Sometimes reading non-fiction is like taking a vitamin pill. I do it because I know it's good for me, but my appetite naturally runs toward a well-written story. In The Hiding Place there is no dichotomy between the two. It tells the true story of Corrie ten Boom and her family's work in protecting Jews during the Nazi occupation of Holland. It chronicles their quiet life as watchmakers and how they became involved in the Dutch underground. The dangers they face increase with every chapter.
Early in the book a young Corrie cries out to her father that she doesn't want him to die. He comforts her by reminding her that when they travel on a train together, he gives her the ticket just when she needs it to board. So, also, God gives the grace to face each trial just when it's needed. That conversation set the tone for the rest of Corrie's life. With each new trouble, God provided the necessary strength.
The first chapter recounts the 100th anniversary of the watch shop and Corrie writes, It was a day for memories. A day for calling up the past. How could we have guessed as we sat there - two middle-aged spinsters and an old man - that in place of memories we were about to be given adventure such as we had never dreamed of? Adventure and anguish, horror and heaven were just around the corner, and we did not know. O Father! Betsie! If I had know would I have gone ahead? Could I have done the things I did?
The book is chock full of wonderful stories, some humorous, some horrifying, but all pointing to God's faithfulness. As I read, I grew to love Corrie's wise and good father, her beauty-loving and gracious sister, and especially Corrie, herself, who was used powerfully by God in spite of her doubts and shortcomings. She never brags. Much to the contrary. Every line of the book seems to say, "If God could use me, He can use anybody." I can't give more details without spoilers so I'll close with a hearty five-star recommendation. If you want your faith in a powerful, miracle-working God to grow, this is the book for you.
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