Steve’s Amish Barn Raising

My job regularly carries me to northern Ohio. One of my frequent trips is to a one-million square foot facility that is located in an Amish community. The modern, automated, manufacturing facility provides a stark contrast to the lives of the people dwelling there.

On a typical morning drive to the plant, I will share the road with a number of horse-drawn buggies. Children walk in groups to their schoolhouse during parts of the year and sell vegetables out of roadside stands in the summer months.

The downtown area consists of an area about a block long. A general store sits on one end and a grocery store on the other. A few feet away is Mrs. Yoder’s Kitchen, where you can enjoy wonderful comfort foods on their buffet lunch.

Every Wednesday is auction day “downtown” and the entire community seems to come together. It appears to be a social event as much as an economic one as people gather in clusters on the main street. On other days everyone congregates at the church where softball games break out and their unrushed lives are on full display.

Sometimes, a new house is under construction and neighbors come together to pitch in and help out. On those days, I roll my windows down and relish the sounds of hammers, saws, and voices.

The allure of the simple life tugs at my heart. The Amish are a hard-working people but unencumbered with the busy-ness that has taken hold of the outside world. They shun technology in favor of human contact. Through their fashion and life choices, they promote what they have in common. They look within their group for solutions instead of delegating those responsibilities to outsiders.

These fragile ideals represent my vision of a community.

Pursuing a life of community has required more effort than I ever anticipated. Knowing when a neighbor could use help requires constantly connecting with them and picking up on non-verbal cues. Offering to help requires courage.

A few weeks ago, my friend Steve Thomas got a red-hot deal on a storage shed that provided a solution to his over-crowded garage. He bought the floor model in a semi-state of assembly and stacked the pieces on his back patio. The instructions advised that it was a three-person job.

Before I offered to help him set it up, several thoughts crossed my mind. What if he didn’t have confidence in me? What if he thought I would make an irreversible mess? What if I did screw it up? What if he laughed when he found out that I can’t drive a nail to save my life?

My fears were focused on me, but my hopes were centered around him. Thankfully, hope won and I asked him if I could help with the assembly.

The following Saturday afternoon, I invited two other friends to join in our Barn Raising. Our reality was that we were screwing together a plastic shed but in my mind, we were the same tight-knit group of neighbors that I watched pitch in to build a house in Amish country.

The job was somewhat harder than we had hoped, but we had a great time. It was a beautiful day, we had time for guy talk, and we came together as friends more quickly than the various pieces of the shed. Several hours later we stood back and inspected our work.

I noticed the defects. The foundation I had built was about 1″ out of square. The right-hand door stuck when it closed. A ridge in the floor betrayed a twisted floor stud. A small pile of “extra” screws sat on a shelf. I hoped my shortcomings wouldn’t be a disappointment.

If Steve noticed any of the defects, he never let us know. He graciously thanked us for our help and bragged that it was exactly what he had hoped for and would improve his life.

I think that he while he appreciated the finished work product, he valued the symbolism even more.

When Jesus sent the disciples out to spread the gospel, he instructed them to go into people’s homes along the way. Then he said:

As you enter the home, give it your greeting. If the home is deserving, let your peace rest on it.
(Matthew 10:12-13)

Steve had known that each of us would offer our greeting when we arrived. As we labored with him, our peace rested on his home and he accepted it. More important than its capacity as a storage unit, the shed is a reminder that we came together and filled his home with the peace and hope of Jesus. That was the greatest blessing of the day.

My house is full of reminders of the peace that different friends and family have let rest on it. I believe that my walls are strengthened by that peace and that dark forces are repelled by its presence. The peace endures because my home is deserving. Not because of what I have done, but because the One we have dedicated it to is deserving.

Some favorite parts of my home are these small reminders of the peace that rests there. I embrace them as symbols of the layers of supernatural protection that shield everyone inside. Although they are only trinkets, the authority they represent is real. They are scattered in most rooms and comfort me while I have my morning coffee, sit down for a Sunday dinner, or answer the front door.

The Holy Trinity represents the community that God himself has chosen to live in. As his children, it is natural for us to emulate Him. Nothing is too small for him to share with his Son or Spirit, and I got to live it out for a few hours during Steve’s Amish Barn Raising.

In my own way, I am discovering the simple life. It is still somewhat frightening to risk embarrassment and rejection by opening up to my neighbors. However, one shed at a time, we are fulfilling our own prayers that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

May God’s peace rest on your home when you welcome others into it and share your blessings with them.

The pictured reminders are only a sample, but include:

1. University of Tennessee coffee cup from Carra Day. She said folks from TN shouldn’t just have Texas cups.
2. Superman coaster from Columba Spaziani. It’s a thank you for being her defender.
3. Vintage 1968 glass from Pam and Steve Hermann. A gift from my 50th birthday.
4. Reps 4 Jesus t-shirt from Steve Thomas. A gift based on my post of the same name.
5. Floor tile in the Great Hall hall laid by Bob Womack. He’s just a great friend.
6. Dime-size cross thingy from my sister-in-law Pam Nuchols. A random gift that hangs over our front door.