Suitcases

One thing that endears Corrie ten Boom’s writings to me is her use of simple, memorable props. One comes from a story of speaking to war-weary Japanese soon after World War 2. Faced with a language barrier, she decided to use an object lesson: her suitcase. She asked them if their hearts felt like a heavy suitcase. They surely did. Then she pulled onto a table the heavy suitcase she’d taken all over the world. She told them her heart felt just as heavy the previous week. Then the Lord gave her a verse: “Cast all your cares upon Him, for he cares about you” (1 Peter 5:7).

Opening the suitcase, she began taking out its contents. Something represented her very tired co-workers. Another, her concerns about the next trip to a town where she knew nobody. Another item was her heavy heart for friends who were in a car wreck. Still another: a boy who refused to believe in Christ. Then she named the burdens of her own sins, including pride and self-seeking.

Finally, the suitcase empty, she declared “Amen,” closed it and walked out of the room swinging it. Her audience got the message: Cast all your care upon Him. Empty your “trouble suitcase.”

Recently my husband and I visited a friend who has an incurable, wasting disease. She is emptying her life’s suitcase and talks of going to Heaven soon. Her husband is also emptying a suitcase: that dream of growing very old together. On the way home, as I reflected on their life together, I thought of many burdens they’ve shared. They lost a baby. They went through a long season of care-giving. An adult child has struggled. There are other burdens that won’t go away during this lifetime. But God can carry them.

Many of us have a lot of stuff in our “trouble suitcases.” We may claim to “give it to God,” but we really haven’t. Even Corrie struggled in that area, as revealed in the second part of her story.

Years later in Europe she was approached by a Japanese gentleman who remembered her speech about the “trouble suitcase.” Unfortunately, he didn’t remember the “emptying,” but instead how after the meeting she reloaded that heavy suitcase and dragged it away, as tired and burdened as when she came in.

That afternoon in the privacy of her room, Corrie thought about whether she practiced what she preached. She realized how in her morning prayer time, she might unpack the “trouble suitcase.” But throughout the day, she often took back the very things she had entrusted to her Heavenly Father.

A few hours after visiting the dying friend, I called on someone else who often precedes a conversation with, “I’m so worried about….” Repeatedly I remind this person to trust God instead of worrying. But the admonition inevitably boomerangs to me, causing me to ask, “How heavy is my own trouble suitcase? What can God carry lots better than I can?”

We know the answer: everything.

Paraphrasing a well-known credit card ad: what’s in your suitcase?