IN THE WORLD—NOT OF IT
After church one Sunday when my husband and I still lived in Kansas, he and I took one of those "Sunday drives.". Not far from the small town where we lived, I looked up to see a vehicle approaching, Even at that distance, I could tell it was an Amish horse and buggy, the narrow silhouette bobbing up and down against the horizon. When we got close, we slowed down, not wanting to spook the horse, a small, elegant black mare, wet with sweat, legs moving at a smooth trot.

A young couple sat in the open buggy, the man straight and stiff, his suit buttoned to the neck, his flat black hat square on his head, reins held easily in his hands. The young woman wore a black bonnet, her cheeks flushed in the heat, her white collar bright in the clear light, her eyes squinted against the sun. As they passed by, I was surprised to see the woman had her dark blue skirt pulled up just below her knees, her bare feet and legs catching the slightest breeze on a sweltering July day.

I am not a hot weather person. I’m glad that today’s cars have air-conditioning, though I do worry about things like pollution and the ozone. In fact, several years ago, when we were looking for a car, our biggest concerns, after cost, easy maintenance, and high gas mileage, were a decent radio/tape player and dependable air conditioning—not hard to tell where our priorities are.

Sometimes I think about that young couple, how they were living out the teachings of their faith, as uncomfortable as they might have been in dark suit and hat, long sleeves and bonnet, and the buggy that carried them slowly through the hot air of a summer afternoon.

Prof. Marion Bontrager, of Hesston College in Newton, Kansas, tells that the Old Order Amish are one of the fastest growing churches in the United States. Once I attended a lecture by Prof. Bontrager. He discussed whether the Amish will survive the technological/ information age. He said that they’re growing because they have large families and a high percentage of their young people stay within the church.

Not surprisingly, there are very few converts, though a limited number marry into the faith. “Amish ways are too hard for most people,” said Bontrager. “Lots of people recognize the depth of the Amish faith and the goodness of their values, many yearn for their simplicity—but they just aren’t willing to change their lifestyles that drastically.”

Not willing to change their lifestyles… There's a paraphrased translation of the New Testament called “The Message” by Eugene H. Peterson. He speaks plainly and often bluntly—there isn’t a lot of ambiguity in his words. In 1 John, beginning with the fifteenth verse of the second chapter, Peterson translates the text this way: “Don’t love the world’s ways. Don’t love the world’s goods. Love of the world squeezes out love for the Father. Practically everything that goes on in the world—wanting your own way, wanting everything for yourself, wanting to appear important—has nothing to do with the Father. It just isolates you from him.”

How much do I love the world’s ways? How much do I love the world’s goods? What would I be willing to give up? My comfortable air-conditioned car? The beautiful mountain ranch where I am privileged to live? The security of medical insurance?

Of course, those things haven’t been demanded of me, at least not yet. But what of those smaller things, those minor choices? New shoes I don’t need, a subscription for a magazine that I could read at the library, that second helping at first Sunday potluck.

Then there are other, subtler ways the world pulls us away from what we know is good and true. Someone I know and like tells me a joke that demeans African-Americans, homosexuals, or Jews. Do I remain silent, acting as if I never heard? Do I speak up, risking the person’s embarrassment and anger?

And if I can’t pass the small tests, what would I do when faced with the big ones? Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor executed by the Nazis only months before World War II ended, gave his life for his faith. Could I?

I wish I had all the answers, but for now it is the questions that plague me. Does the way I live demonstrate my faith? Does the way I live tell people something about the one I claim to follow? Does the way I live bring love into people’s lives? Or does the way I live isolate me and others from what is holy, crowding the Holy One out of our lives?

Those questions are ones which we must each answer for ourselves—the couple in the buggy on warm afternoon in Kansas, you, me—even Billy Graham, the Pope, the President. And when we fall short of perfection—and we will—we can be grateful for the gift of God’s amazing grace which has the power to accomplish miracles and transform ordinary folks into holy people of God.

In the meantime, whenever I remember my former Amish neighbors, my heart lifts a bit at the thought of my brothers and sisters who wear the signs of their faith for all to see, gentle reminders that we are to be in the world, but not of it.

Blessings and peace, Country Woman