Hello, and welcome back to Nations 4 Jesus. We're continuing our Christmas-themed podcast series, and today I want to share a story that will break your heart and strengthen your faith at the same time. It's a story about celebrating Christmas in one of the darkest places on earth—a Nazi concentration camp called Ravensbrück.
This is the story of Corrie ten Boom and the women who found Christ's light shining in the midst of unimaginable horror.
Corrie ten Boom was born in 1892 in Haarlem, Netherlands, into a devout Dutch Reformed family. Her father, Casper ten Boom, was a watchmaker with a deep love for the Jewish people. The family had a long tradition of praying for and supporting Jews—going back 100 years before the Holocaust even began.
When the Nazis occupied the Netherlands in 1940 and began persecuting Jews, the ten Boom family couldn't stand by and watch. They turned their home into a hiding place—building a secret room behind a false wall in Corrie's bedroom. Over the next several years, they hid an estimated 800 Jews and resistance workers, helping them escape to safety.
On a personal note, our family got to visit their home in 2014. Our children were even able to go inside the hiding place.
In February 1944, they were betrayed by a Dutch informant. The Gestapo raided the ten Boom home, arresting Corrie, her sister Betsie, and their 84-year-old father. Several Jews were hiding in the secret room at the time of the raid, and they remained hidden for 47 hours before being rescued—the Gestapo never found them.
Casper ten Boom went to be with his Lord and Savior, Jesus, just 10 days after his arrest. Corrie and Betsie were eventually sent to Ravensbrück, a notorious women's concentration camp in northern Germany.
Ravensbrück was one of the largest concentration camps for women. Over 130,000 women and children passed through its gates during the war. Tens of thousands died there from starvation, disease, overwork, medical experiments, and execution.
Corrie and Betsie arrived in September 1944. The conditions were horrific beyond description. The women were crammed into barracks infested with fleas and lice. They were given almost no food. They were forced into hard labor. They were beaten and humiliated. Death was everywhere.
By all human standards, Ravensbrück was a place utterly devoid of hope—a place where darkness seemed absolute.
But something remarkable happened in that darkness. Corrie and Betsie had managed to smuggle a Bible into the camp, hidden under Corrie's dress. They weren't caught during the searches—which Corrie later attributed to God's miraculous protection.
That Bible became a source of life for the women in their barracks. Corrie and Betsie began holding secret worship services, reading Scripture aloud and translating it into multiple languages for the women gathered around them. Dutch, German, French, Polish, Russian, Czech—the Word of God went out in whispers to women from across Europe.
The gatherings grew. Women who had lost all hope found themselves drawn to this message of a God who loved them, who saw their suffering, who promised redemption and eternal life. In the flea-infested darkness of Barracks 28, the light of Christ was shining.
Betsie even thanked God for the fleas—because the guards refused to enter their barracks due to the infestation, giving them freedom to hold their Bible studies without being caught. What seemed like a curse became a protection.
Just weeks before Christmas, on December 16, 1944, Betsie ten Boom died in Ravensbrück. She was 59 years old. Her body had simply given out from the starvation and abuse.
But Betsie's last words to Corrie were not words of despair. They were words of faith and vision. She told Corrie: "There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still." She also told Corrie that after the war, they must tell people what they had learned—that no darkness is too dark for God.
Betsie even had a vision of what they would do after the war: They would open a home to help people heal from the wounds of hatred and war. They would tell people about Jesus and the power of forgiveness. She didn't know she wouldn't survive to see it—but Corrie would fulfill that vision.
Then came Christmas 1944. Think about the setting. Corrie had just lost her best friend and sister, Betsie. These women were starving. They were freezing. They were surrounded by death. Many had lost husbands, children, parents. They had no idea if they would survive another week. The Allied liberation was coming, but they didn't know that yet. All they knew was darkness and suffering.
And yet, they gathered to celebrate Christmas.
Corrie later wrote about that Christmas in Ravensbrück. Despite the starvation and cruelty, despite the absolute horror of their circumstances, she testified: "Christ's light shone in the darkest place on earth."
Think about that statement. The darkest place on earth—and Christ's light was shining there. Not because circumstances were good. Not because there was any human reason for hope. But because Jesus was present with His people, even in a Nazi concentration camp.
The women sang Christmas carols quietly so the guards wouldn't hear. They shared whatever tiny scraps of food they had. They read the Christmas story from Corrie's smuggled Bible—the story of God becoming a baby, born in poverty, coming into a dark world to bring light and salvation. They prayed together. They encouraged one another to hold onto faith.
In the midst of hell on earth, they celebrated the birth of the Savior.
Just days after, on December 28, 1944, Corrie was released from Ravensbrück. She later learned it was due to a clerical error—a week later, all the women her age in the camp were sent to the gas chambers.
Corrie returned to the Netherlands and did exactly what Betsie had envisioned. She opened a rehabilitation center for concentration camp survivors. And then, for the next 33 years until her death in 1983, Corrie ten Boom traveled the world telling her story—sharing about God's faithfulness in Ravensbrück, the power of forgiveness, and the light of Christ that shines even in the darkest places.
Her book "The Hiding Place" has sold millions of copies and been translated into dozens of languages. I had my high school English class read it and we had some beautiful discussions. Her message has touched countless lives. And it all traces back to those moments in Ravensbrück—including that Christmas of 1944—when Christ's light shone in the darkest place on earth.
One of the most powerful parts of Corrie's story happened after the war. She was speaking in Germany about God's forgiveness when she saw a man approaching her—a man she recognized. He had been one of the cruelest guards at Ravensbrück. He didn't recognize her, but she knew exactly who he was.
He reached out his hand and asked her to forgive him. He had become a Christian and knew that God had forgiven him, but he wanted forgiveness from a former prisoner too.
Corrie wrote that her arm froze at her side. She couldn't do it. She who had spoken so much about forgiveness could not forgive. So she prayed silently: "Jesus, I cannot forgive him. Give me Your forgiveness."
And as she prayed, she was able to take his hand. She felt a current of warmth and healing go through her. She forgave him—not in her own strength, but in Christ's.
That's the power of the Gospel. That's what the Christmas story ultimately leads to—not just a baby in a manger, but a Savior who enables us to forgive the unforgivable because He first forgave us.
So why does this Christmas story from Ravensbrück matter for us today? Let me give you three reasons.
First, it reminds us that no darkness is too dark for Christ's light. Whatever you're facing this Christmas—grief, illness, broken relationships, financial hardship, spiritual doubt—Christ's light can shine there. If He was present in Ravensbrück, He is present in your situation.
Second, it shows us the power of God's Word. Corrie's smuggled Bible brought hope and salvation to women in a concentration camp. The Word of God is living and active—it has power to penetrate any darkness. Are we treasuring it, hiding it in our hearts, sharing it with others?
Third, it challenges us to forgive. If Corrie could forgive a Ravensbrück guard, what excuse do we have for holding onto bitterness? Christmas is about God's forgiveness coming into the world. As those who have received that forgiveness, we're called to extend it to others—even when it feels impossible.
Merry Christmas, friends. May Christ's light shine in whatever darkness you face this season.
Until next time, remember—keep your eyes on the nations, and never forget that there is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still.
You can listen to this in a podcast at Spotify podcast
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