The Messenger of Leidschendam

On the morning of May 5, 1945, a young Dutch resistance courier named Ada pedaled her battered bicycle through the streets of Leidschendam, a town hollowed out by five years of Nazi occupation. The Hongerwinter had nearly killed them all. Tulip bulbs and sugar beet scraps had become their daily bread. But Ada carried news that changed everything: the German forces in the Netherlands had surrendered.

She shouted the words through every street. Doors flew open. Women who had not smiled in months wept openly in their doorways. An old man sank to his knees on the cobblestones. Children who had known nothing but rationing and curfew watched their parents dance. Within hours, the Dutch flag — hidden for years in attics and under floorboards — hung from every window.

Isaiah saw this kind of moment centuries before it happened in Holland. "How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation." The prophet understood that the messenger's arrival transforms everything. When the watchmen see deliverance coming, they cannot contain their joy.

Every congregation carries its own kind of occupation — grief, addiction, despair, spiritual exile. The gospel is the voice on the bicycle, cutting through the silence of a long winter: The Almighty reigns. The siege is over. Come out and hang your colors high.