by Keim, Joe
One morning, as I was preparing to leave for my dad’s shop, she said, “I’ve had enough! I’m sick of your snuff, and I don’t believe the Amish are preaching the truth.”
With that, she walked down the lane that led to the woods. I was going to let her go, but after she walked a quarter of a mile, all the way into the woods and almost out of sight, I realized I couldn’t let this happen. I ran out after her and lashed out in extreme anger. We both ended up crying and wondered if there was any way to solve our issues.
Esther’s heart was no longer with the Amish and their man-made rules. She wanted to be free to go to Bible studies and participate in prayer meetings – prayer meetings where they prayed without a prayer book. She had, at this point, studied the book of Romans quite extensively and was determined that we were out of God’s will. The Amish preached some grace, but mostly works. According to the apostle Paul, grace and works do not mix. It’s either all grace or all works. And if by grace, then is it no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then is it no more grace: otherwise work is no more work (Romans 11:6).
We had both experienced such freedom in Christ and the true grace of God when we got saved. Now suddenly, Esther, more so than me, felt we had been pulled back into bondage. She was unhappy in her heart and kept referring to God’s Word.
I marvel that ye are so soon removed from him that called you into the grace of Christ unto another gospel: Which is not another; but there be some that trouble you, and would pervert the gospel of Christ. But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed. As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed. For do I now persuade men, or God? or do I seek to please men? for if I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ. (Galatians 1:6-10)
Pleasing men rather than God and feeling as though we were living in a box made both of us feel trapped and out of God’s will. Despite how we both felt, Esther decided to stay Amish for the time being.
Things got a lot better in our marriage. Esther stopped going to Bible studies with Paul. I stopped dipping snuff. I can’t say we were happy, but it did feel good to know that we were making our parents and everybody else happy.
One day, my dad asked if I could stay over one evening and help the rest of the family shock wheat. I agreed, if we could arrange for Esther to come with me to work the next day. So Esther went with me to the machine shop and helped Mom while I took care of Dad’s customers. Later that night, after we began to shock wheat, I bummed a dip of snuff off one of my brothers. Somehow Esther caught on and immediately anger set into her heart. This led to us getting into a huge argument. It was okay that she smoked, but I couldn’t dip snuff. It made no sense to me. Around and around we went.
Finally, she said, “I’ve had enough. I’m leaving you and the Amish,” and she started walking toward the road.
By this time, the sun had gone down and darkness had settled in, but we still had several hours of shocking left. I was very angry at myself. I was angry at Esther. And it seemed as if life was all about pleasing others.
Finally, about midnight, my family and I got to the end of the field. The entire wheat field was now shocked, and I was ready to head home. I had no idea where Esther was, and I tried my best to keep my family from knowing any of the details. As I headed out with Mike and the two-wheeled cart, I wondered if I would ever see her again. The one-hour drive toward home was a mental nightmare. The tears were uncontrollable as I cried out to God from the depth of my heart.
“Lord, please help me make sense of life!” As I thought about giving in to Esther’s wish to leave the Amish, I cried even harder. “I can’t do this to my dad and mom. They have been through so much with me!”
Suddenly, something caught the left side of my eye. Was that a mailbox or a person I just passed? I drove a little farther and decided to turn Mike and the cart around and do a double check. I got my flashlight out and began to fervently shine it around the area where I saw the dark object on the side of the road. Sure enough, it was Esther. She had walked for miles along the dark country road. After some coaxing on my part, she crawled onto my cart, and we continued our way home.
Esther finally decided it wasn’t going to work for her to force me to leave the Amish, so she handed everything over to God and walked away. She had finally concluded that this battle she was in fully belonged to the Lord, not her.
On the very same day she gave up trying to force me to leave and put it in God’s hands, I came home from work and said, “Esther, I feel as if God is calling us to leave the Amish. I feel dead and empty inside.”
To this day, Esther loves to share the story of how God took over the moment she let go. It was as if someone flipped a light switch. It was that quick! It was that real for both of us. The truth is, there are times we think we let go of the battle in our lives, but it’s not until later that we truly know we let go. As Esther would say, “As long as you have ahold of your battle, God will let you fight it on your own.”
What God did for King Jehoshaphat, the tribe of Judah and Samuel, He will do for you and me. Thus saith the LORD unto you, Be not afraid nor dismayed by reason of this great multitude; for the battle is not yours, but God’s (2 Chronicles 20:15b, emphasis added). And all this assembly shall know that the LORD saveth not with sword and spear: for the battle is the LORD’S, and he will give you into our hands (1 Samuel 17:47, emphasis added).
Leaving
We set a date and a time for Paul Coblentz to come with a pickup truck and a horse trailer to pick up our few belongings and move us into town. We planned to leave on a Sunday morning after Esther’s parents left for church.
I got up early on Saturday morning, ate a quick breakfast, and headed for the barn to get Mike and my two-wheeled cart ready to make one last trip to my parents’ place, where I would give my dad one more day of free labor. As I threw the harness over Mike and hitched him onto my cart, I patted him on the neck.
“Mike, you and I have traveled many miles, but today will be our last run together. After this, you will be traded in for a car.”
As Mike and I traveled along the country roads toward my parents’ place, my heart was once again overflowing with emotions. I agonized with my thoughts. Today, I’m dressed in Amish clothes, driving a horse and cart, living in a slower-paced culture. I have free and easy access to my family, childhood friends, and community. Tomorrow, it will all change. Esther and I will lose it all in one day.
At my dad’s machine shop, I looked at all the work that was piled up and wondered who would take over when I left. By this time, Dad had given me the responsibility of running the shop and caring for customers’ needs. After my departure, Dad would have to pick up where I left off. I wished it were somehow possible to sit down and discuss these things with him, but under the circumstances, that was not possible. They would have to fumble their way through on their own.
At lunchtime, I shut all the shop machinery down and headed for the house, where our entire family of fifteen, including Dad and Mom, would gather around the table for one last meal together. Only they did not know it was the last. By this time tomorrow, I would be classified as an outsider and a lost soul. To say I was torn up on the inside is an understatement.
Like any other day, mealtime was family catch-up time. It was not uncommon for several family members to be talking and laughing at the same time. But there I sat; I couldn’t eat. My mind was in a whirlwind and Mom noticed.
“Joe, what’s the matter with you today?”
“Ah, not much. Just feeling a bit under the weather,” I said.
In my heart, I knew Mom would recall our last conversation ten thousand times. Once again, I wished I could just sit down and explain everything, but th
at would be like inviting an entire army of opposition, begging, tears, and broken hearts.
I woke up with a start on Sunday morning. Church services would soon begin across the field from our house – the same place where Esther and I had exchanged our wedding vows just nine months earlier. As we lay in bed, we talked about our daring plans and made last-minute decisions.
“Joe, you’re gonna have to let my parents know that we are not attending church today,” she urged.
Hesitantly, I crawled out of bed and walked over to my in-law’s part of the house and informed them we would not be at the service that morning.
My father-in-law said, “Then I’ll stay home too.”
That’s not going to work, I thought. People were coming at 9:00 to help move. “Okay, I’ll go to church,” I said.
With that, my father-in-law agreed to go also. It was as if Esther’s parents knew something was up, but they never, in the years after that, said anything to us about it. I put on church clothes and took off walking across the field where the others gathered. Esther stayed home to direct our friends in the move.
When I walked into the barn where the men were, my father-in-law recognized me and nodded his head as if to say he was happy with my decision. By 8:40, all the preachers started making their way toward the house. Because Esther’s dad was a preacher, he was in the first group to leave the barn. At the moment I saw him enter the house, I turned and fled without saying a word to anyone. I ran out the back door, across the field, and into our house where Paul Coblentz and others were carrying our belongings out to the truck.
They flung pillows and bedding out the upstairs windows to the ground below. Others rushed around, gathered our goods, and loaded the truck. It only took fifteen minutes to load all of our possessions.
Before we left, I wrote a note to my father-in-law and my parents to explain why we were leaving the Amish. I shook uncontrollably and cried bitterly. When I finished, I looked at the note. It didn’t make sense, so I tore it up and wrote a second note and then a third. I threw all of them away. With a gripping sorrow in my heart, I knew that anything I wrote wouldn’t make sense to those we were leaving behind. I knew the immense hurt and pain I would bring my dad and mom again. I knew this would be the last time I would ever leave the Amish, and I would never return.
This time, I didn’t leave out of rebellion, but out of a true desire to grow in my faith. In order for Esther and me to grow in our faith, we had to go to a church where they not only preached the true gospel − by grace alone, faith alone, and Christ alone − but where the preaching and worship were better understood. We both struggled to understand the High German used for sermons in the Amish setting. In the English church, they preached in the language we learned while attending eight years of school.
The passage of Scripture that challenged us as much as any is Luke 14:26-33, where Jesus challenges all believers:
If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? Lest haply, after he hath laid the foundation, and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, Saying, This man began to build, and was not able to finish. Or what king, going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth whether he be able with ten thousand to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand? Or else, while the other is yet a great way off, he sendeth an ambassage, and desireth conditions of peace. So likewise, whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.
Chapter 13
Getting Started
Our friend Paul Coblentz, who led me to the Lord, went to church with the Gess family. He made connections with them for us, and Esther and I moved in with this family, though we had never met them before. Jerry and Carol Gess immediately accepted us as their children, and opened their attic for us to live in until we found a place of our own. We pulled up with our belongings and carried all the stuff up to the attic. For the Gesses, the attic was a storage area. Stuff littered the steps all the way up. At the top, boxes and other items filled the unfinished space, with a little path cutting through the boxes and leading to a bed – our bed. It was awesome for us – a haven. And for meals, we ate with them.
Jerry and Carol said, “From this day on, you are family,” and they meant it. They put forth every effort to make us feel like family, and their children – Randy, Debbie, and Rene’ – did too. When Randy passed away from a heart condition, I felt like I’d lost a brother – a real, true, blood brother. As for Debbie and Rene’ they were and are very much a part of our family gatherings. They’ve always included us as if we are family; our kids know them as grandparents and aunts, and we spend every Thanksgiving and Christmas with them. We have even taken vacations together.
This family connection is so real that when Debbie got cancer, I was one of the first ones she called. We were there for her hospital visits, and over the years, we’ve all supported one another as we’ve been in the hospital, always sitting through the waiting times together. As for Debbie’s cancer, it is gone. We prayed that God would deliver her from cancer, and He did. Today, she continues to be cancer free. Her sister Rene’ serves as my full-time secretary at MAP Ministry. So many times, God’s eternal family is closer than blood family.
The Gess family taught us the importance of going to church, Sunday school, and Wednesday and Sunday night services. One thing that impacted us more than anything else – they showed us what unconditional love looks like. Growing up, I thought love and acceptance were based on my ability to measure up. The Gesses kicked that right out from under us. We’ve seen them reach out and love people unconditionally again and again. Jerry and Carol filled a void in these thirty years and played an important role in our lives. Today, I know them better than I know my own parents.
Our first Christmas with them was overwhelming. We were accustomed to maybe getting a pair of gloves or some other needed item as a gift. That first Christmas with the Gess family was unbelievable! They poured the gifts on us. I’d never had anyone do that.
They helped us get jobs, buy clothes, and get our driver’s licenses back. They even taught us how to make sure the clothes we wore matched. It might sound silly, but with so many different clothing patterns and colors to choose from, we didn’t know how to dress. This was all part of our transition from Amish to English.
We lived with Jerry and Carol for about a year. Within a month, I landed a welding job, making minimum wage. Since we had saved up $600 from nightcrawler sales, we decided to go looking for a car.
English friends of ours said, “Our neighbor is selling his car, why don’t you come look at it?”
When we got there, I realized it was a stick shift. I had never driven a stick shift, but told the owner it wouldn’t be a problem at all.
“Go ahead and take it for a spin,” he said.
I jumped in the driver’s seat of that older Ford Granada, put it in first gear, pulled out of the driveway, and headed up Route 545 toward Olivesburg. Before long, I decided to turn around and head back. I slowed down and pulled into a driveway. At that moment, I realized I didn’t know how to put it in reverse. After struggling for ten minutes and trying every which way to get it in reverse, the farmer came out to see what was going on. I described my problem to him and he offered advice.
“All you have to do is pull up on the shifter, which will then allow you to move the shifter into position.” He laughed.
I felt dumb, but I decided I wasn’t going to explain my situation. I drove back to the owner’s place and inquired about the price.
“How much do you want for your car?
” I asked, knowing the value of the car was right at $2,000, and I wouldn’t be able to afford it.
He said, “I understand you and Esther just left the Amish, so my wife and I would just like to give it to you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This man didn’t even know me. How could he just hand the keys to his car over to me and not charge a penny? Later, Esther reminded me of Jesus’ promise in Mark 10:29-30: Jesus answered and said, Verily I say unto you, There is no man that hath left house, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my sake, and the gospel’s, But he shall receive an hundredfold now in this time, houses, and brethren, and sisters, and mothers, and children, and lands, with persecutions; and in the world to come eternal life. This promise has held true for us many times since that first experience with the car owner. God has blessed our family a hundredfold, and then more.
My eyes were opened to the Bible like never before. The Sunday school teacher was Jerry Gess, and he taught our class verse by verse through the Bible. Those first three years were almost like a honeymoon. Esther and I just soaked it all in and grew continually stronger in our faith.
When I was young, many of the sermons I heard were centered around God the Father. Suddenly, I was going to a church where they mostly talked about the Son. I remember thinking, The Father must be offended. But after hearing many different sermons, I realized the importance of the Son’s role, and how He, through death, burial, and resurrection, was able to bridge the huge gulf between us and God the Father.