It was the early 1970s, the time known as "The Cold War." The Communists ruled Eastern Europe, and life was very hard in those countries, especially for Christians.

My husband and I, like some other Dutch Christians, had chosen to spend our ten days of summer vacation not on the beaches of southern Europe but behind the Iron Curtain, visiting our suffering brothers and sisters in Christ.

We were traveling under the auspices of Brother Andrew's organization, "Open Doors," and finally were on our way to Poland. Hidden under the floor of our van were 5,000 Russian Bibles!

The Communists declared the Bible a forbidden book. If Christians in Eastern Europe were to get a Bible, someone would have to risk taking it to them. We felt led to take that risk. Brother Andrew taught us a prayer that he always prayed as he crossed the border: "Lord, You made blind eyes to see; now I ask You to make seeing eyes blind." And so we began praying that prayer as we began our journey.

We drove all day, first through the flat fields of Holland, then eastward through the rolling countryside of West Germany and onwards toward the border of East Germany. We felt empowered that we were doing something to help, although we knew that the Bible was a forbidden book, and if discovered, we could certainly be put in jail or prison.

At the border crossing, soldiers in drab gray uniforms swarmed around the cars, asking for passports. With steely cold stares, they commanded the drivers to open their cars and their suitcases. Some travelers in front of us had to unload everything from their suitcases, including their lunch bags. They were even told to pull apart their sandwiches. We would be next!

Large mirrors were thrust under our van, and outside our window was a vicious looking German Shepherd police dog. I could see his teeth as he leaned forward, yanking the young East German policeman who tried to hold on to him.

My heart beat wildly, and softly I sang, "All day, all night, angels watching over me, my Lord," while trying to give the border guards a smile. I muttered under my breath, "Seeing eyes blind, Lord, seeing eyes blind."

My husband and I were asked to get out of the car and go into a small office. What did this mean? Our passports were passed from one officer to the next. Each one looked sterner than the last. To the side of the hall, another police dog stood at attention, being controlled by yet another officer. At least a dozen uniformed police scrutinized our passports, pretending to compare them to lists of names they had upon their desks.

The fluorescent lights cast a purplish glow upon the smoky, dingy room, and while I searched each face to see if I could find a smile or a trace of warmth, I found none. "What empty eyes," I thought to myself. "This is what happens in a country where God is ruled out."

Finally the head officer told us, as if very annoyed with us, that we were allowed to proceed. He barely looked up. He motioned something like, "Get out of here!"

We tried to walk back nonchalantly to our van, got back in and began to drive, not daring to move or smile. More towers with more guards and more dogs met our eyes, until we left the "no-man's land" area and saw a sign saying we had now entered the The Democratic Republic of Germany, the Communistic part of Germany.

Once we were firmly on the autobahn to Poland, we rejoiced and thanked the Lord that he had protected us, had answered our prayers and had blinded the eyes of the guards. Many Russian Christians were about to be blessed with their very own copy of the Bible in their language, something most of them had never had in their lifetime!

Late that night we pulled into the border checkpoint between Poland and East Germany. Quite a different scene. No border patrol around anywhere.

We actually found a guard and had to wake him up, to get him to stamp our passports. He asked us for our passports and disappeared through a door behind the counter where we stood. He didn't return for over an hour.

When the Polish officer returned, he had another gray-uniformed young Polish woman officer with him. She began to grill us, asking why we were coming to Poland. They talked to each other in Polish. Why would a young couple want to come to Poland for a vacation? They looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads as if to say, "Well, whatever!"

Again God had protected our secret, and the original sleeping guard slapped our passports down in front of us and welcomed us, in German, to Poland.

The next day we drove on into Poland to the town of Gorzow, where we had a contact who would take the Bibles further into Russia. We found his apartment and made arrangements to drop the Bibles into a ditch where some Christians would be hiding. All this was planned for after dark, following an evening church service. It was close to seven o'clock, time for the service to begin. We had to park our van far from the church. We had to trust that the holy content hidden within its walls wouldn't be compromised. I shivered as we hurried down the dark street to that little Polish church.

Suddenly we heard beautiful singing! We quietly took our seats, and in the first moments of silence I couldn't help but relive the journey thus far-the border guards, the dogs and the rifles. What a trip it had been! I wondered what awaited us that evening. Once again I focused on my Heavenly Father, asking Him to watch over us and His precious Word that was about to be delivered.

After the service a man reached out his hand to us and spoke in German. "My name is Paul," he said. "Please, if I may come with you, I will show you the place where you can drop what you brought with you. After that, you will come to my home and be my guest."

We drove to the country in the dark. About five miles from town, the light of a flashlight guided us to the place we should stop. A small group of men popped up out of the ditch and worked feverishly, along with my husband, to remove the panels of the bus, to pull out the Bibles and books. Hundreds of small Bibles filled large garbage bags, and bag after bag was thrown into the ditch. Once all the bags were filled and the bus was empty, we were instructed to turn around and quickly drive back to town.

"Someone will come with his wagon," said Paul. "They will pick up the bags in the dark. They will risk going to prison to help our brothers and sisters in Russia."

While our many trips smuggling Bibles over the years were very exciting and we made a small contribution in defeating the Communistic ideology, getting to know these wonderful Eastern European Christians made the deepest impact upon my life.

These Christians had so little, yet were so happy. They had to put their lives on the line in order to live out The Great Commission: Go, then, to all peoples everywhere and make them my disciples: baptize them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teach them to obey everything I have commanded you. And I will be with you always, to the end of the age (Matthew 28:19-20). They showed us true Christian hospitality in the midst of a dark, dark world. Their faith has impacted my life greatly, and I shall never forget them.

Cheryl Buxamusa of Iowa did Christian work in the Netherlands. Through "Open Doors" she delivered Bibles to suffering Christians in Iron Curtain countries. She now resides in Pella, IA.