Evidence Not Seen is the name of the book I just finished. It is an amazing story. The subtitle of the book is A Woman’s Miraculous Faith in the Jungles of World War II and is a first person account by Darlene Deibler Rose. It is a engaging book and since it is the author is telling of her experiences, you come face to face with the human cruelty of the Japanese Soldiers on the woman and children in the POW camp.
Darlene was very young when she married Russell Deibler, spent 50% of her marriage apart from her husband due to the nature of the work and was widowed by age 26. She does not harbor bitterness against her captors. That does not mean she did not struggle with issues in the camp. Some of the memories she shared challenged me in my own reactions to situations here.
When the island was being taken over by the Japanese, the missionaries that were in Macassar left the city for the mountains. They were about 60 km from the city. They were surrounded by trees and virtually not visible from the road. It took the Japanese 2 weeks to find them and then they informed them that they were prisoners and left in their “mountain retreat” for about 2 weeks when the Japanese came back and took all but one of the men to another interment camp. While her husband was at this camp, he became very sick and died. The Japanese military leaders did not authorize those overseeing her camp to tell her about the death of her husband for 3 months.
When the permission was finally given to tell her, the task was given to the liaison for the camp. Later in the day, the Japanese commander of the camp called her into his office. This was the same officer that had beaten many of the women and children and had killed a man at a former prison. He asked her not to “lose her smile and to help the other women in the camp.” She was able to share the gospel with her captor!
When the day was over and she finally collapsed on her bed, she describes a scene that is just beautiful;
“Roll call and devotions over, the women moved back to their beds. They whispered or spoke in muted voices; even passers-by talked softly. I said good night and climbed up to my rack. When I stretched out face down on my mat, I wanted nothing so much as a shoulder on which to put my aching head and to sob until the fountain of my tears ran dry. I felt vulnerable and young, deperately needing the strong, comforting arm of the Shepherd. Who can bruise and make whole again? Who can break, then restore that which is shattered to a thing of beauty?
“Suddenly my LORD was there standing in the cathedral of my heart and from His Word written upon the scroll o f my memory, He began to read, ‘He hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted. . . to comfort all that mourn. . . to give until them beauty for ashes; the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.’ (Isaiah 61:1-3).”
So beautifully written and a challenge to me to check my responses to situations that seem hard. When my husband dies, I want to respond the way she did by running to my Lord and letting Him speak to me through His word that is recorded in my heart!
There is so much more to her story and it is a great book. You can listen to her tell her story. The video is long, but well worth the time to listen to.
Or you can buy the book at Amazon.com