Amish Voice, July 2016

The Amish Voice 5

be a big question mark of where I would

spend eternity.

Finally, the bishop neared the end of his

sermon and began to read the customary

ending chapter. I knew the words by

heart:

Matthew 7:21

Es werden nicht alle,

die zu mir sagen: HERR, HERR!

ins Himmelreich kommen, sondern

die den Willen tun meines Vaters

im Himmel.

Es werden viele zu mir sagen an

jenem Tage: HERR, HERR! haben

wir nicht in deinem Namen

geweissagt, haben wir nicht in

deinem

Namen

Teufel

ausgetrieben, und haben wir nicht

in deinem Namen viele Taten

getan?

Dann werde ich ihnen bekennen:

Ich habe euch noch nie erkannt;

weichet alle von mir, ihr

Übeltäter!

Interpreted in English:

Matthew 7:21

Not every one that

saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall

enter into the kingdom of heaven;

but he that doeth the will of my

Father which is in heaven.

Many will say to me in that day,

Lord, Lord, have we not

prophesied in thy name? and in thy

name have cast out devils? and in

thy name done many wonderful

works?

And then will I profess unto them, I

never knew you: depart from me,

ye that work iniquity.

These verses always scared me. I knew

that someday I would die and I would

stand before God to be judged. I tried not

to think about it too much, but I knew

that I couldn’t keep it from happening.

Time would tick away, and even if I lived

to be old, death would get me sooner or

later. Every time I was faced with the

issue of the judgment, I searched my

mind for the right way to prepare myself

for that event. I was desperate not to

arrive at that place without being

prepared for it. There was nothing I

wanted more than to be in that small

crowd on God’s right hand, hearing the

words,

Well done, thou good and faithful

servant

. Yet, when I searched my life for

something that could provide me with the

assurance that I would hear those words,

I couldn’t find enough evidence to

convince me.

Not everyone who says LORD! LORD!

will enter into the kingdom of heaven, but

those who do the will of my Father in

heaven

. I wanted to do the will of God,

but I wasn’t exactly sure how. I knew that

He required me to live a good life, but I

wasn’t sure that I was good enough.

When I looked at the list of people who

didn’t make it, I was scared.

Have we not

prophesied in your name? Have we not

cast out devils in your name? Have we

not done many wonderful works in your

name?

I didn’t even come close to doing

those things. If these people were

spiritual enough to do the good things

they did, and still God said that He didn’t

know them, what hope was there for me?

I longed to know God. I wanted Him to

be more personal and more approachable.

I wished I could get on His good side and

know that I was. I longed to be accepted

by Him, to know that He was pleased and

not angry with me.

The bishop finished the chapter, and after

a few closing remarks, sat down to hear

the other ministers give testimony that

what he had preached was founded on

God’s word. After they finished, he rose,

made some more remarks, and then we

knelt for the long prayer.

The long prayer meant different things

for different people. For some, it meant a

good time to take a much-needed nap.

For some of the boys, it meant a time to

whisper and poke each other and do the

rowdy things that were expected from

them if they were cool. For me, it was

something to be endured. The prayer was

read from a book, in words that were

difficult to understand. Even though the

prayer was a better one than I could ever

pray (or even the preacher, for that

matter), it was read in a tone of voice that

made God seem far away and out of

touch with reality. I wanted God to be

near, and not just some far-off God that

must be approached with a perfect prayer

from a book. Yet, I myself didn’t know

how to pray. I didn’t even know if God

heard my prayers.

After the bishop’s blessing to the

congregation, another slow hymn was

sung and then church was dismissed.

Like a tidal wave, black hats flew to the

heads of their owners the instant that the

last word of the song was finished, and

the boys and young men rushed out the

door. We waited around the barn, trying

to tell jokes and laugh until it was

announced that lunch was ready. After

eating

bohne soup und lattveig brott

(bean soup and apple butter bread)

and

waiting impatiently until Dad was done

visiting with the men, the family was

once again seated in the buggy, and Betty

was trotting patiently homeward. I was

once again in the front seat as I had been

so many times before, thinking about the

day and what had been said. Once again

the questions pushed into my mind, and I

wearily shoved them aside. Already,

though, I could sense that my promises to

do better were fading and becoming

weaker. The timely warnings and the

reminders of righteousness and judgment

and thoughts of eternity somehow

seemed less serious now that church was

over. The strange and scary thing was, I

discovered that I didn’t care.

—Emanuel Schrock

To order a free copy of

My Story

—in

booklet form—please contact the Amish

Voice at (419) 962-1515, or send a note

to P.O. Box 128, Savannah OH 44874.

This is the end of Part One. You can read

Part Two in the next issue.