A Friend of Sinners

Before I married, I worked at the Flushing Shirt Factory in Meyersdale, PA.  I also attended “the little white church on Beachley Street,” formerly First Mennonite Church, called “Rock Church” at the time. 

I worked at a sewing machine as a bander next to a woman named Connie* in the shirt factory and we became good friends.  She was not a church-goer, but her oldest daughter, Linda,* started coming to Rock Church and I befriended her.  Concerned that she give her heart and life to Jesus, I spent some lunch hours in my car with Linda while we ate.  I told her Jesus loves her and I wanted to make sure she didn’t miss heaven.  I talked to her a lot about Jesus.

One day when lunch hour was over, and I went back to my sewing machine, Connie looked very uncomfortable and other banders teased me: “We saw you in your car with Linda; we know what you’re up to.” 

I was clueless, and felt hurt and bewildered by their snide and snickering comments.  I demanded of Connie to explain why the girls would say that.  She replied, “It’s a family matter; it doesn’t concern you.” 

Some days later, Linda invited me to join her at Gnagey’s Dairy Bar for some ice cream after work, and though I was in a hurry to get home, I obliged her.  She began a tale of woe – how her mother was so cruel to her, how she just couldn’t bear to go home, etc, etc.  She said she had no place to spend the night.  Out of my heart of compassion, I believed her and invited her to come home with me.

We weren’t home but half an hour before an angry mother called and said she was coming over immediately to get her.  Linda just looked at me and didn’t say anything.  The next day at work, Connie told me her daughter was a lesbian.  I didn’t even know what that was and had to have it explained to me.  I could tell Connie was embarrassed, but I assured her God could change Linda and that I was still her friend.  Linda did cause some trouble for our church, but I remained friendly toward her.  She later married and had four children.  And Connie became a Christian before she died of cancer many years later.  I haven’t heard from Linda for many, many years, and I wonder where she is. I pray she has given her life to Jesus.

Were I to sit at my kitchen table with someone who was “gay,” my heart would be filled with compassion for them.  I would show them from God’s Word who God made them to be, and that He has a beautiful purpose for their life.  I would assure them of God’s love for them, and that Jesus wanted to set them free from it.  Just like any other sinful bondage. 

If that person insisted she didn’t need God’s intervention and instead belittled, argued and mocked me because I refuse to “okay” her sin or wrong beliefs, there is nothing more I could do.  If she kept pushing me to accept her lifestyle, and showed no interest in wanting to be set free, I would have to let her know I have a boundary where that subject is off limits.  I would gently say, “I give you grace to have your belief, because I can’t change you.  Only God can do that, and I am going to pray for you.  I love you; you have value because you are a person made in God’s image.” 

I would always be courteous, but I would not need to be a close friend to her, because “bad company corrupts good morals.”  (I Corinthians 15:33 NIV)  I have the right to my boundaries too.    

In my private prayer time, I would lift her before the Lord, with tears and compassion, and ask the Lord to reveal His truth as only He can.  I would declare with joy, “Thank you, God, that you’re at work in her life; I declare her set free from believing a lie.  I thank You that once she is free, You are going to use her mightily to help others become free who are trapped in this belief and lifestyle.  Thank you, Jesus!  I see her as a mighty warrior in Your Kingdom!"  I'd go on the offensive in the spirit.

Whether it’s the daughter of a close friend caught in promiscuity, or a son whose parents are grieved over his bondage to drugs, alcohol and fornication, or a son or daughter caught in the homosexual lifestyle, I have compassion for each one of them.  I pray the best for each of them, “calling things that are not as though they were.” (Romans 4:17)  I pray/say what I know God wants them to be, how He wants them to live in freedom and holiness.  Let the Holy Spirit guide me in praying the Scriptures for them.  Prayer to an all-powerful God changes people – neither I nor anyone else can. I believe there will come a time when they will be changed by the grace and power of God if I’m faithful in prayer.

Even though all sin is sin, nothing destroys the home and family like sexual sin: divorce, unfaithfulness, incest, and homosexuality, etc. There’s hardly a family anywhere anymore that has not been touched in some way by the scourge of sexual perversion.  As I said: sin is sin.  But I have yet to hear of any group demand political and social acceptance for murder, lying, stealing, gossip, fits of rage, jealousy, etc.  Satan tries to stamp out the image of God from the earth because he hates God with a vengeance.  Sexual sin is a particular area where Satan wants to deceive Christians; that’s why I stand against it in warning believers to stay faithful to the truth of God’s Word.

And therein lies the rub.  Far too many people right now don’t seem to care what God says; they think they are smarter than God.  I am so concerned that Christians would be duped like Eve was in the Garden of Eden where Satan slyly said to Eve, “Did God really say…?”  

I ask myself, “How can I say I love someone if I don’t tell them the truth?” 

Jesus even warned especially about sexual sin in Revelation 2:20-23 (NIV) where He tells the church at Thyatira, “…I have this against you: you tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess.  By her teaching she misleads my servants into sexual immorality…I have given her time to repent of her immorality, but she is unwilling.  So I will cast her on a bed of suffering, and I will make those who commit adultery with her suffer intensely unless they repent of her ways.  I will strike her children dead.  Then all the churches will know that I am he who searches hearts and minds, and I will repay each of you according to your deeds.” 

  

Jezebel symbolizes a mocking spirit that claims to speak for God (prophetess), saying that sexual sin is okay.  The adultery is against Jesus and our love for Him; Satan wants to draw believers away from obedience to our Lord.

Jesus was a Friend of sinners.  He ate with them and forgave their sin, saying, “Go and sin no more.”  That’s where my heart is.  He does not approve of a sinful lifestyle or wrong beliefs, and I can’t either, but I love the person.  My name is Elaine, and I am a friend of sinners.

*Names have been changed

Copyright ©2014 Elaine Beachy

What's Your Love Language?

Do you know the love language of your spouse and family members?  What makes you feel connected to them?  How well do you know your own love language?

Gary Chapman’s book, “The Five Love Languages,” describes five basic ways a person feels loved.  As we celebrate Valentine’s Day, it’s good to be reminded how we can help the people in our lives feel loved.   

The five categories that help us identify our love languages are:

• Touch
• Acts of Service
• Gifts
• Quality Time
• Words of Affirmation

I liken these “love languages” to emotional fuel.  Each of us has a love tank that needs refilled from time to time.  When it gets empty, we tend to get grouchy and not relate well to those closest to us.  It brings out the worst in us.  Understanding people’s love language can help keep us from harboring an attitude of offense and bitterness toward them.

A Touch-oriented person needs kind physical touch to feel safe, nurtured, loved, and cherished.  They thrive on an affectionate arm around the shoulder, a gentle touch on the hand, a massage, etc.  Touch is the most invasive of people’s personal space, so if you are not a “touchy/feely” person, you may be uncomfortable meeting this need in others.  The Touch person should communicate his/her needs so both parties can relate well to one another.  The following true story is an example.  [Names were changed]

As they spent the day together, Nancy desired a deeper level of bonding with her sister.  She curled up on the couch next to Alma as they watched a movie together, and after awhile put her feet in Alma’s lap.  Her sister reacted with immediate agitation: “Get your feet off my lap!”  Thankfully, Nancy was aware of the five love languages.  Just because her own love language was touch, didn't mean Alma’s was the same.  It kept her from feeling rejected and taking offense to Alma’s boundary, and she said, “Oh – okay.” 

On Tuesday I was in a women’s group, and a young mother shared an experience about her five-year-old son.  As she rubbed and scratched his back at bedtime, he spoke up and said, “Mommy, when you scratch my back, it feels like you love me!”  Wow.  Out of the mouth of babes.  No doubt about it: his love language is “Touch.”

An Acts of Service person thrives on intentional acts of kindness.  They measure how much they’re loved by surveying their surroundings to see what has or has not been done for them.  A messy environment and seeing what needs fixed irritates them.  Examples are: a TV left on which nobody is watching, clothes strew around, and chores left undone. An unsafe environment because someone is thoughtless or procrastinates in fixing things drains their love tank too.

Gifts people give gifts on a regular basis, and in turn expect to be given gifts as well.  They want to feel that you know them, pay attention to them, and understand them.  The phrase, “It’s the thought that counts,” was definitely coined by a Gifts person.  Their driving thought is, “Do you know me?” and “Am I on your mind?”  Have you ever given a gift to someone who didn't seem to especially appreciate it, and you felt hurt? Maybe her love language was “words of affirmation” or “quality time” rather than gifts. You probably gave a gift because that’s the way you perceived love from someone, or out of habit just assumed she’d want a gift. 

Quality Time people want to know you are interested in what interests them: a hobby, book, sports, a TV show, etc.  They value good conversation and feel loved through personal, undivided attention.  They feel “I’m important to you.”

Words of Affirmation people notice facial expression, body language, tone of voice and choice of words, and feel loved when these are all positive.  They pick up on the “spirit” in which something is said, and feel loved when someone verbally expresses enjoyment of who they are.  A person whose love tank needs words of affirmation can more easily be hurt by angry, critical and negative words, and can easily withdraw into themselves or lash out with their own weapons that wound.  Use the “sandwich” technique when you need to offer constructive criticism to a Words of Affirmation person.  Layer the criticism between the top and bottom layer of affirming comments.  Jesus used this communication style in addressing the seven churches in the Book of Revelation, chapters 2 and 3.

We should not expect our loved ones to automatically pick up on our love language.  We are also responsible to verbalize our feelings and not “clam up” in anger or frustration when our love tank is low, and assume they just don’t care.  Statements such as, “When you say I look pretty, I feel loved,” will let them know what fills your love tank.

For more on the subject of love and relationships, I recommend Gary Chapman’s book “The Five Love Languages” and “Keep Your Love On” by Danny Silk.

“Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.  It is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”  I Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

Ancestor Eli Yoder

The year was 1899: the summer my great-grandfather, Eli Yoder, built a barn on his farm in Aurora, West Virginia.  Henry Mosser was hired to move his saw mill operation to Eli’s property to cut the timber into lumber.  One Thursday as Eli felled a tree, he caught a gray squirrel that fell with it.  Somehow that little creature squirmed around until he bit Eli – through his leather glove – into his thumb at the first joint.

Thinking nothing of it, Eli kept on with his work.  But around midnight of the same day, his thumb became very painful.  The next morning they sent for the doctor, who announced Eli had blood poisoning, but would do his best to treat it.  Someone had to be with him day and night.

In the middle of this entire trauma, Eli’s wife Dora had to cook meals for the saw mill hands, log cutters and haulers.  When Eli was at his worst, he got the news that his father, Christian Yoder, was dead.

Those were the days long before penicillin, and the excruciatingly painful ordeal lasted three months for Eli.  But that was not what killed him.  After the doctor cut his hand open “in a good many places,” it drained and he soon recovered. 

Eli moved his family to Summit Mills, Pennsylvania and was a highly esteemed farmer of Elk Lick Township.  Physically frail at the age of sixty-seven, with his right arm having been paralyzed for some time, he was still able to do some light work and drive the wagon to town.  

One Sunday morning as his family attended the Amish Mennonite Church, he was home alone.  Suddenly two young men appeared at the kitchen door and asked for something to eat.  My great-grandfather was not the kind of man to turn any hungry person away, but he was suspicions of these two.  However, he set about getting them something to eat.  Soon, a noise at the front of the house caught his attention.  Looking out, he saw two more young men carrying crocks of butter and other things out of the cellar.

He immediately went outside to stop them, and the gang of four miscreants began to throw stones at him and threatened to kill him.  He went back inside the house and the four got away with one crock of butter.  He wasn’t hit by any of the rocks.  But the frightening encounter with the ruffians coupled with the memory of his father’s robbery and torture by the McClellandtown Gang twenty-five or thirty years earlier, so reacted on his nerves that he suffered a physical collapse after the vandals left.

Monday (the next evening) three young men, Fiddler, Frickey and Schrock, came to Eli’s house to make settlement, they said, by order of the guilty parties.  The three insisted they didn’t know who the guilty parties were.  Eli and his family said they would not accept any settlement unless the guilty party showed up.  The emissaries finally said they would bring the culprits to make amends the following evening.

But the next day, Tuesday, Eli became much worse, so much so that the family sent for Dr. J. W. Wenzel to administer medical treatment.  Dr. Wenzel said Eli was suffering severely from nervousness and his vital signs were very low.  He tried to do what he could, but to no avail.  Eli died at 7:30 that evening. 

None of the gang showed up Tuesday evening to make amends and Detective M. R. Leckemby and Constable D. R. Cramer began a search that night that ended in their apprehension. 

I see a pattern of trauma, fear and intimidation in my Yoder family’s history; it gives me some insights about my grandfather Claude (Eli’s son) my own father, Edwin (Claude’s son) and myself.  I thank God for the power of the Name and blood of Jesus that breaks every generational curse and stronghold of the enemy in our lives!  Hallelujah!

I am deeply indebted to my son-in-law Keith Yoder, son of Alton J. Yoder of Meyersdale, PA, for making the historical documents of these accounts available to me.  There are no photographs of Eli.

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy

Ancestor Christian Yoder

My great, great, great grandfather, Christian Yoder in his younger years

“Tell us where your money is or we will kill you for sure this time.” 

My great-great-great grandfather Christian Yoder regained consciousness to find two gang members standing over him, one with a revolver pressed against his forehead, and the other brandishing a long dirk-knife over his throat, demanding more money.

“I don’t have any more to give you,” Christian croaked…

The notorious McClellandandtown Gang of Somerset County, Pennsylvania, had wrecked havoc for years in Fayette County, to the point that law enforcement officials were intimidated by their threats of vengeance if deterred or captured.  The year was 1889.

On the evening of April 13, four masked thieves entered the home of my wealthy and elderly ancestor, Christian Yoder.  They bound and gagged Mr. Stevanus, the hired man, and all family members except Christian’s wife who was in feeble health.  The thugs demanded money, and threatened to take his life if he didn’t comply.

Christian admitted there was money in a bureau drawer in the next room.  When the robbers counted it, they found four hundred dollars. (That was quite a sum of money those days.)  The gang demanded more, but Christian told them there was no more.

The gang ransacked the house and found fifty dollars belonging to Christian’s wife and eighty-six dollars belonging to Miss Ellen Baker, the hired girl.  They still weren’t satisfied.

In spite of my great, great, great grandfather’s repeated assurances there was no more money, the scoundrels didn’t believe him.  They dragged him out of the house, across the yard into the barn where they started a fire; they threatened to burn the barn down if he still refused to produce the rest of his money. 

Christian stated again there was none, so one of the gang members put a rope around the neck of my defenseless ancestor.  Together with the help of another gang member, they hoisted the rope up over a barn beam and pulled the old man up to hang in mid-air, shoes dangling six feet off the ground.   

When his breathing became more labored and they saw he was half-dead, they lowered him onto the floor and again demanded money.  With none forthcoming, they strung him up again.  The leader of the gang arranged the burning hay and straw directly under Christian, where the searing flames blistered his hands and scorched his clothing.

Again they lowered the feeble old man onto the ground. They threatened him with a revolver and dirk-knife while the other two gang members ransacked his house.  They brought up bread, pies, and meat from the cellar, collected other food they found in the kitchen and spread it on the table.  After stuffing themselves, whatever wasn’t eaten was destroyed.  Christian was tied up as the thieves stole a matched pair of prized gray horses, and the marauders rode away at break-neck speed.

When the hired hand (Mr. Stevanus) didn’t come home at the usual time, his wife sent her two sons to see where he was.  They found the victims and quickly released them.

Fifteen days later, on April 28, 1889, the thugs were captured, led by an armed body of courageous men from the tiny village of Summit Mills; the men were led by ex-Sheriff Kyle of Meyersdale, PA. Bravo!  They did what law enforcement was afraid to do.

The entire McClellandtown Gang was given a hearing before Judge Baer on May 10. 1889, and were convicted on May 30.  They were sentenced to ten years in solitary confinement in the Western Penitentiary. 

This notorious gang had been allowed to pillage and terrorize all of Fayette County for years because authorities were filled with fear.  All their “attempts” at capture had failed.

Whether it’s in our personal or spiritual life, fear paralyzes – produces inaction or the wrong action.  Our intimidator and thief, the devil, roams around looking for someone to devour.  That’s why we need the ammunition of the Word of God: speak it, stand on it, and don’t lose courage.  Fear produces timidity.  Faith overcomes fear every time.

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.”  2 Timothy 1:7 (NIV)

Don’t let the devil steal from you.

*My source for the above account is a booklet titled “The Robbery of Christian Yoder by the McClellandtown Gang 1889.”  The booklet was reprinted by my grandfather, Claude Yoder, in 1973.  

Copyright © 2014 Elaine Beachy