The Hiding Place

“Jesus is Victor.”

Mama’s eyes never left the sky. What to us was a trip through the country, to her was a feast of clouds and light and infinite blue distances.

“But if God has shown us bad times ahead, it’s enough for me that He knows about them. That’s why He sometimes shows us things, you know—to tell us that this too is in His hands.”

Lord Jesus, I offer myself for Your people. In any way. Any place. Any time.

An angular scrawl was all that was left of her beautiful curling signature, but it was soon recognized and loved all over Haarlem.

But . . . if the Gospels were truly the pattern of God’s activity, then defeat was only the beginning. I would look around at the bare little cell and wonder what conceivable victory could come from a place like this.

Happiness isn’t something that depends on our surroundings, Corrie. It’s something we make inside ourselves.”

My job was simply to follow His leading one step at a time, holding every decision up to Him in prayer.

My task just then was to give up my feeling for Karel without giving up the joy and wonder that had grown with it. And so, that very hour, lying there on my bed, I whispered the enormous prayer: “Lord, I give to You the way I feel about Karel, my thoughts about our future—oh, You know! Everything! Give me Your way of seeing Karel instead. Help me t