My first day in downtown Chicago, I rode the Metra from a nearby suburb into Union Station. Streams of people, dressed in Chicago Cubs shirts or baseball caps or carrying purses with Chicago Cubs logos, exited the train with me. A friendly blonde pony-tailed girl–she said she had off classes for the day and was going to the game–pointed me in the right direction.
I stepped from the station into the street and followed the streams of people heading across the bridge that spanned the Chicago River. Somewhere across the bridge was State Street, and somewhere on State Street was 525 Conference Chicago, the building where the Chicago Writing Conference was to be hosted.
A man with a cardboard sign–Homeless–sat at the beginning of the bridge, head down.
The rest of the city looked far from homeless. Smartly dressed individuals hurrying past. Buildings, all windows, scraping the sky. A couple of ferries and a motor boat churning down the muddy brown river.
I stopped and leaned against the bridge railing to snap pictures, trying to snap them unobtrusively, trying not to look like a tourist and to act as though I belonged here and walked across the Chicago River every day.
As if. With my long dress and white net head covering, it was easy to tell I was from somewhere else–probably the only conservative Anabaptist in the city on this particular day.
Someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned to face a smiling Amish man.
“Vebish do?” he asked.
I knew this meant “How are you?” but since that was all I knew, I had to tell him I didn’t speak Pennsylvania Dutch. He was here for a meeting with some other leaders of the Amish church, he told me. Did I know his friends who lived near Augusta, Wisconsin?
No, I said regretfully, and he said good-bye and moved off. I wished he had stayed to talk longer. I seldom hang out with Amish people, but here–the two of us the only conservative Anabaptists I knew about in all this great city–a sudden quick feeling of kinship had formed. I would have liked to ask him more about his life, would have liked to enjoy the cozy feeling of being an insider and sharing commonalities the rest had no idea of, a little bit longer.
And that was my unexpected encounter in Chicago.
It reminds me of other encounters I’ve had, interesting people I have met and connected with quite unexpectedly.
One of them was a Somalian American woman who saw my siblings and I at the Mall of America and approached us to ask if we were Muslims. I was sad–so sad–at the time, and making a new friend was the last thing on my mind; but Deqo remains one of my best friends to this day, despite lifestyle differences and a two-hour drive.
The best things in life are often surprises.
What surprises or unexpected encounters have you experienced?
>>Chicago Writing Conference
Honing your craft, are you? That’s good! God always expects a return wherever He invests a talent.
I never thought of my God-given talents as His investment before. I like this!
That was a very good word picture of Chicago! I loved being able to go back to that street even if it was just a picture. :) I think you would enjoy coming with the Inner City Evangelism group. We would love to have you and your siblings come and join us!
Thank you. When is it?
I did go once, what seems like many years ago, and this is the most outstanding memory of the experience: I am standing there handing out tracts, all scared-like but trying to smile and be friendly, when a grinning black man comes up to me and asks, “Will you marry me?”
I step back, shocked. “I’m only fifteen!”
“Well, I’m only forty,” he says.
I felt secretly honored to be proposed to at first sight on the street, legit proposal or no. ;)
How interesting that you cam across an Amishman in Chicago. Should have had me there, I could have talked to him a bit in Dutch!
Yes, I wish someone had been there who could talk Dutch. Dad talked Dutch to Grandma all through my childhood, and for someone reason I never realized what a cool thing that was until I got very old, and my little sister took an interest in learning it. I never ever tried to learn it, or even thought about it until she did.
Lucy — How COOL is that?! You may not know this, but we relocated to Boise from Crystal Lake, Illinois (1 hour north of Chicago) two years ago.
What were your thoughts on the conference? Oh wait, you’ll probably share those in an up-and-coming post :)
No, I didn’t know that! Very cool. I enjoyed the conference–but I enjoyed walking the streets of Chicago even more. So much diversity. I am now richer by a friendship with a Hindu woman from Pittsburgh and a Catholic woman from Brazil.
My favorite thing about the conference also had to do with diversity: the opportunity to connect with a wide variety of authors. A teacher of Bahrainian descent, a Jewish man, a white American who chose to make his home in Costa Rica, a Latina woman. The world is such an interesting place.
Not sure if I’ll blog my thoughts on the conference or not. :)
>>the streets of Chicago
Mennonites need to cast off their Mennonite-ness and get to the cities.
Your lead photo shouts the problem. The Amish man and Everyman, at arm’s length, but worlds apart. No…planets apart. Galaxies? Yes…galaxies apart. It might as well be.
“To those outside the law I became as one outside the law….I have become all things
to all men, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel,
that I may share in its blessings.” 1 Cor 9:21-23
I understand your heart to share the gospel with others–this is my wish as well, and becoming too reclusive is a hindrance to that.
At the same time, I love diversity, and I wouldn’t WANT an Amishman to suddenly live and dress like Everyman. It would be very boring, not to mention a little bit scary, if we all became so many clones of each other, like the Bokanovsky twins in Brave New World.
Paul said there is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave or free, male or female, but we are all one in Christ Jesus. He’s not saying our differences all need to be erased–obviously that would be impossible–but instead we are all free to come to Jesus as we are and experience a larger unity in Christ.
>>I wouldn’t WANT an Amishman to suddenly live and dress
>>like Everyman.
If Amishman wants to win Everyman to the Gospel, then he must make some adaptations in his attire. That’s the kind of thing Paul meant when he wrote, “I have become all things to all men….” Cultural adaptations, while forsaking NOTHING essential to discipleship, are absolutely necessary to the advancement of the Gospel.
Paul stood READY to make those cultural adaptations…for the sake of unbelieving Everyman…so that he could win Everyman to Christ the Lord.
What about you? Do you stand ready to make those cultural adaptations for the sake of Everywoman…for the sake of the Gospel…for the sake of your Lord?
Yes. :)
>>It would be very boring, not to mention a little bit scary, if we all >>became so many clones of each other…
I guess you don’t see the irony in this one :-)
My auto correct changed “Luci” to “Lucy” — drats!
That’s okay. :) And thank you for caring about the spelling.