In reading the book by Richard Wurmbrand this past week, it is hard not to think of all those who have gone before us to Christ by the path of martyrdom and the many who tread that path today. This poem by Emily Dickenson succinctly sums up their secret and is an encouragement to all of us.
Through the straight pass of suffering
The martyrs even trod,
Their feet upon temptation
Their faces upon God.
Back in January I started a series on “the difficult love”: loving those whom we find difficult to love. The ultimate test, of course, is loving our enemies . . . which Christ has indeed commanded us to do. I have been reading the life of Richard Wurmbrand, a Jewish Christian pastor who was imprisoned and tortured in Romania during the Communist regime there. His wife’s entire family, who were Jewish, had been killed. Years later, in God’s providence, the man responsible for the killing of Sabina’s family, friend of their landlord, ended up staying in the same apartment building where they were living. When Richard discovered this fact, he spent the entire night in prayer and fasting to prepare himself for meeting him. He made no mention of any of this to Sabina. Richard sought him out with the intention of bringing him to Christ. The man resisted, becoming very angry. The landlord had to forestall a potentially ugly scene. As the conversation progressed and moved in other directions, Richard discovered that the man had a love for Ukrainian songs. Richard, who knew those songs and could play them on the piano, thought, “The fish has entered my net!” He invited him back to his apartment and played some of the songs for him–softly, because his wife was asleep in the next room. He couldn’t help thinking of the power of David’s harp playing over Saul’s troubled spirit. Richard then said to him–Borila was his name–“I have something very important to say to you.” He proceeded to tell him his wife’s story. I’ll let him tell the rest:
He jumped up, his eyes blazing, looking as if he were about to strangle me.
I help up my hand and said, “Now–let’s try an experiment. I shall wake my wife and tell her who you are, and what you have done. i can tell you what will happen. My wife will not speak one word of reproach! She’ll embrace you as if you were her brother. She’ll bring you supper, the best things she has in the house.
“Now, if Sabina, who is a sinner like us all, can forgive and love like this, imagine how Jesus, who is perfect Love, can forgive and love you! Only turn to Him–and everything you have done will be forgiven!”
Borila was not heartless: within, he was consumed by guilt and misery at what he had done, and he had shaken his brutal talk at us as a crab shakes its claws. One tap at his weak spot and his defenses crumbled. The music had already moved his heart, and now came–instead of the attack he expected–words of forgiveness. His reaction was amazing. He jumped up and tore at his collar with both hands, so that his shirt was rent apart. “Oh God, what shall I do, what shall I do?” he cried. He put his head in his hands and sobbed noisily as he rocked himself back and forth. “I’m a murderer, I’m soaked in blood, what shall I do?” Tears ran down his cheeks.
I cried, “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command the devil of hatred to go out of your soul!”
Borila fell on his knees trembling, and we began to pray aloud. He knew no prayers; he simply asked again and again for forgiveness and said that he hoped and knew it would be granted. We were on our knees together for some time; then we stood up and embraced each other, and I said: “I promised to make an experiment. I shall keep my word.”
I went into the other room and found my wife still sleeping calmly. She was very weak and exhausted at that time. I woke her gently and said, “There is a man here whom you must meet. We believe he has murdered your family, but he has repented, and now he is our brother.”
She came out in her dressing gown and put out her arms to embrace him: then both began to weep and to kiss each other again and again. I have never seen bride and bridegroom kiss with such love and purity as this murderer and the survivor among his victims. Then, as I foretold, Sabina went to the kitchen to bring him food.
. . .
Borila’s happiness was very moving. He stayed with us that night, and when he awoke the next day, he said, “It’s been a long time since I slept like that.” (In God’s Underground, pp. 224-225)
For those of you who have been tempted to “kill” your children when they couldn’t sit still while you were in church or adoration–especially when they knew better: a post I think you’ll enjoy from Betty Duffy.
I noticed something this morning as I was meditating/studying Psalm 42. The psalm seems to fluctuate between feelings of desperation and self-encouragement to hope in God for “I shall again praise him.” The “something” I noticed was a shift from focus in v. 4 to v. 6. In v. 4, the psalmist attempts to lift up his spirits by remembering things in the past, ways that he had led worshipers in giving thanks to God for things He had done, the remembering of which should surely give him hope. Not a bad thing to do when you’re discouraged. Definitely a step in the right direction. But in v. 6, when his “soul is cast down”, he “remembers thee“. He remembers God, and God alone. How much better to lift our minds and hearts to God rather than just dwelling on the things of God? Things and events may change, but God is always immoveable and unchanging, and that implies that His Love is unchanging . . . for He is Love.
Amy Carmichael’s note on this poem of hers: “Ps 109.21. A prayer that may be unfathomable comfort to the ill and tired: ‘Do Thou for them, for him, for her, O God the Lord.’ When one cannot pray minutely or powerfully, this prayer suffices. We need not tell Love what to do; Love knows.” God knows better than we what is best for those we love. Here Amy is simply encouraging us to trust Him who knows how to love best.
Do Thou For Me
Do Thou for me, O God the Lord,
Do Thou for me.
I need not toil to find the word
That carefully
Unfolds my prayer and offers it,
My God, to Thee.
It is enough that Thou wilt do,
And wilt not tire,
Wilt lead by cloud, all the night through
By light of fire,
Till Thou has perfected in me
Thy heart’s desire.
For my beloved I will not fear,
Love knows to do
For him, for her, from year to year,
As hitherto.
Whom my heart cherishes are dear
To Thy heart too.
O blessèd be the love that bears
The burden now,
The love that frames our very prayers,
Well knowing how
To coin our gold. O God the Lord,
Do Thou, Do Thou.