To Start Means I Will Stumble
But at least it's a start.
I’ve wrestled with whether this Substack needs an introductory post. Or rather, what will I write in introduction?, is more the question.
And honestly, deeper than that, there’s a fear of first putting words “out there,” where anybody (theoretically) can read what I’ve written. To start something like this is terrifying. As Josh White writes in the introduction to his book Stumbling Toward Eternity, “To start is to stumble and maybe even fall.”
However, I hope somewhere along the way in writing these newsletters, it becomes a bit easier to place my fear aside and write anyway.
I love to write, and I love to read, but how can good writing motivate and change and inspire and comfort and inform others when it is always hidden? And how does one become a good writer without . . . writing?
Therefore, I hope creating this Substack is one small, barely confident step in the direction of becoming a stronger writer and finding those who most need or want to hear my words.
So, hello. Welcome to my living room, where I am at the moment. With the stink of dirty diapers wafting from the trash can and Legos covering the floor. Fingers crossed that my toddler actually falls asleep so I have a bit more time to concentrate. If I wait for the perfect conditions to write (empty house with a candle on the table and cup of tea in hand), suffice it to say this post might never come into being.[1]
Welcome to this space, where I plan to write about, well, anything that strikes my fancy. I do not want to be confined to any particular subject – if I want to write odes to tea, I will do so!
That said, I will be focusing much attention on my particular corner of the world and of Christian faith. I live in a Midwestern community thick with conservative Mennonites and Amish; I grew up Mennonite; and I continue to attend a Mennonite church and identify myself with Anabaptism.
This Substack is a place for me to explore what intrigues me, baffles me, angers me, and blesses me about the conservative Mennonite church. Karen Swallow Prior recently interviewed Pierce Taylor Hibbs, a Christian author and writer who observes: “Writing is a process of exploration and discovery . . . If I don’t write, I won’t learn.”
I can identify with that sentiment. Writing, for me, is a way to form connections between things, to wrestle with what can be observed and what lies under the surface to reach a synthesis of meaning, to discover glimmerings of God’s truth and beauty.
Also, a couple months ago, I began interviewing women from conservative Mennonite or Amish backgrounds who have experienced abuse within their marriage or church. (My hope is to eventually write a book about these stories, but will that take another decade or two? Or never come into being? I wonder if I have whatever it takes to do that.)
As much as is possible while protecting people’s identities, I hope to share some of what I am learning from these women here.
Time and time again, women and children in my denomination have been left unprotected, vulnerable, and wounded.[2] They have been shamed, scolded, and cast out of churches for telling the truth. (Unfortunately, this often plays out in churches of other flavors, too; it is not a problem specific to the Mennonite church).
Living as part of an Anabaptist church community, for many abuse victims, is one long nightmare of suffering. With heartbreaking clarity, lawyer and advocate Rachael Denhollander has observed: “Church is one of the least safe places to acknowledge abuse because the way it is counseled is, more often than not, damaging to the victim.”
Turning our eyes to our failures is a kindness. Telling the truth is a kindness.
It is kindness to uncover what we’ve tried to hide or gloss over, it is kindness to question teachings that leave families in cycles of trauma and destruction, and it is kindness to call for accountability for those who wield authority in ways utterly foreign to the way of Jesus.
It is kindness to pay attention to that which has been ignored.
How will we truly change if we aren’t honest about who we already are?
God’s words to the leaders of Israel, recorded over 2500 years ago, ring in my ears: “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the injured you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought” (Ezekiel 34:4, ESV). His frustration with these leaders was so great that He effectively says, “Ok, your time is up.” Instead, he promises that He Himself will be His people’s shepherd and leader.
“I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I myself will make them lie down, declares the Lord God. I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them in justice” (Ez. 34:15-16).
He will do all this through his “servant David,” the “one shepherd”— Jesus (vs. 23).
I cannot bind up all of those who have been injured in Anabaptist churches, but I can certainly join with Jesus in His work of doing so. I can be fed by the Shepherd Jesus, and invite others to be fed by Him as well.
I cannot force others to join me in listening to the voices of the vulnerable in our communities, but I can provide a space for those who are willing to listen, learn, and ask thoughtful questions.
So, if you’re reading this, I hope you will join me here on In Plain Sight, as I figure out how to write with a little less fear, explore the random questions and topics that bounce around my brain at night, and delve into the complexities of Mennonite culture. And most importantly, join me as I, with as much courage and grace as God grants me, gently expose the deep wounds we have inflicted upon many of those in our midst (and upon those who have left Anabaptist circles to flourish elsewhere) and invite Jesus to do a work of transformation and healing in our communities.
A Note About the Title of This Substack: Anabaptist communities have traditionally been called “plain people,” because of the simple dress and lifestyle that often characterizes these groups. Whether that moniker is an accurate one is another question, but the title “In Plain Sight” refers both to my perspective as an Anabaptist woman, and to my desire to “see” things in our communities plainly instead of covering up abuses of all kinds.
Another Note about Newsletter Frequency: As of right now, I don’t have a set frequency for these newsletters (i.e., biweekly or monthly). Depending on the subject, writing for this Substack can take many hours of my time, and my time is not overly abundant these days! Some topics that I have in mind will also require hours of interviews as well. My goal is to embrace the process of writing and asking questions, even if it seems frustratingly slow. I hope taking my time will ultimately make my content more rich, reflective, and worth your while to read.
One More Note: To those of you reading who are not from an Anabaptist background (Mennonite, Amish, German Baptist, etc.), I understand that some of the terminology can be confusing! I will try to clarify to the best of my ability, but if I miss explaining something, or if you have a question about anything, please email me at abbyjoyhelmuth@gmail.com. (Comments are behind a paywall for the time being.)
[1] Although I have to say, these conditions, too, are perfect in their own way. It simply takes time and creativity to adjust when the conditions you once predominantly wrote in are, most of the time, out of the question as a mother to young children.
[2] I say women and children because, statistically speaking, women are most likely to be victims of domestic abuse. Stats I’ve seen lately range from 75% to 85% (meaning, 75% to 85% of domestic abuse victims are female).