Favorite Quotes by Corrie ten Boom

“Do you know what hurts so very much? It's love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain. There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill that love so that it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel.”
―  The Hiding Place

“We are up against the unseen power that controls this dark world and the spiritual agents are from the very headquarters of evil. Therefore, we must wear the "whole armour of God," that we may be able to resist evil in its day of power, and that even when we have fought to a standstill, we may still stand our ground.”  


“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”

“It is not on our forgiveness any more than on our goodness that the world's healing hinges, but His. When He tells us to love our enemies, He gives, along with the command, the love itself.” 

“This is what the past is for! Every experience God gives us, every person He puts in our lives is the perfect preparation for the future that only He can see.”
―  The Hiding Place

“Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts when God pries your fingers open.”  


“Worrying is carrying tomorrow's load with today's strength- carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”

“Life is but a Weaving” (the Tapestry Poem)

“My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not ’til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.”
― Corrie ten Boom

Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place

“...suddenly I was afraid of what Father would say. Afraid he would say, "There'll be someone else soon," and that forever afterward this untruth would lie between us. For in some deep part of me I knew already that there would not--soon or ever--be anyone else.

The sweet cigar-smell came into the room with Father. And of course he did not say the false, idle words.

"Corrie," he began instead, "do you know what hurts so very much? It's love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain.

"There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill the love so that it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or, Corrie, we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel.

"God loves Karel--even more than you do--and if you ask Him, He will give you His love for this man, a love nothing can prevent, nothing destroy. Whenever we cannot love in the old, human way, Corrie, God can give us his perfect way."

I did not know, as I listened to Father's footsteps winding back down the stairs, that he had given me more than the key to this hard moment. I did not know that he had put into my hands the secret that would open far darker rooms than this--places where there was not, on a human level, anything to love at all."

So Much More

My Daddy recently gave me the book: 

"So Much More" by Anna Sofia and Elizabeth Botkin.

(click on title for link)

It is VERY good! I have been encouraged and challenged by it today.  Here are some quotes from today's reading:

************

Amidst a generation of giddy, silly, loud, boisterous, undignified, and clumsy teenaged girls, picture a girl who radiates dignity, regal serenity, respectfulness, grace, a gentle and quiet voice, poise, discretion, self-command, sincerity, peace, compassion, cheerfulness and humility.

That girl would stand out as a woman of quality. 

 *************

Clothes make a statement. They proclaim to people who you are, what you believe, what you are worth, whom you belong to, what you admire, what you aspire to, what you are for, and whether you are protected or cheap.

Looking around us on the street we can see girls of all shapes and sizes and social backgrounds and beliefs. Nearly all of them have one thing in common: they are hardly wearing any clothing. Like all clothing, the clothes that we don't see these girls wearing make a very obvious statement: I am a shameless hussy...I am not worth much...I just want to get attention...I live for myself...I need to be noticed...I need to look like everyone else.

We need our messages to declare exactly the opposite--I am loved, I am cherished, I am protected, I am a woman of virtue, I am submitted to God, I am part of a civilized society, I am worth more than rubies, there is a part of me that is not to be stared at by strangers because it belongs to my future husband.

************

Godly womanhood...the very phrase sounds strange in our ears. We never hear it now. We hear about every other type of women: beautiful women, smart women, sophisticated women, career women, talented women, divorced women. But so seldom do we hear of a godly woman-- or of a godly man either, for that matter. We believe women come nearer to fulfilling their God given function in the home than anywhere else. It is a much nobler thing to be a good wife, than to be Miss America. It is a greater achievement to establish a Christian home than it is to produce a second-rate novel filled with filth. It is a far, far better thing in the realms of morals to be old-fashioned, than to be ultra-modern. The world has enough women who know how to be smart. It needs women who are willing to be simple. The world has enough women who know how to be brilliant. It needs some who will be brave. The world has enough women who are popular. It needs more who are pure. We need women, and men, too, who would rather be morally right than socially correct.

--Peter Marshall-

Silent Song

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

...Deep calls to deep...

By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song

is with me-- a prayer to the God of my life.

Psalm 42:5, 7-8

The son greatly wished to make a "Song of Lovely Things" to sing to his Beloved-- but he could not find singing-words.

He heard the voice of his beloved saying, "You are walking on the road where all who love Me walk.  Some of them walked this way singing, and they've left their songs behind. Find their songs.  Sing their words.  They will be your songs to Me."

 But the son became full of grief, because there come a day when he could find no words to sing-- neither his own, nor those of others.  And yet he wanted with all his heart and soul and mind to ascend to higher places, to stand in the presence of his Beloved....

And He who is love eternal whispered, "Then I, too will approach you, silent in my love."

And the son entered into this silence, to meet the eternal Beloved there....

After a while there was a sound in the gentle stillness, a voice that whispered, "Even your silence is, to Me, a song of lovely things....

 ~*~*~*~*~

My Father, there are reasons why I could feel downcast.

When I think about some parts of my life, it's hard to

pray--even harder to worship in freedom...

...relationships that are difficult...

...dreams and goals that are crumbling...

...old hurts that wound me over and over....

Some parts of me feel cold and wordless.

Is the problem that I've buried some things deep 

inside? Are you patiently calling-- through days and

months-- for me to open up to you at some deeper level?

Today, Father, I trust you to go deeper.

~A. Carmichael, I Come Quietly To Meet You~

Wind on the Hill

No one can tell me,

Nobody knows,

Where the wind comes from,

Where the wind goes.

It's flying from somewhere

As fast as it can,

I couldn't keep up with it,

Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding 

The string of my kite,

It would blow with the wind

For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,

Wherever it blew,

I should know that the wind

Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them

Where the wind goes...

But where the wind comes from 

Nobody knows. 

A. A. Milne

John Newton

I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace
Might more of His salvation know
And seek more earnestly His face

Twas He who taught me thus to pray
And He I trust has answered prayer
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair

I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He’d answer my request
And by His love’s constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest

Instead of this He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart
And let the angry powers of Hell
Assault my soul in every part

Yea more with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Cast out my feelings, laid me low

Lord why is this, I trembling cried
Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
“Tis in this way” The Lord replied
“I answer prayer for grace and faith”

“These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me,
That thou mayest seek thy all in me.”

Oswald Chambers

My attitude as a saint to sorrow and difficulty is not ask that they may be prevented, but to ask that I may preserve the self God created me to be through every fire of sorrow.  Our Lord received himself in the fire of sorrow, He was saved not from the hour, but out of the hour.
We say that there ought to be no sorrow, but there is sorrow, and w have to receive ourselves in its fires.  If we try and evade sorrow, refuse to lay our account with it, we are foolish.  Sorrow is one of the biggest facts in life; it is no use saying sorrows ought not to be.  Sin and sorrow and suffering are, and it is not for us to say that God has made a mistake in allowing them.
Sorrow burns up a great amount of shallowness, but it does not always make a man better.  Suffering either gives me my self or it destroys my self. You cannot receive your self in success, you lose your head; you cannot receive your self in monotony, you grouse.  The way to find your self is in the fires of sorrow.  Why it should be so is another matter, but that it is so is true in the Scriptures and in human experience.  You always know the man who has been through the fires of sorrow and received himself, you are certain you can go to him in trouble and find that he has ample leisure for you.  If a man has not been through the fires of sorrow, he is apt to be contemptuous,  has no time for you.  If you receive yourself in the fires of sorrow, God will make you nourishment for other people.

How Emptiness Sings ~Christa Wells

A new-er-ish favorite of mine:

Click on the title to go listen to it. Also, there are more of her songs on the right sidebar. 

My other favorite is "All That You Need"

How Emptiness Sings by Christa Wells

Lyrics:

Brother, he’s suffered like a tree taken down
Wept as he witnessed his dreams carved out
And how can a man just keep walking around
With his heart full of holes

But ooh,
His bow is on the strings
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

Sister carries her loneliness
In a hidden hollow inside her chest
And sometimes all that she wants is an end
To the long, long night

But ooh,
Her bow is on the strings,
And the tune resonates in the open space
To show us how emptiness sings:

Glory to God, Glory to God!
In fullness of wisdom,
He writes my story into his song,
My life for the glory of God.
Hmm, hmmm

I haven’t been asked yet to walk the hard roads
Still there’s a sense of deep loss in my soul
In the middle of a party, I’ll just want to go
Home.

But ooh,
My bow is on the strings,
I’m beginning to learn where to find the words
To the song that emptiness sings
Ooh, bow is on the strings:

Glory to God! Glory to God!
This is how emptiness sings, oh,
This is how emptiness sings
Hmmm, hmmm

Pride vs. Humility

“Spiritual pride is the main door by which the devil comes into the hearts of those who are zealous for the advancement of Christianity.  It is the chief inlet of smoke from the bottomless pit, to darken the mind and mislead the judgment.  It is the main source of all the mischief the devil introduces, to clog and hinder a work of God.
Spiritual pride tends to speak of other persons’ sins with bitterness or with laughter and levity and an air of contempt.  But pure Christian humility rather tends either to be silent about these problems or to speak of them with grief and pity.  Spiritual pride is very apt to suspect others, but a humble Christian is most guarded about himself.  He is as suspicious of nothing in the world as he is of his own heart.  The proud person is apt to find fault with other believers, that they are low in grace, and to be much in observing how cold and dead they are and to be quick to note their deficiencies.  But the humble Christian has so much to do at home and sees so much evil in his own heart and is so concerned about it, that he is not apt to be very busy with other hearts.  He is apt to esteem others better than himself.”


~Jonathan Edwards~

Getting There

[P]ride is the deification of self, and this today in some of us is not of the order of the Pharisee, but of the publican.  To say "Oh, I'm no saint," is acceptable to human pride, but it is unconscious blasphemy against God.  It literally means that you defy God to make you a saint, "I am much too weak and hopeless. "  Humility before men may be unconscious blasphemy before God.  Why are you not a saint? It is either that you do not want to be a saint, or that you do not believe God can make you one.  It would be all right, you say, if God saved you and took you straight to heaven.  That is just what He will do! "We will come unto him, and make our abode with him."  Make no conditions, let Jesus be everything, and He will take you home with Him not only for a day, but forever.

{Oswald Chambers }

Get A Move On

"And beside this... add...."

2 Peter 1:5

In the Matter of Drudgery. You have inherited the Divine nature, says Peter (v. 4), now screw your attention down and form habits, give diligence, concentrate.  "Add" means all that character means.  No man is born either naturally or supernaturally with character, he has to make character.  Nor are we born with habits; we have to form habits on the basis of the new life God has put unto us.  We are not meant to be illuminated versions, but the common stuff of ordinary life exhibiting the marvel of the grace of God.  Drudgery is the touchstone of character.  The great hindrance in spiritual life is that we will look for big things to do. "Jesus took a towel... and began to wash the disciples' feet."
     There are times when there is no illumination and no thrill, but just the daily round, the common task.  Routine is God's way of saving us between our times of inspiration.  Do not expect God always to give you His thrilling minutes, but learn to live in the domain of drudgery by the power of God.
     It is the "adding" that is difficult.  We say we do not expect God to carry us to heaven on flowery beds of ease, and yet we act as if we did! The tiniest detail in which I obey has all the omnipotent power of the grace of God behind it.  If I do my duty, not for duty's sake, but because I believe God is engineering my circumstances, then at the very point of my obedience the whole superb grace of God is mine through the Atonement.

--My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers --

Under the Willows

     Between willow-fringed banks of softest green, and under the bluest of summer skies, the little river took its lazy Southern way.  Tall blue lobelias and golden flags played hide-and-seek in the reflections of the gentle stream, and an occasional spray of goldenrod, advance-guard of the autumn, stood apart, a silent warning to the summer idlers.
     Somewhere overhead a vireo, dainty poet of bird-land, proclaimed his love to the wide world; while below, another child of nature, no less impassioned, no less aching to give vent to the joy that was bursting his being, sat silent in a canoe that swung softly with the pulsing of the stream.
     For Sandy had followed the highroad that led straight into the Land of Enchantment.  No more wanderings by intricate byways up golden hills to golden castles;  the Love Road had led him at last to the real world of King Arthur days-- the world that was lighted by a strange and wondrous light of romance, wherein he dwelt, a knight, waiting and longing to prove his valor in the eyes of his lady fair.
     Burning deeds of prowess rioted in his brain.  Oh for dungeons and towers and forbidding battlements!  Any danger was welcome from which he might rescue her.  Fire, flood, or bandits-- he would brave them all.  Meanwhile he sat in the prow of the boat, his hands clasped about his knees, utterly powerless to break the spell of awkward silence that seemed to posses him. 

--Sandy, Alice Hegan Rice--

Sandy

     Ruth sat with her chin in her hands and gazed absently out of the window.  She remembered when that yard was to her as the garden of Eden.  As a child she had been brought here, a delicate, faded little hothouse plant, and for three wonderful years and been allowed to grow and blossom at will in the freedom of outdoor life.  The glamour of those old days still clung to the place, and made her love everything connected with it.  The front gate, with its wide white posts, still held the records of her growth, for each year her grandfather had stood her against it and marked her progress.  The huge green tub holding the crapemyrtle was once a park where she and Annette had played dolls, and once it had served as a burying-ground when Carter's sling brought down a sparrow.  The ice house, with its steep roof, recalled a thrilling tobogganing experience when she was six.  Grandfather had laughed over the torn gown, and bade her do it again.
     It was all the trees, though, that she loved best of all; for they were friendly old poplar-trees on which the bark formed itself into all sorts of curious eyes.  One was a wicked old stepfather eye with a heavy lid; she remembered how she used to tiptoe past it and pretend to be afraid.  Beyond, by the arbor, were two smaller trees, where a coquettish eye on one looked up to an adoring eye on the other.  She had often built a romance about them as she watched them peeping at each other through the leaves.
     Down behind the house the waving fields of blue-grass rippled away to the little river, where weeping willows hung their heads above the lazy water, and ferns reached up the banks to catch the flowers.  And the fields and the river and the house and the trees were hers,-- hers and Carter's, -- and neither could sell without the consent of the other.  She took a deep breath of satisfaction.  The prospect of living alone in the old homestead failed to appal her.

--Sandy, Alice Hegan Rice--

Clustering Round Young Bingo

'Has Jeeves thought of another scheme?'

'No, but I have.' Bingo bent forward and patted my knee affectionately. 'Look here, Bertie,' he said, 'you and I were at school together. You'll admit that?'

'Yes, but--'

'And you're a fellow who never lets a pal down.  That's well known, isn't it?'

'Yes, but listen--'

'You'll cluster round.  Of course you will.  As if,' said Bingo with a scornful laugh, 'I ever doubted it! You won't let an old school-friend down in his hour of need.  Not you.  Not Bertie Wooster.  No, no!'

'Yes, but just one moment.  What is this scheme of yours?'

Bingo massaged my shoulder soothingly.

'It's something right in your line, Bertie, old man; something that'll come as easy as pie to you.  As a matter of fact, you've done very much the same thing before-- that time you were telling me about when you pinched your uncle's Memoirs at Easby.  I suddenly remembered that and it gave me this idea.  It's--'

'Here! Listen!'

'It's all settled, Bertie.  Nothing for you to worry about.  Nothing whatever.  I see now that we have made a big mistake in ever trying to tackle this job in Jeeves's silly, roundabout way.  Much better to charge straight ahead without any of that finesse and fooling about.  And so--'

'Yes, but listen--'

'And so this afternoon I'm going to take Rosie to a matinee.  I shall leave the window of her study open, and when we have got well away you will climb in, pinch the cylinder and pop off again.  It's absurdly simple--'

'Yes, but half a second--'

'I know what you are going to say,' said bingo, raising his hand. 'How are you to find the cylinder? That's what is bothering you, isn't it?  Well, it will be quite easy.  Not a chance of a mistake.  The thing is in the top left-hand drawer of the desk, and the drawer will be left unlocked because Rosie's stenographer is to come around at four o'clock and type the article.'

'Now listen, Bingo,' I said. 'I am frightfully sorry for you and all that, but I must firmly draw the line at burglary.'

'But, dash it, I'm only asking you to do what you did at Easby.'

'No, you aren't. I was staying at Easby.  It was simply a case of having to lift a parcel off the hall table  I hadn't got to break into a house.  I'm sorry, but I simply will not break into your beastly house on any consideration whatever.'

He gazed at me, astonished and hurt.

'Is this Bertie Wooster speaking?' he said in a low voice.

'Yes, it is!'

'But, Bertie,' he said gently, 'we agreed that you were at school with me.'

'I don't care.'

'At school, Bertie.  The dear old school.'

'I don't care.  I will not--'

'Bertie!'

'I will not--'

'Bertie!'

'No!'

'Bertie!'

'Oh, all right,' I said.

'There,' said young Bingo, patting me on the shoulder, 'spoke the true Bertram Wooster!'

--Carry On, Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse--

The Deeps

LORD JESUS,

Give me a deeper repentance,

a horror of sin,

a dread of its approach;

Help me chastely to flee it,

and jealously to resolve that in my heart

shall be thine alone.

Give me a deeper trust,

that I may lose myself to find myself in thee,

the ground of my rest,

the spring of my being.

Give me a deeper knowledge of thyself

as Saviour, Master, Lord, and King.

Give me deeper power in private prayer,

more sweetness in thy Word,

more steadfast grip on its truth.

Give me deeper holiness in speech, thought, action,

and let me not seek moral virtue apart from thee.

Plough deep in me, great Lord,

heavenly Husbandman,

that my being may be a tilled field,

the roots of grace spreading far and wide,

until thou alone art seen in me,

thy beauty golden like summer harvest,

thy fruitfulness as autumn plenty.

I have no Master but thee,

no law but thy will,

no delight but thyself,

no wealth but that thou givest,

no good but that thou blessest,

no peace but that thou bestowest.

I am nothing but that thou makest me,

I have nothing but that I receive from thee,

I can be nothing but that grace adorns me.

Quarry me deep, dear Lord,

and then fill me to over flowing

with living water.

--The Valley of Vision--

"...like the sand of the sea..."

Victory

O Divine Redeemer,

Great was thy goodness

in undertaking my redemption,

in consenting to be made sin for me,

in conquering all my foes;

Great was thy strength

in enduring the extremities of divine wrath,

in taking away the load of my iniquities;

Great was thy love

in manifesting thyself alive,

in showing thy sacred wounds,

that ever fear might vanish,

and every doubt be removed;

Great was thy mercy

in ascending to heaven

in being crowned and enthroned

there to intercede for me,

there to succour me in temptation

there to open the eternal book,

there to receive me finally to thyself;

Great was thy wisdom

in devising this means of salvation;

Bathe my soul in rich consolations

of thy resurrection life;

Great was thy grace

in commanding me to come hand in hand

with thee to the Father,

to be knit to him eternally,

to discover in him my rest,

to find in him my peace,

to behold his glory,

to honour him who is alone worthy;

in giving me the Spirit as a teacher, guide,

power,

that I may live repenting of sin,

conquer Satan,

find victory in life.

When thou art absent all sorrows are here,

When thou art present all blessings are mine.

--From Valley of Vision--


**Happy Resurrection Sunday Everyone!!**

~Chambers~

Photo by: Steven Morris from AllPosters.com

"The joy of the Lord is your strength." Where do the saints get their joy from? If we did not know some saints, we would say-- "Oh, he, or she, has nothing to bear." Lift the veil. The fact that the peace and the light and the joy of God are there is proof that the burden is there too. The burden God places squeezes the grapes and out comes the wine; most of us see the wine only.

--My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers--

--April 14th--

Tuesday Ramblings :)

Today we had one of our trees cut down and, of course, we asked if Greta could come over. Kate said she could, so we made a day of it! We sat and watched the tree come down and then we went shopping and had a lunch date with Ana. It was a great day for all of us! :) 

 

This is my oh-so-cozy-log-cabinish-blanket.  

Spring is finally here!

The stump of the tree we cut down.  It was kinda big.  :)

 Also, I have been reading The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom.

It is the most beautiful and yet horrifying books I have ever read. Beautiful in that it shows the faith that her and her family had. Horrifying in the sense of what happened to these people at the hands of the Germans.  It is not "light" reading by any means.  Each chapter has brought me to tears.  It's a very sobering yet encouraging account of what they went through.  The trust that they had in their Heavenly Father is amazing.  

 

It was cold.
Cold as we walked back to the Beje, cold as I washed for supper, cold even in the snug gas-lit dinning room. Between me and each familiar face around the table crept those small icy fingers. For all Tante Jans's talk about it, death had been only a word. Now I knew that it could really happen-- if to the baby, then to Mama, to Father, to Betsie!

Still shivering with the cold, I followed Nollie up to our room and crept into bed beside her. At last we heard Father's footsteps winding up the stairs.  It was the best moment in every day, when he came up to tuck us in.  We never fell asleep until he had arranged the blankets in his special way and laid his hand for a moment on each head. Then we tried not to move even a toe.

But that night as he stepped through the door I burst into tears. "I need you!" I sobbed. "You can't die! You can't!"

Beside me on the bed, Nollie sat up. "We went to see Mrs. Hoog," she explained. "Corrie didn't eat her supper or anything."

Father sat down on the edge of the narrow bed.  "Corrie," he began gently, "when you and I go to Amsterdam-- when do I give you your ticket?"

I sniffed a few times, considering this.

"Why, right before we get on the train."

"Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we're going to need things, too. Don't run out ahead of Him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need-- just in time."

With Christ and For Christ

:::::All Suffering in a Christian Calling Is With Christ and For Christ:::::

All experiences of suffering in the path of Christian obedience, whether from persecution or sickness or accident, have this in common; they all threaten our faith in the goodness of God and tempt us to leave the path of obedience.  Therefore, every triumph of faith and all perseverance in obedience are testimonies to the goodness of God and the preciousness of Christ-- whether the enemy is sickness, Satan, sin or sabotage.

Therefore all suffering, of every kind, that we endure in the path of our Christian calling is a suffering "with Christ" and "for Christ."  With him in the sense that the suffering comes to us as we are walking with him by faith, and in the sense that it is endured in the strength that he supplies through his sympathizing high-priestly ministry (Hebrews 4:15).  For him in the sense that the suffering tests and proves our allegiance to his goodness and power, and in the sense that it reveals his worth as an all-sufficient compensation and prize.

Not only that, the suffering of sickness and the suffering of persecution have this in common; they are both intended by Satan for the destruction of our faith, and governed by God for the purifying of our faith.

Desiring God, John Piper pp. 216