The Day Forgiveness Got Real: When Corrie ten Boom Faced Her Enemy

By Virgil Walker | Sola Veritas

You can talk about forgiveness all day. Post it. Preach it. Print it on a T-shirt.

But what happens when the person who crushed you—really crushed you—reaches out his hand?

Corrie ten Boom didn’t just answer that question. She lived it.

It was 1947. Just two years after the war. Corrie stood in a Munich church, telling a room full of Germans about Jesus. About how He forgives. About how He cleanses even the darkest sin.

And that’s when she saw him.

He didn’t recognize her.
She remembered everything.

He was one of the guards at Ravensbrück. One of the men who stripped women of their dignity, watched them suffer, watched them die. Her sister Betsie never walked out of that camp.

Now here he was. Smiling.
Holding out his hand.

“What a beautiful message, Fräulein,” he said. “To think that, as you say, He has washed my sins away.”

Let that land.

The man who helped destroy her family was now standing in front of her, calling himself a Christian, asking for forgiveness.

Corrie froze.

She couldn’t feel it. Didn’t want to.

“Jesus, help me,” she prayed. “I can lift my hand. You supply the feeling.”

And she did.

She lifted her hand. That’s it. Not a flood of emotion. Not a stirring soundtrack. Just obedience.

Then something happened.

“The current started in my shoulder, raced down my arm, sprang into our joined hands,” she later wrote.
“And then this healing warmth seemed to flood my whole being. I cried, ‘I forgive you, brother! With all my heart!’”

That’s what real forgiveness looks like.

This Wasn’t Sentimental. It Was Supernatural.

You don’t fake that.
You don’t force that.
You don’t feel your way into that.

You obey.

Because forgiveness isn’t about comfort. It’s about Christ.

Three Things Worth Remembering

1. Forgiveness isn’t a feeling—it’s a fight.
Corrie didn’t feel like forgiving. She acted out of obedience. God met her there.

2. Forgiveness doesn’t erase justice—it exalts the Cross.
That guard deserved judgment. But if Christ bore the wrath for him, Corrie knew she couldn’t demand a second crucifixion.

3. Forgiveness is God’s power on full display.
Only the Spirit can do that. Bitterness is natural. Mercy like this? That’s divine.

Let Me Be Clear

Corrie ten Boom wasn’t a pastor. She wasn’t trying to be.
She didn’t preach in the formal sense or hold authority over men. She gave testimony to what God had done. That’s biblical.

We need more women like Corrie—not grasping for pulpits, but grounded in obedience.
Not platform-driven. Cross-driven.

And we need more men who see that for what it is: faithfulness.

So What’s Your Excuse?

That person you’re avoiding?
That bitterness you’ve baptized in “boundaries”?
That apology you’re still waiting for?

If Corrie could extend her hand to a man who helped kill her sister, then maybe—just maybe—your situation isn’t too far gone.

You’re not waiting on the feeling.
You’re waiting on obedience.

Lift your hand.
Christ will supply the power.