The two were silent two or three minutes. The baron continued to stare about his garden, knowing that his daughter was conversing with her true Father, the Father of them both. Quietly he rejoiced that she was slowly learning to trust deeply and personally in her heavenly Father in her own right. He would likewise rejoice with every further lessening of the bonds of her dependence on him, as she exchanged them for trust in God. His was the prayer of the Baptist’s, that whatever truth he was able to share with his daughter and others would turn those people not to him at all, but to the Savior.

He glanced at his daughter. A tear escaped from beneath her closed lids.

After a minute more, Sabina opened her eyes. They sat another five minutes in solitude.

“Thank you, Papa,” she said humbly at length, with uneven breath.

“You are growing into quite a woman, Sabina,” said the baron. “You are learning to look into yourself with the eyes of Psalms 51 and 139.”

“Quote them to me again, Papa.”

“‘Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Search me, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts. See if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’”

“I’ve heard them so many times, but I never tire of listening to your voice say them.”

“It takes a mature man or woman to be able to pray those prayers, and mean them sincerely and openly and humbly—and to be able to respond properly and with prayerful humility, when God does reveal those black spots which we all have on our soul.

“I spoke a difficult word to you, my child. You uttered not a word of defense. The moment the truth was clear to the eyes of your heart, you took it to God in prayer and asked him to forgive you and make you whole. Such continual cleansing is the process of spiritual wisdom and maturity. I am proud of you, Sabina. You are truly God’s daughter.”

“Thank you, Papa. But I don’t feel I deserve kind words right now. I see how wrong I was to hang on to my anger. I’m embarrassed for not behaving like you have taught me.”

Again silence fell.

“I do have still one more question about it,” Sabina said after a moment.

“Go on, my child.”

“What about the Nazis, Papa? What about when evil is done in the world? Are we to be angry about it? They are doing evil against God’s people. Does that justify what I have sometimes heard you call righteous anger?”

Dortmann sighed, and it was clear that his daughter’s questions brought yet a flood of new questions to his own mind, questions he had discussed many times with the men at the fellowship.