A Current from Shoulder to Hand

In 1947, Corrie ten Boom stood in a church basement in Munich, Germany, having just spoken about God's forgiveness to a nation crushed by guilt. A man approached — hand extended. She recognized him at once: a former guard at Ravensbrück, the concentration camp where her sister Betsie had died on December 16, 1944. "You mentioned Ravensbrück," he said. "I was a guard there. But since then, I have become a Christian. Will you forgive me?"

Corrie froze. She who had traveled Europe preaching forgiveness felt nothing but cold revulsion. As she later recounted in The Hiding Place, published in 1971 with John and Elizabeth Sherrill, those seconds stretched like hours. She knew the command of Christ. She knew she could not obey it. So she prayed the most desperate prayer a forgiven sinner can pray: "Jesus, I cannot forgive this man. Give me Your forgiveness."

She thrust her hand into his. And as she did, she wrote, an incredible current started in her shoulder, raced down her arm, and sprang into their joined hands. The forgiveness was not hers. It was given.

Matthew 6:14-15 does not say, "If you feel like forgiving." It commands forgiveness as the mark of those already forgiven. Reformed theology has always understood that every act of genuine obedience is itself a gift of sovereign grace. Corrie's hand moved not because her heart was ready, but because Christ moved it first.