Occasionally in my reading, I come across something that trips all the wires and pushes all my buttons. Rings all my bells.
An inner alert goes off to notify me a special message from the Holy Spirit is now arriving in control central.
That happened this morning.
The novel I’m reading is “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society,” by Mary Ann Shaffer and her niece, Annie Barrows. The “Guernsey” in the title refers to the Channel Island off the coast of France. For a thousand years–ever since William the Conqueror brought them with him from France–these islands have been the possession of Britain. During the entire six years of the Second World War, they were occupied by the Nazis, the only area of Britain so “honored.”
The novel is a series of letters to and from Juliet Ashton, a writer, in the early months of 1946, just after the end of the war. She is considering making the Nazi occupation of the islands the subject of her next book.
At one point, she writes to her editor this paragraph:
“For example–yesterday I was reading an article on the liberation. A reporter asked a Guernsey Islander, ‘What was the most difficult experience you had during the Germans’ rule?’ He made fun of the man’s answer, but it made perfect sense to me. The Islander told him, ‘You know they took away all of our wireless sets? If you were caught having a hidden radio, you’d get sent off to prison on the continent. Well, those of us who had secret radios, we heard about the Allies landing in Normandy. Trouble was, we weren’t supposed to know it had happened! Hardest thing I ever did was walk around St. Peter Port on June 7, not grinning, not smiling, not doing anything to let those Germans know that I KNEW their end was coming. If they’d caught on, someone would be in for it–so we had to pretend. It was very hard to pretend not to know D-Day had happened.”
Any minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ–any disciple at all, for that matter–who reads that immediately sees the parallel.