Be a Bonhoeffer!

I have been so encouraged, so challenged, so convicted reading the incredible biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas. O how I pray that I might raise children with the kind of courage and convictions and faith of this truly great man of God! Bonhoeffer, a brillant German theologian who adamantly opposed Hitler and the Nazis, eventually became a double agent. He actively aided efforts to save the lives of Jews by smuggling them out of the country and was intimiately involved in a plot to assissinate the wickedly insane Hitler. It's just a remarkable story about an even more remarkable man, but in April of 1942 the Gestapo finally had gathered enough evidence about Bonhoeffer's involvement in the Jew smuggling conspiracy to arrest him. He was in the prison for the remainder of his short life. While imprisoned, the Gestapo eventually discovered the treasonous proof of his involvement in the effort to assassinate Hitler, and Bonhoeffer was executed in a concentration camp just a few weeks before the end of World War II.

There is so much to say about this godly and courageous man that I cannot even begin to scratch the surface. But for today, I wanted to share something I just read early this morning. As I mentioned, Bonhoeffer was arrested in April of 1942, and the first letter he was allowed to write from prison revealed so much about his character. Steadfast. Confident in Christ. Trusting. Concerned about others, not himself. Grateful, even in the hardest of circumstances.

Bear in mind this is Germany in 1942. Bonhoeffer has lost already lost a brother, cousins, and numerous friends to the war. He has been opposed and oppressed at every point by the government. He has fought to wake up the sleeping church to the horrors being perpetrated by the Nazis. He has been misunderstood, maligned, mistreated by both his enemies and even by seeming friends who had no conception of what he was really doing and the desperate abyss facing both Germany and the world. Bonhoeffer knew, and he fought--faithfully, bravely, often alone, seeking guidance and solace from the Lord he loved and knew so well.

And now he is imprisoned. Here is an excerpt of the description of his first days in prison: "The blankets on the camp bed had such a foul smell that in spite of the cold it was impossible to use them. Next morning a piece of bread was thrown onto my cell, I had to pick it up from the floor. A quarter of the coffee consisted of grounds...For the next 12 days the cell door was opened only for bringing food in and putting the bucket out. No one said a word to me. I was told nothing about the reason for my detention, or how long it would last. I gathered from various remarks--and it was confirmed later--that I was lodged in the section for the most serious cases, where the condemned prisoners lay shackled." His tiny cell featured a plank bed, a bench, and a necessary bucket.

Here I sit in my warm house. The wind is whipping outside, and the temperature has really dropped this afternoon. Yet I am comfortable and cozy and sit here writing with my children healthy, well fed, and happy (well, at least for teenagers). My husband faces no firing squads for his faith. My friends and my siblings are not in danger of being arrested or tortured for speaking the truth. What on earth do I have to complain about? How can I not be overflowing with gratitude? If I sat in that dirty prison cell, alone, uncertain, fearful of what a tyrannical, wicked enemy might uncover about my activities, what kind of words would I write? Here is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote in his first letter... and the words and sentiments remained just as steadfast, brave, and trusting all the way to the end of his life:

"Dear Parents! I do want you to be quite sure that I'm all right. I'm sorry that I was not allowed to write to you sooner, but I was all right during the first ten days too.1 Strangely enough, the discomforts that one generally associates with prison life, the physical hardships, hardly bother me at all. One can even have enough to eat in the mornings with dry bread (I get a variety of extras too). The hard prison bed does not worry me a bit, and one can get plenty of sleep between 8 p.m. and 6 a.m. I have been particularly surprised that I have hardly felt any need at all for cigarettes since I came here; but I think that in all this the psychic factor has played the larger part. A violent mental upheaval such as is produced by a sudden arrest brings with it the need to take one's mental bearings and come to terms with an entirely new situation — all this means that physical things take a back seat and lose their importance, and it is something that I find to be a real enrichment of my experience. I am not so unused to being alone as other people are, and it is certainly a good spiritual Turkish bath. The only thing that bothers me or would bother me is the thought that you are being tormented by anxiety about me, and are not sleeping or eating properly. Forgive me for causing you so much worry, but I think a hostile fate is more to blame than I am. To set off against that, it is good to read Paul Gerhardt's hymns and learn them by heart, as I am doing now. Besides that, I have my Bible and some reading matter from the library here, and enough writing paper now.

You can imagine that I'm most particularly anxious about my fianée2 at the moment. It's a great deal for her to bear, especially when she has only recently lost her father and brother in the East. As the daughter of an officer, she will perhaps find my imprisonment especially hard to take. If only I could have a few words with her! Now you will have to do it. Perhaps she will come to you in Berlin. That would be fine.

The seventy-fifth birthday celebrations were a fortnight ago today. It was a splendid day. I can still hear the chorale that we sang in the morning and evening, with all the voices and instruments: "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation. … Shelters thee under his wings, yea, and gently sustaineth." That is true, and it is what we must always rely on.

Spring is really coming now. You will have plenty to do in the garden; I hope that Renate's wedding preparations are going well. Here in the prison yard there is a thrush which sings beautifully in the morning, and now in the evening too. One is grateful for little things, and that is surely a gain. Good-bye for now.

I'm thinking of you and the rest of the family and my friends with gratitude and love,
your Dietrich"

What is there to say? For Bonhoeffer, a prison cell became a place of worship to "the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation" for He is the One who "Shelters thee under His wings, yea, and gently sustaineth." No stained glass windows. No heat. No soaring music from the lips of friends sitting beside him. No certainty or safety. No comfort or solace... save in the Almighty, the God of all comfort and peace and joy. Ah, to discover that true joy comes not from our circumstances but from our Savior.

And in that prison yard, Bonhoeffer rejoiced in "a thrush which sings beautifully in the morning, and now in the evening too. One is grateful for the little things, and that is surely a gain."

True thankfulness springs from a heart attune to the myriad blessings bestowed upon us by a sovereign, extravagant Lord, even if we are in the darkest and loneliest of places: the color of the sky, the song of a bird, the smile of a loved one, the scent of a flower, the chorus of a hymn, the hug of child, the crunch of an apple, the wagging tail of a dog, the heft of a great book, the wisdom and grace of God's Word, the recognition of forgiveness.

O might we be grateful! Might we be ready to worship the Gracious Giver of every blessing, wherever we might be--whether prison or palace or somewhere in-between. For He is in every single one of those places--sustaining and redeeming. Help us, Lord Jesus, to be Bonhoeffers wherever You place us! To God be the glory.