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THE K I N G ’ S BUS INESS
December; 1942
Christmas in “no-man’s land,” found myself keeping the remembrance of His incarnation with friends of like faith. I, who had thought I would have no Christmas, celebrated it, not once but four times as I attended the services in outstations and kept Rus sian Christmas with one group of Rus sian Christians. Here I found a virgin field among the Jews. They had never had a mis sionary, and I began to work among them, thankful-God had directed-me there. I found them curious about the gospel, but they were no easier to win than those who had known more about it. Fear held them back—fear of their people —tear of being the first to accept Christ. Oh, how thankful I was to be permitted a further time of service in Europe, witnessing to some who had never Heard! I was still in this village when, on March 14, 1939, Czechoslovakia fell, and that section was taken over by Hungary. The Munich pact was not enough. Czechoslovakia, after twenty years of freedom for which she had dearly paid, was to be enslaved. Working under heavy restrictions, subject to frequent investigations, but with a six-months’ permission to re main, I stayed on. Thus I saw the beginning of an occupation which was to turn Czechoslovakia into a great concentration camp: when people fled in terror, through the snow, trying to get to the border on foot. Germany continued to concentrate immense numbers of troops along the frontier of Poland while rumors drifted from Poland to tell of her mobilizing with frantic haste. The clouds were dark. We were just fifteen miles from the Polish border on that day, September 1, 1939, when Germany attacked Po land. As though I were there, I could picture the German planes swooping down from the corn-flower blue sky to bomb the city of Warsaw that I knew so well. Where were the chil dren? Where were the preachers, the Christians? Where would it all end? In the midst of my concern over the work in Warsaw, I received a sum mons from the police. At headquar ters, when I appeared, I was given my choice, either to go to jail for fif teen days, then to be deported with out permission ever to r e - e n t e r Czechoslovakian territory, or to leave peacefully. The Hungarian officer in charge (and I should explain that it was the roughest element of Hunga rians in occupation of Czechoslovakia, being used by the dictator) for want of a better name called me a Baptist Jew, the lowest thing he could think of. It was unheard of for a Gentile to work among Jews. Having no choice but to obey, once again I said good-bye, closed this phase of my witnessing to Israel, and set out on my flight, which I had hoped was ended.
ESCAPE FROM POLAND [Continued from Page 452]
Yugoslavia This time I headed for Yugoslavia where I had a friend, a fellow student in those far past peaceful days spent in the Bible Institute of Los Aiigeles. I found him laboring in a Catholic country where the Protestant work was just opening but where the seeds were sprouting well. The believers, suffering bitter persecution, were but the stronger for it, and my time of fellowship there was rich indeed. About this time I became somewhat exercised to know God’s will for me in the immediate future. I had little money and no definite place to work. Others were leaving for America. Should I? A notice reaching me at this time that funds for a ticket toi Amer ica were available in London, added to my confusion. Was the Lord open ing the way for me to return home? But I did not have the assurance in my heart that I was to leave Europe, even though it seemed I was not to be allowed to work long in any one eenter. I felt led to go to the Hun garian Consul to ask permission to enter Hungary. If he gave it, I would take that as my sign. Perhaps I hardly dared to hope I Would get the proper visa, but, to my surprise, without any of the red tape to which I was accus tomed, the visa was given. And I set out for Budapest. Working in Budapest Budapest, a tapestry of hills and water, an e n c h a n t e d city whose name was once synonymous with music and leisure! I stood on the right bank of the beautiful Danube where the rising hilly terraces meet the sky line, and I was glad to be there. It was not because of the loveliness of the place or its past glorious history. It was because there was work here * for me to do. I had found a place of service in the work of the Baptist Seminary, both to help in that and at the same time to use the work among Gentiles as a cover, if you wish, for Jewish work. It was protection in the eyes of the Government, for only those working in recognized organizations were per mitted to stay. But there was a feeling of urgency through the whole year of 1940 and early 1941—a certainty that the doors that were open to us now would not be long open. Hitler seized Denmark and Norway, invaded Holland and Belgiunj, the British evacuated Dun kirk, Italy entered the war against the Allies, France sued for peace—the whole world was swiftly becoming a battle ground, and we wondered how long we Wbuld be permitted to work. We rejoiced that, in spite of grow ing anti-Semitism in the city, the be lievers were kept free of it. Some even would bring their Jewish friends to church. The Jews recognized, for the
granted one three-months’ extension of my permit, but when I applied for another, the authorities gave me just five days to leave the country. The day came when I had to say good-bye to those I had grown to love. I set out for Munkacs, Hungary, on the border of Hungary and Czecho slovakia, where I had some friends. •Because I had my destination planned, it seemed strange that my' mind dwelt, that morning, on the verse, “ By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inher itance, obeyed: and he went out, not knowing whither he went.” I knew where I was going—why had the Lord given me that verse? But He knew better than I what my need was to be. The road to Munkacs had been closed and it was only after a series of con fusing difficulties that I finally found myself in a border town of Czecho slovakia, alone, with little money and unable to speak Czech. I dared not use either Russian or Polish. With the bit of German I knew, I asked directions to the police head quarters. The only authority the Czech officer there had was to give me an order expelling me from the country so that I could get to Hungary where I had friends. Accordingly he gave me the order, hoping thereby to force Hungarian authorities to admit me, and I walked along to the border. But Hungary was not particularly desir ous of my presence, and here I was at Christmas time, between the two countries, having no permit to enter either one. “Truly,” I murmured, shivering in my now sodden clothing, “I have gone out, not knowing where I am to go.” My reverie was suddenly broken into by the shouts of the Czechoslo vakian guard. Before long, I was made- to understand that the authorities, sensing my plight, were giving me permission to re-enter Czechoslovakia. Gladly I accepted this favor and fol lowed the guard who was carrying my bags to the place he found for me to sleep. Waiting in prayer before God the next morning, seeking His direction, I remembered the name and address of missionaries working in Czechoslo vakia, which my friends in Munkacs had given me some time ago. “Why,” I exclaimed excitedly to myself, “I believe that is near this very district. Perhaps God means for me. to go there.” • Events in Czechoslovakia With little trouble I found the mis sionaries, living in a small '„village not far from the Czech-Polish border. They took me in this Christmastime— and L who had thought to spend
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