Famous Amos from the Book

Famous Amos from the Book

Closing my eyes, my ears swell with the methodic whirr and buzz of the cicadas in the trees. The steady plop, plop of condensing water from the air conditioner strikes the wooden deck with a sizzle like fatback on a skillet. Down on Highway 41 A, cars zoom past this small house so fast it seems even time itself is standing still. My selfish desire is that it would, for directly inside — on the metal-framed hospital bed hospice has provided — an 80-year-old man named Amos Stoltzfus lies, waiting patiently for death and the Life to come.

Eight years ago my father called Amos — then a complete stranger — and boldly asked him, “So, you’re Amos? The famous Amos from the book?”

Amos laughed at the “famous” reference, but reassured Father that he was indeed Amos from Following the Fire. After Father shared with Amos his own heart for revival, Amos asked him when they could meet.

“The sooner, the better,” Father replied.

Less than a month later, on a Sunday morning in late summer, my family traveled from our home 45 minutes north of Nashville to a small town near the Alabama line called Winchester, Tennessee. I still can so clearly remember seeing Amos for the first time. At 73-years-old he was tall, tan, and lean. He had hair so fluffy and white it looked like a snowdrift. His eyes were deep-set and a startling, crystal blue not often found beyond the pages of fiction. An extrovert in every possible sense, he went around greeting everyone before church, and as he did his laughter would rumble up from deep within his chest as if it were a distant peal of thunder. Later, to encourage his son while he stood behind the pulpit and preached, I remember how Amos’ right arm would shoot up to the ceiling and he’d belt out a hearty, “Hallelujah!”

That Sunday morning in late summer I met another remarkable man: Amos’ grandson, Randy Petersheim. Over the next four years, as my family took trip after trip down to Winchester, through Randy I learned about Amos’ adventurous life.

While still in his teens, he was shunned by his Amish family after surrendering his life to the Lord. On one of the first dates with the woman who would later become his wife, he drove his car onto a frozen Minnesotan Lake and — to the immense, squealing chagrin of his passenger — spun the vehicle like a top. As the Six-Day War was fiercely raging, Amos took his wife and children and set up camp on the Israeli deserts sands. He and his family, on a limited budget, for months toured the beauty of Europe by living on hearth-baked breads and fresh cheese.

During the course of his nomadic lifestyle and many occupations, the Lord also healed him from numerous injuries: He was given up for dead by his fellow crewmen when the oil rig he was working on caught on a drill bit far below, the top of the machine began to wildly swing, and a piece of it collided with his head, cracking open his skull. On completely different occasions, he also broke his neck, back, was stabbed after witnessing to someone in the city, had two hip replacements, and open heart surgery. Regardless of these events, and perhaps because of them, Amos possessed a zeal for life those with the wealth and experience of kings never find.

This morning my husband, Randy, and I received the call to return to Winchester. Now we are here with the rest of our Stoltzfus and Petersheim family, praying for Amos to go Home even while our hearts are begging for him to stay. This afternoon we clustered round his bed and sang the hymns he used while leading worship during the revival described in Following the Fire. Every once in a while, as our acapella voices harmonized despite the emotional strain, Amos’ startling, crystal blue eyes would open and his white eyebrows raise. And although he could no longer move or speak due to his sudden illness, I knew that if he had that ability, he would’ve shot his right arm up to the ceiling and belted out a hearty, “Hallelujah!”

*Five hours after I finished this entry, Grandpa Amos peacefully went home to be with the Lord while sheltered in the loving arms of his wife, Joy.