Tramp for the Lord (18 page)

How then shall they call on him in whom they 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 of peace, 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.”

And so, dear brothers, I plead with you to give your bodies to God. Let them be a living sacrifice
.

Romans 12:1,
LB

I
had 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. 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 of speaking?

Then I heard God’s voice, even louder than my pounding heart.
Because a great blessing is waiting you, a work which will give joy 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
, I thought.
Surely that will give joy to the angels
. I 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 that a 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?”

“I 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 me a child of God. Amen.”

I looked up and saw tears of joy 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.

“I have never made such a 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 shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea
.

Habakkuk 2:14

T
o give a tract to someone in Russia is always a risk. If the person you are talking to is alone, then there is a little more freedom. However, if a third person is present, both are always uneasy—each afraid the other might turn him over to the secret police.

Conny and I had been in a Leningrad hotel for about a week when one morning, on our way down to breakfast, I handed the cleaning woman a 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 and I continued on down the hall to the elevator, heading to the dining room for breakfast. We were the only ones on the elevator, and on the way down I 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? May I 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.

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 of which 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 now I 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 put a long loaf of fresh 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 hold this against you, that you have left your first love
.

Revelation 2:4

A
fter twenty years of wandering the world as a tramp for the Lord, 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, if you 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 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.