Josiah for President

by Martha Bolton

  But the countdown to some kind of disciplinary action against them both had begun.

  Bishop Miller knew he was in over his head. He had tried to convince Josiah to give up this outrageous notion, but his counsel had been to no avail. It pained him to take matters to the next level, but Josiah’s actions had pushed the leadership into a corner. Bishop Miller had had no choice but to call a meeting with other church officials to seek further direction.

  “Thank you for coming, brethren,” Bishop Miller said to Ezekiel Yoder and Mose Rediger, who represented other church leadership beyond Bishop Miller’s own district borders. “As you are aware, the situation with one of the members from my district continues, and I am in need of your counsel.”

  “This has gotten too far out of hand,” Ezekiel said. “Something must be done.”

  “You cannot overlook such blatant disregard for the Ordnung,” Mose agreed.

  “I realize it’s a concern,” Bishop Miller said. “I’ve been hoping the matter would take care of itself. But now it appears he very well might win the presidency.”

  “One of our own can’t be president!” Mose said. “You should’ve stopped this months ago.”

  “I know, but what I struggle with is whether God has indeed led Josiah in this decision.”

  “God wouldn’t lead one of our members to break the rules,” Ezekiel stated emphatically.

  “But what if God’s plan is greater than our rules?” Bishop Miller said.

  “Think about what you’re saying, brother!” Mose said. “Did God speak to you about this? Did God tell you that this was his plan for Josiah?”

  “I have heard nothing from God. Only a feeling that … well … my spirit is troubled over the whole matter, my brother. What if Josiah truly is who our country needs at this time? What if the answer to our nation’s woes is indeed one of our own?”

  Ezekiel bristled. “We can’t pick and choose which rules we choose to follow, Bishop Miller! After his rumspringa, Josiah joined the church and agreed to abide by its rules, did he not?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then he is breaking that vow!”

  “Yes, I know, and I’ve told Josiah that very thing,” Bishop Miller said.

  “And his response?” asked Ezekiel.

  Bishop Miller hesitated, so Mose filled in the silence. “I think we’re seeing it.”

  “Well, God wouldn’t ask an Amish man to lead a nation!” Ezekiel said firmly.

  “Like he wouldn’t ask a shepherd boy to slay a giant? Or a babe in a basket, floating down a river, to one day stand before Pharaoh and free his people? You yourself were named after a man God used in unexpected ways, Ezekiel. I could go on if you like, gentlemen,” said Bishop Miller.

  Ezekiel shook his head. “Keep those in your charge in line, Bishop, or we will be forced to step in and do it for you. We simply cannot cast aside our centuries-old rules for one man.”

  “What is more important, brethren — our rules or the plan of God?” Bishop Miller asked.

  “Our rules do not stand in the way of God’s plan,” Mose said.

  “Do you have any idea of the precedent you’d be setting to allow this to continue to the end? What if he were to win? Someone from the Plain community serving in the White House?” Ezekiel scoffed. “It will not be!”

  “Take care of the matter before such a thing happens, brother,” echoed Mose. “For the good of all our districts.”

  That was the heartfelt opinion on the matter. The men turned and walked out the door. The meeting was over.

  There were no easy answers. Bishop Miller couldn’t allow such disregard for the church’s rules to continue unaddressed. If he didn’t handle the Josiah matter, it was clear that others would step in and do it for him. The other church officials had made that abundantly clear. But Bishop Miller also didn’t want to stand in the way if Josiah had truly heard from God, which the bishop, for the most part, doubted, since he himself hadn’t heard anything from God about the situation. He wished he had too — clearly, audibly, leaving nothing to chance. Or faith. But God hadn’t talked to the bishop through a burning bush as he had Moses. The bishop could only trust. And schedule a face-to-face meeting with his old friend as soon as possible.

  BISHOP MILLER HAD WRITTEN A LETTER TO JOSIAH IN CARE OF his campaign headquarters, requesting they discuss the matter at Josiah’s earliest convenience. Josiah had intended to write back right away to tell Bishop Miller that he was more than willing to meet with him — it was important to keep the lines of communication open between himself and the bishop. But he’d found that time had a way of slipping away from him these days.

  Now, however, with the polls increasingly leaning in his favor, Josiah knew the impossible might actually become reality come Election Day, so he figured he’d best have that talk with the bishop.

  Josiah hired a driver to take him home to Pennsylvania. He would spend most of his time with Elizabeth and his children, of course, but he also needed to meet with the bishop while he was there.

  The reunion with his beloved Elizabeth couldn’t have been more wonderful. When she was in his arms, it mattered little whether or not Josiah had the votes of anyone else in the country. What mattered was that she believed in him. That alone was worth waking up for each morning.

  Josiah’s children were thrilled to have their father home again as well. Josiah could tell by the way they rushed their words together in frenzied excitement.

  The meeting with the bishop, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as wonderful.

  “Josiah, the reason I wrote to you requesting a meeting was so I could let you know that if you continue your campaign for president, there will have to be serious consequences. The matter is causing a great deal of concern,” the bishop said.

  “I realize what I’m doing isn’t in keeping with the Ordnung,” Josiah said, “but Elizabeth and I have prayed about this, and we’ve left the matter in God’s hands.”

  “Have you, Josiah? Or did your eagerness to be the one to save our country move the matter into your own hands?”

  “I didn’t seek out this mission, Bishop Miller,” Josiah said respectfully. “It sought me out, my brother.”

  “You don’t have to open every door that presents itself.”

  “But aren’t there many reluctant heroes in the Scriptures? People who never intended to be in the forefront but ended up there by God’s divine plan?”

  “It’s not your heart that I question, Josiah, or God’s plan. It is your judgment that gives me pause.”

  “But if I can do good for my neighbor by leading the country at this time, how could that be wrong?”

  “There are many good paths we can follow, Josiah. But God’s will is the only perfect one for each of us.”

  “I believe this is that perfect path for me.”

  “Then what you’re saying is that you are leaving the church.”

  “You mean if I win?”

  “I mean if you continue to run.”

  A FEW DAYS LATER, AFTER JOSIAH HAD RETURNED TO WASHINGTON, and after yet one more meet-and-greet luncheon in a seemingly endless lineup of such events, Mark sat down on the edge of the bed in the hotel room. Cindy was already lying on the bed next to him, relaxing on a mountain of pillows. She didn’t really want that many pillows, but she was too tired to move them anywhere else. She watched as Mark loosened the shoelaces of his wing-tipped shoes, then kicked off the shoes. This was the kind of pace set by people half their age.

  “Maybe the kids can come on the next jaunt,” Cindy said.

  “That would be nice. Have they noticed yet that I’m not home?” Mark asked, teasing.

  “They’ve noticed.”

  Mark and Cindy both needed a good night’s sleep, but it was only two o’clock in the afternoon. They couldn’t even get in a decent nap before they had to start getting ready for the evening’s black-tie dinner.

  “Sorry I asked you to leave the luncheon early,” Cindy said.

 
“I didn’t argue, did I?” Mark smiled. “I was drained too. Besides, Josiah was only going to greet the crowd. His keynote’s tonight.”

  Cindy was growing tired of the organized breakfasts that ran into luncheons that ran into evening banquets. All she wanted was her husband back. She lovingly ran her fingers along the curve of his neck and shoulders.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said.

  “I’ve missed me too. But I’ve missed us more.”

  “Do you really think we’ve got a shot at winning?” she asked, almost wishing the possibility away.

  “Well, the polls have been wrong before. But you might want to step up your efforts on finding that perfect gown for the Inaugural Ball.”

  “And if we lose?”

  “Keep the tag on it just in case.”

  Cindy started preparing for the dinner, putting on her makeup and doing her hair. At six o’clock, after donning her gown, she sat down to watch some TV, hoping to take a break from the political scene. Her break didn’t last long. A special news bulletin broke across the screen mentioning Josiah by name. Mark must have heard it, too, because he immediately came over to turn up the volume.

  “It is being reported that Josiah Stoltzfus, the write-in candidate whose back-to-basics message has been sweeping the nation, allegedly was once arrested for a hit-and-run and driving a stolen vehicle,” the newscaster said. “Stay tuned for more on this developing news story.”

  Mark immediately tried calling Carl. Cindy could hear the busy tone from the bed and listened as the call went to Carl’s voice mail.

  “What are you going to do?” Cindy asked Mark.

  “Find him!” Mark said, walking out the door.

  MARK QUICKLY MADE HIS WAY DOWN THE HOTEL CORRIDOR toward the conference center, not willing to stop for anyone. The news bulletin had just been reported, so Mark had to get the truth before the story got any bigger, and he wanted to get it straight from Josiah himself.

  The hotel was one of those massive complexes with a conference center and a shopping mall attached directly to it. It was so spread out, hotel patrons practically had to use a golf cart just to get around. But Mark didn’t have a golf cart. He had to walk at his fastest clip, with Secret Service agents continuing to protectively tail him, while at the same time trying his best not to bring any undue attention to himself or create any cause for alarm.

  When he got near the banquet hall, he could hear the cheers of the crowd coming from inside. The people were pumped. This was the third event of the day, and they were still going strong. Josiah was scheduled to make a few opening remarks before the dinner and then return to the stage after dinner for his formal speech.

  With only a couple of weeks to go until Election Day, some news analysts were predicting a tight race, while others were telling people to prepare for a virtual landslide … for somebody. Either the voters would surprise the pollsters, come to their senses, and vote for one of the more traditional candidates, or they would surprise the political establishment and vote for the outsider, Josiah Stoltzfus. After all, voters could always change their minds within the confines of a voting booth when no one was around to tell them they were wasting their vote by casting it for a Plain man from Lancaster County.

  Or voters could turn on Josiah, especially in light of a late-breaking news bulletin.

  So exactly how the election was going to turn out in the end was anyone’s guess, and Mark wasn’t wasting a single second. He needed to do damage control. It had all come down to these final weeks of the campaign, and the mud was slinging fast and furious. Governor Ledbetter was still in the race but was limping to the finish line. The real contest was between Harley Phillips and Josiah, and Harley was pulling out all the stops.

  Mark made his way to the private side entrance of the banquet hall that would take him to the green room, where he hoped to find Josiah. There wasn’t any time to waste. Mark had to speak with Josiah before he addressed the crowd. But Josiah wasn’t in the green room. Mark took his cell phone out of his pocket and hit a button on his speed dial.

  CARL WAS IN THE MIDST OF MAKING SURE EVERYTHING WAS IN place for Josiah’s big speech. It fell to him to oversee the lighting, sound, additional security, and other particulars for the night’s event. He wasn’t in charge of the venue, of course. They had staff for that. But he was in charge of the people who were in charge. So it was understandable that Carl was much too busy to answer his phone when it rang. And when it rang again. And when it continued to ring. Finally he looked at the caller ID and gave in.

  “Hello?” he said, trying to listen over the boisterous crowd. “What? I can’t hear you.”

  “It’s Mark. I need to speak with Josiah immediately.”

  “He’s about to walk onstage,” Carl said.

  “Well, stop him!”

  “Stop him? Do you hear this crowd? They can’t wait for him to take the stage. Why aren’t you here yet anyway?”

  “I’m on my way. Don’t let him take that stage until I get there!”

  Carl wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew it had to be something important. He made his way to the area where Josiah stood ready to greet his enthusiastic supporters.

  “Josiah,” Carl said, grabbing Josiah’s arm just as his entrance music began to play. “Mark needs to speak with you.”

  “Now?” Josiah said. “Is he serious?”

  “I’ve got him,” Carl said into the phone, still unsure what all the urgency was about.

  “Tell him to wait by the side of the stage,” Mark said. “I’m on my way!”

  Carl turned to Josiah. “He’s coming.”

  Almost immediately, Mark hustled up.

  “What’s wrong?” Josiah asked.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “About your police record!”

  Carl moved in a little closer to get a better listen. Eavesdropping was worthless unless done correctly.

  “I didn’t think it mattered,” Josiah said.

  “You didn’t think it mattered? A hit-and-run?”

  Carl couldn’t help interjecting. “In a horse and buggy?”

  The band continued to play “I’ll Take You There,” the classic song that had become synonymous with Josiah’s campaign, while Josiah explained the situation to Mark.

  “It was during my rumspringa days.”

  “So it’s true?” Mark asked. “What they’re saying is true?”

  “I don’t know. What are they saying?”

  The crowd was now chanting, “We want Josiah! We want Josiah!”

  “They’re saying you were driving a stolen car and were involved in a hit-and-run,” Mark said. “That’s what they’re saying!”

  “Well, they got that part right.”

  “What?” Mark shrieked. “And no license?”

  “I’m Amish.”

  “Look, you’d better get out there and lead with your explanation … whatever it is. And it had better be good! I’m sure the crowd’s probably tweeting and texting about this already.”

  “Well, they can twix and teet all they want; I know the truth of what happened.”

  “Yeah, a hit-and-run in a stolen car, and you were behind the wheel!”

  “You only know part of the story, Mark.”

  “Look, Josiah, good people will forgive past sins, but they don’t want to be lied to. I don’t either. So you’d better tell it all to me, every last detail, right here and right now.”

  Carl knew Mark was serious. Mark had had to deal with enough falsehoods and half-truths himself from politicians like Harley — innuendo was Harley’s favorite weapon. But that was Harley. Mark didn’t want or need the top of the ticket he was running on to not be forthcoming with him.

  “I wasn’t dishonest with you, Mark,” Josiah said in his defense. “You asked if I had any secrets. That incident was never secret. The whole community knew about it. I’ve never tried to hide it.”

  “So what’s the truth the
n? What happened that night?”

  The band continued to play, trying to make it appear as though all was going according to plan, despite the fact that the plan hadn’t been for them to play every verse and six choruses of Josiah’s theme song.

  “Four of us were in Philadelphia for rumspringa,” Josiah began. “Most of the stuff we were doing was harmless, except for one night.”

  The band members looked over in Carl’s direction. Carl twirled his arm, the classic “keep going” motion. They shrugged their shoulders and played on.

  “Peter Dunkirk, a bit older and more daring than any of the rest of us, showed up at the house where I was staying,” Josiah continued. “He was driving a new car, so I asked where he’d gotten it.”

  “We want Josiah! We want Josiah!” the crowd chanted again, obviously eager to catch a glimpse of their new political hero.

  Josiah looked toward the stage.

  “Keep going,” Mark pressed.

  “Peter said the car was his cousin’s, so we all went for a drive. Peter got ahold of some beer and started drinking. The next thing I knew, he’d picked up some girls and got to showing off and acting all crazy.”

  “He was driving?”

  Josiah nodded. “And was drunk as all get out. He hit a car, then just took off. He didn’t even stop to see if the people in the car he’d hit were hurt. By the time the police tracked him down, he and the others had gotten their story together and lied to the police, saying it was me who was behind the wheel that night.”

  “Because you were the sober one?”

  Josiah nodded. “He wanted me to take the bounce for him, as you English say.”

  “You mean ‘the fall’?”

  “See, I can’t even talk tough. But the truth came out at the trial … if anyone had bothered to check.”

  “The file’s been sealed.”

  “By court order. But I could’ve opened it.”

  “Well, in a tight race, in the weeks just before a presidential election, they’re going to report first and check it out later.”