by Keim, Joe
My pastor, John Bouquet, took a liking to me and gave me three nice suits to wear at church. But he did much more. He sat down with Esther and me for multiple Bible studies and answered all our questions from the Word of God. It was so different from our old culture where the Bible was hardly ever used and most questions were answered with tradition and church rules. Eventually, we realized we needed to be baptized by immersion, which differed from the Amish teachings in a number of ways. Pastor John taught from the Word of God on who, when, why, and how a person should be baptized. He explained how the Greek word baptizo appears eighty times in the New Testament and always means to “put under or immerse.” It wasn’t something Esther and I had to do to become Christians but was something we wanted to do because we were Christians.
Colossians 2:12 says that we are Buried with Him in baptism, wherein also ye are risen with Him through the faith of the operation of God, Who hath raised him from the dead.
Our church had about 250 members, and many of them reached out to us. On the day we were baptized, we were the center of attention with everybody excited and praising the Lord for all He was doing in our young lives. Once baptism was behind us, we immediately wanted to become members of this local body of believers. Pastor John took us under his wing, and to this day, he is still the pastor, and we are still members.
Chapter 14
The Transition
Soon after Esther and I left the Amish, two ministers came to see us at the Gess home to pressure us to turn ourselves over to Satan. At first, they tried to stay away from having a scriptural debate, but as time went on, one shared the biblical account in 1 Corinthians 5:5-7 of the young man who had committed incest with his father’s wife. In that case, the apostle Paul wrote to the church and asked them To deliver such an one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus. . . . Know ye not that a little leaven leaveneth the whole lump? Purge out therefore the old leaven, that ye may be a new lump, as ye are unleavened.
As a young Christian, I wondered how anyone could put us in the same category as those who commit incest. Surely, changing cultures and attending a non-Amish church did not make us ungodly people.
The deacon cleared his throat and said, “We are requesting you to accept the ban on yourself so we, as a church, can deliver you up to Satan.”
Up to this point, I had never had the nerve to speak up to an Amish preacher, but I replied, “The blood is on you. If that’s what you feel you have to do, you will answer to God.”
After a few hours of pleading and begging us to return, the two preachers realized that Esther and I were not going to return to the Amish church. They struggled to accept our answers, and it was hard for us to see them take it so hard because they truly believed we were headed for the lake of fire.
Soon after we started attending Bethel Baptist Church, one of the members bought me a nice full-sized study Bible. For the next three years, I read that Bible through and through and absorbed and understood God’s truth. I couldn’t get enough of it. Even today, I am reminded that 1 Corinthians 2:9-10 is not something that takes place beyond the grave; it’s happening now: But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. But God hath revealed them unto us by his Spirit: for the Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God.
I highlighted verses and wrote notes all over the margins of my Bible, which eventually fell apart from use. I wanted to tell the whole world. I’d go up to complete strangers and ask, “If you died today are you sure you’d go to heaven?” I preached in nursing homes and went soul-winning every Thursday night.
One of the hardest things about leaving the Amish was leaving my family. Dad made it clear we weren’t ever to set foot on his property. The inner turmoil former Amish feel as they are tugged between their love for their family and their love for following Jesus as the Truth of God is evident in “Dear Parents,” an article written by a friend of mine:
It’s me. Your child. I want to tell you what’s been on my heart for a while. You see, in spite of the fact that I’ve chosen a different life than you ever would have wanted me to, it doesn’t mean I dislike you. Just because I’ve chosen not to embrace your religion doesn’t mean I don’t embrace you. In spite of our differences, I want to tell you that I love you.
When my work is done for the day, I sit on my porch and ponder and pray. I know this may seem strange to you, since it must seem to you that I have chosen a path that leads away from God, but listen to what I have to say. You see, I pray for you two, because I love you, and because I know God loves you. I have faith that our relationship can be restored.
As I have pondered our relationship, I always wished to share my heart, but there is a bit of a barrier between us. No doubt it’s been hard on you, this decision of mine to walk away from all you believe in. I can only imagine how you feel. I do know, though, that barriers can be torn down and tonight I’ve been given an answer to prayer by being able to write this letter to you.
My dear parents, when I left your church, I did so without giving you more information than I absolutely had to. No doubt it seemed as though I was a disgrace to you and the church. To make it worse, I felt as if I could tell you two nothing that would make you feel better. In fact, whenever I did tell you something, you seemed unable to even hear me. I’m so sorry – sorry that I didn’t share more with you, spending time to make sure you understood exactly where I was coming from. Because, you see, I don’t dislike you or anyone in the church. Please separate that from the fact that I cannot subscribe to the religion of your church. You must keep a handle on the fact that I love you but dislike your religion. You are not your religion; you are so much more.
My dear parents, if you want to know if I have a relationship with Christ, you must ask me. Please let this be a sign to me that you care and want to know where I stand with the Lord – by asking me to tell you more. Until I know that you want to hear about my relationship with the Lord, I will have a hard time sharing. You two are still my parents, and the fact that you tell me how wrong I am makes it harder for me to share my true love, my relationship with my Lord.
It is very puzzling to me that you ask me often if I belong to a church, but don’t ask me if I have a relationship with God. I fear that you think more highly of your church than you do of God. I cling to a faint hope that we are merely misunderstanding each other, and that we are merely dancing around each other, never getting to the core of matters. When you do care to hear me out, I will gladly share, and perhaps we can gain some common ground.
I do know that we have a common goal. We all want to go to heaven, to eternally worship and be with God, who is our perfect Creator. I also know that I don’t have a leg to stand on myself, having absolutely no righteousness. Only God is righteous, and I claim Him as my own righteousness – and serve Him out of love and faith in what He has done for me. Oh my dear parents, do not think I am casting away my love of God by leaving your traditions. Rather, I am leaving your traditions because they were a stumbling block to me, just as they were to the Jews in Jesus’ time. My prayer is that you will not trip on the same stumbling block, though I fear it may be so.
Above all, please know that I am praying for you and will wait patiently until you openly ask me questions regarding my faith. Until then, I am praying that you will understand that I am not holding myself above you in earthly standards; rather, I am openly confessing that I am nothing. I reserve nothing for myself, only desiring to serve God who is my Savior. Until then, I will think back over my childhood and remember all you have done for me. I am so thankful that you are my parents, because I love you and know that you gave so much to me. Until then, my dear parents, remember that God loves you.
Your son
* * * *
On
e Sunday evening, about a year after we left, I asked Esther to drive me out to my parents’ place.
“Drop me off at the end of the driveway. We won’t park our vehicle on their property, and I’ll see if Dad and Mom will accept me.”
I really didn’t know what to expect as I got out of the car and headed down the lane to what had been my home. To my surprise, my family was very happy to see me.
We sat talking and everything was going well until someone knocked at the door. Dad stood up and said, “Run, Joe, run, hide. I don’t want anyone to know you are in the house.”
I darted from the kitchen into the living room and through the door to my parents’ bedroom. The Amish people came in, talked for a while, and left.
I came out of hiding, and we talked more. Another knock at the door. More Amish people. Dad was still a busy man. Again, he said, “Run!” and I did.
Again, I hid, but this time they didn’t leave. I stayed hidden for a half hour and knew Esther would be arriving soon to pick me up. So, I opened my parents’ bedroom window and crawled out. Sadly, I was not able to say goodbye.
While leaving the Amish was very hard, fitting in with another culture was and still is very hard. We were rejected by our culture, so we could no longer consider ourselves Amish. We’d joined the English culture, but we weren’t born in the English culture. It was like a US citizen going to another country and learning a different manner of dress, but always feeling a bit like an outsider. This is a common sentiment among the ones who dangle between Amish and English culture. Sometimes it bogs us down and the only people we can relate to are former Amish.
For example, in my home church we have quite a few former Amish. They all sit together in one corner. Often, when the other people go home, the former Amish linger to talk and catch up. We hold a fellowship meal every other Sunday, mostly for former Amish but we also invite English to join us.
Another difficulty former Amish face, particularly the young men, is going into debt. They get jobs and start earning weekly paychecks. The first thing they want is a big four-wheel-drive extended cab truck. Then they modify the muffler, buy bigger speakers, and add fancy rims. Suddenly, they are unable to pay their insurance and upkeep and many other expenses that come with the English lifestyle.
Transitions filter into religious and social aspects of life too. After attending the Baptist church for about two years, my pastor came and asked if I wanted to be a deacon. For me, that meant the lot fell on me. They just came and asked me. I felt awkward and started thinking of family and others − what would they think of me being a self-appointed deacon? After thinking and praying about becoming a deacon, I accepted the invitation to start out as a deacon-in-training for one year.
In the Amish culture, we only had one deacon per church district. In the English culture, or at least at Bethel, we always had eight or more deacons. What the pastor and deacons didn’t realize was that sitting in a group of older men every month and discussing things was huge for me. For that first year, I said very little and just observed. Whenever it felt appropriate, I nodded my head and said yea when asked to vote. During one of our meetings, we discussed the need to fix potholes in our church driveway. Immediately, my thoughts went back to childhood; I remembered the potholes in our driveway and how we’d get our pickaxes, cut a rectangular hole about two inches deep, and lay brick in there with gravel over it. It worked! The pothole never came back.
I waited for a moment of silence and then shared my experience with potholes.
“Well, go get the pickaxe and start hacking away,” my pastor said with a laugh.
He didn’t realize it had taken me a year to say something. When he laughed, everybody laughed. I thought I was going to die. I went to the chairman that night and said, “I’m done. I can’t handle this.”
The next day, he went to my pastor and told him what had happened. In thirty years, I’ve seen my pastor cry a few times, and that was one of them. Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he apologized. At the time, it was a big deal for me, and we both learned from that. Afterward, he encouraged me to stay on the board. I did stay and served as a deacon for the next twenty years. Several years in a row, the older deacons asked me to serve as the chairman of the board. I accepted it with honor and a humble heart.
There’s a mindset among the Amish that differs from the English way of thinking. We worked hard at doing community. Large groups of people often gathered at someone’s property to help with the bigger projects. We were known as the people who could raise a huge barn in one day. The women, on the other hand, got together monthly and helped each other with canning and housecleaning.
The most difficult adjustment for us in the English world, was the equal status of men and women. In the Amish culture the men always led, and everyone knew it. Unfortunately, this sometimes resulted in abusive situations. The men were harsh with their authority – not just at home but in the church. The women could vote in the church, but they voted in agreement with the men. In one case, my sister voted against the men. The next day, three ministers from the church were at her doorstep. She could either revoke her vote or they were going to publicly discipline her in front of the church. She revoked her vote. In the English culture, men and women are more equal. Not only are women occupying church positions, but they also serve as doctors, lawyers, police, and judges.
Another big area of difference in our cultures is dress code standards. Amish women dressed so they were covered from top to bottom. Dresses were to reach within a certain number of inches from the ground and all the way up to the neckline. Men and women weren’t even allowed to have short sleeves, and we wore head coverings and hats. About the only things that stuck out were our hands and faces. For several years after we left the Amish culture, I emphasized a strict dress code for Esther and our daughter, Rachel. I did so mostly because I saw where the rest of society was headed. Women’s clothing styles are often skin tight and revealing, even in the church. It still is very difficult for me to accept, but I’ve also learned that some things you just can’t change.
Chapter 15
Family
After our stay with Jerry and Carol Gess, we had enough money for a deposit and first month’s rent on a small one-bedroom house. We didn’t have any children, but eventually the concept of paying someone rent felt like wasted money, and we started looking for our own house. Within a few months, we found one that had two bedrooms. We gathered all our savings together and put a bid on the house.
The only way to borrow money is the bank, I remember thinking. What if we fall flat on our faces and can’t make the payments? We don’t have our Amish community to fall back on. It was scary and a huge deal for Esther and me.
We lived in that house for ten years. Our children, Jonathan and Rachel, were born during that time, and I worked third shift as a tool and die maker while Esther homeschooled our children. Jonathan was homeschooled all the way through high school, and Rachel was homeschooled until high school. After that, she decided homeschool was no longer working for her, so for one year, we let her go to public school, but that didn’t work so well either. The following year, we found a private Christian school we could afford. It was at this school that Rachel continued to blossom and mature into a beautiful young lady.
A personal blessing came from Rachel attending Mansfield Temple Christian when she entered a Father’s Day letter-writing contest and won first prize. As a result of getting first prize, she and I were allowed to walk the red carpet. I shared her letter in Appendix A with a humble heart and give God all the glory He alone deserves.
When our children were still young, Esther and I often talked about how we might raise them differently from how we were raised. When I saw my pastor, in his forties, hug and kiss his parents goodnight, I went straight to Esther and shared how I’d like to incorporate that into our family, and we did. To this day
, our family always hugs and kisses when we separate and go our own ways. We tell them how much they are loved and valued.
Jonathan decided he was not going to attend college. Instead, at the age of seventeen he reached out to a company in Phoenix, Arizona, and got a job working through the Internet. He worked from home and became very successful. The fellow he worked for had no idea he was only seventeen, so when the owner of the company wanted him to fly out to Phoenix for a seminar, Jonathan quickly became worried. Not only was he underage, but he felt his short stature was going to get him fired.
Jonathan bought a brand-new suit, necktie, and shoes for the seminar his boss wanted him to attend. Our entire family started praying that God would work things out for him, and He did. The same day he turned eighteen, he got on a plane in Cleveland, Ohio, and flew to Arizona. He appeared grown up and confident, and we couldn’t have been more proud of him. His boss, also the owner of the company, loved Jonathan regardless of his stature. Jonathan now serves as second in command and is doing very well in the company.
Jonathan’s entrepreneurial spirit doesn’t allow him to sit idle. He runs several side businesses that he developed from the ground up and has multiple employees scattered throughout the United States. He paid his first house off by the time he was twenty-three and he bought a second one just five houses up from ours. In all his businesses, he still finds time to be faithfully involved in the lives of young people on Wednesday nights at our home church. He has a passion to help young people succeed in life and has invested many hours mentoring and discipling them.
