The Smile of Grace

Okay, before I get started here, I'll warn ya. I'm not a history buff. I know some of you are (ahem, Chris...), but I'm not, so please forgive any errors in my account of what I saw. I could have totally misunderstood something. I wrote this in my journal last night, and I thought I'd share.


Last night my family watched a documentary on PBS about the nazi concentration camps. I've seen one before that was similar, in fact it even had some of the same video footage in it. Every time I see it, my heart breaks. I want to turn away in disgust, but all of the faces that have seen more death, war, pain and hatred than any human should are holding me captive, just as I'm watching them be held.

They are mere skeletons. Their skin is clinging to their bones alone. They all look old, worn and haggard, even the children. To look at them, you'd think that they had been abandoned, but no, they haven't. In fact, they would probably be better off if they had been. Instead, they are tortured. The men are forced to work on practically non-existent rations. Some of the women are put in a brothel where they are raped and forced to sell themselves to soldiers or preferred prisoners.

They cannot live normally, they cannot die normally, they cannot even sleep normally. Some prison huts were built with barbed wire instead of bedding.

Some of them are taken to a death chamber. They are forced into a room where the air is filled with poison. This seems almost merciful compared to the deaths of others. They are locked into a large barn, which is set on fire. One man managed to squeeze his head and shoulders into a small hole. He gasped for air while the rest of his body burned, and for this he was shot.

Each face is marked with pain, lined with sorrow, but as the camera pans over them, one smiles. Smiling? After all that he has gone through, how can he smile? Somehow he has clung to a shred of glimmering hope.

They have experienced more terrible things than I can comprehend, nor do I want to. But it seems that some of them have experienced more grace than I can comprehend.

I don't understand why it happened, why so many had to die. I don't understand why God allowed it, but I pray that if I am ever forced into a similar situation that God will grant me that grace. The grace that makes weary, war-torn men smile.

Anna