If I can’t write anything else just now, it’s only because there’s a terrible absurdity about a drowning man who, instead of calling for help, launches into a scientific, philosophical, or theological dissertation while the sinister tentacles of the creatures on the seabed are encircling his arms and legs, and the waves are breaking over him. It’s only because I’m filled with fear, that and nothing else, and feel an undivided yearning for him who can relieve me of it.

I’m still so remote from God that I don’t even sense his presence when I pray. Sometimes when I utter God’s name, in fact, I feel like sinking into a void. It isn’t a frightening or dizzy-making sensation, it’s nothing at all – and that’s far more terrible. But prayer is the only remedy for that, and however many little devils scurry around inside me, I shall cling to the rope God has thrown me in Jesus Christ, even if my numb hands can no longer feel it.

Source: At the Heart of the White Rose

With an entire nation blindly following an evil leader, where did Sophie Scholl and a handful of other students find the courage to resist?