Stone the Preacher

Hitler, to no one’s regret, killed his chicken self on this day in 1945. Satan’s servant failed miserably in his quest to complete his Final Solution and is now in the presence of God’s wrath for all eternity.

Now meet Agnes Kun an Auschwitz survivor, imprisoned in Hitler’s death camp when she was 18.

My girls and I met her yesterday at the Museum of Tolerance Museum. I gave her a Trillion Dollar Bill Gospel tract and asked her to what she  attributed her survival to. 

“Luck,” she replied.

I then explained to her that it was not luck at all, but it was God who spared her. I then requested that she read the information on the back of the tract so that she may learn of her Messiah, Yeshua Ha’Mashiach, Jesus, the Messiah.

Corrie Ten Boom was a prisoner in Ravensbruck, another horrible concentration camp, a camp where she witnessed her sister’s death.  She attributed her survival to Jesus Christ.

The greatest test of her faith would be played out a few years after her release, when after a speaking engagement, a former guard at the camp, came up to congratulate her on her inspiring talk. Here’s the account:

“It was in a church in Munich that I saw him—a balding, heavyset man in a gray overcoat, a brown felt hat clutched between his hands. People were filing out of the basement room where I had just spoken, moving along the rows of wooden chairs to the door at the rear. It was 1947 and I had come from Holland to defeated Germany with the message that God forgives.

“It was the truth they needed most to hear in that bitter, bombed-out land, and I gave them my favorite mental picture. Maybe because the sea is never far from a Hollander’s mind, I liked to think that that’s where forgiven sins were thrown. ‘When we confess our sins,’ I said, ‘God casts them into the deepest ocean, gone forever. …’

“The solemn faces stared back at me, not quite daring to believe. There were never questions after a talk in Germany in 1947. People stood up in silence, in silence collected their wraps, in silence left the room.

“And that’s when I saw him, working his way forward against the others. One moment I saw the overcoat and the brown hat; the next, a blue uniform and a visored cap with its skull and crossbones. It came back with a rush: the huge room with its harsh overhead lights; the pathetic pile of dresses and shoes in the center of the floor; the shame of walking naked past this man. I could see my sister’s frail form ahead of me, ribs sharp beneath the parchment skin. Betsie, how thin you were!

[Betsie and I had been arrested for concealing Jews in our home during the Nazi occupation of Holland; this man had been a guard at Ravensbruck concentration camp where we were sent.]

“Now he was in front of me, hand thrust out: ‘A fine message, Fräulein! How good it is to know that, as you say, all our sins are at the bottom of the sea!’

“And I, who had spoken so glibly of forgiveness, fumbled in my pocketbook rather than take that hand. He would not remember me, of course—how could he remember one prisoner among those thousands of women?

“But I remembered him and the leather crop swinging from his belt. I was face-to-face with one of my captors and my blood seemed to freeze.

“ ‘You mentioned Ravensbruck in your talk,’ he was saying, ‘I was a guard there.’ No, he did not remember me. Read the rest by clicking here.