Waypost: The Wrong Train
🛤️ “If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.”
—Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I’ve always been drawn to those rare souls who refuse to look away when truth is being compromised. The ones who don’t just name the problem—but do something about it.
John Woolman was one of those people. A soft-spoken Quaker in colonial America, he couldn’t shake the conviction that the slave trade—widely accepted even among his fellow Quakers—was incompatible with the gospel. When he began quietly urging his community to abandon slavery, he faced strong resistance. But he held his ground. And before the American Revolution, the Quaker movement had abolished slavery within its fellowship—largely because of Woolman’s deep integrity and gentle courage.
Amy Carmichael was another. A young Irish missionary in India, she discovered that children were being trafficked into temple prostitution. When she asked her missionary community why the church wasn’t intervening, she was stunned by the answers. Some downplayed the problem. Others warned: “If we speak up, we’ll be expelled from the country.” But Amy couldn’t unsee what she had seen. She went on to found the Dohnavur Fellowship, rescuing and raising hundreds of children sold into a life of exploitation.
Both Woolman and Carmichael hold a place of honor in my heart—and in the stories I’ve told my children—and now tell my grandchildren.
But when it comes to a model of courageous clarity in an age of compromise, few speak more powerfully than Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
The Train and the Corridor
You probably know his name. His story has been told in books, films, and documentaries. But let me walk you toward the moment that defined him—not just as history, but as a waypost for those of us trying to follow Jesus in complex, confusing times.
Bonhoeffer was born into brilliance. His family expected you not only to have an opinion but to articulate it well. His mind was razor-sharp, his insights piercing. When he completed his dissertation at age 21, the legendary theologian Karl Barth called it “a theological miracle.” He even admitted: “I have misgivings whether I can maintain the high level reached by Bonhoeffer.”
But Bonhoeffer wasn’t content to remain in the safe towers of academia. During his postdoctoral studies in New York City, he spent time worshiping with the Black congregation of Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem. Something awakened in him. Truth became more than intellectual. It became embodied. Alive. Personal.
It reminds me of the moment when George Fox, the early Quaker founder, had a quiet spiritual epiphany in a field:
“There is One, Christ Jesus, who can speak to your condition… and this I knew experientially.”
Bonhoeffer returned to Germany just as Hitler was rising to power. In 1933, the Nazi regime began pressuring the German church to align itself with Hitler’s nationalistic, racialized ideology. Of the 18,000 pastors in Germany, most went along. Some eagerly. Most reluctantly. Only a few resisted.
Bonhoeffer was one of them.
He helped organize the Barmen Declaration, a theological stand written largely by Barth and signed by 139 leaders, including Bonhoeffer. The message was simple: Christ alone is the head of the Church—not any political leader.
But Bonhoeffer felt even this wasn’t enough. The statement was too quiet on the increasing persecution of Jews.
So together with others like Martin Niemöller, Bonhoeffer formed the Confessing Church—a bold spiritual resistance that drew 3,000 pastors. That meant 15,000 others stayed behind. Whether from fear, pragmatism, or quietism, they chose silence. Many encouraged Bonhoeffer to do the same:
“Stay inside. Work for change quietly. Be a voice of moderation.”
That’s when he said the line that still haunts me:
“If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.”
You cannot reform what you’ve already surrendered to.
Bonhoeffer refused to get on the wrong train. And it cost him dearly. He was arrested, imprisoned, and ultimately executed just weeks before the end of the war.
🧭 A Few Courage-Forming Takeaways
It’s easy to quote Bonhoeffer. It’s harder to walk the path he walked.
In every generation, we risk coopting people like Bonhoeffer into our agendas, making them mascots for our version of truth. But Bonhoeffer didn’t serve a side. He served Christ. And following Christ will always lead us into tension—with power, with comfort, even with other Christians.
Here are a few invitations—not to passive reflection, but to formed, faithful action:
🔸 What voices are loudest in your life right now? What are they urging you to believe or support? Before reacting, pause and ask: Would Jesus recognize these voices? Would He walk with them—or confront them?
🔸 When you’re tempted to join a cause, repost a message, or attend a rally—don’t act on impulse. Discern. Test the fruit. Then act. Boldly. But wisely.
🔸 What is this moment requiring of you? Silence can be holy. But sometimes, it is betrayal. Bonhoeffer knew the difference. Ask for the wisdom—and courage—to know it too.
🔸 And finally—what train are you on? You can’t fix a compromise by running faster down the corridor. If you’ve boarded the wrong train, the only faithful action… is to get off.
Bonhoeffer didn’t just resist evil.
He recognized the truth.
And he acted on it—at great cost.
So may we too follow in the dust of the Rabbi.
May we not only believe rightly but live courageously.
And may we never forget that truth is not an idea.
Truth has a name.
And His name is Jesus.
🙋♂️ Was this helpful?
If you’re new here, welcome to The Compass. Every Thursday, I share a story like this—part reflection, part guidepost—for the road we’re walking together.
If it helped center or challenge you, consider subscribing for free.
And if you'd like to support this work and receive spiritual formation tools each week, you can become a paid subscriber here.
📬 Share this post with someone who needs courage today.
✨ A Quiet Blessing for the Road
May God give you eyes to see what is true.
A heart strong enough to act.
And the courage to leave any train He never boarded.
🕊️
Stay rooted,
Gene
Thank you