“That’s what you need to do. You have to read the Bible. The more you read it, the clearer it will become,” he advised. “All the answers to our troubles are in there.”
“So, you don’t believe it makes one proud to read the Bible too much?” I asked.
Alva chuckled. “No, certainly not. If we read it for the right reasons, it will humble us. It shows us how sinful we are before God and how helpless we are without Him.”
“Why would God kill His Son, Jesus, if He is a God of love?” I asked.
“God didn’t kill Him. The angry people killed Him. However, God allowed Him to die because there was no other way for us humans to be saved from our sins. Ever since Adam and Eve sinned, blood was required to redeem the sinner from his condemnation. God is righteous; therefore, He cannot tolerate any sin. All of us have sinned at some time in our life. In the Old Testament the priest would offer an animal’s blood as atonement, which worked for a time, but God wanted to cleanse us from our sins for all time. Animals were not sufficient to take away our sins.
“The only person who qualified was Jesus, because He never committed a sin. He was completely pure and innocent. He became our prophet, priest, and king. God sent Jesus down to earth in the form of a baby, and when He grew to manhood, He endured all the temptations that we have, yet He did not commit sin. God knew that nobody is good enough by his own strength to please Him and enter heaven; therefore, God allowed the people to kill Him. However, He did not leave Him in the grave. Three days later Jesus rose from death. Now He lives at the right hand of God in heaven. If we confess our sins, believe Him with our whole heart, accept Him in our lives, and repent, or turn away from our sins, then He will give us His Holy Spirit and we can have victory over sin. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I was spellbound. I had never heard anything like this. “It seems like Wilbur Lee may have taught something like this in the beginning, but it sure didn’t last long,” I said.
“When Jesus saves us from our sins, He also forgives us for all the bad things we have ever done. We don’t have to live with a guilty conscience anymore. However, when we accept Jesus as our Savior, we must also accept Him as our Lord. We do what He tells us in His Word, the Bible. If we disobey Him, we become guilty again. We must confess our sins; then He will forgive us and we become clean again. The only sin that cannot be forgiven is the sin that isn’t repented of,” Alva said.
“But what if we commit the unpardonable sin of blasphemy of the Holy Ghost?” I asked.
“Well,” Alva responded, “God convicts us through the Holy Spirit. As long as we are resisting and speaking against the Holy Spirit, there is no forgiveness. When we choose to listen to His promptings and respond, He will forgive us. A person who is concerned about having committed an unpardonable sin can rest assured that he has not. If you are concerned, that’s a sign that the Holy Spirit is working in your life. If He is convicting you, He hasn’t left you. The Holy Spirit is faithful to convict you. He will come repeatedly, attempting to get your attention. If you resist Him too long, there will be a point when He comes for the last time. We do not know for certain when that time is. We do know one can never repent and be forgiven after death. In 1 John 1:9, it says, ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ ”
“That sure sounds more hopeful than what I have been taught so far!” I exclaimed. “Wilbur Lee taught us that becoming angry is a sign that we have blasphemed the Holy Ghost. And yet, he became angry himself.”
Alva chuckled, “Well, according to his own teachings, Wilbur Lee must have committed the unpardonable sin.”
Two evenings later I went to Bishop Omer’s house to visit. He invited me inside and we made ourselves comfortable in the living room.
“So, what did you and your group believe?” he asked me.
“The group we were involved with is a cult,” I began.
“It’s interesting that there would be a cult consisting only of Amish,” Omer said skeptically. “Why would you join a cult?”
“That’s hard to explain. We were searching for meaning in life. Wilbur Lee took an interest in us and gave answers to many of our questions,” I said. “In the beginning he taught us from the Bible, but after a while he developed his own teachings and taught us revelations he supposedly received from the Father.”
“After he had lured you away from the Amish church?” he asked.
“Yes. Once we lost faith in the things we’d been taught and those who had taught us, we were vulnerable. Now I don’t even have Wilbur Lee. I guess I’m on my own.”
“Do you have any plans for your future?” he asked.
“Well, I’m sure I don’t want to be Amish,” I chuckled nervously.
“I see. What is your impression of the Amish?” Omer asked.
“Not very good,” I responded. “Most of them are hypocrites who don’t know what they believe. They allow smoking, drinking, dirty jokes, and sins like that in the church and don’t do anything about it. They just live the way they do because that’s the way their ancestors lived.”
“Unfortunately, there are Amish churches that allow sin in the church,” the bishop said. “You will find a large variation amongst the Amish as far as what they allow and how they apply the Scriptures. But many Amish churches do not allow sin. The Amish lifestyle doesn’t save us. Perhaps too many Amish do believe that way, but it’s not scriptural. We believe that we have eternal life by trusting Jesus for our redemption.”
“So you don’t think I would be saved just by joining the Amish?” I questioned.
“Certainly not,” Omer answered. “We believe that Jesus Christ is the only way to eternal life.”
“I’ve often wondered what actually is sinful about electricity or driving cars.”
“True, we don’t use certain modern conveniences, but that’s only for our safety, not our salvation. We believe that living a simple lifestyle brings fewer distractions to our spiritual life.”
“I see. I’ve never heard that explanation before,” I said.
Omer continued, “It’s important to understand that while these things are not evil in themselves, we as a church do see a danger in them, so we made guidelines accordingly.”
“I don’t fully understand,” I responded. “But I do know that when I decided to throw out all religion and do as I pleased, my life went to shambles.”
“Did you ever have any personal encounters with God?” Omer asked.
“Yes, actually I did,” I replied. “The night before I left Wilbur Lee I experienced a vision of myself kneeling in front of Jesus.” I related my experience in detail. “Am I saved by that experience?”
“No, I wouldn’t feel that you are saved from your sins because of that experience since there was no repentance,” Omer said. “But God was certainly showing you His love and showing you a way out.”
“So what must I do to be saved?” I asked.
“You must first see the sinfulness of your heart and see that you are lost without Jesus in your life. Once you realize your sinfulness, you must come to God, confess your sins, give Jesus your whole heart, and allow Him to be your Master. Jesus will cleanse your heart, forgive your sins, and fill your heart with peace. You need to trust Jesus with your whole life and be willing to follow in loving obedience. Once saved, you can rest assured you will meet Him in heaven if you remain in complete submission to Him. It is important that you realize that we are saved through His gift of grace and not by any works we have done.”
I nodded soberly as I rose to leave. This makes more sense than anything Wilbur Lee ever taught, I thought.
I spent the next several months studying the Bible and trying to sort out the false doctrines I had been taught. It was a time of intense reflection and coming to grips with the sinfulness of my own heart. Finally, one evening as I was giving the horses their hay, I was seriously contemplating the lost condition of my heart and the great emptiness that
was still not satisfied. The burden of my heart was more than I could bear, and I became desperate to find peace. I knelt beside the hay manger, spread out my arms in front of me, and cried out to God.
“O God, You know how sinful I am. I’m sorry for all the sins I’ve committed in my life. I feel so dirty. I’m sorry for the times that I lied. I am sorry for hating Wilbur Lee. I am sorry for my immorality and pride. I ask You to be my Lord and Savior. Amen.”
Indescribable peace enveloped my heart. Tears filled my eyes as I realized that I was delivered from Satan and his lies. Now I was a child of God. Reverently I bowed my head and whispered, “Thank You, God, for saving my soul and forgiving all my sins.”
I stood up and walked out of that barn with a light heart. I was a new creature in Christ. My heart overflowed with praise and thankfulness to my Savior for the redeeming grace and love He showed me by cleansing my heart and filling my emptiness with His peace.
Goodbye, Grandma
Joanna Yoder
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty (Psalm 91:1).
I GAZED RESTLESSLY OUT OF THE VAN WINDOW AT THE HILLS OF Pennsylvania. Since 7:00 that morning we had been traveling from our Michigan home. Finally, after eight hours, we were almost to Grandpa’s house. We had come for a cousin’s wedding tomorrow, but more importantly we wanted to see Grandma.
For three years Grandma had been fighting cancer. Chemotherapy had helped keep the disease at bay, but slowly her body had grown weaker. It was clear to Grandpa and the doctors that she couldn’t last much longer.
Our driver turned into Grandpa’s driveway and we all climbed out to stretch our stiff legs. Aunt Wilma opened the front door and invited us into Grandpa’s cozy house. Mom greeted Aunt Wilma with a hug while Dad asked, “How’s Grandma?”
“She’s sleeping a lot today,” Aunt Wilma answered. “But you can go on in and talk with her.”
One by one we stepped up to the hospital bed set up beside the living room window.
When I saw Grandma, my stomach lurched. She was so thin!
“Hi, Grandma,” I spoke earnestly and grasped her hand.
“Hi, Joanna.” Her lips moved in a weak whisper.
“We’re praying for you,” I said.
“Thank you.”
I could barely hear her answer. Grandma’s eyes closed wearily. For a moment I gazed at her thin form and her sunken eyes. I turned away, overcome by a sudden wave of nausea. This was not the grandma I remembered.
We soon left for the evening to stay at another relative’s place. We stopped in again two days later when the wedding was over. Grandpa was sitting in his recliner and didn’t get up to greet us. His body was crippled with Parkinson’s disease, but I marveled at how good he looked. His handshake was still strong.
“Grandpa, we’re praying for you,” I told him. “I’m sure this isn’t easy for you.”
“Keep on praying,” Grandpa replied with a tear in his eye.
Grandma seemed a little better this morning. She was awake and alert, yet we knew this could be our final goodbye to her. She hadn’t eaten in four days and could hardly swallow liquids.
Grandma had always loved to talk, but now the chemo had ruined her voice.
“Oh, if only I could talk,” she whispered as one by one we bade her farewell.
When it was my turn, I bent down and placed my hand on her bony shoulder and whispered, “Goodbye, Grandma.”
“Goodbye, Joanna,” she replied softly.
I tried desperately to think of the right words. “Grandma, go to Jesus and wait there for us.”
“Yes, I will,” Grandma said. I knew she meant it.
We left then for the drive back to Michigan, but returned a week later for Grandma’s funeral. We would wear black that day. No other color would feel right on such a sad day.
I dressed and hurried to the kitchen where Aunt Mary had breakfast ready. Everyone was so kind to give us places to sleep with the number of relatives who had arrived for the funeral. Grandpa and Grandma had a large family of ten children and 41 grandchildren. The communities close by were also a great blessing by providing hot meals the past two days.
After breakfast the extended family gathered in Uncle Nelson’s kitchen for devotions. Afterward we viewed Grandma’s body again. Four neighbor men carried the casket out to the large shop where benches had been set up the evening before.
I found my place in the second row with the other cousins. It was so special to see all the cousins, aunts, and uncles again, even though it was for Grandma’s funeral. After everyone was seated, one of Grandma’s favorite cousins, a minister, rose to his feet. He talked about salvation through Jesus Christ and the hope we have of meeting our departed loved ones again. He warned of the dangers if we neglect Christ’s call and spoke comforting words of the reward for those who follow Christ. He finished and two more ministers preached. In closing, the bishop read Grandma’s obituary and a poem I had written.
Tribute to Our Grandma
She was confident and cheerful,
She freely spoke her mind.
Accepted others as they were,
Her heart was big and kind.
Practical, industrious,
She dared to step ahead.
Standing strong at Grandpa’s side,
They followed where God led.
She loved a bit of humor,
Some laughter and some fun.
Her children called her blessed,
As in Proverbs thirty-one.
Beauty shone through all her ways,
With caring words and deeds.
She’s the first to leave our circle,
Let’s follow where she leads.
After the bishop finished, one of the ushers opened the casket and a line of people came slowly from the back of the room to view the body one last time. I listened to the deacon read the comforting words of Psalm 91 as I watched people file past the casket. They were friends, nieces, nephews, cousins, and church members. Tears pricked my eyes. These were the people Grandma had labored with, the people she had loved. I hadn’t cried much in the past few days. Grandma had been so sick and we had been glad she could be released from her suffering, but the ache in my heart still melted to tears as my shoulders shook with sobs. How we would miss Grandma! She had loved us so much. Beside me, two of my cousins, Esther Mae and Regina, were also crying. We pulled tissues from a box someone passed down the bench.
The usher now motioned for the grandchildren to go through the line. I wiped my eyes and paused beside the casket. I held Grandma’s hand but I didn’t linger long. This really wasn’t Grandma. It was only an empty shell. In spite of the tears, deep in my heart was a calm joyfulness that Grandma was in a better place, though we would miss her. I cried some more as I took my seat and watched Grandpa and his children gather around the casket. Quiet sobbing filled the room. The family soon stepped back and the casket was gently closed.
Mom and Dad had borrowed a horse and buggy to drive to the cemetery, but we oldest children walked with the other cousins. The road was full of people heading to the cemetery. We hurried, walking between the buggies at times. At the cemetery Grandpa sat on his walker beside the freshly dug grave. Uncle Nelson stood beside him in support. The other aunts and uncles encircled the grave as we grandchildren gathered around them. Slowly the pallbearers lowered the casket into the rectangular hole. On top of the casket they placed a heavy rougher board.
Everyone watched quietly as the pallbearers began to shovel earth into the grave. From the back of the crowd a man’s clear voice began to quote a German song.
“Gute Nacht, ihr meinen Lieben…” Goodnight to you, my love. He quoted the verse and several men sang the song in the slow tune we were all familiar with.
All forenoon the sky had been dreary gray, but now the clouds broke. The sun shone gently down on the group gathered in the cemetery. A soft breeze blew, carrying with it the sad yet lovely words
of the song. A feeling of peace swept over me. This was so holy. It was so right. Grandma had toiled on the earth for 77 years; now her time to leave had come. She no longer needed this sick body, so we were gently returning it to the earth. The shovels clinked as they scooped up dirt and filled the grave.
Someone pushed a songbook into my hands. All of us grandchildren grouped together and someone began to sing “Precious Memories.”
I took a deep breath and joined in. Grandma had liked to hear us sing this song for her. When the song soon ended, the pallbearers patted the mound of dirt smooth with their shovels. People started to leave, but first some of the grandchildren gathered small stones from the grave. They would take them home as a remembrance of Grandma. I hesitated. Did I really want a stone from Grandma’s grave? Abruptly I made up my mind. I didn’t care if the others gathered stones, but I wouldn’t. I had other things to remember Grandma by. There was the quilt she had made, the scarf she had crocheted, and the painted sugar and creamer set she had given me.
Besides these things, I had the memories of Grandma when she was alive and able to bake cookies and bread, cook scrumptious meals, enjoy a good laugh, write newsy letters, and always welcome us into her home and heart. Indeed, I had many precious memories of Grandma from the past, and now I looked forward to meeting her again in the future.
About the Authors
Jerry Eicher taught for two terms in Amish and Mennonite schools in Ohio and Illinois. He writes of his experience growing up Amish in his memoir, My Amish Childhood. Jerry has been involved in church renewal, preaching, and teaching Bible studies. He lives with his wife, Tina, and their four children in Virginia.
Nathan Miller is an Amish family man and business owner. He’s the author of one previous book, Out of Deception. Nathan makes his home in Michigan.
About the Publisher
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To learn more about Harvest House books and to read sample chapters, visit our website:
www.harvesthousepublishers.com
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