-warming.
A few times, though, I found myself uncomfortable with Corries sense that God was working in the tiny details of her life. I heard the echos of my doubting friends in my head. "If God could miraculously smuggle a Bible into her prison cell, why didn't he just eliminate the prison all together?"
However, the co-existence of obvious tiny miracles and huge evils pushed me toward humility in determining what God should do in our world. This juxtaposition pushed on me the realization that God can't always do what God wants to do because we humans often resist his desires.
Also, Corrie found that even problems like fleas in their concentration camp barracks could become blessings (annoying critters that kept the even more bothersome German guards away). Again, this pushed me toward humility - realizing that we often cannot see the total picture of what is good or bad for us at a given time. The best response to all our circumstances is joyful trust in our Father - even if that does seem irrational or even lame at times.
This is a very good read, and although I don't agree with her perspective 100% percent, I certainly agree with and am inspired by her heart and life.
The Josh rating: JJJJ.
As I picked up the book to read, I honestly had a mixture of interest and skepticism. The interest came from the recognition that it must be a classic for a reason, and I guess the skepticism came from the postmodern distrust of easy answers from modernism. Both my interest and my skepticism were rewarded, though not in equal measure.
I was entranced by the story of Corrie's Dutch family's resistance to Nazism through underground work and care for the weak. This was one of those books that I found myself reading at every spare minute at home. Also, the way Corrie's family engages their faith in a good God while evil triumphs temporarily was fascinating and heart-warming.
A few times, though, I found myself uncomfortable with Corries sense that God was working in the tiny details of her life. I heard the echos of my doubting friends in my head. "If God could miraculously smuggle a Bible into her prison cell, why didn't he just eliminate the prison all together?"
However, the co-existence of obvious tiny miracles and huge evils pushed me toward humility in determining what God should do in our world. This juxtaposition pushed on me the realization that God can't always do what God wants to do because we humans often resist his desires.
Also, Corrie found that even problems like fleas in their concentration camp barracks could become blessings (annoying critters that kept the even more bothersome German guards away). Again, this pushed me toward humility - realizing that we often cannot see the total picture of what is good or bad for us at a given time. The best response to all our circumstances is joyful trust in our Father - even if that does seem irrational or even lame at times.
This is a very good read, and although I don't agree with her perspective 100% percent, I certainly agree with and am inspired by her heart and life.
The Josh rating: JJJJ.
3 comments:
wow. this reminds me of childhood. they made a movie of it and it was the first movie my parents took me to. quite horrific for a kid. i think the second was the rescuers. ironic.
b
I'm glad you've read this book now. I just reread it a few months ago. I too heard it referenced from time to time, enough that I went to the Corrie Ten Boom House in Haarlem while I was studying abroad in the Netherlands. It was one of the highlights of my time there, going on a tour led by an elderly lady who had known her, and going into the actual "hiding place" in the house. Even when I went to the museum, I hadn't read the book, but I bought it there and started reading it on my train-ride back to Maastricht. It was a gripping story, especially since I could readily imagine the people and places, as the Dutch landscape passed by. I could imagine her going with her father on occasion to get the exact time; I could imagine how she and her sister would be able to guess at what towns they were passing by the church steeples. There were parts that brought me to tears. I felt it was very real and honest... and even in some parts (especially about Betsie) where you wonder how they could honestly praise God despite the horror around them, it pushes us toward humility, as you wrote.
In my opinion, the book does a good job avoiding easy answers, probably because it's a story and not a theological treatise. I think postmodern thinking meshes well with personal narratives, in that what she writes are not just pithy sayings, but experienced truths, that she found trustworthy even in the worst of circumstances. You can see her own personality and her own self wrestling with age-old questions, not in the abstract but in real life, life-or-death situations... and she chooses what path to go down, right or wrong. And that just commands respect. I probably am inclined to read the book from a postmodern perspective myself, so that's the way I see it... not so much providing THE answers to life questions but as showing how one (extra)ordinary person wrestled with those questions and chose how she would live. She lived very courageously, even if she wouldn't have described herself that way, or chosen to get into that situation.
I can only hope to live with the courage and hope that she had... though I can't say I ever want to be tested in such a way. The reason I reread it recently was because some things I've read about North Korea have reminded me of the situation of her time... the labor camps, the guards as victims of the system as well as the horrific plight of the prisoners, and so on. There are some things specifically in Kang Chol Hwan's book "The Aquariums of Pyongyang" that made me think of it (or maybe it's just because I majored in Comparative Literature). Corrie's work after the war for healing, restoration, and forgiveness is especially inspiring to me, and I want to be a part of that. One of Corrie's main convictions, as I see it, is that all people should be treated with dignity, love, and respect, and I want that to mark my life as well.
Sorry for the length of this post... I got a little carried away!
-Nikki
Thanks Nikki for the meaningful reflection. It's so cool that you could visit her home. And I agree that part of what makes her story exceptional is that she was such an ordinary person who acted in extraordinary ways.
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