The Parable of the Germans
I’ve been thinking… a lot… about Germany.
I’m heading to the Netherlands in a few weeks, and it’s hard not to think about my ancestry as I study a language that sounds much like my grandmother’s.
My grandmother, aunt, and father were all born in Germany. My grandfather was an airman who fell in love with a Fräulein and brought her (and her teen daughter) to the US after they wed.
I knew my grandmother was a young child in Frankfurt when WWII broke out. She saw fragments of the war from her aunt’s farm, as she and her siblings were split up amongst family. What I didn’t know was how hard it was for both her and my aunt when they came here. They were called nazi’s because of their nationality, accused of following a man they’d never even heard of.
I’ve been reading Anne Frank and Corrie Ten Boom’s stories in preparation for the trip. I recognize why “the Germans” were so mistrusted… and yet, knowing those I do, I recognize the inaccuracy of stereotypes. Isn’t it interesting how when we get to know a person, we no longer see them as their ethnicity/skin color/differences? Each individual is uniquely made in God’s image – and is individually accountable to Him.
During my first trek to Europe included a trip to Germany. (A friend and I went backpacking through 4 countries.) We went to Dachau, a concentration camp in Munich, where the words “Arbeit Macht Frei” (Work Sets You Free) were emblazoned on the gate doors. Isn’t it ironic how that gate lead to death… but Jesus is our gate to life? Work isn’t what saves us… only Christ can.
What also struck me was the vibrancy of the blue skies, green grass and purple flowers in the field. Though the camp was meant strip people of their freedom and dignity, God still made it beautiful.
He makes all things beautiful.