In 1938-39, as war loomed in Europe, Nicholas Winton helped rescue 669 Jewish children from Czechoslovakia before the Nazis took hold. He found those children new homes in England and raised funds to guarantee each child a return ticket when (and if) it became safe to do so. He also quietly made records of their names, the names of their parents, and the addresses of the new families they joined.
For five decades—yes, 50 years—he told nobody what he had done.
Finally, in 1988 his wife Grete came across the lists of children—a story she had not known, either. The lists had laid buried in boxes in the attic of their home for decades. And she broke the story to the media.
If you’d like to see a touching video snippet from a program about Winton that aired in 1988, click here.
The humility of Nicholas Winton is extraordinary. Who would keep such a secret? Who could resist the temptation to seek a little glory and honor? What savior would remain so silent?
Yet, it’s but a glimpse of the profound humility of Christ who, “although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped; but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bondservant” (Philippians 2:6-7).
I wonder, has Lent produced this kind of humility in us?
Father, may today be far less of me and far more of You. May people see Christ alone through me in all I do. Amen.