Making Sense of Suffering











Here’s a poem by Corrie ten Boom that I used to close my sermon on Sunday night. Corrie ten Boom is famous for hiding Jews from the Nazis during WWII. She was eventually arrested and suffered at the hands of cruel guards at the Ravensbruck concentration camp. You can read more of her story in her book, The Hiding Place.


My Life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the under side.

Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver’s skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

He knows, He loves, He cares,
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives His very best to those
Who leave the choice with Him.

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