The Beachy Complex

A Psalm of the HBB

My heart thinketh and considereth the past,

And my spirit is moved within me.

Blessed be the heritage of my descent,

and the ancestry from which I am born.

For my legacy is a precious one,

yea, it is more valuable than much gold or silver.

For I am come from a line of people

that gave their lives for the Gospel,

and art descended from a church

That sealed its witness with blood. Selah.

Behold, how glorious is this inheritance!

and how precious is this endowment.

Yet I look and behold, and my heart is grieved

For behold, my people, they were born in fire,

Yet their hearts are as water.

Yea, their fathers were tempered like as steel,

Yet their backbones are as wax.

My fathers separated themselves from the world

and laid down their lives,

yet they obtained eternal life.

But their children are joined to the world,

and their hearts follow after its ways.

Behold, the church of my fathers is no more,

And its spirit of devotion fadeth. Selah.

Yet they say within themselves,

Are we not Anabaptists?

Did not our fathers’ blood flow for our faith?

Yet realize they not that if they were sons of the Anabaptists,

that they too should be separate from the evil world?

And know they not that if they were truly children of the faith

that they should free from its entanglements?

For they honor this faith and this heritage with their lips,

Yet their lives embrace not the truth,

Nor their actions its paths of sacrifice.

Up, O Israel! Arise, O Jacob, thou beloved of the Lord!

For thou art His church,

And thy people his chosen vessels,

And forget not the paths of thy fathers,

But reject the world,

Scorning the price,

And stand separate from its entrapment,

And touch not the unclean thing,

but honor the faith of thy fathers,

Thy holy forefathers who died to preserve its truth.

Amen.

An extracanonical pfalme, fet apart from the end of Pfalmes, because it is not in Hebrew, as neither in the canonical Beachy pfalter of Holiness Beachy Boy.

To the nominal Christian, upon the canonical Pfalme 117

1. O praise the LORD for five minutes in the morning, all ye Beachy people, praise him very quickly!
2. For his merciful kindness is great and pardonable toward our slackness and disinterest: and the trueth of the LORD endureth much longer than my half a chapter Bible reading a day, yea, even longer than the laborious one-year Bible reading I did long ago. Praise ye the LORD. Selah, okay, gotta run.

To the Bishop upon Mother’s Day. A Psalm of the HBB.

Blessed and happy are they who train their children aright,

Who knoweth when to use the rod and beateth them good and proper. Selah

Blessed are they who knoweth that spanking is not a cure-all but rather a tool,

And manage their children by love and not by force. Selah.

Alas, but they are few!

For the unwise parents, behold! they are an great multitude,

And their numbers as the sands of the sea.

I see them and their children at church,

I behold their conduct and art appalled. Selah.

For the children thereof scream and art unruly.

Behold, they wriggle in church and fuss most shamefully,

Yet are they not disciplined by their father;

Neither chastened by their mother. Selah.

Neither stoppeth their lawless conduct after service,

For behold, they do race about the church,

Like as though it were a circus;

And shout as it were an carnival;

Yet do not their parents restrain them,

Nor cause them to cease.

And if thou believest that it only goeth on at church,

Thou art deceived,

And thy common sense is far from thee.

For in the homes also, the children art in control;

And do run things, and do cause the parents to live

according to their children’s will. Selah.

And the parents do go along with the plan,

For they have no backbone;

And submit to the situation,

For they have no guts;

And realize not that the end thereof is the ways of death. Selah.

For the parents are foolish,

And realize not that the seeds of rebellion

are planted by their own hands,

and that the saplings of wickness

watered by their own fingers. Selah.

And behold, in the latter days,

When the youth do take their own path,

Nor hearken unto the voice of their parents,

Neither of the church, nor yet of God,

Still yet they wonder, Why.

And question the cause as to How.

Yet realize they not that they art the cause;

For they refrained from the rod;

And that they art much to blame,

For they knew not how to say, “No.”

Blessed are they which do raise their children in godly fear;

For they shall prosper,

and their children shall be a joy unto them

And not a grief. Amen.

To the Chief Choir Director and the Sunday School Superintendent

upon Himmelfaudach. A Psalm of the HBB.

Behold, how pleasant it is to have church standards,

for it maketh us to feel righteous, and causeth us to appear holy. Selah.

It causeth the church to look conservative,

yea, the world is dismayed,

for they looketh upon the rules thereof,

and behold, they are many and the requirements of them are steep. Selah.

Behold the wisdom of them all,

For they provide us with an guideline

and present us with an ideal;

Yea, all the demands thereof are exceeding stringent;

Who can abide them? Selah.

Yet we need not fear nor be dismayed,

for we need not to obey them, neither to observe them.

For behold, the church doth not enforce them,

nor causeth its members to heed them. Selah.

For though the book of the standards should be of surpassing thickness;

Though its width should surmount the Martyr’s Mirror,

Yet shall we rejoice in it,

and give praise to its contents.

For they are but rules of thumb,

and they are only ideals. Selah.

For verily, we know that to obey is not necessary,

nor to keep them required,

For are they not ideals and not laws?

And are they not guidelines and not rules? Selah.

Yea, all the precepts of them are good,

(at least in appearance)

and all the laws thereof are pleasant,

(to the speech)

Yet we keep them not, for behold, they are but guidelines

and not rules. Selah.

Blessed be the standards of the church,

and may they be established in our tongues,

and in our speech from henceforth and forevermore,

And may they endure unto a thousand generations,

That we may do like as Grandpa did in the days of his youth.

Amen.

Note to Discerning Beachys: Before the Release of the first post of the eagerly awaited Beachy Psalter, it has been determined that it would be expedient to launch a continuation of the Beachy Saga. It is offered to you with my usual regards, HBB.

And the HBB thought back through the past year, and it came to his mind that it had been many moons since he had released an installment of the Beachy Saga.  And he sought, and behold, the last in the series had been the story of Checky and Esau. (The Daughters of Shiloh being a special edition.)

And it came to pass, that not long after Checky and Esau hadst made the deal which they made known unto us as the Beachy Bargain (Not to be confused with the Bargain Hunter); that their father, Isaac, called unto Esau and said, “Look, I art getting old, and verily I art probably about to croak, if you know what I mean. Therefore, go out into the woods, for is it not yet hunting season? And shoot thou an large deer that I mayest eat fresh venison before I die. And then shall I give thee a great blessing.”

And Esau went out to his “Cowboy Cadillac,” (which was decked out in classic ex-Amish style, sporting several CB whips, each creating enough wind resistance to be capable of changing major weather patterns in the tri-state area, and enough lights to pass as a small town airport, as well as massive tires, which would have been too large for use on a Sherman tank, (also it had enough gun-racks in the back window to arm a small division of the militia)) and he roared off.

And it came to pass that no sooner had he left the driveway then Rebecca pulled Checky into a side room, and whispered. “Now’s your chance!” “For verily, when Esau gets back with a deer, Isaac planneth to give him a blessing and sign over the property to him.”

And Checky said, “So what am I supposed to do about it.”

And Rebecca said, “Thou shalt impersonate Esau.”

And Checky said, “How?”

And Rebecca said, “Thou shalt get a camoflage bill cap which advertiseth a tire shop, and an pair of pants which art soaked in motor oil and stained with grease, and an tight, formfitting T-shirt which readeth with some type of slogan, which regardeth cowboys, or mechanics, or even possibly rednecks. And forget not to wear cowboy boots, for they complete the image. Above all else forget not the cowboy boots. And it shall be that thy father shall look upon thee, and thou shalt appear like unto thy brother, and he shall give thee the deed to the place.”

And Rebecca spake further and said, “I shalt take a deer steak out of the deep freeze and shalt fry it and cook it, and decieve him with the taste thereof, and you shall get what thou shouldest have.”

And Checky hearkened unto the voice of his mother, and gathered unto him a camoflage bill cap, which advertised Joe Schmucker’s Discount Tire Outlet and Shop, and an pair of greasy blue jeans, and a tight shirt which read “Pickup Man.” And he hung a cell phone from his iron-studded six-foot belt, and he pulled on a pair of NAEAR-approved (National Association of Ex-Amish Rednecks) (Official motto: “You might have all-terrain vehicles, but we have all-terrain minivans.”) cowboy boots, and he swaggered into the kitchen to get the plate of deer steak from his mother.

And Checky approached unto his father, with the food, and said unto him, “Yee-haa! I’m back with your steak, just like you wanted.” 

And Isaac said, “That was fast.”

And Checky said, “Well, Dad…inasmuch as we live in Pennsylvania, and art legally allowed to use high-powered rifles, yea, even grenade-launchers and small artillery to hunt with, verily I hath gotten the deer quickly.”

And Isaac thought within himself, “Something is wrong, for Esau useth not big words like inasmuch.”

And Checky said, “Well, Dad…eat up!

And behold the deer steak was juicy and tender, and Isaac ate thereof, and was filled. And his full stomach got the better of his good sense, (which tends to happen in many cases, including sewings and fellowship dinners) and he got out his pen, and began to sign over the deed in Esau’s name.

And Checky thought quickly, for all his planning should be in vain if his father now did this thing. And he said, “Dad, I’ve been thinking.” Which was a way for him to buy time so that he could really think, and fast. And he said, “I think I wanteth to sell some of the land to some of my ex-Amish buddies, make not out the deed, but let me make it out in mine own time.” And Isaac did as Checky had requested, and gave him the deed.

Then did Checky smile, and walk from the room thereof. But no sooner had he reached the kitchen, than he heard the sound of a massive pickup truck roaring up the driveway, and Checky froze in his tracks. For he knew that Esau returned with a deer, and he was caught.

So Checky took the deed and quickly wrote his name in the proper place, and that was that.

But when he heard a roar from the living room, and knew that Esau knew. He decided to get lost. And he wrote a note to his mother, saying, “I felt it would be expedient to go visit my uncle Laban Beachy in Hutchinson, Kansas for a while.”

And he ran out to his light blue Ford Taurus, and behold he drove away, before Esau could catch him.

And the further experiences of Checky in Kansas shall be detailed to thee at a later date.

Regards, HBB

This is a Public Service Announcement to all Discerning Beachys.

Inasmuch as May 1 is the important Beachy and Amish Holiday, Ascension Day, also known by many as Himmelfaudach, and by others as Amishboatfaudach, we here at the Beachy Complex have determined that this important time of the liturgical year should be commemorated by the launching of a new series. Therefore, I am pleased to announce the soon-to-be-forthcoming Beachy Psalter. This Psalter will commemorate all things Beachy and is bound to occupy a proud position on many Beachy bookshelves alongside the Ausbund and Zion’s Praises. New psalms will be released periodically, and upon completion of this cycle of posts, if there is sufficient interest, the Beachy Complex will be pleased to offer bound copies of this groundbreaking work.

Regards to all,

HBB

Note to Discerning Beachys:

The following post was sent in by an Discerning Reader known only as Shlipped Beachy Girl. Due to my personal lack of experience in using e-harmony, I cannot stake my professional reputation on the effectiveness of the tactics and practices suggested in this post. However, I felt that I should pass them on to all those Beachy young people that may need a little additional help in being led to that special companion. Regards, HBB

This is a guide that will match all the Beachys that are desperate looking because they’ve had no success at CBS or Hillcrest or the Fellowship Meetings. This guide will direct you through the dangers of Internet dating for the Beachy. You need absolutely no money. That’s right! This is a bargain! It is completely free, unless of course you are so grateful you wish to us at the Beachy Complex a free-will offering, once you are finished with the wedding. All you need is your local library’s computer, or possibly your more liberal cousin’s computer and the Beachy Stalker Manual Beachy Directory…you know, the red book that your Mom and Dad bought from church and keep rifling through every time a mysterious name is mentioned.

This is the Guide in Five Simple Steps, provided to you ABSOLUTELY FREE as a Public Service by the Beachy Complex, just to show us how much we appreciate you reading our blog.

1.         Sign up and fill out your profile. Fill it out honestly. Any Beachy can recognize another Beachy anywhere through any medium, by mere word use or mild reference to all things categorically Beachy. E-harmony is no different. Sure, its parameters and social helps assist you in putting your best foot forward for even the most blundering and socially inept Beachy, but the Beachy part still comes through, even though you would normally forget to say “hi” and “what’s your name” before a proposal for marriage came bursting up from the depths to which it has been suppressed. Be sure to check out the Icebreakers and memorize them if you can. You see, e-harmony is for Beachys. It just helps you put things in order of progressively serious relationing and it might make you appear as though you had some good manners for the first time in your life!

2.         Put some pictures on if you please. You need to look like you could pass for a Beachy or anything else for that matter. If you are female, don’t post a shot of the big bonnet. Don’t put your Beachyness all right out there, because it will increase the rate at which you are rejected by all those non-Beachys out there and even though you don’t want to date the non-Beachys, it will lower your self esteem to have so many rejections on your profile.

The point is that you have to look like you could be a lot of things besides Beachy. You could be BMA (gasp). You could be Brethren or conservative Mennonite. Even though you still want to be Beachy forever, you have to look like you could be all those other more racy things. It adds to the opposite-gender appeal.

3.         The final thing you need to do is set your filters correctly. (a) Broaden your age allowance. Anything 10 years your senior or your junior will work. Maybe your match might have a brother or a sister that is more suitable. You can never tell. (b) Make sure you allot your potential match some drinking flexibility. Some Beachy youth do drink and are honest about it. Others lie. But really, most Beachy youth who drink quit when they are older and more responsible. The novelty wears off, you know. Just because someone has drunk a little and is being honest about it, doesn’t mean he/she won’t later amend his/her ways and be a good Beachy. Beachys just don’t have a sustained culture of drinking and if the match turns out to be an alcoholic…well, there is time to discover that, although it is somewhat rare. (c) Your filter for long-distance relationships should reflect Beachy flexibility. Beachys are the world experts at long-distance relationships. In fact, only long distances can break up the propensity (oops, that is a very big and complicated word) for ingrown communities, although we aren’t as nearly as bad as the Amish. (d) Finally, and most importantly make your Religion filter very narrow. Only accept matches that are categorized Mennonite. And then let Mr. Warren go to work for you.

4.         DON’T SIGN UP FOR A MEMBERSHIP. No, do not spend a dime. Simply load your profile, like bait on a fishing hook, because that’s what it is. e-harmony works so that you will get matched and you will get an e-mail once you get matched. You may have to wait quite a while before you get a match because everyone seems to find CBS and Hillcrest and Mountain View quite successful for the matching up, but there may be someone out there living is some remote community in Wyoming, that really wants to get married. And you just have to be there to catch him or her.

5.         Once you get a catch match, check it out. Read everything he/she has written. If he/she sounds Beachy, he/she likely is. If you don’t know what Beachy sounds or looks like, just go with your gut. If you mostly agree with the match, he/she is Beachy. If you disagree with half of the things written or preached about in the profile, that person is not Beachy or Mennonite or Brethren. If the match seems agreeable to you and if you’d like to give it a shot, then congratulations! But no! Do not sign up and pay the money. Just look at the place the person is from and get out your stalker manual Beachy Directory. Generally, most Beachy hubs are not in large cities, so you can track this match down really easily. Most likely, all you have to do is call up your cousin who lives in the same community and she will know of the one or two people who are marriageable in the extended Beachy-Mennonite network in that particular area, and whose name matches the one you have found on e-harmony. Isn’t that harmonious? Now, get to work and save some money for some tripping because gas prices are high and you’ll need it. I know I said it was completely free but maybe this is the catch. But if you are a good Beachy you will know how to get around the catch. Somehow you’ll find a carload of people going to the location of your match sometime in the next month.

–Schlipped Beachy Girl

          First and foremost, I would like to introduce myself as the Beachy Tire Technician (BTT), the brother of the honorable HBB. (Not the elder brother, who has commented previously, but the younger one.)  Due to the dearth of quality material available for all the good Beachys to read (mentioned by HBB in a previous post), I too have jumped onto the proverbial bandwagon to write for the enjoyment and edification of all the good Beachys (at least I hope so…)  And so this parable.

            A certain rich Beachy farmer had two sons, and they lived in the land of Holmes County.  Now the farmer, whose name was Amos Beiler (cousin to Sam Beiler from Plain City, who I think you all might know) lived quite happily in Holmes County for many years, and his two sons had now Come of Age.

            By “Come of Age” I refer, of course, to the Amish Mennonite system of family finance, in which you give your parents all (or a vast majority) of your money, until you Come of Age at 18 or 20 or 21 or 45, whichever your parents decide.  In exchange, the parents will buy you your first buggy/car and maybe some furniture when you get married, but if you would have kept all your money, you could have got that yourself, and probably paid off the house to boot, but that’s beside the point.  But back to the story…

            Now when the two brothers had Come of Age, the younger brother, Jake Beiler, said to his father, “Verily, Father, now that I am Come of Age, I want to journey to Sarasota, Florida, on vacation, and since some of the youth group is going down over the same time, it could be a great bonding experience.”  His father did not think too highly of this idea, but hey, now it was his son’s money, and he didn’t think he could interfere, since that was the only control he had ever had over his son in the first place.  Besides, they had some Relatives down there, so he said “I guess we could make arrangements with your aunt, Mabel Hostetler (from Gap Mills), since she has a house down there, you could just stay there, and it would all be peachy.”  So that’s what they decided to do.

            And Jake journeyed to Sarasota to sojourn for two months.  And when his youth group was come unto the place, and he saw their manner of attire, that it was not Beachy. Then said he in his heart, “Yea, is this not the manner of Sarasota?  For verily, I can come hither, and wear all manner of  T-shirts and shorts, and get a full body tan, and the bishop can say nothing to me, for I am a stranger and pilgrim in a different land. Oh, what fun!”  And so Jake went to Wal-Mart and stocked up on many shorts and every manner of striped and checkered and flowery T-shirts, and said in his heart, “Now no man shall know that I am Beachy.”

            So Jake ventured daily to the beach to tan, and talk to the Beachy girls (who had also discovered the principles of  Floridian immodesty and bishop noninvolvement). For all the visiting Beachys had cast off standards of every kind, and did wear bathing suits of very immodest varieties, and did participate in mixed swimming and beach volleyball, and journeyed to the spring training camps, as though they supposed God could not see them in Florida as well as in Holmes County.

            But then came the time when most of the visiting youth went home.  And Jake was left alone in that strange country, with no friends, for yet another month.  And he was tired of tanning, and besides, all the girls from his youth group had gone home, so it was rather pointless anyway.  There was nobody with whom to play beach volleyball, for all the Beachys had gone home.  And his conscience was pricked when he thought of all the things he had done, for he had wasted his money on riotous living, but now that it was over, he felt a vast emptiness in his life.  And so he went to Wal-Mart and bought a four-pack of Amp, some Full Throttle, and a country music CD, and therewith he tried to drown out his troubles.  So the next morning, after all the country music and energy drinks were spent, he came to a conclusion.  “This is really dull,” he said, “So I will go home, where at least there are enough people to play a game of Rook or something.” And so he packed up his car, and started home.  When he had gone for about 3 hours, he began to get a bit tired of driving, and definitely needed some different music.  So he stopped at Wal-Mart to get a couple cases of Red Bull and No Fear, and a little Nos, and some snacks.  He also picked up several more country albums, and hit the road again, ready to go. 

            He drove on.  Caffeine and country music kept him awake and on the road (for the most part at least).  He didn’t stop for anything but gas.  Jake loudly sang along with Kenny Chesney, extolling the merits of his attractive farm equipment.  Down the road he sped, feeling on top of the world, at the peak of a caffeine-induced high.  At this point he had enough caffeine in his blood stream to kill a small raccoon, and his body reacted accordingly.  He couldn’t focus on one thing, but tried to look everywhere simultaneously, taking in the other cars, the road, signs, towns, mile markers, headlights, tail lights, flashing red and blue lights…

            Flashing red and blue lights!  Jake’s unnaturally bright eyes saw them in the rearview mirror.  He was tempted to take the advice of Dierks Bentley and cut through the corn field.  He would have done just that, except the field next to the road was soybeans.  He pulled over to the side of the road, with the police cruiser right behind him.

            As the officer checked his license and registration, Jake’s mind reeled, trying to invent an excuse for whatever the cop might have stopped him for, trying to make the fried circuits of his brain connect with some relevant fact.  Nothing.  Finally the officer came back and said, “You were doing quite a bit of weaving back there.  Have you been drinking any alcohol this evening?”

            “No sir,” Jake said, “Just a couple energy drinks.”

            “Mind if I check out the car?” the officer asked.

            “Go ahead,” Jake consented.  He stepped from the car and watched the officer rummage through the 5 or 6 empty cases of energy drinks in the back.  His hands shook, partially from nervousness but mostly from all the energy within.  At last the officer came out.

            “You certainly can be glad there is no limit on caffeine and country music, or you’d be in jail for quite some time,” said the officer.  “As it is, I think I’ll let you off with a warning, but slow down, and stay in your lane.”  Jake thanked the officer.  He got in and drove the rest of the way home.  He was beginning to feel a little queasy, and his mind was starting to fog up.  He reached home in a near-zombie state, and collapsed into his own bed.

            The next morning brought Jake a clear mind but an upset stomach.  He was glad to be home again, but his stomach was in absolute rebellion against the variety of energy drinks that he had imposed upon it.  His whole body still felt jittery from the caffeine of the day before.  And he could turn on the touch lamp on his night stand from a foot away.  Yes, Jake had finally learned two of the greatest lessons in life.

Energy drinks and Country music do not mix in large quantities. 

Neither do Beachys and Sarasota, Florida.

Your friend,

                        BTT

Now it came into the mind of the HBB that many days had passed since he had last lifted up his voice and cried out against the terrible threats and dangers which surround the modern Beachy as he traverses the modern trails of church-ianity. (Which is one of the dumbest words that I, the HBB, have ever heard, but it is a popular word, which is used to poke fun at “modern society,” which is another phrase that sounds great but is also kind of meaningless. “Trendy dialogue,” is another such phrase. But I digress.

The purpose of this post is to instill into the minds of my discerning readers the importance of avoiding the perilous pitfalls which they must all avoid if they desire to be good Beachys.

For the first, I will give credit to my younger brother, who you will soon meet as the BTT (Beachy Tire Technician). He recently made me aware of an insidious movement which is gaining strength and is threatening our Beachy way of life. In a recent letter to me, he informed me of the nefarious CMM.

When I read this chilling acronym, my heart was seized with fear, because I misread it as CCM, (that is to say, Contemporary Christian Music) and my chest and throat constricted, as images of bearded Beachys swaying sensually to the pulsating pound of the mesmerizing music assaulted my brain. The thought was paralyzing. The disturbing part was that the mental picture reminded me of the Haiti Relief Sale in Mount Hope.

Forunately I rapidly recovered when I realized that the acronym was CMM, and that it meant the “Contemporary Mennonite Movement.” (A term which my brother apparently coined, because I have not seen it in the Calvary Messenger.)

In his letter to me, BTT informed me that the CMM was a ”phantom plague that strikes various Mennonite churches” often unexpectedly. My immediate thought was that this was a syndrome, rather than a movement, but I have been assured that this is not the case.

BTT informed me that churches which are sucked into this sinister movement have several characteristics, which I will share with you.

• A High Level of Spirituality
  By this we mean a church in which all the attendees are quick to inform those whom they meet of just how deeply spiritual they are. They no longer attend church. (How boring!) No! They are involved in what they are pleased to call a “worship experience.” (A phrase which, like “modern society” and “church-ianity” sounds nice, but is basically meaningless.
• Modernisation of Method and Focus on Worship
  By this we mean a church which has largely given up singing songs which refer to such antiquated and out-dated topics as Atonement, Salvation and Practical Christian Living, and has taken to singing what are popularly known as praise choruses. The focus here is praising the Lord because He is big and powerful and mighty and because He loves everyone. (Implied here is that we are praising Him because it makes us feel warm and fuzzy, although I am not aware of any praise chorus which overtly expresses this sentiment.) Also popular are Modern Versions, which are so much clearer than the fusty-musty KJV, and praise and worship services, which are basically services in which praise choruses are sung in an up-beat manner and everyone feels good.
• Removal of Spiritual Hindrances
  Another Hallmark of a CMM church is the removal of all those things which provide its membership with hinderances to spirituality. One such thing is the cape dress. Any fool knows that if women dress modestly, they will then become prideful, due to their modesty, and therefore lose out spiritually. This point has never quite made sense to me, but that is what CMM churches will tell you. Also, if a person is dressing modestly, they can hide sin behind there righteous attire. Thus, if one removes the modest attire, the sin can no longer be hidden. (I guess not, because that makes the immodesty of the heart pretty much blatant.)Another hindrance to spirituality is the covering. In the words of BTT, “…evidently as you reach a higher and higher level of spirituality, you can do with less and less of the head covering.  After a certain level of spirituality, the outward symbol is no longer necessary at all, because all it radiates from within.” Thus, we can clearly see that the covering hinders one from reaching the highest levels of spirituality.

  Cargo pants are a must for spirituality in the CMM, just as robes were a must for medieval monks. Besides, “what would you do without those extra 357 pockets down the pant legs? How could you live?” The issue of cargo pants has been superbly dealt with by Abner, who writes for www.birdinhandnews.com, and I agree with him. Anyone can clearly see how wearing them could lead to divorce and remarriage.

A large part of the blogging ministry is admonition and warning, and I take my position very seriously. In by-gone months, I have warned my readers of the dangers of the Charity Church. I believe that those were warnings which carried validity. However, I must now warn you of this new menace. Beware of the CMM in all its forms, and may you be a proper Beachy all the days of your life.

Regards,
HBB

P.S. “The Swaying Beachys” would make an excellent name for a CCM band.

Now it came to pass that the readers of the Beachy Complex cried out with a loud voice for lo, the Beachy Complex lacked new posts, and the derth thereof was very great upon the web, for there was no other site such as the Beachy Complex where one might come and read stories and jokes about the Beachy’s which had good points as well, although there was www.birdinhandnews.com which carried an excellent series concerning a boy named Harmon.

And the cries of the readers came up unto the Holiness Beachy Boy as he sat before the computer in the library at the non-Mennonite Bible College which he attended. And HBB said within himself, Lo, I shall do what I can to make an end of this derth, and I shall write more stories of one kind or another, and shalt publish them upon this site that the readers thereof may read and be glad.

And he cast about in his mind for what story he might tell the waiting throngs.

And he thought that they might like to hear the story of the three Beachy boys Gruff.

 For once upon a time there were three Beachy boys, whose last name was Gruff, who went to a Beachy church next to a wide deep stream. On the other side of the stream was a church were the grass was much greener, so to speak.

Now, let us make it clear that these Gruff boys were Born and Raised Beachy, but their parents were not, which you probably have guessed because of their non-Beachy last name.

Now many of the members within the Gruff boys’ church looked across the river at the Other Church (and if you think I am crazy enough to tell you just what kind of church it was, you are wrong, because the last time I made any kind of reference to other non-Beachy churches, I got nailed to the wall by a series of fierce and fiery comments, even though, or possibly because, everything I said was true, or at the very least believable).

And the Beachy’s looked at the Other Church and said “Behold, the grass is greener across the river, and the practices of the Other Church are so much more palatable to our carnal desires evangelical zeal, for we shall surely be able to reach the world from there like we never have from here. For that church alloweth all manner of attire and all manner of entertainment and all manner of music, yea and requireth nothing of its members, nor even really hath membership, because, hey, where in the Bible do you find membership?”

(It is surprising how much these kind of people know about what isn’t in the Bible and how little they know about what is, but that’s just the way things go)

“Furthermore,” said these astute Beachy’s, “they have only standards which are Biblical and since when the Bible was written before the invention of electricity, anything’s game.”

And across the bridge the Beachy’s streamed to the Other Church, where the grass was greener and the outlook was brighter.

And the three Beachy Boys Gruff went right along with the Beachy exodus and the became “members” of the Other Church, and ceased to live under the Law, and did whatsoever they pleased, basically, and felt spiritual nonetheless, because they had received enlightenment.

Now the years passed, and as they did the Other Church began to change, for there were essentially no moorings, and they had no statement of faith, and certainly not one of practice, and each man did the things which were right in his own eyes.

And the Beachy Boys Gruff looked about them and their hearts were grieved, for they saw that the Gruff family had made full circle and was nothing more than they had been three generations ago when Grandpa Gruff was a Baptist preacher.

And by this time, the Beachy Boys Gruff had families of their own, and they looked and beheld that their children were hobnobbing with the world, and that the world was no different than before, but rather worse. And that all the zeal in the church had not conquered the world, but the world’s insidious influence had conquered the church.

And the Beachy Boys Gruff said within themselves, Let us arise and return to the Beachy church on the other side of the river. But when they came to the bridge, lo, a Great Troll guarded it. And none could pass by him.

And the Youngest Beachy Boy Gruff spake unto the Troll, and said, I desire to cross over the river from whence I came. And the Troll spake unto him, Nay, but thou shalt remain here unless thou canst pay the toll that I require.

And the Youngest Beachy Goat Gruff answered and said, “What is thy name? And what dost thou require? And the Troll said, My name is Regret, I demand thy memory.

And the Youngest Beachy Goat Gruff and his family crossed back to the church from whence they had come. But he was haunted ever after by the memories of the spiritual losses he had suffered as he was sucked into the world.

And the Middle Beachy Boy Gruff spake unto the Troll, and said, I desire to cross over the river from whence I came. And the Troll spake unto him, Nay, but thou shalt remain here unless thou canst pay the toll that I require.

And the Middle Beachy Goat Gruff answered and said, “What is thy name? And what dost thou require? And the Troll said, My name is Influence, I demand thy friends.

And the Middle Beachy Boy Gruff and his family crossed over and returned from whence they came. Yet, he was always troubled as he looked and saw the friends which he had influenced to take another way.

And the Oldest Beachy Boy Gruff spake unto the Troll, and said, I desire to cross over the river from whence I came. And the Troll spake unto him, Nay, but thou shalt remain here unless thou canst pay the toll that I require.

And the Oldest Beachy Goat Gruff answered and said, “What is thy name? And what dost thou require? And the Troll said, “I am the World. I demand thy family.”

And the Oldest Beachy Boy Gruff crossed over alone and returned from whence they came. And as he watched his children and his grandchildren and saw the lives that they lived and the paths that they took his heart was heavy with sorrow.

Thus all three Beachy Boys Gruff learned the lesson that you may go to where the fields look greener. But you’ll never make it back without paying a price.

Regards, HBB

For part 1 of the Good Beachy Checklist, we are going to examine our favorite topic.

If you are a Good Beachy^TM, you will have accomplished the following things before you start dating courting:

• Read Christian Family Living by John Coblentz
• Read all the Josh Harris books
• Attend CBS to make sure there aren’t any prettier/handsomer/nicer-F250/richer more Godly ones (that’ll have you) out there
• Attend singles retreat at Penn Valley; see above
• Do your 12 months in “service” (preferably a place like FMH* or Hillcrest where you can reinforce the benefits of the previous two items) to increase your BO**
• Play in a volleyball tournament in PA (to show off your sweet volleyball skills, a skill very essential to obtaining a girlfriend special friend)
• Work out with your dad a clever and witty way to announce the relationship in your church on Sunday morning
• Surf all the Beachy girls’/guys’ Xangas and pore through the archives for photos; cross reference with the red book
• OPTIONAL BONUS: Go to a wedding with “Rachel”, but without “Ed”
• OPTIONAL BONUS: Have a serious “spiritual” discussion with her/him one-on-one
• OPTIONAL BONUS: Go on a GTO team with him/her
• OPTIONAL BONUS: Arrange things so that you are elected to youth committee with her; extra bonus points for arranging the youth relay schedule so she has to call you every time the relay comes around (ask SI/DK about that!)
• Ask her father

Please add more items in the comments.

* Not the magazine
** Beachy Orthodoxy

 The following letters have been sent to me by various discerning Beachys desiring my sagacious advice in these deep and important issues of life. I have attempted to be a good example to the blogging community and desire to continue to share my heart with the masses of Beachys that need good counsel.

Dear HBB,

I’m a guy and although some people think it’s weird, I like to keep a diary. I used to use an old day planner and now I use an actual diary and I write about everything that happens to me. I would say that over the last year I wrote my whole life down in a notebook. I don’t think its weird, but I have begun to think of my diary as an actual person with actual feelings and emotions. If I miss a day writing in my diary, I apologize profusely, because I’m sure he misses me. My brother says I have severe problems. Is what I’m doing normal? Please keep my name secret, I don’t want my diary to know I’ve been writing somewhere else.

Diary Keeper

Dear Diary Keeper,

Let me start out by saying that it is not weird for guys to keep journals. But please do not call them diaries. Guys keep journals, girls keep diaries. However, I would tend to agree with your brother, you do have some serious issues. First of all, you need to get out more. I was caused to wonder if you are homeschooled and so hungry for some type of human interaction outside your own home that you have created an imaginary journal friend to help you cope. If so, you must get help immediately. If your journal is taking over your life, the thing you need to do is burn it right now! Or maybe you could tell it you found a younger, more sensitive journal to write in. The bottom line is that you need to get free now, because it’s not going to get any easier. I hope that I have been helpful. Regards, HBB

Dear HBB,

I am a Beachy young person who attends a Beachy high school. I am good friends with another family in the church. We hang out together, go out to eat together, and sit together in church. The problem is that I am a guy and there is a girl that is about my age in that family. That wouldn’t be a problem except that lots of the people at school are teasing us and have even gone so far as to make up songs to sing about us. It’s annoying to me, but it’s really hard on her. Just yesterday, she came up to me almost in tears and said, “Do you think it’s nice of them to be making up songs about you and me?” As I said, I’m good friends with the family, and that’s all. What can I do about this tenuous situation?

Stuck in a Dilemma

Dear Stuck,

I can feel for you in your dilemma. You are really stuck. But it is partly your making. You say that you are “friends with the family.” My brother says that if you are friends with a guy in a family, you say that you are friends with that guy. But if you are friends with the girl, you say that you are friends with the family. I think you need to examine your motives in this friendship. Furthermore, why is she coming to you for advice, council and comfort? And why do you feel the need to comfort her? Are you, as you claim, just friends, or is there more? Also, you say that you “sit together in church.” Is that allowed in Beachy churches? I thought that Beachy churches require segregated seating. But maybe it is different in your church.

Finally, if you do not like to be teased, do not give people a reason or excuse to do it. Other than that you cannot stop them, unless you are willing to sacrifice your convictions regarding nonresistance. If you are willing to sacrifice those, there are a number of things you can do, most of which involve breaking bones. But that is your decision and I would not approve of it. Hope this helps. Regards, HBB

Dear HBB,

I am a member of a small Beachy outreach several miles south of Knoxville. We have a small choir which has traveled all over the area, singing in prisons and hospitals, as well as a variety of churches. I’m involved in the choir, and I believe that it is a great ministry, but sometimes I feel like I’ve been singing to every soul in Tennessee. We go and sing on street corners, but nobody seems to listen. No one ever smiles. Should we continue on or should we cut our losses and give our energies to quilting? I hope you will answer this question, because I don’t know anyone who can answer questions the way that you do.

Choir Member in Knoxville

Dear Choir Member,

You have asked a very thought-provoking question and one for which I have no ready answer. I cannot tell you how you can know when to cut your losses, but I can tell you that you should not give your energies to quilting. Crocheting is far more profitable. What kind of songs are you singing? Are you giving trite shallow testimonies all through your programs? Also, are your songs shot through with solos, duets, and other special arrangements? If so, you are drawing far too much attention to your voices and talent instead of directing attention to the message of the Gospel, as well as the Beachy doctrine of four part harmony. Furthermore, when you sing Gospel songs you should sing the pure songs, instead of doctoring them all up and ruining them. If the people listening wanted to go to an opera, they would go there and not come to your program anyhow. Perhaps that will help. Regards, HBB

Dear HBB,

I have harbored dreams of singing professionally for many years. I realize that it is not a good Beachy thing to do, but I really love music. Recently, though, I decided that I didn’t have what it takes to sing professional Contemporary Christian music. So I guess you’ll never hear me on the radio. I’m not sure what to do now, because I have put so much thought into this part of my life, and I’d give up this crazy dream of mine, if I just knew what to replace it with. I used to sing in my church choir, but they didn’t recognize my talent, so I quit. What should I do?

Dreamless in Dixie

Dear Dreamless,

Let me make something clear to you. Even if you did make it into the music industry, I wouldn’t hear you on the radio, because I don’t listen to the radio. I’d have to buy your CD. Only I wouldn’t do that because I don’t really like contemporary Christian music. But be that as it may, I would advise you to get re-involved in your church choir. If your church has a choir like my church’s, they are very professional. If you have a very showy voice, they might give you lots of solos. I’m sure that if you would just show off your flashy style, your choir director would be very glad to see you once more. You might also contact the Beachy outreach in Knoxville, I’m sure they could use a choir member such as yourself. Regards, HBB

We hope you’ve enjoyed these letters from readers across the Beachy community. We welcome your questions and comments as we continue this blogging ministry.

Regards, HBB

The letters in this post were fictional. This advice is not to be taken seriously. If you take this advice seriously, the Beachy Complex does not assume responsibility for the results. Thank you.

Realizing that it has been a long time since I posted, and even longer since I posted something lighthearted, I have set my inexorable quill to the scroll of blogging to once again attempt to bring some enjoyment to the lives of my friends and enemies in the blogosphere. (whatever that is)

There was a man named Joe Mast, who owned a construction business, named creatively, Mast Construction. Now, lest there be any doubt about it, Joe Mast was a good Beachy, at least at the time, and he was a hard worker, and wildly known for building very fine houses for wealthy clientele.

Now, Joe should have realized that something was a little funny when he took a job building a house for a man named Johnny “the Knife” Bazzarolli.  But being a good Beachy and not familiar with the darker side of society known as Organized Crime, he gamely took the job. He started to realize that there was something a little funny going on when Johnny “the Knife” gave him a suitcase filled with $100 bills and told him that some work needed to be done that hadn’t showed up on the blueprints.

And Joe found himself building a series of secret compartments and rooms and passageways all over the mansion. Upon the completion, he was handed another suitcase full of money and told that he hadn’t seen anything. And suddenly, it dawned on Joe, that Johnny “the Knife” was probably doing something illegal.

But when someone hands you a suitcase full of money, you don’t tend to ask a whole lot of questions.

A few days later, Joe recieved a phone call asking him to meet Johnny “the Knife” at his mansion.

Joe drove out to the estate and Johnny “the Knife” made him an offer.

“You see,” he said, “I am in the weapons trade. I smuggle illegal guns, explosives, ammunition and other contraband all over the country. Since you are a good Beachy, you would make an excellent front for me. I want you to help me. I will pay you $10,000 per shipment that you complete.”

Joe thought for a few seconds, and asked, “What’s the catch?”

“The catch,” said Johnny “the Knife” is that if you get caught, you go to prison for the rest of your life.”

Joe thought about it. “But, if I’m a Beachy, no one will ever suspect me.” he said. “I’m in!”

And for weeks, Joe used his business to cover for his illegal arms trafficking. He built himself a warehouse and stored his illegal goods in crates marked, “Construction Supplies. And all this time,  Mast Construction was doing a roaring business.

Then it happened.

Joe’s phone rang in the middle of the night. It was Johnny “the Knife.”  “You had best clean out your warehouse,” he said tensely. “Because, you are going to be raided.”

Joe panicked! What was he going to do? He had 200 crates of illegal guns, and explosives! If he was caught, he was going up the river!

Then he hit upon a plan. Mast Construction was pouring concrete not far from the warehouse. He made a few phone calls and then raced uptown to the warehouse where men in trenchcoats were loading crates into pickup trucks. They raced the trucks downtown and threw them into the trenches and then began to pour concrete over them. In a few hours, the job was done.

The next day, ATF agents stormed Joe’s house, warehouse and construction offices. They searched the places from top to bottom.

But they never were able to find the Weapons of Mast Construction!

Wagler, Ira Lee, 24, Bird-in-Hand News, PA, died a violent and needless death in Bird-in-Hand on 11/25/07. He was born to Stephen and Wilma (Yutzy) Wagler, who was daughter to David & Ida Mae (Yoder) Wagler, not the Ida Mae (Yoder) of Belvidere Mennonite in TN who is married to Emery Beachy, since she would have had to give birth to Ira at age 10, and that just didn’t happen. But I doubt anyone knows who she is, and I’ve never met her, but I thought I’d mention her just in case there may be any confusion.

Ira is survived by two parents, three sisters, and a little brother, who were all really bummed out by his death. He is also survived by some cousins, uncles, and aunts that no one bothered to count, a girlfriend, an outdated website, broken promises, and countless fans, who were also really bummed out that he died since Harmon hasn’t been updated in several months.

Wagler died an untimely death. Several hours prior to his passing, he was excommunicated from Pequea Amish Mennonite by a frustrated membership that wanted to know what happened to Harmon. Several youth girls accused him of portraying them as Arvilla or Millie in his story and one minister felt his repeated usage of the word “dumb” was unnecessary, but the real reason they came up with these excuses to excommunicate him was that they hoped he would finish writing the story after promising forthcoming chapters.

Wagler then left the church, unrepentant and obstinate, and went to meet his real devoted fans in Bird-in-Hand. The screaming girls all yelled and fainted when he arrived, all reaching for him, hoping only to touch his jacket or get a lock of his hair. Wagler sang a Bird-in-Hand a cappella rendition of “Rockin’ Robin,” swinging his hips voluptuously to the beat and throwing back his head and tossing his hair about. Unable to contain themselves, the girls ran him down, including one fat tourist from New Jersey who was eating a triple scoop of pickle-flavored Amish ice cream. The tourist dropped the dessert on his face, and Wagler suffocated while oblivious fans tore at his garments to get a piece to sell on eBay, so that the Church Standard Booklet might be fulfilled: “They parted my garments among them, and upon my vesture did they cast lots;” and again, “And he was numbered with the tourists;” and again, “He shall drink of the bitter gall.”

So go home everyone, you don’t need to check the http://www.birdinhandnews.com/ website several times a day anymore to see if there is a new Harmon. The last chapter has been written. Writer’s block and pockets of sapped inspiration were discovered during the autopsy. Wagler will be cremated and his ashes shall be scanned and put on his website in memory of him.

White Pants, 4, of many Beachy churches, died suddenly last month as a fad among young adult Beachy boys and wish-we-were-still-young married people. White pants was growing strong as a fad, and seemed to be here to stay, but was abruptly struck by a case of bad taste, which had actually lingered with the White Pants since it was born, but was unknown to the wearers until an autopsy was performed.

White Pants was born in Holmes County, OH, but also lived in Northern Indiana and Lancaster County in the very early stages of infancy. White Pants then moved to over 100 Beachy churches across North America and four other continents worldwide. White Pants is survived by its large extended family of puerile styles including long side burns, untucked shirts, shadow beards, blue jeans, name brand clothes, leather jackets, and greased down bangs over the forehead, which all have been also recently diagnosed with a case of bad taste. Some are expected to die soon, others are expected to malignently dwell within the Beachy church indefinitely.

The viewing will be held Friday, but is expected to have a very low turnout as no one wants to be seen with White Pants anymore.

Lesson #4: How to Prepare for Devotions

The phone rings. You’re sitting in your recliner reading a magazine about cars. You already read this month’s hunting magazine. You haven’t read your Bible yet today. You haven’t even thought about reading your Bible today. You prefer not to think about it until you are actually there, ready to read it before bed, because you have to read it if you want to go to heaven. You hope that that Amish are wrong, and that there are cars in heaven after all.

After the third ring, your young, beautiful wife gets up from her blogging on the computer to answer the phone. You don’t move to get the phone. She hopes you would get it just once, but you don’t even acknowledge the phone is ringing. It’s for her most of the time anyhow.

“Hello? … Yes, he’s here. Hold on one moment.”

Think: “Who could possibly want me at this hour of the evening?” Think: “I hope it’s not someone asking me to do something for church.” Think: “I wonder if the minister found out about those DVDs I have.”

Your wife throws the phone in your lap. Cover the mouthpiece. Ask: “Who is it?” She says that he didn’t say. Ask: “Well, what did the caller ID say?” She walks away and ignores you.

It must be bad. You consider hanging up.

You don’t. “Hello?”

“Hello brother, this is the Sunday School superintendent. You’re next on the list for devotions. Can you do them this Sunday?”

Your brain spins. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Quick, you need an excuse.

“Um, could you hold on a minute?” Cover the mouth piece. Think, think, think. Nothing is coming. You were planning to be in church Sunday, but you could make other plans. No- you can’t. You’ve been gone the last three weeks, and didn’t even tell the Budget scribe where you were.

Call for your wife. She comes into the room. “Well,” she says, “are you going to give devotions?”

Say: “Weren’t we going somewhere this Sunday?” Say: “Are you planning on getting sick this weekend?” Say: “I wanna read my magazine. I’ll never get it read if I have to study for devotions. Help me out of this!”

She says, “Okay, let me have the phone,” and she swipes it out of your lap. “Hello? Are you still there? Yes, he had to step outside for a moment, but he would delighted to have devotions this Sunday. Okay, yes, okay, have a good evening.” She pushes the off button and tosses it in your lap. “Guess you’ll have to do something productive with your time now.”

Great. Now you have to do devotions on Sunday. There’s still a chance you won’t have to give them. Something may come up. But who are you kidding? If you don’t do them this Sunday, he’ll call again next week, and the week after, and the week after that. May as well get it over with. Everyone has to take his turn.

Several days pass, and it’s soon Saturday evening. You’re sitting in your favorite chair, reading your new hunting magazine. Your wife is in the next room uploading more pictures of your toddler child onto her blog for the viewing pleasures of world-wide deranged pedophiles, from Ukraine to South Korea, from South Africa to Mexico. She comes into the living room.

“Have you started your devotions, yet?”

You’ve been trying to forget. You’ve been hoping an excuse comes up. You were thinking about what would happen if you were on your way to church tomorrow and another car hits you and you crash, and how you wouldn’t be able to show up and you’d make the super intendent mad because he thinks you ditched devotions, but then when you see him next time and he asks you what happened, you meekly and innocently tell him about the accident, and he feels rotten for being so mad at you. You chuckle to yourself about how great that would be, and how embarassed he would get. Haha!

Your daydreams are abruptly intrerrupted as your wife tosses your Bible into your lap. Oh yes, devotions. Look at the clock. 8:30pm. Better get started.

Open up to where you were having personal devotions last. Hm. Galatians 5, the fruits of the spirit. That sounds like a good devotion topic. Everyone knows those verses, so they won’t have to pay attention to what you’re saying.

Okay, look down the verses… love, joy, peace, longsuffering, … that sounds like what you’re going through now … gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness … you think about the look on the superintendent’s face when you tell him about the car accident and how meek you’ll look in turn … temperance … what’s that? … against such there is no law.

That’s a good list of stuff to talk about. No one could possibly disagree with anything you say. Your goal is, after all, to just get up there, say some stuff, sit back down, and have no one remember what you said by the end of the service, that is if they even were listening to start with.

But what to talk about? Fortunately there are a lot of words to discuss. That’s where St. Merriam Webster’s commentary on the English language comes in. You lean way over in your chair to reach for the dictionary. It doesn’t come off the shelf much. Look up each of those words and write down the definition. That’ll take up five minutes to read all that.

Now lean over and get Matthew Henry. You don’t know who he is or if he is even right, but other people use Matthew Henry, so he must have been a Mennonite or at least someone who would have been a Mennonite if he knew about them. Turn to Matthew Henry’s commentary on Galatians 5. Oooh, it’s nice and long. It’ll take at least 7 or 8 minutes to read all that. Copy it all word for word onto your sheet of notes. You don’t bother to take the time to read what he says as you copy. You’re confident Matthew Henry knows what he is talking about.

But you still need something else. You remember an email forward you got that was a poem about moms. You skimmed it, but maybe you could use it. After all, everyone likes mom.

Get out of your chair with vigor and determination. Go to the computer. Your wife is still there, browsing blogs and sending forwards. She’s been doing that all evening. Tell her you need the computer to study for your devotions. She can’t argue with that.

Search through your inbox. Fwds, fwds, fwds, fwds, lots of fwds… aha, there it is: “Fwd: fwd: FWD:FWD:A MOTHER IS…” Open it up and read it. It’s got lots of things about gentleness and love and goodness… it’ll do. Print it out.

Looks like you’re set! Devotions should be a cinch!

Sunday comes. You walk up to the podium. Open your Bible. Arrange your papers.

Mumble: “Good morning and Christian greetings to you all.” Don’t look up the whole time you say this. Talk down. Ruffle your notes some more.

Say: “For a short devotional meditation, let’s turn to Galatians 5 as we read the fruits of the spirit.” Look up when you have everything arranged and are turned to Galatians 5. Scan the audience as everyone turns there. Good, some people are already asleep. The rest turn there with muched forced discipline.

Say: “This is a familiar passage. Paul talks about the fruits of the spirit here. He says what they all are here, so it would be good if we looked at them again.”

You suddenly get zapped with a moment of spontaneous inspiration. Say: “Let’s stand while we read the Word of the Lord.” The congregation’s reluctance is evident, but they submit to your request nonetheless.

Read Galatians in a monotone voice. Tell everyone, “You can be seated.”

Now take each word at a time. Say: “Merriam Webster defines ____ as…” for each word. After each word, restate the definition in your owns words and say how we all need to be like that.

After defining each word, flip your page of notes over and read your copied notes of what Matthew Henry says about the passage. There’s really no sense thinking for yourself about these verses anyhow. You won’t discover anything new. Matthew Henry has already done all the thinking for you. While reading the commentary, you dreamily recall an interesting hunting article you read last night.

After reading Matthew Henry, say that the fruits of the spirit are good for us to strive for. Then say, “And all these verses remind me of someone special in our lives. That person is our mother. And I have a poem about mothers.” Read the poem. Of course, everyone else in church got the same email forward, but pretend no one knows it and read it as if it came out of some great poetry book.

Everyone likes you now! You didn’t offend anyone and everyone likes mom. After the devotion, pray some boring, uninspired prayer about having more fruits of the spirit in your life. Take your seat.

The Sunday School superintendent returns to the podium. “Thank you, brother, for that timely exhortation on the fruits of the spirit. It has challenged us all to live a more spirit-filled life.”

You feel good about yourself. Hey, doing devotions isn’t so bad after all, is it? While you are contemplating your holiness, your friend leans over towards you with a wry grin and whispers, “So, Bible scholar, could you tell me what Matthew Henry’s commentary on Genesis 5 has to do with the fruits of the spirit?”

You Might Be a Beachy If…

…you think the quote “Luke, I am your father” is from the Book of Acts.

…you have only two ways to express your complicated network of emotions: “good” and “mixed feelings.”

…you think Mark Martin is that Mennonite up the road who runs a garage.

…”figure skating” means misrepresenting the numbers on your tax forms.

…you assume “Carmen Miranda rights” is a Budget scribe.

…you think that Bush would make a good Beachy if he only weren’t so caught up in all the government stuff.

…you think a Court of Appeals is either a rematch of volleyball or a golden opportunity to start dating that popular guy/girl in the youth group.

…your chances of being asked to teach at a church school decrease if you have a college degree in education.

…your usage of the words “better would” does not mean a superior quality lumber product.

…the first step in considering courtship is to make sure you’re not related to the person.

…you think Arthur Miller writes family books for Christian Light Publications.

…you know about Thomas Kinkaid but not Pablo Picasso, Salvador Dali, or Rembrandt.

…there’s a huge difference to you between having someone of the same sex kiss you on the lips verses the cheek.

…your local economy is sustained by the manufacturing of storage sheds and gazebos.

…the minister from your church preaches against Indiana Jones, saying that you should not strive to keep up with this worldly English neighbor in Nappanee.

…the usage of the phrase “personal purity” is as personal as the discussion is going to get.

…you are puzzled that the J-O-Y song is played at the department store in December, but assume it must be the Amish version because of the reference to the horse sleigh.

…you affirm that you don’t swear.

…you don’t understand why at least 1/2 of these one-liners are funny.

Yes, you read that right: new Beachy personal ads! The Budget wouldn’t print them. The Calvary Messenger said it couldn’t be done. But the Beachy Complex said that it was their impossible dream! Now coming to you through Beachy Complex Publications, Beachy personal ads, the newest way to meet your mate and marry while you’re still young! Mom dropping you hints as you fast approach 30?? Dad disappointed that you’ve turned down four respectable suitors that you “just didn’t feel comfortable” with?? Don’t fret! Subscribe to Beachy Personal Ads today and be married in less than a year!

Female Seeking Male
Goody-goody SWF who does everything right looking for goody-goody SWM who does everything right. Should know how to give cold shoulder to inferior people without causing a stir that reflects negatively on reputation. Parents must be well-known, elite Beachys. Must make lots of money and have spent exactly 12 months in service. Sincere spiritual character not required, but must be able to fake it.

Lonely SWF who likes to move fast in relationships looking for SWM who knows how to talk father into letting her marry. Must be willing to wed on short notice without parental blessing. Can make a good apple dumpling. Please call once and hang up after the first ring, wait one minute, call again and let ring two times, hang up, and then call again in 30 minutes.

Older SWF widow Budget scribe looking for SWM who just likes to talk about the weather.

Desperate SBF looking for SBM member of the Beachy church. Anyone who fits profile will do.

SWF looking for SWM willing to finance shopping habits. That’s all.

Just-turned-18 SWF eager to start dating strong and charming SWM who knows how to go through the proper channels to request courtship. Must like giddy, talkative girls who are always in the know.

SWF native convert from Latin America looking for SWM member at a stylish and fashionable Beachy church that has all the amenities and wealth of American culture. Willingness to stay at current church a must, and ability to get visas and green cards for others a plus.

Male Seeking Female
SWM living in starter castle he built himself looking for SWF with excellent mothering skills. Must be able to clean dirty laundry left on the floor, remove coffee stains from furniture and rug, make boring meals loaded with butter and salt, and fetch husband the morning newspaper before he gets out of bed. Please call ASAP, for his bathroom is dirty and he is getting hungry.

Uppity SWM choir director looking for SWF soprano who can sing the high parts on the Hallelujah Chorus. Must have attended at least one Shenandoah Valley Music Camp and participated in over ten touring choirs. Ability to give trite, shallow testimonies between songs a plus. Must like singing in hot showers, singing in cold showers, singing along with the Sound of Music, and talking about singing. Must be able to tell Felix Mendelssohn from Eric Whitacre, and Hallal from West Coast Mennonite Choir (there will be a quiz). Auditions starting next week. Members of Antrim Mennonite Choir, Oasis Chorale, or Mountain Anthems accepted without further question.

Young SWM looking for SWF who wants to beat the Beachy record for largest number of children in a family, which currently stands at 20. Must know several good midwives and be able to give birth at home (or at least believe she can). Good with children a plus, but not required. Can-do attitude a must.

Older SWM widower looking for SWF who has never married. Must like former wife’s tastes in food, household décor, and child training skills. Must also have former wife’s ability to relate to other former wife’s in-laws.

SWM Thomas Kinkaid look-alike searching for dreamy, tightly packaged Beachy girl from Lancaster, Holmes County, or Northern Indiana who enjoys reading romance novels, taking long walks on the beach, and cuddling together when in the presence of others. No character necessary, just passionate indulgence.

Other
Church standard booklet looking for anyone who likes it. Obedience is a plus, but not required. Person of conviction even better. Must be willing to take me off shelf or out of drawer for a read at least once a year. Twice preferred.

MWM bishop still looking for churches that want to go Maranatha (see last month’s ad). 100% church approval no longer necessary to call. Is willing to travel long distances, silence co-ministers, and personally rewrite standard of practice for one generation of commitment.

Bible school in Arkansas looking for students who want to learn more about God and not just play volleyball, socialize, and flirt with the opposite sex. Please mail applications immediately, as many unqualified applicants have already applied and been accepted.

Inspired by recent events in my life and comments which have been posted upon this blog, I, the HBB, have once again taken up my proverbial quill, in the attempt to aid the Beachy Complex community in understanding some fundamental truths.

In my previous writings, I have pointed out some flaws in Beachyism by means of satire, which some have taken to be insults at the Gospel itself, which thing they were not.

I have been kindly asked to clarify what, if anything, should be changed about the Beachys.  Rather than privately answering this request, I felt it could be helpful to discuss it in this open forum. It is to be understood that entering into any such discussion has the very real potential of generating controversy.  But as I have amply demonstrated, I do not fear controversy, perhaps I enjoy it too much. Therefore, in this post I shall attempt to set forth several principles, which I feel should guide change and reform in the Beachy church at large.

Principle #1- Inward change must precede outward change.

I have heard many discussions regarding changing the church, and it seems to me that almost all of them revolve around some form outward change.

“Let’s change the hairstyles, let’s change the dress styles, let’s allow some new forms of techology and entertainment, let’s do our best to take down the fences that keep the world out.”

In some more radical reforms, such as the Charity movement, even the ecclesiastical structure itself is changed. But all of these changes, whether they are beneficial or not, are outward changes. And while outward change will eventually take place with true reform, it is the end but not the means to the end.  The means to that end is inward, internal, invisible change, which will lead to visible, external, outward change.

This is the principle upon which we trip. The reason that we trip that it is impossible to effect inward change from without. It simply does not happen. And what is more, it is impossible to enforce inward change. Therefore, you cannot start a program at your local church after which you will have internally changed everyone into what they should be.

Lest you doubt that inward change precedes and leads to outward change, read Romans 12:2. I have heard many people major on verse 2, part 1, which states, ”And be not conformed to this world…” But simple nonconformity is not the end of the issue, it is hardly the beginning. Look at the rest of the verse, “…but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind that ye might prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.”

It is to be understood then, that a renewed mind will lead to a renewed life, and a renewed life is not one which will be conformed to the world either in philosophy, or in lifestyle.

The question then remains-Where does the renewed mind that leads to the internal change that leads to the outward change that leads to the renewed life come from?

That is a good question.

It leads us to Principle #2-

Inward change is brought about by having our minds conformed to the mind of Christ.

This means that we examine Jesus Christ and His philosophy of life, and the things that He believed and taught and practiced and we embrace them and make them our own.

That means that we love what He loves and hate what He hates, we smile when He smiles and weep when He weeps. We embrace what He accepts, and shun what He rejects.

We make a willful choice to have our hearts conformed to Christ. In doing so, we “present our bodies a living sacrifice” ready to be as Christ, regardless of personal cost.

It is useless to have this discussion without getting specific.

The reason that I have heard most cited as a need to lower our standards is that they have become a barrier to the world.

This I deny.

My friends, we have become a barrier to the world.

Our walls against the world are not walls of dress and practice. They are walls of culture. A man and his wife can enter our churches from “the world” and start wearing cape dresses and coverings and straight cut suits and stop watching TV and going to fairs and festivals and wearing shekich shirts and carpenter pants, but they will still not fit in.

Why?

Because we don’t want them to.

We don’t want them to because they don’t can or garden, or make their own dresses, or work in construction or farm.

We don’t want them to because they have a different frame of reference than we do.

We don’t want them to because they aren’t related to someone we know.

We don’t want them to because their last name isn’t Miller or Yoder or Lapp or Coblentz or Raber or Hochstetler or Eicher or whatever other name is widely accepted in your area.

We don’t want them because they rock the boat.

For whatever reason, we just don’t want them.

If the key to church growth was simply letting down on standards for membership, the Baptist, Lutheran, Prebyterian and Catholic churches which have no standards at all would have everyone attending them.

But they don’t.

The world cries and longs for what only those with the mind of Christ can give. The world is looking for people who give a hoot about their lives. And they are precious few.

Why?

Because in order to care, you must feel the world’s pain, and in order to feel the world’s pain, you must hurt. Caring hurts, and we don’t care enough to hurt.  So we shrug off the pain of the world, and leave it bleeding and dying in the ghettos of sin while we deceive ourselves into thinking that we would reach them if only we were a little less righteous.

We would reach them if we were a little less self-righteous.

Perhaps this blog post hasn’t been very coherent. For that I apologize.

Perhaps this blog post has come across very strong. For that I don’t care.

It’s been a long post, so I’ll bring it to a close, even though I haven’t exhausted this subject.

But if you want more, I’ll give it to you.

Regards,

HBB

There was once a little old mule who was so poor that he barely had enough hay to eat. The only thing of value he had was a pile of comic strips that he had collected from the newspapers. The old mule loved his old comic strips, and read them every day. He had several friends who liked to read them too, but the mule was very protective of them.

One day a man came along, and saw the pile of comic strips in the old mule’s stall. “Come here, mule,” said the man. “Give me your comics and I will give you some hay.” But the mule would not.

The next day the man came back. “Come here, mule,” he said. “If you will give me your comics, I will give you a barn to sleep in.” But the mule would not.

Finally the man hit upon a plan. “Come here, mule,” he said, “if you give me your comics, I will give you a lifetime subscription to a newspaper.” And the mule’s ears perked up. And he gave the man the comics.

But when the newspaper ca