Book Review: Growing up Amish

If you're a fan of Amish fiction, you probably don't want to read this book--but you should. The problem is that you might not want to read Amish fiction again.The picture of Amish life as a series of neighborhood barn raisings, quilting bees, cute little barefoot girls wearing bonnets and crisp aprons chasing kittens past the clothesline strung with with black pants with no zippers, home cookin' style meals with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, freshly baked bread spread with homemade jam, and green beans fresh from the garden is not what you will find in Ira Wagler's memoir of what life was like "growing up Amish." Instead, the author provides an honest, but definitely not bitter, account of what it was like to be Amish and why he could not remain a member of the Amish church and live in the community in which he had been raised.

Wagler was born in the Old Order Amish community of Aylmer, Ontario, the ninth in a family of eleven children. In the first part of the book Wagler writes about Amish life and culture, and it's fascinating to read from an "insider" what exactly that is like. He describes family life, church services, and school. Most poignant is his account of the bullying of Nicholas Herrfort, a child from "that unusual, or odd family" that exists in all of our communities. With great beauty and sadness, Wagler writes of the tragedy of Nicholas, and we all hang our heads in shame because even though we may not have grown up Amish, we've been human children who have at the least stood by silently while some other poor child was tortured. 

After two of Wagler's brothers and one sister leave the Amish, his father moves the family to Bloomfield, Iowa, hoping that he would be able to keep his remaining sons Amish in a new place. It was here that Wagler spent his rebellious "Rumspringa" teen years, running around with a group of five other boys, hunting, staying out late, drinking beer and smoking, and telling off-color jokes.  But typical teen rebellion turned to something much more serious when, at seventeen, Wagler left home for the first time:

"One fateful, starless, April night, I got up at 2:00 a.m. in the pitch black darkness, left a scribbled note under my pillow, and walked away--all my earthly belongings stuffed in a little black duffel bag."

The rest of Wagler's memoir describes a cycle of returns and departures. He leaves his family, feels empty, attempts to fill the emptiness by returning to what is familiar (family and church), feels empty, and in an attempt to fill the emptiness, leaves again. Wagler's story continues to fascinate, as he recounts a family member's tragic accident, his own attempts to settle into the Amish community by getting married and joining the church, and his ultimate decision to leave the Amish church for good.

While many perceive the Amish to be a people whose withdrawal from modern life makes them closer to God, people who experience a rich spiritual life, Wagler's experience tells a different story. A faith that is based on law-keeping leaves its adherents feeling empty, distant from God and from each other. Ironically, Wagler first hears the gospel from an Amish man who did not grow up in the Amish faith, and he experiences true conversion:

"For the first time, I truly grasped that Christ had died for me--suffered, bled, and died--and that I could be his through faith. I was amazed at how simple it really was. Why had it always seemed so hard, so impossible before?... He who gives life to the lifeless gave life to me."

The jacket copy of this book describes it as a charming, poignant, coming-of-age story, and yet it is so much deeper than that. You will laugh, cry, and be moved--Wagler is a gifted writer. But his story points out the futility of a faith that attempts to win God's favor by obedience to men's laws, and the joy of the salvation that comes from faith in Christ alone.

 

Jonathan Is 18

It used to be Thomas the Tank Engine, Spot the Dog, a blankie made from Mommy's old sleep shirt, and playing in the ball pit at Chuck E Cheese and eating the pizza. Favorite book: The Little Engine That Could.

Now it's playing basketball, watching the Red Wings and Tigers, studying Physics and Pre-Calc, visiting colleges, and watching the zillion screens filled with sports at Peppino's--and eating the pizza. Favorite book: the Bible (good boy  young man!). 

Jonathan is 18! Happy birthday my almost grown-up son!

The Most Important Thing

In a day when many face, at the least, financial insecurity, and, at most, financial ruin; when many are scraping the bottom of their life savings to pay the electric bill and wonder what will happen in January after there are no more unemployment checks arriving and there's no job in sight; when thousands are occupying cities all over the world to protest the things they don't have, Jesus teaches us in the gospel of John what is most important. So many of the people he encountered felt like the people today: "If only I had this or that or the other thing, life would be good. I could truly live."

And so when the wine at the wedding party runs out, Jesus' mother comes to him with the crisis, and he provides high quality wine in abundance. Problem solved, party saved. Except that the party wine will eventually run out, and the wedding guests probably don't realize that the true source of joy and gladness that will never run out was among them as a guest.

A woman carries her water jar to the town well in the heat of the day. She dreads this daily chore. It's hard work carrying the heavy water jar back home, and her difficulty is increased because she carries out the chore when the sun is the hottest so she can avoid the scathing glares, the whispers of the other women of the town. So when the man at the well offers her his water, the water that will make her never thirst again, she wants it. Problem solved. She will never have to come to the dreaded well to draw water again.

A man sick for thirty-eight years laid by the pool of Bethesda. If he could only get into the pool when an angel stirred the water, he would be well, and his problems would be solved. So when a stranger approaches him and tells him to take up his bed and walk, he does. Problem solved. Except the stranger's question--"Do you want to be well?"--is about something much deeper, much more necessary than the ability to walk.

And there are the five thousand on the hillside, following Jesus around because of the things they see he can do. He looks like someone who could save them from their rulers, the Romans. But their need is much more basic at the moment. They're hungry, and there is no place to get food close by. He provides all five thousand of them, and their wives and children, with what they think is most important--bread--so much that there are twelve baskets left over. Problem solved. He reminds, them, though, that their fathers in the wilderness were also given bread, and they died. Only he is the bread of life, the bread that will stop all hungering and provide true life.

It's not that we don't need water or bread or wine or physical health. All of these things are important--for now. And paychecks, electricity, and affordable college tuition are all important too. But they aren't the most important things. We can have all of those things in quantities greater than we could ever need, and we'll still die, having never truly lived. No, our true needs are truly satisfied when we realize, like Simon Peter, the source of our life, the most important thing: "Lord,  to whom [or what] shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God." Problem solved.

Something to Think About

I've done it. You've done it too. We've all done it: Just don't tell anyone else . . .

Life, Learning, and a Letter

Back in 1983, a group of young men--some still college students and some recent graduates--wanted to pay tribute to a teacher who had profoundly impacted their lives. They knew him then as Mr. Grier, and he was the stuff of academic legend for these students who were discovering what it was to think truly, deeply, and Christianly. Mr. Grier himself had studied at Westminster Philadelphia with Van Til, and now he passed on to these young men what he had learned about how to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ in the discipline of philosophy. But after many years of teaching at Cedarville College, Mr. Grier accepted a position at Grand Rapids Theological Seminary, and his students were grieved to see him go.

How could these young men thank a professor who had helped them to understand what it was to think biblically in ways they had never understood before? They thanked Mr. Grier in the way any teacher can best be thanked--by offering up a magnum opus of thought that pulled together everything they had learned about their academic specialties and wrote a volume titled Essays on the Christian World View. They dedicated it to "James M. Grier, professor and friend." They wrote about heady subjects like epistemology, apologetics, anthropology, exegesis, economics, history, politics, and science. It was quite an accomplishment for a group of young men who were busy with their own studies, but they did it. And the one who pulled it  altogether--even to securing the necessary funding--was the editor, Jonathan Selden.

While I wasn't an integral part of this effort, I was there. In fact, I resented the project a little because it distracted Jon, who was then my fiance, from paying as much attention to me as I wanted him to. An English major, I proofread. I also helped collate, walking around tables piled high with pages for hours on end. I sat at  the book table during lunchtime and sold books myself. Such a huge undertaking for a young man who hadn't even finished college yet--to edit a book, to author two chapters himself. But it was a good thing he took on projects like this then, because his life ended early, at age thirty-five. Not many of us can say that we've edited a book of essays before we have graduated from college, but Jon needed to because his time was so short.

Fast forward nearly thirty years to last week. It was like Christmas at the seminary where the offices of Reformation Heritage Books are, where I work. The hallway was filled with long tables loaded with books--commentaries, Bibles, books on theology, philosophy, history. Students pored over the tables, looking for treasures to fill their libraries. The reluctant Santa, now Dr. Grier, is moving to a smaller home and has had to downsize. This teacher of so many, for so many years, donated his personal library, the tools of his trade, to the Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary Library. The librarian had pulled what she wanted from the collection, and now the rest were for sale.

It occurred to me that it would be nice to have a book from the library of this teacher who had had such a profound effect on my thought, even though I had taken only one class from him. So I spent some time digging through the piles, not exactly sure what I was looking for but positive that I would know it when I found it. The elevator doors opened, and a couple of students came out with the last few boxes and started to load the books onto the table. 

I smiled as I recognized three or four copies of Essays on the Christian World View, with its stark blue cover and black plastic coil binding it all together. I thought how pleased Jon would be to know that his books had been a part of Dr. Grier's library for all these years, and now they were being placed on a table to be sold, perhaps, to students. I picked one up and felt sadness for a brilliant young man whose life ended so early, for other young men who had once been passionate for God but had long ago fallen away. And then I noticed the letter.

I knew right away what it was. Mr. Grier had moved to Grand Rapids before the books had been finished, and Jon had mailed copies to him. I was shaking as I opened it and read a letter that had most likely been typed on my electric typewriter back in June 1983:

Dear Mr. Grier, . . .

The years at Cedarville for me and for most of my friends have come and gone. However, we have endeavored to leave behind a legacy, a witness to the truth that has been taught us. This witness we have embodied in a collection of writings, Essays on the Christian World View.

Because you have been so influential in each of our lives and in our academic careers we have chosen to recognize this fact by dedicating this book to you . . .

On behalf of each of the contributors may I ask you to accept this, the first volume printed, as a token of our thanks and appreciation.

Sincerely,

Jonathan Selden

How amazing that a letter that once rested in my typewriter nearly thirty years ago should find its way back to me--through distance and time, through one man's library to a seminary library to a book table. It is a legacy--a witness to the truth--indeed.