But Irene also knew that there wasn’t much in the way of adventure for a young girl in the 1930s. She saw, however, that there were ways she could serve locally. Her mother and father were always showing mercy toward their out-of-luck neighbors, wounded animals, and even the Gypsies, the town outcasts. Irene knew she could help her sisters prepare baskets of food for the poor and sick. And she could do more; with her parents’ blessing, Irene decided to join the Red Cross as a volunteer candy striper.
She learned first aid and how to tend to medical emergencies. During her time at the hospital, Irene grew to admire the nuns in their service to God; she thought she would like to do that. Her father was surprised and advised her to first go to nursing school at St. Mary’s Hospital in Radom. If she still felt called after that, her father said she could study to be a nun.
Irene began nursing school in 1938, when she was just sixteen. She was lonely and afraid to be in a strange city with no family nearby. Irene immersed herself in her books.
Soon rumors of war began. Hitler wanted to reclaim Poland. Irene’s parents wanted her to come home if war was indeed imminent. But Irene didn’t listen. Living in Poland, she knew some of her country’s suffering and was taught to be proud of her heritage. Though the dark regime of Hitler was on the rise, Irene knew little of politics and what was about to take place. She informed her parents, “If Hitler tries to come here, we will fight him and chase him all the way back to Berlin.”
Times were changing. Irene returned home for the summer to find neighbors renouncing their Polish heritage, speaking German. People openly admired Hitler’s policies and embraced his leadership. Signs around town read, “Don’t buy from Jews!”
Irene was saddened and confused. Never before had race and ethnicity been issues. She had many Jewish friends and couldn’t imagine why such hatred existed. Living on the border of Germany, Irene felt Hitler’s influence creeping into her neighborhood.
After Irene returned to nursing school, Radom’s sky was full of bombers. War had begun. All of Irene’s days and nights were spent at St. Mary’s Hospital caring for the wounded. They never had enough food, clean sheets, or medicine for everyone. Maimed Polish soldiers arrived in droves.
Irene had no way of knowing if her family was safe. She worked around the clock, dazed by the horrors around her. As the Germans continued to invade Radom, the Polish soldiers began to retreat and requested that doctors and nurses accompany their men in battle. Without reservation, Irene volunteered.
During those days, the streets were full of fleeing citizens. Houses were on fire. Wreckage and smoke were everywhere. Wounded soldiers covered the ground. Word came that Poland was no longer a country, and the Germans had seized Radom. The troops were in Russia, trying to stay alive.
One cold day, Irene was chosen to go on a bartering mission with four soldiers. Russian soldiers chased Irene, then beat and raped her. Police found her unconscious and took her to the hospital for medical help.
Irene was then a Soviet prisoner. She learned to speak Russian while being nursed back to health. But Irene didn’t know what would happen to her, a renegade nurse from the Polish army. She cried out to God, feeling alone and defeated. With the help of a benevolent doctor, she finally escaped. After two long years, her prayers and courage finally led her home.
Irene’s homecoming was sweet. Irene told her family all she had been through, and her father proudly said, “God has spared your life, and He has a plan for you.” She was able to celebrate her nineteenth birthday with her family, though it was solemn. The Gut family barely had enough food to survive, but they managed to keep their faith and rely on their God. The war
had
to end soon.
One Sunday after morning worship, German soldiers were waiting outside the church. “You will be transported to Radom to work for the Reich,” they said.
Irene’s new work was packing ammunition boxes. Though she hated the drudgery, she was at least thankful to be in Radom again. The Germans soon discovered her fluency and decided she was better suited to work at an old, stately hotel. At the hotel, Irene was treated well. She served the German officials their meals and went about her domestic duties, often overhearing about the “Jewish problem.” One day she witnessed a Hasidic Jew being brutally beaten outside the hotel window. She watched in horror. Herr Shulz, her boss, saw Irene’s deep compassion for the man and warned her not to be a “Jew-lover.” It was broadcasted over loudspeakers in the street: “Whoever helps a Jew shall be punished by death.” But still she longed to help in some way.
Soon the city was Jew free except for the Jewish ghetto. During that time Irene’s assignment changed once again. Herr Shulz loved Irene and trusted her, so she began to serve him as his housekeeper. Rokita, another German official, occasionally dined with Herr Shulz. Irene waited on them and overheard their plans and schemes for Hitler’s regime. Thus she knew of the plans to completely rid the city of Jews.
Herr Shulz gave Irene a crew of workers from the nearby Jewish ghetto. The Jews who worked with her in the laundry room grew to trust her. Her conscience did not allow her to stand for the evils of the Third Reich, and Irene began scheming to find hiding for them.
One day, she found a vent in Herr Shulz’s bathroom. Removing the grate, she saw that it could probably hold six people. It was perfect. No one would suspect that Herr Shulz would hide Jews. They stayed there until she could have them transported to a foxhole in the forest. She also hid her friends at a villa that Herr Shulz was having repaired. By then, everyone thought the city was
judenrein
—Jew-free—but Irene knew otherwise.
Irene ended up helping more than fifteen Jews escape death. She did not set out to be a hero. She merely knew she had to act—that God required it of her. He had faithfully watched over her and it was her turn to do the same for others. She never regretted her choice. She was simply thankful to be able to use her free will to rescue others.
Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.
(1 Peter
2:12
)
WEEK NINE JOURNAL
• What are you asking God to do in your life right now?
• When have you seen God answer your prayers in the past?
• If God were to answer your prayers, how would life be different?
• How can a Christian get her life in tune with God’s plan?
• What Bible verse or passage of Scripture has been most meaningful to you this week? Why?
jessica corrill
Rocking for Life
T
hree-year-old Jessica Corrill watched her father carrying boxes outside. She ran to the edge of the yard as he packed his belongings in the bed of his truck. After placing the last box carefully in the truck, he turned to look at his daughter. He picked her up and hugged her. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, “but I have to go.”
Afterward, Jessica’s mom, racked by alcoholism, farmed her young daughter out to relatives and friends for days at a time. Eventually, Jessica was sent to Jackie and James Rhea’s home, where she felt God’s love for the first time. They took her to church.
At church, James Rhea was the children’s pastor. He used puppets, music, and donuts to share Jesus Christ with the children gathered around him. “At my house,” Jessica says, “Jesus had always been the baby in a manger that we set out for a month at Christmastime. Slowly, throughout the games and food and puppet shows, I started to catch on that Jesus was more than a baby in a manger. For some reason, Jesus loved me.”
In first grade, Jessica heard the Easter story and gave her heart to Jesus. Her Sunday school teacher told her that Jesus loved her so much, He died for her. And He would never leave her. Later, during the adult service, the pastor invited people to come forward if they wanted to know Jesus. Jessica went.
“So many people say children get saved because they want to please others, not because they understand Jesus,” Jessica reflects. “But when I went up to the altar that day at that little church on Columbia Street, I remember an instant change. I felt something different. I experienced the love of Christ.”
When she went home that day, her mom asked, “So, how was church?”
“I got saved,” Jessica said.
Her mom didn’t say anything, just looked at her.
“I asked Jesus to be my Savior.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” her mother said.
Soon, she began telling everyone about Jesus. On a chalkboard at home, Jessica wrote, “Mommy, I love you and Jesus does too. Will you go to church with me?”
Jessica could tell the message aggravated her mother. “Jesus isn’t for me,” she said.
In first grade, Jessica told her classmates about Jesus. “Have you been saved?” she asked.
Her best friend replied, “Well, a police officer pulled me out of a car wreck, so yeah, I’ve been saved.” Jessica saw she needed to explain more about Jesus and heaven. Eventually she used the word
hell,
and her teacher reprimanded her.
Still, Jessica told her teacher, “God loves us all. Jesus died for our sins and if we tell Him we are sorry, we’ll get to go to heaven, but if we don’t tell Jesus we’re sorry, we go to hell.” The teacher lectured her about respecting other people’s beliefs.
Adolescence brought more conflict. In Jessica’s freshman year of high school, she was troubled by the movies her Spanish teacher showed in class—with language and situations inappropriate for a school setting. She told James Rhea what she had seen. He called the school board to point out the hypocrisy in having a rule about students’ using vulgar language and teachers showing movies peppered with profanity.
The school board contacted the teacher. The teacher told her classes about Jessica and the school board. Her peers mocked Jessica, calling her a “sheltered Holy Roller.” When she went into class one day, a girl muttered, “There goes that immature brat. She can’t handle watching a movie because
God
might get upset.”
In the hallways, Jessica caught bits of conversations meant for her ears. “There goes that Jesus freak who messes up everything,” they said. “The problem with our school is girls like her.”
Jessica never let it stop her. Today at sixteen, she has dedicated herself to a ministry called Rock for Life, the youth branch of the American Life League—the second largest pro-life organization in America. Rock for Life is committed to spreading the truth about abortion to today’s emerging generation. Jessica distributes pro-life literature at malls. She’s prayed in front of Planned Parenthood. She’s penned poetry. One poem, entitled “The Unheard Voice,” includes the following stanza:
What is abortion, Mommy? Can you tell me what it is?
I bet it’s something good,
For you are my Mommy and Mommies do what is good.
Mommy, what is happening? What is going on?
Something is not right, Mommy. Something is very wrong.
Mommy, what is happening? They are taking me away.
Before they make me go, I just want to say
I love you very much and always remember me
For I will be with you in your memory.
“One third of my generation is gone—it really bothers me,” Jessica explains. “It breaks my heart that in 1973 our country said it was all right to end life.”
So Jessica has made a difference. As a leader in Rock for Life, Jessica sets up concerts that benefit right-to-life efforts. Pro-life bands sing for free, their concert income going directly to anti-abortion efforts nationwide.
Jessica wants to reach the girls of her generation. “There are so many young girls who feel helpless in their situations—as if there is only one choice,” she says. “But there are so many others.” Jessica states her mission this way: “When a baby is aborted, how does her message get out? It doesn’t, because her voice is silenced. I will be a voice for the voiceless.”
Jessica expresses God’s love in her everyday actions, whether she is sharing Christ at school or protesting abortion. Although she faces jeering and ostracism as a sixteen-year-old, she sees these as opportunities to know God better: “When you begin to live the true life of a Christian, you will be persecuted and mocked. You will face hardships and trials. If life were perfect and I never had difficult times, how would I know what God could really do?”
Through it all, Jessica leans on the Father who never leaves. She remembers a conversation she had with a friend where she learned that one of the words Jesus used to describe the Father was
Abba,
which, loosely translated, means “Daddy.”
“When I heard that, it hit me that God lets me come to Him and call him Daddy. He is there to pick me up and help me through anything. It amazes me.”
Jessica is determined to listen to her Father’s voice and act in His behalf—for all those who have no voice.
You received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, “
Abba,
Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children.
(Romans
8:15-16
)
joy freed
Breaking Chains
J
ohn and Joy in the morning. Good morning to ya!” As the sun crests the prairie sky, Joy’s laughter and warmth cross the vast open spaces of the Upper Midwest. Christian radio pulls in its listeners to share a common message, and Joy’s is one of hope and encouragement. Here’s a young woman who’s made great sacrifice, yet few know her story of extraordinary strength and courage.
Joy wanted to believe the chain was broken the night her mother died. Her brilliant mom adored Joy. But bipolar disease, anxiety, panic disorders, failed marriages, lost careers, and ten years without a job made Joy’s mom less than stable. Her life as a single mom came to an end with an overdose of heroin in a downtown hotel room in L.A. Joy was sixteen.
“She was my best friend,” Joy says. “But she almost destroyed me. I will never love, hate, or miss anyone as much as my mother.”