Wow! I just studied the two previous scripture promises - #'s 21 and 22. This one should have come after those two. I will comment here a little later. The story of Father Kolbe belongs here. But, I can't do it right now. I just feel such a blessing from these studies. Thank you, Debbie for giving us a direction of our study! Later . . . .
By the end of July 1941, Auschwitz was working like a well organized killing machine, and the Nazis congratulated themselves on their efficiency . . . .
About the only problem was the occasional prisoner from the work side of the camp who would figure out a way to escape. When these escapees were caught, as they usually were, they would be hung with special nooses that slowly choked out their miserable lives--a grave warning to others who might be tempted to try.
Then one July night as the frogs and insects in the marshy land surrounding the camp began their evening chorus, the air was suddenly filled with the baying of dogs, the curses of soldiers, and the roar of motorcycles. A man had escaped from Barracks 14.
The next morning there was a peculiar tension as the ranks of phantom-thin prisoners lined up for morning roll call in the central square, their eyes on the large gallows before them. But there was no condemned man standing there, his hands bound behind him, his face bloodied from blows and dog bites. That meant the prisoner had made it out of Auschwitz. And that meant death for some of those who remained . . .
Soon there were ten men--ten numbers neatly listed on the death roll.
The chosen groaned, sweating with fear. "My poor wife!" one man cried. "My poor children! What will they do?" . . .
Suddenly there was a commotion in the ranks. A prisoner had broken out of the line, calling for the commandant . . .
The prisoners gasped. It was their beloved Father Kolbe, the priest who shared his last crust, who comforted the dying, who heard their confessions and nourished their souls. The frail priest spoke softly, even calmly, to the Nazi butcher. "I would like to die in place of one of the men you condemned." . . .
"Why?" snapped the commandant . . .
"I am an old man, sir, and good for nothing. My life will serve no purpose."
His ploy triggered the response Kolbe wanted. "In whose place do you want to die?" asked Fritsch.
"For that one." Kolbe responded, pointing to the weeping prisoner who had bemoaned his wife and children . . .
Kolbe's place on the death ledger was set . . .
Kolbe wasn't looking for gratitude. If he was to lay down his life for another, the fulfillment had to be in the act of obedience itself. The joy must be found in submitting his small will to the will of One more grand . . .
In the basement the ten men were herded into a dark, windowless cell.
As the hours and days passed, however, the camp became aware of something extraordinary happening in the death cell . . . Coming from the death box, those outside heard the faint sounds of singing. For this time the prisoners had a shepherd to gently lead them through the shadows of the valley of death, pointing them to the Great Shepherd. And perhaps for that reason Father Kolbe was the last to die . . .
For those with eyes to see, it points to the Man who laid down His life for His friends, on the cross. To the only King in history who died for His subjects.
(From "The Body" by Charles Colson)
Do you trust Christ as your Shepherd? Think of the shepherd of the sheep again, and think of Jesus as our shepherd. Jesus cares for us. Trust Him.
2 comments:
Wow! I just studied the two previous scripture promises - #'s 21 and 22. This one should have come after those two. I will comment here a little later. The story of Father Kolbe belongs here. But, I can't do it right now. I just feel such a blessing from these studies. Thank you, Debbie for giving us a direction of our study! Later . . . .
The story:
By the end of July 1941, Auschwitz was working like a well organized killing machine, and the Nazis congratulated themselves on their efficiency . . . .
About the only problem was the occasional prisoner from the work side of the camp who would figure out a way to escape. When these escapees were caught, as they usually were, they would be hung with special nooses that slowly choked out their miserable lives--a grave warning to others who might be tempted to try.
Then one July night as the frogs and insects in the marshy land surrounding the camp began their evening chorus, the air was suddenly filled with the baying of dogs, the curses of soldiers, and the roar of motorcycles. A man had escaped from Barracks 14.
The next morning there was a peculiar tension as the ranks of phantom-thin prisoners lined up for morning roll call in the central square, their eyes on the large gallows before them. But there was no condemned man standing there, his hands bound behind him, his face bloodied from blows and dog bites. That meant the prisoner had made it out of Auschwitz. And that meant death for some of those who remained . . .
Soon there were ten men--ten numbers neatly listed on the death roll.
The chosen groaned, sweating with fear. "My poor wife!" one man cried. "My poor children! What will they do?" . . .
Suddenly there was a commotion in the ranks. A prisoner had broken out of the line, calling for the commandant . . .
The prisoners gasped. It was their beloved Father Kolbe, the priest who shared his last crust, who comforted the dying, who heard their confessions and nourished their souls. The frail priest spoke softly, even calmly, to the Nazi butcher. "I would like to die in place of one of the men you condemned." . . .
"Why?" snapped the commandant . . .
"I am an old man, sir, and good for nothing. My life will serve no purpose."
His ploy triggered the response Kolbe wanted. "In whose place do you want to die?" asked Fritsch.
"For that one." Kolbe responded, pointing to the weeping prisoner who had bemoaned his wife and children . . .
Kolbe's place on the death ledger was set . . .
Kolbe wasn't looking for gratitude. If he was to lay down his life for another, the fulfillment had to be in the act of obedience itself. The joy must be found in submitting his small will to the will of One more grand . . .
In the basement the ten men were herded into a dark, windowless cell.
As the hours and days passed, however, the camp became aware of something extraordinary happening in the death cell . . . Coming from the death box, those outside heard the faint sounds of singing. For this time the prisoners had a shepherd to gently lead them through the shadows of the valley of death, pointing them to the Great Shepherd. And perhaps for that reason Father Kolbe was the last to die . . .
For those with eyes to see, it points to the Man who laid down His life for His friends, on the cross. To the only King in history who died for His subjects.
(From "The Body" by Charles Colson)
Do you trust Christ as your Shepherd? Think of the shepherd of the sheep again, and think of Jesus as our shepherd. Jesus cares for us. Trust Him.
Post a Comment