Thank God for the Fleas

James 1:2-4

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, wheneve you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

I stayed up way past my bedtime last weekend reading parts of Corrie Ten Boom's famous book, The Hiding Place. It describes her life and experiences in Nazi occupied Holland and then in a concentration camp. She and her family were instrumental in running an underground network to hide Jews from the authorities who sought to arrest them. I'm sure you realize what happened to the Jews if they were arrested.

If you have never read her book, I highly recommend it. It is written in an easy to read format, and although the content is far from an easy read, I believe that you will be rewarded in many ways for your effort.

Following are some excerpts from the book that I haven't been able to get out of my head.

We pick up the story as Corrie and her sister Betsie have been assigned their permanent beds at the Ravensbruck labor camp.

We followed our guide single file--the aisle was not wide enough for two--fighting back the claustrophobia of these platforms rising everywhere above us. The tremendous room was nearly empty of people; they must have been out on various work crews. At last she pointed to a second tier in the center of a large block. To reach it we had to stand on the bottom level, haul ourselves up, and then crawl across three other straw-covered platforms to reach the one that we would share with--how many? The deck above us was too close to let us sit up. We lay back, struggling against the nausea that swept over us from the reeking straw. We could hear the women who had arrived with us finding their places.

Suddenly, I sat up, striking my head on the cross-slats above. Something had pinched my leg.

"Fleas!" I cried. "Betsie, the place is swarming with them!"

We scrambled across the intervening platforms, heads low to avoid another bump, dropped down to the aisle, and edged our way to a patch of light.

"Here! And here another one!" I wailed. "Betsie, how can we live in such a place?"

"Show us. Show us how." It was said so matter of factly it took me a second to realize she was praying. More and more the distinction between prayer and the rest of life seemed to be vanishing for Betsie.

"Corrie!" She said excitedly. "He's given us the answer! Before we asked, as He always does! In the Bible this morning. Where was it? Read that part again!"

In glanced down the long dim aisle to make sure no guard was in sight, then drew the Bible from its pouch. "It was in First Thessalonians," I said. We were on our third complete reading of the New Testament since leaving Scheveningen. In the feeble light I turned the pages. "Here it is: 'Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all...'" It seemed written expressly to Ravensbruck."

"Go on," said Betsie. "That wasn't all."

"Oh yes:"...to one another and to all. Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus--'"

"That's it, Corrie! That's His answer. 'Give thanks in all circumstances!' That what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!"

I stared at her, then around me at the dark, foul-aired room.

"Such as?" I said.

"Such as being assigned here together."

I bit my lip. "Oh yes, Lord Jesus!"

"Such as what you're holding in your hands."

I looked down at the Bible. "Yes! Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank You for all the women, here in this room who will meet You in these pages."

"Yes," said Betsie. "Thank You for the crowding here. Since we're packed so close, that many more will hear!" She looked at me expectantly. "Corrie!" she prodded.

"Oh, all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed, suffocating crowds."

"Thank You," Betsie went on serenely, "for the fleas and for--"

The fleas! This was too much. "Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea."

"'Give thanks in all circumstances,'" she quoted. "It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstances.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us."

And so we stood between piers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.

**************************

Picking back up our story, Betsie has been placed on the light duty of a knitting brigade after an illness that required hospitalization (or what passed for hospitalization at the forced labor camp.)

Best of all, as a result of her hospitalization, she was given a permanent assignment to the "knitting brigade," the women we had seen the very first day seated about the tables in the center room. This work was reserved for the weakest prisoners, and now overflowed into the dormitories as well.

Those working in the sleeping rooms received far less supervision than those at the tables, and Betsie found herself with most of the day in which to minister to those around her. She was a lightning knitter who completed her quota of socks long before noon. She kept our Bible with her and spent hours each day reading aloud from it, moving from platform to platform.

One evening I got back to the barracks late from a wood-gathering foray outside the walls. A light snow lay on the ground and it was hard to find the sticks and twigs with which a small stove was kept going in each room. Betsie was waiting for me, as always, so that we could wait through the food line together. Her eyes were twinkling.

"You're looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself," I told her.

"You know we've never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room," she said. "Well--I've found out."

That afternoon, she said, there'd been confusion in her knitting group about sock sizes and they asked the supervisor to come and settle it.

"But she wouldn't. She wouldn't step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?"

Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice: "Because of the fleas! That's what she said, 'That place is crawling with fleas!'"

My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie's bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for creatures I could see no use for.

I have nothing so difficult as fleas to thank God for. But I'm going to start thanking Him for a few other things that I can see no use for.

The Job We Don't Want

I've been reading Jeremiah for the past week or so. I've got to tell you, its tough. It is some heavy, heavy stuff. It's kind of like watching a horror movie, and seeing that young woman, who you know is about to get whacked, walking slowly toward the strange sound she heard in the other room.

You want to scream out, "Stop! Don't do that! Turn around! Run!" And you might even. Scream, I mean. But it wouldn't do any good. That foolish girl is going to get it, and all you can do is watch in horror.

That is what I feel like while I'm reading Jeremiah. Those foolish Israelites are headed straight toward death and destruction, and they refuse to turn around. Poor Jeremiah is the prophet who is chosen to give them warning after warning about what is coming their way. But do they listen to him? Nope. They abuse him, they mock him, they beat him and imprison him.


This is not a man who came bearing popular news. But you know what? He came bearing the truth. And the truth was going to be told, whether the Israelites wanted to hear it or not. (They didn't, believe me.)

In Jeremiah 20:9, Jeremiah decides that he has had enough. He is tired of being mocked and abused, and he is just going to quit all this prophesying that has gotten him in so much trouble with his peers. Here is Jeremiah speaking in first person:

"Then I said, "I will not make mention of Him,
Nor speak anymore in His name."
But His word was in my heart like a burning fire
Shut up in my bones;
I was weary of holding it back,
And I could not.

I love that. God's Word was like a burning fire in his bones, and he couldn't keep it inside. He had to just get it out, not matter the cost.

Just a few verses later, Jeremiah indulges in a major pity party. Not that I blame him at all, it's hard to imagine feeling happy and joyful about such extreme persecution. But listen to the depth of his anguish in 20:14-18:

"Cursed be the day in which I was born!
Let the day not be blessed in which my mother bore me!
Let the man be cursed
Who brought news to my father, saying,
"A male child has been born to you!"
Making him very glad.
And let that man be like the cities
Which the LORD overthrew, and did not relent;
Let him hear the cry in the morning
And the shouting at noon,
Because he did not kill me from the womb,
That my mother might have been my grave,
And her womb always enlarged with me.
Why did I come forth from the womb to see labor and sorrow,
That my days should be consumed with shame?"

Was the cause of his great pain some kind of sin he committed? No, his pain came as a direct result of being a faithful servant of the LORD. That is probably a foreign thought to most of us. We usually imagine that being a great servant of the LORD is the kind of job that involves lots of glory, miracles, maybe even a book deal and a speaking gig. But that is not always true. In fact, its probably not even true most of the time.

Oh, don't get me wrong. It is the greatest privilege in this life to be called to serve God. And God always makes provision for us in whatever circumstances He gives us. Just don't make the mistake of thinking that serving God is always a bed of roses. The history of our religion is full of people who have endured severe persecution in order to serve God. Our current state of religious freedom is a historical anomaly, and even now there are millions of Christians who endure real persecution for their beliefs.

Poor Jeremiah. He had a rough job. But it turned out OK for him in the end. The LORD personally reassures Jeremiah in 15:21:

"I will deliver you from the hand of the wicked,
And I will redeem you from the grip of the terrible."

According to the study notes in my Bible, when all of Jeremiah's prophecies came true and Israel was decimated by Babylon, the Babylonian commander had a special order to take care of Jeremiah. Apparently his prophecies had spread far and wide and Nebuchadnezzar felt kindly toward the rebel prophet who kept telling Jerusalem that Babylon was going to win.

Hundreds of years later, Jesus told us, "Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

I bet Jeremiah is due for an amazing reward come Judgment Day.