Sheila's Posts

I’m still reading the book Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcended Tragedy. I also periodically read whatever extra information I can find online about the Amish. I could ask my Amish female friend/pen-pal who is one year younger than me this same question that has me puzzled, but I don’t want to have her possibly feel awkward about answering.

I have basically shared much of the same Christian beliefs the Amish hold. The longer I study the bible, the more my faith becomes similar to theirs. What perplexes me though is why the Amish no longer seem to follow Matthew 28:19-20. Those verses, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen,” sum up the Great Commission.

The Amish are Anabaptists. The Anabaptists were originally intensely evangelistic. Mennonites are also Anabaptists. They still do evangelize, but the Amish have stopped doing so. Even though outsiders occasionally do become accepted into the Amish church, it is rare. I completely understand why different Amish districts have their own Ordnung, but what doesn’t make sense to me is why those who marry a Christian outside of their community are judged as being rebellious against God’s will and then end up being excommunicated and shunned. I sort of comprehend why, but not completely.

I might completely understand this rejection if it wasn’t for reading an Amishman’s response to the question, “Can an outsider join the Amish church/community?” His remark was,

You do not need to move here to adopt a lifestyle of simplicity and discipleship. You can begin wherever you are.

Maybe if I could figure out just exactly what that remark means, it might help get rid of what seems inconsistent.

If a lifestyle of simplicity and discipleship means living in the will of God, then I don’t get why a marriage between someone who grew up Amish with a non-Amish Christian would be viewed as sinful rebellion. I read an analogy made between the Ordnung and team members of a sport — meaning that rules are required for fair game play. If those rules create that kind of division among Christians which end up forbidding the sharing of meals together, then how is hurt avoided? It doesn’t seem like the same kind of hurt someone experiences from being proud.

Pain from separation, as in the above example, seems to wound the spirit of love. I agree with shunning as being a form of loving discipline when someone’s eternal soul is at stake.¹ But since the bible does not clearly state that it is a sin for an Amish Christian to marry a non-Amish Christian, I don’t see how someone’s eternal soul is at risk.

I understand the Amish view of having a divine responsibility to judge those who break their baptismal vows and to preserve the purity of their church. However, it appears that when vows like that are being made (along with the severe consequences of breaking them), their church has become a higher authority than the bible.

¹Shunning is not harboring vengeance or malice. It is being unable to pardon an offense that someone refuses to acknowledge and repent of. Forgiving, pardoning, and reconciling a relationship, are three different things.

Without a reason to trust (especially after trust has become severely broken), there is no relationship to reconcile. Christians have the authority (and responsibility) to either pardon their brother/sister-in-Christ who commited the trespass or not, but if the offender isn’t a professing Christian, then it is up to the world to judge and choose whether or not to pardon the offense commited.

When the laws of human government are broken, then sometimes both the church and the state may be obligated to judge. When it’s only God’s law stated clearly in the bible that has been broken, then it’s the believers who must deal with it.

Trust can be earned back, but not without evidence of repentance. Repentance is the only hope for possibly regaining the motivation needed to work at trusting again.

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you’d know by now that the titles for my posts can be misleading. In this case, the kind of garden I’m going to till this spring (pun intended) is for the roots of my soul. Gardening is getting back to the basics and I’m composting my soil with these nutritious books:

The Simple Life: Devotional Thoughts from Amish Country is by Wanda E. Brunstetter. Her book offers sixty intriguing and encouraging lessons. Each reading features a brief story of the Amish, providing a “behind the scenes” insight into their culture; a spiritual lesson, accompanied by scripture, drawn from the story; and a “bonus” of an Amish witticism or recipe. I’m looking forward to enjoying the peace and quiet of Amish country that’s reflected within the pages of this book.

The Complete Works of Oswald Chambers is packaged with a companion searchable CD-ROM using the Logos software. A program like that is very helpful for readers reading a 1,492 page book that’s a must for Chambers aficionados. Transcribed by his wife Biddy, and drawn from his numerous sermons, lectures, and speeches, this monumental book includes more than forty titles from the popular, thought-provoking chaplain, including never- before published notes on Ezekiel, Isaiah, and Jeremiah.

If that’s not enough to cultivate my spirit, I can tap into the Amish America blog for more refreshments! It contains plain insights and observations from Pennsylvania to Oregon and is loaded with wonderful photographs!

The bedrock of my garden is always God’s word. The creator of our universe is the light for the core of my being. When spring beckons me to be outdoors more, I want to hike along with some good food packed for thought as I enjoy the nature God so perfectly made.

I just realized it’s Groundhog Day! My thoughts must be deep within the ground or something today?!?!

Postscript added on 3.22.10 — Now that enough time has passed for me to form an opinion on some of the works by Chambers, I’ve written my own review in a post called Devotion to Caution.

There is this little food co-op I frequent but refuse to join. I must assume it’s controlled by nonnatives since their thinking and behavior does not reflect the locals of the area. These liberally-minded people call the locals rednecks, while these rednecks refer to them as citdiots, citiots, or simply a citiot.

Before I go further in what I’m about to say, I must inject that I speak with generalizations (prejudice is what the other side would call it). Not all rednecks are of high intelligence just like not all citdiots are on the lower end of the cognitive scale.

Anyhow, I figured that since they think it’s okay for themselves to be blatant about their New Age religious stance and their liberal democratic politics, so much so as to quickly eliminate any opposing publications that might find its way anywhere near the property of this authoritarian left-wing democrat co-op regime, then it’s okay for me to be blatant about my thoughts too.

I shall give some examples to display why I conclude what I do:

Years back, this food co-op relished the opportunity of possibly being able to regularly purchase a good source of high-quality organic produce from Amish farms. They especially loved the idea of having wholesale raw milk for retail sales. The closest thing to this milk possible for them to sell is pasteurized non-homogenized milk. The Amish had non-pasteurized non-homogenized milk, along with many other excellent goods. Their popping corn is far more nutritious than what can be found in almost any health food store these days. You could even see and smell the nutrition in the butter! They brought with them samples of many different cheeses, yogurt, breads, and eggs. Organic poultry, meats, and fish were being added to their expanding order form.

Anyhow, this particular Amish family went far out of their way to travel with their samples of potential goods to sell; plus, they put in a lot of effort for planning a way to bring their produce to this local area for the co-op’s market. Both the managers of the co-op and the Amish wanted this wonderful idea to work. A middle agent was required in order to make this business venture a reality. The Amish and the co-op had to depend on a reliable method of transport to get these goods from their farms to this market, especially since the produce was going from one state to another.

I wasn’t that transporting middle agent, but I was in the middle of hearing both sides to this failed project. When hearing what the Amish had to say about why they were unable to make this idea work, they spoke humbly with deep regrets over the disappointment of not being able to reach an agreement with the transport driver. Then when I listened to what the co-op manager involved with this had to say about what happened (or more like didn’t happen), she had an arrogant attitude of disgust towards the Amish because of not being able to get what she wanted.

I had already figured out that this co-op is run by a low-class clique before that Amish incident. After this episode mentioned above, I had requested my name to be placed on a waiting list for participating in their alternative plan for getting raw milk. Everyone who wanted this milk would take a turn at driving the distance needed to get enough milk for others in their group. When I had not heard from the woman in charge of organizing this after having waited patiently for a substantial period of time, I contacted her to ask what happened. She told me that she was sorry for having forgotten to include me on their list. That was already many years ago now. She still has not put me on their list. Humm . . . must be selective amnesia?

Here is another example of the type of people who usually join this co-op:

One day as I was shopping in this quaint little place, I heard a stranger trying to engage in friendly conversation with another shopper. I thought it odd that I’d only hear his voice. I couldn’t see at the moment who was talking since he wasn’t in my view. I observed what was going on for awhile. It’s true this guy was out of the ordinary in his approach with people, but clearly he wasn’t being rude. He spoke politely even though his voice may have been at a slightly higher volume than most others would talk.

Upon seeing that no one would associate with him, I decided to introduce myself to this interesting character. I must add that most of the people who shop in this co-op are odd characters. It’s obvious by how a lot of them dress. You’d think you have entered a place where everyone was in competition to be the most eccentric. Before I even got to the other side of the center isle where usually two cashiers are working (and that divided me from where this guy was now standing), I noticed the cashier nearby using a hand gesture to motion to the customer in front of me that this shunned guy was a kooky nut. Seeing her behave so arrogantly immature gave me the last bit of incentive I needed to get over my shyness.

As I was respectfully chatting away to get acquainted with this unappreciated fellow, I noticed everyone else around had stopped talking. They were all staring at me and this man. That’s odd . . . isn’t that socially incorrect behavior what those identical people would call rude if others did that to them?

Oh well, it’s all par for the course. They’re the ones who do such things as proudly sell Peace cereal to promote Yogi Bogi and support do-gooder activist movements, but yet they’re also the ones who make fun of and laugh at neighbors who don’t agree with their hypocritical agendas. These politically liberated folks are mostly migrants from the city who come to the country, buy up the land, raise the taxes and local prices, and then they tell the local natives how to live . . . all this to boot while saying, “Hey, no more building allowed around here because we live here now and we don’t want anymore changes now that things are the way we want them!” If that’s not bold enough, add to that their false advertising campaigns placed in their politically intellectual big-city newspapers back home about what the locals say so that these citdiots can reinforce their foothold they’ve gained in the area they’ve taken control over! . . . and they’re the very same ones who are against the principle of us going into another country and starting a war there!

They claim art, intelligence, and high-class didn’t exist until they brought it into the area. If only they could see how they really look, then maybe they wouldn’t act so foolish, immature, and trashy. That’s as likely to happen as it is for someone to turn back time.

Even though most people can stay connected with me through my blog, there are some who simply cannot do so. Take for example, a dear friend of mine that I’m honored to now have for several years. She is an Amish woman who lives in Paradise. Yes, Paradise. It’s a place in Pennsylvania.

Her letters are an absolute wonderful break from our high-tech world! She’s like my grounding wire to protect me from getting zitst from the shock of high voltage. She probably has no clue about how much comfort she brings in her words. Love bursts through every sentence she pens!

Those of us who lack the simpler life-style are wandering far away from knowing the kind of joy life can bring to those Christians which take things at a slower pace. It’s not that tragedy doesn’t happen to them. It does, but . . . if only people knew how differently it affects people like those in the Amish community compared to us on the outside!

I shall share with you an example of what I mean by including a true story my Amish friend wrote last September. These are her words:

I have something to share with you about that song [the song I last wrote about].

Someone to Thank

There is someone who daily my needs doth supply. These things don’t just happen, there’s someone on high. Tis His mercy and grace that allows me to live. He deserves all the thank I can give. I have – someone to thank for every new day. I have – someone to thank for the gift on life’s way. He is one who expects and one who accepts all the thanks that I feel each day.

There are many who do not believe in the Lord. Say He never existed to create the world. Oh how empty their hearts and how lonely their day with no Jesus to thank and to praise.

Greatest gift that the Father has granted to me is the gift of salvation that sets my soul free. Oh I never can thank Him enough for His love as He watches from Heaven above.

I wonder when I wrote the letter that I wrote that song on. Anyway, I think its been ever since – that song went ringing through my mind. I sang it till I knew all the words.

On Sept. 3rd, Monday evening Mel and I drove our horse named Dream over to our friends house. I was singing that song. It’s a drive of around 8 miles. (Our youth group has a board – parents who are elected to supervise the group – a term is 2 yrs. Well, we were elected on the board and our meeting was Monday evening, Sept. 3rd)

On our way home (we have a 3 lane highway to cross called Route 30) at the cross-way of route 30 and Bellemonte (about a mile and ½ from here), it has a light at the cross road. We really appreciate having a light there but at night especially we never cross before we check to see that the traffic has stopped. Trucks sometimes will go right through the red light. The light was turned green. Mel looked both ways. The road was clear and, just as our horse entered the east-bound lane, Mel saw a car coming at a high rate of speed. He [in the car] was traveling between 100-120 miles per hour. There was nothing to do. Mel said “giddy-up” to the horse, but before he could even pick up any speed to get out of the car’s way, he [the driver of the car] drove through the red light – hit and killed our horse and spun our buggy ¾’s way around.

Mel and I were not hurt. I had been singing that song on the way over and on the way back. The words “Tis His mercy and grace that allows me to live – He deserves all the thanks I can give.” just rang through my mind and kept me very calm.

Yes, we were very sad for our horse and we miss him, but it was a horse – our lives were spared, and the driver was spared. After hitting the horse; he hit a telephone pole, snapped his car in half (only a little on the back hung on), slid 240 feet, and the guy only had scratches.

We found out since then that he is in the Mental hospital now. They had taken him in on Sept. 3rd. The hospital said, “We can’t do anything for him today because it’s Sept. 3rd, Labor Day.” They gave him a pill and sent him home. That eve he borrowed his friend’s high-powered red Trans-Am and went for a wild ride.

It’s God’s mercy and grace that we are still living and I want to praise Him always. I hope I didn’t make you feel bad writing about the accident and our horse, but I felt I had to share it with you.

I am glad to be able to work and that we were not hurt. I only had one small black and blue mark. God is good to us.

So, now I ask you readers, “Who might be the best physician and ideal medicine for life’s tragic occurrences?” Never underestimate the mysterious ways in which God can work.