Posts

Posted on

God Morning

This is a devotional written for Rest Ministries a couple of years ago. The used to have a web site and magazine for people living with chronic pain and illness. They have changed over to a Facebook group now. I really enjoyed writing for them.

Can a simple typo change your average message into something eternal? It sure can!

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.” (Psalm 119:50)

It was a typo; I was texting my son and missed a key. As I looked at the greeting, it took on extra meaning.

I woke up that morning with level 8 pain, unusual for me these days. My general pain level was under control, 3 or 4 unless I overdid it. This was what I called a freight train morning, slammed head-on right off the bat with pain. Now my typo makes me reconsider the phrase–” it is still a God morning.”

He is still here, He is still on the throne, and He has proved to me many a time that He is ready, able, and willing to walk me through a high pain day.

My perspective changed instantly. Now I feel as if the day will be somehow consecrated and holy. It feels like a day of privilege in the school of my Master. In spite of my pain, I intend to study my Savior’s face, review and drill in His word.

It may not be a day of high productivity, but it has now definitely become. . . a God morning! A God day!

Prayer: Lord, You have set me to task. I ask for Your grace to diligently seek You today. Help me to avoid labeling this as a bad or lost day. Rather, help me to flourish and bloom in knowledge of You. Draw me ever nearer Thee, Dear Savior. Amen.

Posted on

A Three Word Sermon

Brother Larry is a man living with quadriplegia and lives in the group home I manage. He has been in a wheelchair since he was 17 years old, he is now 64. Only Joni has a longer record than Larry. The other day he said more in three words than some pastors get done in a whole sermon. Larry’s speech is limited by damage done from the trach he had after his accident. His injury left his body with damage very similar to Cerebral Palsy, so he can be hard to understand. But this message was crystal clear.

  • Larry Deck full of joy in Christ with his good friend Jonathon

After supper each night we have a time of group devotions. One evening the topic was about being weary of our trials and earthly situations. One resident commented on how weary she was of her suffering and how she thought so much of Heaven. Another resident commented that surely Larry gets weary at times, knowing he has been dependent on others for everything for the past 47 years. It was Larry’s reply that sent everyone to thinking, mostly because we all know it is so true. He said:

“Weary, but happy.”

So true. So well said. So well lived.

Posted on

Mission Accomplished

My handful of subscribers deserve some regular posts at long last, as well as an apology. No excuses, just sincere regret, and hopes for better days ahead.

Moving forward, I will say that I have achieved a goal that I had set for myself a little under four years ago. I have finished the requirements for my Bachelors Degree in Biblical Studies at Lancaster Bible College. My last class finished three weeks ago.IMG_0833

To celebrate, I put this recliner on lay away at a local furniture store. I do much of my school work on a ‘rescue’ recliner off someone’s curb.

I intend to continue my education, and much of it will be online, so I decided to upgrade my equipment. I have the recliner half paid for already.

Lord willing, I start the next leg of the journey in January. I will study Disability Ministry at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, MI. I am currently starting my QIDP certification (Qualified Intellectual Disability Professional) and doing an online sign language course. When I get all that done, I hope to return to LBC for a Masters Degree in Social Work. All this should set me up to manage any type of group home or transitional housing facility.

I do not plan to ‘walk the stage’ for graduation because my children are gathering that same weekend in Virginia for a family Christmas. We have not been together since 2011, so it’s pretty important to me. My diploma will be mailed to me, and I am fine with that. Maybe I will walk for my MSW.

My parents have been gone for over 20 years, but us going to college was important to them. Getting my degree is a way I can honor them and their hopes for me, and that feels good.

So rejoice with me! I started schooling when so much of my life felt out of my control. I wanted something I could feel successful in. Little did I know that I would have a home, job, church, and physical strength all beyond anything I could have even dreamed. Surely God is restoring what the locast tried to eat.

Posted on

The Heart Cry of a Broken Brain

Mental illness is not a choice or a result of bad choices. It’s real, it’s chemical, and if you don’t understand it, please don’t criticize it.

My friend Joanna has MI,my friend Joanna has ME. Mental illness does not define her, she deserves healthy relationships to keep her life balanced. Here is her plea:

“You know, sometimes my mental health feels like a rollercoaster. I’ve never been on one but I’ve watched them and That’s exactly what I’m feeling. That doesn’t mean I’m “unstable” or “irresponsible”, it simply is life. Please don’t see my mood swings as me, or as “just” mood swings. My swings are much more intense and out of my control than normal mood swings. I don’t believe that term does it justice. There is no way for me to predict, control, or “get a hold of” my moods. Its much more than “moods”. It is a disease. I am NOT exaggerating or making excuses! Please listen to my heart, and to all my fellow sufferers! This is a disease!if we could control it, believe me we would! Just because sometimes I act differently from my normal is not a judgement on me. Please look beyond this disease… This disorder that at random times overruns my brain! This is not me! I am so much more! Its not fun to know that people are afraid of you because you respond differently at different times. It is not fun to have to swallow meds, on schedule, 4+ times a day! It is not fun to see the doctor or therapist once or twice a week, just to function “normally”. It is not fun to worry… What will happen to my job…my home…my life…if yet once again my brain decides to malfunction. Please understand. The “laziness” you see…the fatigue…and then at other times…the mania… The “irresponsibility”, the “instability”…is not a choice! It is NOT a CHOICE! Believe me! We want to be stable! We want to be able to predict our next day…our next moment! We want to be able to build lives…successful careers. But most of all we want to be understood. Please, never, never tell someone in my shoes that you are disappointed in them, in us, in me. You have NO CLUE the struggle it is to daily battle the fear… What if I can’t do it tomorrow. I can do it today… But what if I can’t tomorrow? To battle the sense of failure… Once again … My mind failed me. I could not do it. I tried. I tried harder than you can ever know…or imagine. I am tempted to see my worth in my broken brain. The brain is the center of life and function itself. I repeat, you cannot imagine how it is to live with a broken brain. Believe me, we struggle to simply survive-bare existence. So please give me time. It may take me longer… I may need some more help… A few more “breaks”. But please, see where I’ve come from. See what I’m dealing with. Don’t See my illness as me. Why? Because I am not my illness!”

I have some close friends that live with significant challenges due to mental illness. I have spent countless hours in psych units. Unless you have put hours in at a locked down facility, you might assume you ‘get it’. Watching these people deal with brain and mind malfunction is enough to humble any human being. Be kind.

Posted on

Some Reasons I Love My Church

I was thinking about some of the ordinances my church practices and was filled with fresh appreciation. Many of these biblical practices have faded away in most churches, I am blessed to be with a group that has kept them alive and led by the Holy Spirit.

pexels-photo-272337
Photo by John-Mark Smith on Pexels.com

Historically, the conservative Anabaptists have been known for upholding such things as foot-washing, the holy kiss, women’s head veiling, and anointing. From a contemporary standpoint, I appreciate them more and more as secular culture seems to leak into the church so easily.

Even in my congregation, the Holy kiss is fading off. My concern is that if we regard it as a social custom, we will soon view the covering as the same thing. So many churches already do. We take foot washing very seriously, and I am glad. It means so much more than a ceremony of going through the motions. You have to really stop and think about why we do it. And if we are really paying attention, we can work the concept into our everyday lives as we live to imitate our Servant Savior, Jesus Christ.

During my 20-year  journey with chronic pain and illness, my gratitude for anointing really grew. As complications and detours came along, I could relax in knowing that each one had come through the permitting Hand of my Father. I also gained a keener awareness that my journey was also a gift to my church. The act of anointing not only invited God’s hand into my medical situation, but it also gave the church body an opportunity to enter into it and reap the blessings and tears right along with me. I have never felt so ‘un-lonely’ in my life!

The fact that I wear a head covering is a testimony in itself that I believe it to be more than ‘just a tradition’. If there is interest, I will write about that transition in another blog soon. Thirty years ago, I felt I was the only woman in the county that did it. Last year I met a sister that lived on the other side of that very same county that was going through the same thing at the same time. Our paths never crossed until last year.

I would love to hear your thoughts on these topics or other things you would like to read about here. Please leave a comment and share what these things mean to you.

Posted on

And It Came to Pass

 I counted the phrase “And it came to pass. . . ” to occur over 49 times in the King James Version of the Gospel of Luke. It is left out of many translations, but I rather like thinking on that phrase when it comes to life’s afflictions.

It came to eventually move on, pass by. It, my thorn, came. It didn’t just happen at random or evolve; it was the result of a plan. That plan is temporary and earthbound. Living with chronic pain and illness makes the ‘eventually’ part seem insurmountable. There are days when we don’t feel much comforted by the idea of relief being at the end of many years. And then we get the flu. . . or a cold, or a toothache.

The latter was my recent plight and it reminded me of a simple truth I need to relearn from time to time. I can heal, some things do go away. It is all still in the Master’s hand.

Am I a little loopy to be encouraged by abscessed teeth, and dry sockets? Probably, yet I prefer to consider it being a fool for Christ. First off, it reminds me that I can go through a malady fairly normally. Other factors pop to my mind then, as I start down the path of gratitude. I am used to living with pain and have adjusted my lifestyle.

My young neighbor with several small children to care for and farm chores would really have it worse than I do because she is not accustomed to this sort thing. Another point is that I have access to pain medication. To some folks in my church a pain pill means a Tylenol tablet.

And so my mind goes on to the fact, yes, fact that as my tooth woes were remedied by antibiotic and extraction, so will my years of pain find eventual remedy. It will seem light, it will find resolution, and it will shrink in size. Smaller ailments are a bother, but they have a lesson to teach us.

Posted on

Our First Amish Church Sevice

We accepted Steve’s offer to attend an Amish church service. He really wanted us to understand the cultural and language issues that he had dealt with. We went to Catholic mass on one Sunday, and the next week we visited an Amish service in Holmes County. This meant a two-hour drive with four small children at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning. That was the beginning of a monthly routine for us, We never went back to the local Catholic church, and apparently, they didn’t miss us much either,

We stopped at a rest area to ‘freshen up’ and feed the children and then went to Steve and Edith’s house. From there we walked with them to the next place down the road, a quarter mile or so. Our children were ages 1-6 and I was expecting #5.  I remember enjoying the fact that we were not considered a large family. In our home area we were regarded with amazement or as ignorant for having “sooooo  many kids”. Among the Amish, we were a small family.46641093_10217734440657868_7448061895057080320_o

Church is held in homes and each family takes a turn hosting. This time it was held in a large open basement. The men and boys gather near or in a barn and the ladies go into the house or shop where services are held. Our coats were piled on a table and then the greeting began. Observing the holy kiss (Ro. 16:16, 1 Co. 16:20, 2 Co. 13:12,1 Th. 5:26) the ladies greet each other with a kiss and a blessing. The men greet each other as they arrive also. This is practiced among church members only, Edith would introduce me and I would receive a welcoming handshake. This particular group was very warm and friendly. They showed curiosity, but in a positive and down to earth way. Not all groups are like that, some groups stare soberly having no idea that it would be considered rude or uncomfortable to someone outside their culture. This congregation, and the New Order in general, were very open and pleasant. Socially they were warm and the light of Christ could not be missed. I had been among friendly and welcoming groups before, but this was different, like the tip of a deep iceberg, not polite social decorum. Later I would realize it was fruit of the Holy Spirit.

Edith was an excellent leader and walked me through everything. My fussy baby made me a bit nervous, he was on the loud side when he was not happy. This proved only to draw compassion and understanding from the mothers. I can still picture the pile of coats on the table. I wondered how they found their wraps when they were all black and identical. And atop the black mound, my eyes could not avoid the screaming red coat that was my daughter’s. Try as I would to ignore it, I could not.

We were warned that the service was in German. Steve had learned the language very well, but it took ten years. I remember who preached, a big man with a booming voice. I recall thinking, ‘I have no clue what that man is saying, but if I hadn’t already repented and come to Christ, I’d do it now’. And this is where things become completely subjective: somehow we knew, both us, that the Holy Spirit was present there. It is not something one can describe or explain, but most Christians experience it at some point. We knew. WE KNEW.

On the drive home, David told me that he really felt like we belonged with these people. I wasn’t sure what to make of it because he was strongly against leaving the Catholic church prior to that. And within the next week came the defining moment for me. David said, ” I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we can stay in the Catholic church and obey the scriptures at the same time”. I was stunned at his 180-degree turnaround. He was not saying anything against that church, he was speaking on a personal level. Maybe others could, but we could not. We never went to mass again, when we were not visiting  Holmes County for church, we attended a Mennonite service closer to home.

That week I also went out and got my daughter a dark colored coat.

The photo is not our family, it is an Old Order family from Lancaster County. Photographer Doug Hoover respectfully takes only candid shots of Amish people and avoids their faces. Adults especially. Check out his work at:

https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/doug-hoover.html?fbclid=IwAR0JEIpSwbHcJsGvxIEjvc6HVnILH_PT2txJfp4FA281hiDuaUMDGw1pCyU

 

 

Posted on

Gone Buggy III

That Tuesday night with Lester and Steve in 1989 was a warm August night. One question we had was the difference between Old Order and New Order Amish. We would later learn that we were very typical ‘seekers’ (people from other upbringings that seek a deeper understanding of the Anabaptist faith) that assume that the most conservative the church, the purer and holier it must be. So those using outhouses and open buggies would likely be the ‘real thing’ and we were suspicious of this term New Order. What we saw before us that night threw such misconceptions right out the window. I will try to explain it the way these two men did, but I seriously doubt I can relay the tone in which this information was shared. And this attitude was something we saw over and over again in the New Order.

DH two buggies black and white

Photo by Douglas Hoover

About 25 years before, some of the Old Order brethren were concerned about the practice of ‘rumspringa’ and some of the fruits this custom was bearing. In 1989, the term was not well known outside of the plain people. They explained specifically, tactfully, briefly, and lovingly, which customs were alarming and why. A few families decided to offer the youth an alternative to sewing their wild oats: Bible studies and orderly hymn singings. This was met with resistance by those who felt that what has worked for generations should not be tampered with. Custom and tradition are strong bonding agents and they were fiercely defended in this case. During the process of people expressing their opinions, two distinct views surfaced. The group holding the Bible studies thought that the most peaceful and respectful thing to do was to start separate church districts. They were called New Order. Steve and Lester did not go on and on about the evils of rumspringa, nor speak condescendingly or unkindly about those who stayed with the Old Order. They spoke of how hard this was on extended families and showed absolutely no disdain or guile. We found the same manner when we learned to know more of the people in the New Order Churches. We also noticed that of all the plain churches we visited, this was the only plain fellowship that did not tell us what was wrong with all the other plain groups or why their way was better. That had a strong impact on us.

New Order is a German-speaking church and follows the same worship customs in church services. Some changes have been made but they are not generally noticed by those outside of the denomination. The doctrine of the early Anabaptists is upheld in both groups. New Order uses horse and Buggy, at that time most did not use electricity in their homes and any changes were subtle.46914946_10217752818317298_1521604478002790400_o

The warmth we felt in this group was clearly of God, and God was clear in opening the doors for us to join this fellowship. Looking back we can see that He had it all planned out. I will always give my husband David credit and respect for being open to God’s voice and leading our family into a deeper more obedient walk in the Lord.

So Let’s hear YOUR  thoughts and questions now:

  • German Language
  • Giving Up the Vehicle
  • Parents Reaction
  • Culture Shock
  • Hindsight
  • Warnings For Others

Please comment below!

 

Posted on

Gone Buggy II

Just yesterday, I talked to my dear friend Edith, Steve’s wife. We have become close friends over the years. Edith was recently in her attic. She found some of the old letters I had written to her from those early days of our journey, She plans to send them to me when she finishes reading them. It may be a while, that is thirty years of letter writing. So I got out my stack of her old letters to read while I wait.

Back to the story: Steve talked to Ammon about us renting the dawdy house. This was no small thing for him to consider. The fellowship had just gone through two unpleasant incidents with ‘seekers’ from the outside. These people came in, were accepted and then left again into a sinful life or defrauding the church financially. They had excommunicated one man, which is something the New Order (more on that next time) does not do often. So this was an amazing risk. The dawdy house was an addition connected to the main farmhouse, usually built for aging parents. In this case, it was connected via a closet between the living room of the dawdy and the kitchen of the main house.

Image may contain: sky, cloud, twilight and outdoor

Ammon’s dad farmed that land, and so did he. Ammon and Ada were in their mid-fifties with one adult son still living at home, six others were married. Ammon was the deacon of his church district and very evangelistic. You didn’t talk to him long before you knew where he stood and he would ask a person point blank where they were spiritually. The man was on fire for the Lord.

As they considered the idea, they wanted to meet us, so we loaded up the car and went. I was expecting baby #5 and baby #4 was a very fussy guy, so I was not at my best. But that did not matter much, our second oldest, Heather was five and had the vocabulary of a ten-year-old. She was very small due to kidney disease and looked to be about three years old. She charmed Ada so completely that we had Ada’s approval right then. Image result for Welcome mat free images

 

Ada told us that they had just heard a sermon on “The Mission Field in Your Backyard” and she felt that it was God convicting her heart to take us in. After meeting us, Ammon was also agreed and offered us the three-bedroom place once they finished the renovations. So we went home and put our house up for sale and started packing. We would move in July 1990. The Lord had now taken full control of our journey, we could not have arranged it better ourselves. The house we owned sold for a $33,000 more than we paid for it. Another miracle that financed the changeover. Each step was set up for us in such a natural and clear way that we knew this was of God.

My next post will explain the difference between Old Order Amish and New Order Amish. Feel free to start a conversation in the comments area. Scroll to the bottom of the page.

  • How have you known when God is leading you in a certain direction?
  • How do we navigate between the faith and the culture of the plain people?
  • Do you enjoy the Amish lifestyle or their Christian testimony most?

 

 

Posted on

Gone Buggy I

During our mind renewal, we came to see sin as a condition rather than an action. This was a key thought to me. As Catholics, we were taught that our infant baptism ‘erased’ the original sin from Adam’s fall. It may have been a traditional assumption or an outright doctrine taught. But we believed it, that is, until we read the scriptures for ourselves, especially the book of John and the Epistles.
We finally had the proper self-esteem: helpless, hapless sinners that were as lousy as we felt. But we were not hopeless and the gospel message took deep root in our hearts. We surrendered all, our assumptions, our motives, and for me specifically, excuses.
My new ‘no excuses’ clause was a personal turning point. My problems could no longer be blamed on my church, my parent’s mistakes, my husband’s weaknesses, or society’s flaws. The Lord put my fatal sin condition into remission at this point with His precious blood transfusion. When I was born again sometime in August of ’89, God’s kingdom and righteousness became what I lived for, moved, and had my being (Acts 17:28).

IMG_2522

Outwardly, David let his beard grow and I simplified my dress to a sack type dress and a headscarf. We continued to attend mass but our discomfort grew.

We had been sent a tract on plain clothing by the Amish Brotherhood Publications called “What Shall I Wear?”. The author did a fine job of explaining why we chose to let God set our standards for appearance. So I wrote him and asked for more copies to give our family members. What he sent with the tracts was a pivotal point in our journey. He wrote a letter of encouragement and invitation with it. Our previous experience with the Amish had been formal and stoic. This Lester Beachy invited us to stop in and see him the next time we were in Holmes County. And we did just that. The man’s letter as well as his walk of life where obvious fruits of a born-again believer. He wanted us to come back and meet a friend of his that joined the Amish from a Catholic background.

IMG_3720

On our second visit to Holmes we met Steve, who had been Amish for ten years and was now the married father of five. Steve invited us to visit their church service the next week. After that service my husband felt sure that we belonged with this group of people.

IMG_3721

After traveling 2 hours with four small children for a couple months to attend church, we asked Steve about housing options. We were ready to take a leap in faith. Steve took his own leap of faith by speaking to a deacon of a neighboring district about renting us his  ‘dawdy haus’ recently vacated. Ammon and Ada Raber ended up to be the perfect people to walk with us through the transition. They opened their home and hearts to us. Their first concern was our discipleship, not all the “how to’s”  we would have to learn.

This is the brief description of our journey. I glossed over some of the detail because the full story is a book in progress. My next post will describe some of the things we learned those first five years.