I'm on a bus. They were in cattle cars. I have two seats to myself. They were lucky if they had two feet to themselves. I hear the radio and the quiet conversations of other passengers. They heard screams, cries, and pleas from their fellow passengers. I chose to come. They were sent. I paid cash to travel to Auschwitz. They paid with their lives.
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The day has only yet begun. We arrived in Krakow, Poland early this morning after taking an overnight bus from Lviv. The atmosphere is strange. How do you explain your excitement to visit a massive graveyard and ex-killing machine? How do you wrap your mind around visiting such a somber place? I've heard about Auschwitz since I was a child, and even taught my 8th grade students about it last Spring in our Anne Frank unit. But I never thought I would be here.
How do you prepare yourself for something like this? I don't know that you can. So here I sit, praying to God to prepare and protect my heart as I step into red-handed evidence of mankind's sinful nature; as I step into the ruins of catastrophe. I can already feel the heaviness in the air as we near the camp- the very air that once carried the stench of burning human flesh and brought terror to the cattle car passengers. I see the beautiful green rolling hills, the tall trees of the forest, and I know that if they could speak they would tell of the unthinkable things they've seen.
Our group of fifteen arrives at Auschwitz I, chills running down my spine. I can't believe I'm actually here. An elderly couple and a tour 
guide join us and off we go through the gate that reads "Arbeit Macht Frei" – work sets you free. It doesn't take long for the elderly woman to speak out that her mother had been a prisoner at Auschwitz during the war for a whole year. Immediately we are all ears. She goes on to tell us that her mother was thirty years old. She was held captive in Birkenau within the walls of barrack number eight. Suddenly this woman's existence seems a miracle to me.
About halfway through our tour we hop on a bus to leave Auschwitz 1 and head towards Birkenau. The bus is jam packed full of tourists, sweaty from the heat of the day. We ride packed like sardines for five full minutes. The doors open and sighs of relief are let out. One person even exclaims "freedom!" I freeze in my tracks. Did that really just happen? A five minute bus ride; that's all it took.
The irony- if you can even call it that- continues. We walk through the gates onto the very platform where selection once happened. Where the trains stopped, were unloaded, husbands and wives saw one another for the very last time, and the young and the weak were sent to die in the gas chambers; this is where I now stand. One of the cattle cars is right in front of my eyes. I see the car, much smaller than the bus we just stepped off o
f, and imagine it crammed tightly with the bodies of eighty people. The painful, fear-filled journey that could last for days upon days took place within these cars. When those doors opened and the Jews, the Romas, the outcasts stepped off of the train, freedom was likely the last word they would've declared. They no longer possessed any freedom. They became prisoners, numbers, labor, deemed worthless.
I see the barracks, the bathrooms, the inhumanity of it all. My eyes graze over the remains of the crematoriums and gas chambers. I don't understand. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Those are the million dollar questions that will likely never be answered.
But God is still good. As hard as it may be to see that, I know that God is still good. And that is what I learned at Auschwitz.
Sometimes life is hard, and often times it is messy. We mess things up. We disobey God. We think we know better than our creator does. We are sinful. And sinfulness usually affects more than just the sinner.
Corrie and Betsy Ten Boom were sisters held at another concentration camp during the war. They were arrested for their efforts to rescue and hide Jews from the Gestapo. After Corrie was released she wrote the book "The Hiding Place" in which I found this quote.
"If you look at the world, you'll be distressed. If you look within, you'll be depressed. If you look at God you'll be at rest."
Regardless of the fallen condition of our world, we have a God that can always bring us rest and peace. No matter our situation, our God is bigger. He brought miracles and unthinkable joy to the Ten Boom sisters as they ministered to the sick, the searching, and the dying within a concentration camp. God's provision is unconditional then and it still is today.
Betsy Ten Boom also spoke these words of wisdom to her sister, "Corrie, if people can be taught to hate, they can be taught to love! We must find the way, you and I, no matter how long it takes."
That's it. We must learn to love. We must learn to love with not just an ordinary love; a contagious Christ-like love. If we can show that kind of love to even our enemies, this world would be a much better place. So go, love contagiously. Before disaster ever hits, before it's ever too late. Love unconditionally as He loves you.
Thank you Jesus for this opportunity, and thank you for teaching me more of your character by showing me more of the character of man. Praise be to you for grace, God. Have your way in the hearts of men, and let your love overwhelm this world.
Love,
Kara
