In my desire to finish posting on this book by the end of December, I've decided to add a "Book Club Thursday" post this week.
Today I leave you with a scene from chapter 7. The author had been separated from her husband for several months. He was in prisoner of war camp for men, and she was in a prisoner of war camp for women. Mrs. Deibler was told about the death of her husband three months after it happened. On the day she was told, many sought to console her including the commander of the camp, Mr. Yamaji. He said, "You are very young. Some day the war will be over and you can go back to America. You can go dancing, go to the theater, marry again, and forget these awful days. You have been a great help to the other women in the camp. I ask of you, don't lose your smile."
The author replied thusly:
"Mr. Yamaji, may I have permission to talk to you?" He nodded, sat down, then motioned for me to take a chair.
"Mr. Yamaji, I don't sorrow like people who have no hope. I want to tell you about Someone of Whom you may never have heard. I learned about Him when I was a little girl in Sunday school back in Boone, Iowa, in America. His name is Jesus. He's the son of Almighty God, the Creator of heaven and earth." God opened the most wonderful opportunity to lay the plan of salvation before the Japanese camp commander. Tears started to course down his cheeks. "He died for you, Mr. Yamaji, and he put love in our hearts--even for those who are our enemies. That's why I don't hate you, Mr. Yamaji. Maybe God brought me to this place at this time to tell you he loves you."
With tears running down his cheeks, he rose hastily and went into his bedroom, closing the door. I could hear him blowing his nose and knew he was still crying. We were not supposed to leave the presence of a Japanese officer without permission; however, since he didn't return to dismiss me, I sat quietly praying for his salvation, that he might understand life in Christ Jesus and someday go home to share God's love with his wife and family--to be a light in some dark, possibly even remote, area of Japan. Realizing finally that he was not coming out of his room, I left, knowing from that moment on that Mr. Yamaji trusted me, and I understood why I was in the Netherlands East Indies. How adequate his Indonesian was to fully understand what I shared with him, I didn't know, but there had definitely been a response.
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