The Love That Reached Ravensbrück

In the winter of 1944, Corrie ten Boom and her sister Betsie huddled together on a flea-infested mattress in Barracks 28 of Ravensbrück concentration camp. They had been arrested for hiding Jewish families in their Haarlem watchshop. Everything had been stripped from them — home, family, dignity, even a small bottle of vitamin oil that Betsie desperately needed.

Yet each night, by the dim light of a single bulb, the two sisters opened a smuggled Dutch Bible and read aloud to a growing circle of women. The guards never entered their barracks — the fleas kept them away. And in that filthy, overcrowded space, something astonishing happened. Women who had lost all hope began to pray again. Former strangers shared their last crumbs of bread.

Betsie, growing weaker by the day, whispered words Corrie never forgot: "There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still."

The psalmist David knew this same truth centuries earlier. "Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens," he wrote. Not to the edges of comfort, not to the boundaries of safety — to the heavens. Even in Ravensbrück, the Almighty spread the shadow of His wings over two watchmakers from Holland. His faithfulness truly reaches to the clouds, and in His light — even the faintest flicker in a concentration camp — we see light.