Hi, my friends,
I’m in our pop-up camper in a state park in Texas at the moment. Thankfully we had the foresight to rent a T-Mobile internet box for the summer, so even out here our internet is excellent. The sunsets here have been beautiful, even though the weather is extremely hot and humid. It almost has me missing the wet, cloudy weather of Calais.
While the landscape has been beautiful, the true beauty of our time in North America so far has been visiting numerous supporting churches and sharing about our work with them, hoping that the vision and dream we have and the traumas we’ve faced connect with them on a deep level.
As we’ve traveled through Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, we’ve met some truly beautiful people. Some we’ve met before, our last time visiting churches before we moved to France. These include Joyce and Tom in Bluffton, Ohio. They opened their home to us and welcomed us as an extension of their family. They even bought toys for our children and cooked amazing meals for us. In a blog post from a number of years ago, I called them “Jesus in Ohio.” They only reinforced that image during our recent visit.
We also had the opportunity to meet an older couple in Kansas. I didn’t ask their permission, so I won’t name them here, but they also opened their home to us. We spent time sharing meals with them and getting to know them and hear their stories. They have a large farm with numerous old tractors and cars that the husband works on in his free time. We learned about their heart for intercultural work that changes hearts and lives and builds the Kingdom of God throughout the world.
But something they said as we were preparing to leave struck me especially. They had been in the service where they heard us share about the situation in Calais. As we were packing up our truck and getting ready the next day, the wife told us, “You’re the good kind of Mennonites.” She went on to explain that she meant she resonated with the fact that we don’t specifically practice evangelism in our work, but rather let our love and hospitality show the love of Jesus to those we serve. This has led to some conversions.
She pointed out that we didn’t grow up in the Mennonite church, but rather chose Anabaptist theology for ourselves as adults. In her mind, she said, we understand what it means to be Anabaptist/Mennonite. Most of the people in her congregation had grown up in the church and had it as a part of their heritage, so they didn’t necessarily resonate with the theology in the same way.
She called us “good Mennonites,” in contrast to herself and other Mennonites we’ve met. But my perspective is different. First, she and her husband are living out the command of Jesus to “welcome one of these little ones in [his] name.” Their hospitality and kindness had a deep impact on us. And while they’re not able to travel much anymore or go to other places in the world to serve, their kindness and love serve as a shining example of the love of Jesus for the stranger just as powerfully as any foreign field work they could do.
I wish that all Mennonites understood this fact. I wish that all Mennonites took Anabaptist theology seriously. But we have met enough people on our travels who have a deep dedication living out the words of Jesus, which is perhaps THE central tenet of Anabaptism, that it gives us hope for the small, often divided denomination to which we belong.
So, my friend, if you read this, I want you to know that you are the good kind of Mennonite. Even though you can no longer travel the world, you love and serve your neighbor and the stranger with a selfless love that might just change the world.
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