CHAPTER 3

Coming into Contact with the Deposed Minister of the Dutch Reformed Church, Rev. J. P. Paauwe, and His Sermons

In this chapter, the author recounts how, through a young woman and the preaching of the deposed Dutch Reformed minister Rev. J. P. Paauwe, he is drawn into a profound inner struggle. He wrestles with the question of whether God can truly be known through Scripture, resists conversion with all his strength, and yet finds himself increasingly confronted by a power that works against his own will. The chapter traces the slow, painful awakening of conviction without yet arriving at peace.

Only later did I come to understand that He had set me upon another path, and that He had made use of people to do so.

A Providential Encounter

Thus a young woman entered my life—someone who would restrain me from the foolish plans I had made for myself. She would bring me into contact with true preaching. I had already met her earlier at my parents’ home; she was a friend of my sister. Much could be told about our meetings.

Already at our first encounter, many questions were raised. I asked her questions such as: Who is God? and How do you know that the Bible is His Word? Her answers struck me deeply. I came to the conclusion that she had come from a good background and that her answers pointed toward solutions to the problems that troubled me.

When we spoke about the Bible, she herself said little. Instead, she advised me to listen to a good preacher. She referred me to Rev. Paauwe. I decided at once to attend that church.

First Encounter with the Preaching

Shortly after our meeting—on Sunday, April 19, 1942—I listened to his preaching for the first time. It made a deep impression on me. In my own mind, I compared this preaching to that of the great psychologists of the world. I thought then that he had an answer to every question. Yet it was not spoken in my manner. Still, much was loosened within me.

My girlfriend and I spoke at length about this. She listened to me and showed a sincere openness to hearing all my questions and difficulties. I placed my trust in her and could therefore tell her everything. We often spoke about spiritual matters, though without yet being united in them.

She held the conviction that we must come to know God through the Bible. I, however, did not consider this necessary. I maintained that God could also make Himself known to us through nature alone. What a stubborn fool I revealed myself to be at that time.

I had now been brought onto the right path, yet I still rejected the Bible and, with it, Christ. At times I raged fiercely; the devil did not want to release me. I did not want to be converted. I wanted to maintain myself over against the preaching and thus over against God. Under no condition did I want to surrender.

Resistance and Rupture

My resistance to the preaching grew so strong that I decided not to go to that church anymore. I told my girlfriend that on Sunday evening, May 17, 1942—

She placed herself on the side of the Lord and answered me that we could no longer walk together. Instead of joining her on the good path, I tried to pull her onto the wrong one. It did not occur to me that in doing so I would make her, and myself, eternally unhappy. Above all, I revealed myself as an enemy of God and of my fellow man, though I was unaware of this.

In the end, I would owe my salvation not to my own cooperation, but to God alone. His work would run directly against my thoughts and desires.

Reflecting on her answer, I found it unbearable to hear. A friendship had developed between us; we had shared much in confidence. Therefore, it was not easy for me to part from her in this way.

We parted that evening, but the struggle had also begun. I found myself repeatedly confronted with the question: Does God reveal Himself to us only through nature, or does He reveal Himself in a special way through His Word?

The problem of whether God does or does not speak through the Bible continued to occupy me. I had never resolved it myself. It was a question that demanded an answer.

The Decisive Moment

A few days after that decisive Sunday, early one morning, I again asked myself whether God speaks to us through the Bible. Then I heard a voice, clearly audible, saying: “That is it.”

I was completely unprepared to hear such a voice. I sat upright in bed to see whether there was anyone present in my surroundings. I immediately understood that this was a voice from above and that the answer referred to my question of whether God speaks to us through the Bible. From that moment on, I believed that the Bible is God’s Word. God Himself was still unknown to me.

From then on, I could place my trust in the preaching of Rev. Paauwe. I regularly listened to his sermons, and they brought me into deep self-examination.

Nevertheless, I attempted to reason everything out. When the minister said that we must understand reality, my intellect went to work. I tried to obtain an answer through reasoning to the question of what reality is. At another time he preached that Christ died in order to make the elect righteous before God. Since I did not understand the meaning of such a statement, I busied myself intellectually with it.

At that time, I had no spiritual understanding of divine matters. My girlfriend often remarked that I made things difficult and that I was too serious. At times she noticed that I had no peace, because eternal matters remained unresolved for me. Day and night I lay awake, or else I rose again. Yet still I spoke about Christ and about the Bible.

I had gained the impression that true life was to be found here. Even so, Christ Himself was still unknown to me.

I was conscious of having been brought away from a wrong path and that a supernatural power was at work. God, Christ, and my rejection of myself because of my sins—I had not yet learned to know these.

Notes Toward Understanding

During this period, many new thoughts arose within me. From June 8, 1942 onward, I made regular notes of them.

The spirit that went out from this preaching was entirely different from the spirit of society, of the world. I had perceived this clearly from the beginning. Rev. Paauwe preached during this time, as he would continue to do for many years. He explained what sin is, why Christ came to earth, who God is, and how all of this becomes known to us.

What he said precisely at that time, I can no longer remember. Nor can I now fully explain it. I did know that I had committed many sins, but of being a sinner before God I knew nothing.

For those who have never heard of Rev. Paauwe, I will gladly speak of him elsewhere in this book.

What follows now are the notes I made during that period.

Annotations

  1. Rev. J. P. Paauwe (1872–1956) was a Dutch Reformed minister who was deposed from the official church for his refusal to compromise doctrinally. His preaching attracted many during the German occupation who felt spiritually estranged from both modern theology and political accommodation.
  2. April–June 1942 marks a period of intense pressure on Dutch civil and church life under Nazi occupation, a background that deepens the urgency of the author’s spiritual struggle.
  3. The brief auditory experience (“That is it”) is described soberly and without embellishment, consistent with Reformed spirituality, emphasizing conviction rather than emotionalism.
  4. The tension between knowing God through nature and knowing Him through Scripture reflects a long-standing theological divide between Enlightenment rationalism and Reformation Christianity.

CHAPTER 1

GOD WON, I LOST

The Outbreak of the War — A First-Day Account (May 10, 1940)

This chapter recounts the author’s personal experience on the first day of the German invasion of the Netherlands. The text has been translated from Dutch, revised for clarity and narrative coherence for an American readership, and annotated to provide historical context for readers without living memory of the Second World War.

Morning Over Amsterdam

In the early hours of the morning of May 10, 1940, I was awakened by the sound of airplanes flying overhead and by the anxious voices of people in the street.

At the time, I was staying in a boarding house on Lange Kerkstraat in Amsterdam. I worked there as a sales representative for a company based in The Hague that imported groceries and luxury consumer goods.¹

I dressed quickly and looked outside. Flying low in the sky was a Dutch fighter plane, circling again and again over the same spot.²

Against the overwhelming strength of the German attackers, there was little our few aircraft could do.

A fear that many people had long carried—that we too would be drawn into the war—had become reality. Even so, the shock came more suddenly than anyone expected.

At that moment, I had only one thought: to get to The Hague as quickly as possible, where my parents, sisters, and brother lived.

The Journey South

The trains had stopped running. I was still able to leave Amsterdam on what was known as the “blue tram,” but no one could say how far it would go or how long the journey would take.³

Along the way I saw bombed houses and burned-out cars. It took a long time to reach Leiden, and beyond that point the tram went no farther. I had to find another way to continue on to The Hague.

Everyone was extremely nervous. Bombers flew very low over Leiden, and soldiers in the streets fired their rifles at them.⁴

Suspicion and Fear

At one point, I was able to ride with a woman who was also trying to reach The Hague. That ride was short-lived. During a military checkpoint, Dutch soldiers ordered me out of the car and took me to their captain.

Because of my dark complexion, they assumed I was a foreigner—possibly a spy. The soldiers themselves seemed extremely nervous and on edge.⁵

The captain ordered that I be escorted out of Leiden. As a soldier led me through the streets to carry out this order, I heard people say, “There goes another spy.”

The soldier escorting me, however, remained calm. I was able to explain my situation to him. He told me that once outside the city, they would stop a car heading toward The Hague so I could continue my journey.

And that is exactly what happened. I was able to ride with a Dutch food-supply official.

At Gunpoint

When we arrived in Voorburg, we were stopped again by a Dutch soldier. I was ordered out of the car and told to open my suitcase. Inside, he saw a bundle of letters with American postage stamps and immediately shouted, without further investigation, “Sergeant—suspicious papers!”⁶

A sergeant standing about thirty feet away drew his revolver and rushed toward me, shouting, “Hands up!” His finger trembled on the trigger.

There was no room for explanation. I understood immediately what was happening. I knew I had to remain calm and obey every order.

Here too, panic was everywhere. Our soldiers were completely unprepared. Earlier that morning, fighting had taken place in this area with German paratroopers who had landed nearby.⁷ They apparently suspected that I was one of them, carrying secret orders in my suitcase.

I was taken to a makeshift headquarters set up in a private home. Fortunately, a colonel was in charge—a man who remained calm and quickly realized that a mistake had been made.

“Wait here,” he said. “A car with several soldiers and a sailor will soon be leaving for The Hague. You can go with them.”

And so I did. One soldier sat next to the driver with his revolver drawn. I sat in the back seat beside a sailor.

Arrival in The Hague

They were headed to the Frederiks Barracks in The Hague and dropped me off at my parents’ home on the Hooigracht.⁸

At that moment, an air-raid alarm was sounding, and my parents, sister, and brother were sheltering in the downstairs apartment. When my father saw the sailor, he assumed he himself was being called back into service. He was a retired naval officer and would gladly have joined again in the defense of the country.

The First Day

This all happened to me on the very first day of the war. Every Dutch person could tell a similar story, if given the chance.

What I experienced in the days and months that followed is something I will not go into here.

Historical Notes and Annotations

1. Pre-war normalcy
In early 1940, daily life in the Netherlands still appeared largely normal. The country had declared neutrality, as it had during World War I. Many Dutch citizens believed—incorrectly—that this would protect them again.

2. Dutch air defenses
The Netherlands had a very small and outdated air force. Most Dutch aircraft were destroyed on the ground within the first day of the invasion.

3. The “blue tram”
An intercity electric tram system that connected Amsterdam, Leiden, and The Hague. It was slower than trains but sometimes continued running after rail service was suspended.

4. Shooting at aircraft
Firing rifles at low-flying planes was largely ineffective but reflected fear, confusion, and lack of preparation.

5. Fear of spies
German forces made extensive use of spies, saboteurs, and paratroopers disguised as civilians. This led to widespread suspicion and false accusations.

6. American postage stamps
Foreign correspondence was highly suspicious during invasions, as intelligence was often communicated by mail.

7. German paratroopers
On May 10, 1940, German airborne troops landed near The Hague in an attempt to capture the Dutch government and royal family. Though the attempt failed, it caused panic throughout the region.

8. Frederiks Barracks & Hooigracht
Both are real locations in The Hague. Military barracks became centers of emergency coordination during the invasion.

End of Chapter 1

CHAPTER 2

GOD WON, I LOST

The Practice of Resistance — The Rise and Destruction of the Stijkel Group

This chapter recounts the formation, operation, betrayal, and destruction of one of the earliest Dutch resistance networks during the German occupation of the Netherlands in the Second World War. The text has been translated from Dutch, revised for clarity and narrative force for an American readership, and annotated for historical context.

The Birth of Resistance

The German invasion of the Netherlands in May 1940 was swift and overwhelming. After only five days, organized military resistance had collapsed. Yet for many Dutch citizens, the struggle had only begun. Quietly, almost instinctively, the first acts of civilian resistance began to take shape.

Among the earliest and most significant of these efforts was what later became known as the Stijkel Group, named after its founder, Johannes (Han) Stijkel. Though still little understood in the chaotic first days of occupation, this group would become one of the foundational networks of the Dutch underground.

Few people grasped, in the early morning hours of May 10, 1940, just how catastrophic the German invasion would be. Han Stijkel did. Drawing on his extensive personal connections—across civilian administration, the military, and the church—he moved with urgency. Those who knew him described a man of authority, discipline, and moral seriousness, driven by a sense of duty rather than ambition.

Within days, Stijkel began laying the groundwork for an organized underground. He believed resistance could not be improvised; it required structure, discipline, and above all unity.

Faith, Authority, and Organization

Stijkel’s leadership style was uncompromising. Nothing was done independently. Orders flowed from the center outward. Each province had its contact person, and all actions were coordinated.

This centralization extended beyond immediate resistance. Stijkel envisioned a shadow civil and military administration, prepared to assume authority after liberation. He also sought to establish a reliable intelligence service, capable of supplying information to the Allies.

Faith played a crucial role in his leadership. Those close to him testified that he believed God had entrusted him with a specific task. He refused to endanger others lightly and insisted on moral responsibility even in clandestine operations. When weapons were hidden, witnesses were sworn to silence on a Bible—not theatrically, but solemnly.

His convictions earned him trust. Influential figures—military officers, civil servants, and church leaders—placed themselves under his guidance.

The Search for England

From the beginning, Stijkel believed that Dutch resistance could not succeed without contact with England, where the Dutch government-in-exile resided. On May 10, 1940, he went directly to the British legation in The Hague. He asked the essential question:

To what extent can we rely on English support—and when?

No clear answer could be given. London itself was in chaos, overwhelmed by refugee governments, the evacuation at Dunkirk, and relentless German bombing. Still, Stijkel pressed on.

Together with his close associate Cornelis Gude, he attempted to establish radio contact with England. Messages were sent. None were answered.

Unbeknownst to them, British intelligence procedures were already dangerously compromised. What later became infamous as the “Englandspiel”—a German counterintelligence operation that captured and manipulated Allied radio traffic—was beginning to unfold.

Betrayal and the Scheveningen Harbor

In early April 1941, plans were made to send Stijkel, Gude, and others to England by fishing boat. Critical documents—factory drawings, military codes, and intelligence reports—were packed into a suitcase. Leaving them behind was debated, but no safe alternative existed.

On a dark evening, the men boarded the fishing vessel K.W. 133 in Scheveningen harbor. The atmosphere was tense but quiet. Lines were cast off. Slowly, the boat moved toward open water.

Then, suddenly, a searchlight flared at the harbor entrance.

“Control!”

The trap had been set.

Escape was impossible. Panic and decision collided in seconds. One man jumped overboard and swam to safety. Han Stijkel leapt ashore and ran—only to be stopped by a man speaking German.

“Stijkel?”

“Yes.”

“Hands up.”

The cold barrel of a revolver pressed against his chest.

The Stijkel Group had been betrayed.

Mass Arrests and Collapse

The German Security Service (SD) moved swiftly and thoroughly. Radio equipment was recovered. Addresses were uncovered. Arrest followed arrest.

Entire resistance networks vanished behind prison walls. Many members knew Stijkel only by aliases; some did not even know he had been captured. Informers—Dutch collaborators—played a decisive role in guiding the Germans from one arrest to the next.

Interrogations began immediately. The notorious Gestapo officer Lorenz applied extreme pressure. Yet the prisoners held firm. No names were given. No confessions obtained.

Stijkel himself accepted full responsibility, hoping to spare others.

Trial and Execution

In September 1942, the case was brought before the Reich Court Martial in Berlin. Proceedings were conducted in secrecy. No Dutch lawyers were permitted to defend the accused.

The charges included espionage, aiding the enemy, and violating military discipline. Stijkel fought relentlessly for his men, insisting that he alone bore responsibility. His efforts failed.

Thirty-nine death sentences were pronounced.

Execution was delayed for months. Families clung to hope that the war would end in time.

It did not.

On June 4, 1943, at Tegel Prison in Berlin, the sentences were carried out. Thirty-nine men were executed by firing squad.

They refused blindfolds. As they waited, they sang the Dutch national anthem, the Wilhelmus, and a Lutheran hymn.

Han Stijkel died first. Cornelis Gude followed minutes later. At five-minute intervals, the others were killed.

A German chaplain later said:

“A nation that produces such men must be a great people.”

Faith Beyond Death

In his final letter to his father, Stijkel wrote:

“Let no one be troubled by this exchange of life. Freed from the material body, I enter eternal life. Beyond birth and beyond death stands the certainty of the eternal Kingdom of the Logos. Throughout my life on earth, I have been conscious of the spark of God within me.”

After the war, the bodies were returned to the Netherlands and buried at Westduin Cemetery in The Hague. Forty-three crosses stand together, with Stijkel’s at the center. Each day, the Dutch flag is lowered in mourning and raised again at dusk.

Aftermath and Judgment

In 1949, two principal informers were tried before a special court in The Hague. Prosecutors demonstrated that their betrayal directly led to arrests, executions, and deaths in concentration camps.

The death penalty was demanded but not imposed. Both men were sentenced to long prison terms.

Justice, though imperfect, was at last rendered.

Historical Notes and Annotations

1. The Stijkel Group
One of the earliest organized resistance networks in the Netherlands. Unlike later groups, it sought immediate coordination with the government-in-exile and envisioned a post-liberation administrative structure.

2. Englandspiel (“England Game”)
A catastrophic counterintelligence operation in which German intelligence captured Allied radio operators and used their transmissions to entrap resistance networks across occupied Europe.

3. SD (Sicherheitsdienst)
The intelligence arm of the SS, responsible for counterintelligence, political repression, and mass arrests in occupied territories.

4. Tegel Prison
A major execution site near Berlin used by the Nazi regime for political prisoners.

5. Wilhelmus
The Dutch national anthem, associated with resistance and national identity during the occupation.

End of Chapter 2