Almost Amish

by Nancy Sleeth

  6. It is often harder to receive than to give.

  7. Dependency is humbling, but good for the soul.

  8. Coming to a complete stop can change everything, including career ambitions.

  9. Sometimes it takes a village to bear a baby.

  10. Every child’s first cry is a miracle from God, the Great Deliverer.

  Such an upswelling of care for a woman on bed rest is a reminder that we don’t have to be Amish—just Almost Amish—to serve and be served. In the Amish world, this response would be the norm; in my world, I had never before witnessed anything like it. In particular, the care I received from my colleagues, mostly secretaries and clerks twice my age, was nothing short of miraculous. Many lived as far as sixty miles away from me, and yet they still acted as my neighbors.

  Clark is the evidence of their grace. It saved his life, and changed mine. I am forever grateful.

  Serving God

  After the naming ceremony at the Mennonite service, the pastor preached on the false idols that we continue to worship in the twenty-first century. Anything we withhold from God, he said, can become an idol. The pastor then read from 1 Samuel 1:9-11, where the childless Hannah has been despairing for a long period about her infertility:

  Once after a sacrificial meal at Shiloh, Hannah got up and went to pray. Eli the priest was sitting at his customary place beside the entrance of the Tabernacle. Hannah was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the LORD. And she made this vow: “O LORD of Heaven’s Armies, if you will look upon my sorrow and answer my prayer and give me a son, then I will give him back to you. He will be yours for his entire lifetime, and as a sign that he has been dedicated to the LORD, his hair will never be cut.”

  In response, Eli the priest reprimands Hannah for being drunk.

  Seeing her lips moving but hearing no sound, he thought she had been drinking. “Must you come here drunk?” he demanded. “Throw away your wine!”

  “Oh no, sir!” she replied. “I haven’t been drinking wine or anything stronger. But I am very discouraged, and I was pouring out my heart to the LORD. Don’t think I am a wicked woman! For I have been praying out of great anguish and sorrow.”

  “In that case,” Eli said, “go in peace! May the God of Israel grant the request you have asked of him.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir!” she exclaimed. Then she went back and began to eat again, and she was no longer sad.

  1 Samuel 1:13-18

  Of all the women in the Bible, I think I identify most with Hannah—and not just because both of us were once mistakenly chastised for being inebriated! Like Hannah, I waited a long time (through seven years of Matthew’s schooling) before bearing my first child. Like Hannah, becoming a mother was not an easy path—Hannah’s infertility led to taunting, my early labor led to bed rest. And like Hannah, I was overcome with gratitude upon the birth of my son, though my first response (“He’s perfect!”) was not nearly as eloquent as Hannah’s prayer of praise, the Magnificat of the Old Testament (see 1 Samuel 2:1-10).

  There is also a dark side, which Hannah and I share. It could be easy to twist a good thing, such as motherhood, into an idol. In a few years, it will not be easy for me to “lose” Clark, when he most likely will travel overseas to serve in full-time medical missions. As the Mennonite pastor concluded in his sermon, “Giving her only son to God must not have been an easy thing for Hannah to do.” I can only hope to draw strength from her example when the time comes for Clark to leave.

  One way we can serve God is to remember that everything, including our children, is on loan from him. The Amish know that the Lord deserves our firstfruits, whether that consists of time, money, talents, or service. They are constantly examining their own lives for anything they are worshiping instead of God. We should do the same. We must continually pray to be released from the temptations of false idols, and instead—like Hannah—sing a song of joyful praise.

  Serving the church

  I have never witnessed a greater example of service to church than that displayed by our friend Mark. When we first started attending church, Mark invited us to faith group, which met each Wednesday evening at his home. Faith group was a collection of miscellany like us. We were new Christians, which is a dangerously zealous time. Christians should have their acts together, right? But these people were openly sharing their brokenness. Each week brought stories of wrecked marriages, lost jobs, tragic illnesses, and unwed motherhood. And we thought our lives were messed up!

  When Matthew told Mark we were not getting much out of faith group, he immediately responded, “You are not here to get. You are here to give.”

  Through example, Mark taught us how to give. A single mom needed to get her kids away from a bad crowd, so she wanted to sell her trailer. Mark not only organized a crew to get the trailer spruced up to put on the market but found a safe and affordable place for her to live where she could be mentored by an experienced mom. A house cleaner had her beloved canoe stolen; Mark took up a collection, and the canoe was replaced within a week. A wife with three young children was dissatisfied with life and threw Dad out; Mark had the father move in with them for a couple of months and counseled him on reconciliation. A middle schooler seemed bent toward destruction; Mark took him under his wing, and now the boy is graduating with honors and hopes to become a physician.

  Five years ago, our family moved out of state, but we keep in touch with our faith group and especially with Mark. When we got word that a member of the church had been in a fatal tractor accident leaving a wife and young family, the church not only brought in the crops but quickly took up a collection and provided a plan for long-term financial stability. As soon as we heard the news, Matthew called Mark to ask how we could help. Mark thanked us but said the church had already responded with so much generosity that the family’s needs were met. I suspect he had a lot to do with that.

  Widows and orphans. Unwed mothers. Reformed alcoholics, drug dealers, and criminals from the prison located just up the road from the church. These are just a few examples of needs the church was involved with. Though we were only members for a few years, our church taught us the important principle of service to others.

  The Amish excel at serving their faith community. They give joyfully. Taking care of their church family is taken for granted—as normal as breathing. Service to church members is a source of gratification, not grief—a blessing rather than a burden.

  Perhaps this, in part, is what Jesus meant when he said, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30, NIV). Salvation—the yoke—is easy. It is freely given. All you have to do is ask for it.

  The burden—living the Christian life of service—is often the opposite of what we expect. It makes life lighter. It lessens the load. As we lift up our brothers and sisters in Christ, we are set free from the ills of isolation and loneliness.

  Let’s Sum It Up

  The Amish understand that the key to a joyful life is simple: serve God; serve your neighbor. Interdependence can be more holy than independence. But how does that play out?

  The Amish serve their children by doing the hard work of parenting, teaching them the skills and habits that will make them healthy spouses, colleagues, and neighbors. Instead of short-term distraction or coddling, they aim for long-term character and strength.

  Through example, they show how caring for grandparents is a joy, not a burden. Likewise, service to neighbors and coworkers is treated more as an opportunity than an obligation. And service to one’s own faith community is a chance to follow the example of Jesus, one act of compassion at a time.

  In acting kind, we become kind. In serving others, we are served. Blessed are the merciful and the pure of heart. As the physical arms of God Almighty, we comfort those who mourn. In doing so, we serve him gladly, all the days of our lives.

  Chapter 7

  Security

  The only true security comes from God.

  Our dear friends Josh and Laura have been married o
nly a few years, and yet I don’t know any couple more dedicated to God, to their marriage, and to serving others. They are full of joy, and one of the reasons is that they appreciate how precarious life can be—Josh because of the untimely death of his first wife, and Laura because of the trauma she witnesses at work. Like my husband, Laura is trained as an ER physician. One day recently they stopped by on their way to a motorcycle dealer.

  “Josh, you can’t be serious,” I blurted out. “A motorcycle?! Your wife is an ER doctor!”

  Josh deadpanned, “And I come from two generations of funeral directors.”

  What a comeback! “But really, Josh, Matthew says they call them ‘donorcycles’ in the hospital. Laura needs you. We all need you.”

  Matthew came to my aid and added, “Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves” (Matthew 10:16, KJV).

  “Amen!” Laura and I said in unison. Laura has a contagious laugh, and we all joined in. But the truth of these words from Jesus lingered in the room. Was I worrying unduly? Is it wrong to ride a motorcycle? Well, that’s for us to decide for ourselves, but here’s the real point: true faith in God does not put him to the test. Place your trust in God, yes! But don’t take unnecessary risks.

  Planning for the Unexpected

  I come by my aversion to motorcycles honestly. Years ago, I was an office mate to a mother of three who rode motorcycles with her coal miner husband. Especially after his long shifts enclosed in dark and dank shafts, I’m sure their excursions felt like a foretaste of heaven.

  A friend of mine here in Kentucky also rides motorcycles. An ordained minister in her early sixties who works at a seminary, she rides in back of her six-foot-five husband—with full leather protection and SPF 30 suntan lotion, of course—the ultimate fun, fit, and feisty grandma.

  I am sure the majority of motorcyclists are, like these women and their husbands, prudent drivers. Yet when Josh mentioned getting a motorcycle, my mind immediately flashed back to the worst accident Matthew saw in all his years in the ER. Because of his training and experience with trauma, Matthew is accustomed to awful situations—or at least as accustomed as his compassion can allow. A young man falling off a three-story roof and becoming paralyzed, a child drowning in a public pool, a lobsterman carrying in his severed fingers—Matthew has seen it all.

  But the worst by far was the time an animal ran out into the road among a large group of motorcyclists. One moment they were enjoying a fine morning in Maine, the next they were splattered all over the pavement. It was an ER physician’s nightmare and a life-changing tragedy for dozens of spouses, parents, and children. The worst part: it could have been prevented. A little more space between motorcycles and a little less speed would have allowed the first cyclist to veer safely, without causing a pileup. The animal survived, but many of the cyclists did not. Once the chain reaction started, it could not be stopped.

  As much as this event colored my view of them, motorcycles aren’t really the issue here. The point is that bad choices tend to pile up on bad choices. Perhaps a seemingly random act—such as a dog running into the road or a corporate layoff or a government program cut—was the immediate cause of distress, but there are usually many independent decisions along the way over which no one has any control. The Amish approach: yes, walk in faith in God but also use the wisdom that he gave us to make good choices. So many of the disasters in our lives could be avoided if only we would heed the advice of Jesus to the apostles: retain the gentle innocence of a dove, but temper it with the cunning wisdom of the snake.

  Security, Amish Style

  The Amish, of course, do not drive motorized vehicles, two wheeled or otherwise. Living within horse-and-buggy distance is a limitation, but also a blessing. The payoff is a close-knit community where neighbors provide the security necessary to live a full and abundant life. By staying in a stable, secure community, they have been able to preserve a way of life that values a sense of place, both geographic and spiritual.

  The Amish believe that security comes from God, not government or corporations. Those who expect the government or other institutions to take care of them risk bowing down to false idols. Scripture warns us not to follow the example of those who trust in man-made gods: “They worshiped worthless idols, so they became worthless themselves. They followed the example of the nations around them, disobeying the LORD’s command not to imitate them” (2 Kings 17:15). Friends and family, acting as the hands and feet of God, are the best form of security.

  Amish parents do not teach entitlement to their children, nor do they practice it themselves. Security comes from self-sufficiency, hard work, and careful stewardship of God’s gifts. Faith in God, not faith in institutions or corporations, is the basis of all interactions.

  Because they value stability, the Amish move far less frequently than does modern society. Families tend to stick together. Neighboring families have known one another for generations. When moves do happen—such as when a compatible mate has not been found within the community or a young couple seeks farmland and it has become too scarce in their local area—they relocate to an Amish community that shares similar practices and values. More than likely, they will already have extended family or friends living in the new location to help welcome them. The “welcome buggy” includes many hands to help them move furniture in and introduce them to the new church family.

  Even more important to the Amish than geographic stability is social stability. In their communities, things are done much like they were two and three generations back. Naturally some adjustments are made, but change happens at a much slower pace than the rest of us are accustomed to. This measured, deliberate approach to change, along with daily acknowledgment that true security comes only from God, leads to less angst and a deeper sense of stability.

  Traditions of the major life ceremonies—birth, marriage, and death—remain nearly identical to those of their Swiss ancestors, and the ceremonial calendar is unchanging. For example, the Attnungsgemee (preparatory service) held two weeks before the semiannual Communion is a cleansing ritual where faults are confessed and differences between members are settled. In a similar way, Communion and foot washing follow the same patterns, generation after generation. Even the hymns chanted from the Ausbund have remained unchanged since the sixteenth century. Because the hymns appear without musical notations, all melodies are learned by ear and passed along from parents to children.

  Tradition, stability, and sense of place are missing from most of our lives. The Amish recognize their importance, and foster the connection and security they provide. While true security ultimately comes from God, we can each make choices that prepare us for the difficult times all of us eventually must face.

  Stormy Weather

  When Matthew and I were courting, one of the first presents he gave me was a record album (how quaint!) by Willie Nelson. I still have it, and we still listen to it on the same thirty-plus-year-old record player. My favorite song on the album is “Stormy Weather.” You are probably familiar with the lyrics, which have been recorded by Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, and many other greats. It begins,

  Don’t know why, there’s no sun up in the sky.

  Stormy weather . . .

  The stormy weather in the song is a metaphor for a broken relationship between a man and a woman, but it could just as readily be about a broken relationship between man and God. The Amish, an agricultural society, know that all of us will go through stormy times in life—loss of friends, family, jobs, and health. The greatest storms come, however, not when a romance breaks up or a crop fails but when we lose touch with our greatest love, the Creator, who ultimately sustains and protects us all.

  All I do is pray, the Lord above will let me

  walk in the sun once more.

  In good times and bad, we should turn first to “the Lord above.” Here, the lyricist is in agreement with the Amish proverb: “God’s hand that holds the ocean’s depth can hold my small affairs. His hand, which guides
the universe, can carry all my cares.” The Amish trust in a God big enough to shoulder our concerns; they know he is the only true source of security.

  King David, the bestselling songwriter of all time, experienced much “stormy weather” and recorded his pain and grief in the Psalms. Over and over again, David reminds us that in times of trouble, we must lean into God:

  • I will call on God, and the LORD will rescue me. (Psalm 55:16)

  • You alone, O LORD, will keep me safe. (Psalm 4:8)

  • I know the LORD is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me. (Psalm 16:8)

  • The LORD is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble? (Psalm 27:1)

  • Commit everything you do to the LORD. Trust him, and he will help you. (Psalm 37:5)

  Unlike other literature of its time, the Bible records its heroes at their worst—adulterers, murderers, and more. But it also records them at their best. David, at his best, is in constant communication with God. Before taking any action, he asks God what to do. He is willing to risk his own life and the lives of thousands of his soldiers, even when the odds are heavily against them, simply because God told him to. He has the faith of a child.

  This open line of communication, this absolute trust in God’s wisdom even when the facts argue against the advice received, is why David is called a “man after God’s own heart.” Yes, David experiences stormy weather, but he trusts God to see him through. “Trusting God,” as the Amish proverb points out, often “turns problems into opportunities.”

  Three Boats, One God

  In ancient times, shipwrecks were much like the car wrecks of today. Most journeys ended uneventfully, but accidents were always a possibility—an undesirable but accepted risk in getting from point A to point B. It should not be surprising, then, that three of the most important stories in the Bible center on boating accidents.

  Most of us are familiar with the story of Jonah. He is told to go to a foreign land, where people are very different from him. Although he’s a prophet, Jonah balks. He’s willing to do just about anything for God, but this is too far outside his comfort zone.