Radical Community

July 24, 2008

By Jerry Scott

I recently visited my father and went with him for his first appointment with the oncologist (cancer specialist). That’s an unnerving experience, to say the least. Though heart disease and diabetes are greater health problems in America by far, cancer still has the edge when it comes to the “fright factor.” Just the word makes us feel dread.

The tension built as Mom, Dad and I waited. What would Dr. Patel say? What treatment would Dad face? That’s the other thing with a cancer diagnosis. Sometimes the treatment looks as bad as the disease. As it turned out, before a prognosis could be offered or a treatment regimen suggested, there were more tests the physician wanted, so we did not really get answers to our questions.

However, there was a bright spot of encouragement in the day.

When my parents moved to Pennsylvania in March of 2006, I was not happy about their decision to be that far away, in case of the very kind of circumstances they are dealing with right now. But God had a different plan.

Dad is a friendly guy who feels the need to talk to everyone he meets. In the area where they now live there are many members of the Old Order Mennonite sect as well as the Amish. Both groups reject much of the modern world, living without phones, electricity in their homes, automobiles or computers. They dress plainly in homemade clothing, live simply, and most distinctive of all, practice radical communal living. They are tightly knit groups that few in the world outside really know. As the Lord would have it, Dad has become friends with many, and they have reached out to care for him.

After our doctor’s visit, around 7 that evening, there was a knock at the door. An extended family of Old Order Mennonites greeted us. There were about 12 adults and several little children. Jason, one of the young men in the family, has been doing some work for Dad and knew of his illness. So he rallied his family to encourage Dad. They asked if they might come in and “lift up Gerald” (they are a very formal people, too) with songs.

They gathered around the dining room table and opened their hymnals. For more than an hour they sang without accompaniment, in simple harmonies, songs about heaven and hope. They communally gave my parents (and me) a great big hug. These strangers touched my heart so deeply that even as I type these words the tears fall from my eyes.

What a simple gift, but powerful, amazingly powerful. These people know the meaning of love that is beyond sentiment. They don’t send a card or flowers, they bring themselves. I realized the genius of their form of Christianity. It’s not merely about hats, homemade dresses, or horse-drawn buggies. They survive by depending on each other. And, now they were giving that love and support to my parents, who are not even “in” their group.

I am not suggesting we all need to go back to farming, sell our cars, and try to return to the 17th century. But we absolutely must recapture the radical love that is the heart of Christian faith.

Jesus said, “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35, NIV).

That truth came to life for me on a night when hope seemed slim and friends far away.

— Jerry D. Scott is senior pastor at Washington (N.J.) Assembly of God.