My Books Are Now at Rick's Place

I would like to thank Rick Saenz at Cumberland Books for featuring me as a new author at his site. He now carries all three of my self-published agrarian books and you can read about them there.

I mention this with a little hesitation because I did not establish this blog to sell my products. But I am very appreciative of the nice things Rick Saenz has written about me and my books and this blog, and I do want to encourage anyone interested in my books to purchase them from Rick. I've purchased several books and recordings from him in the past and I've always been very satisfied with the products and service.

By the way, while I'm on the subject of Cumberland Books, I ordered all the Plain Talk recordings last week and am anxiously awaiting their arrival.


Light in Our Dwellings

Dateline: 28 December 2005


Our modern industrial culture is powered by greed and lust and pride. Beyond the bigger issues of power and control, it is, for most people, all about the acquisition of money and stuff. Both of those things are necessary, of course, to some degree, but not nearly to the degree that Industrialism conditions us to believe and desire. Materialistic modern man is never satisfied. He never has enough. How much is enough anyway? A little bit more. Always, a little bit more. Like that modern bumper sticker says: “He who dies with the most, wins.”

One of the bitter fruits of this insatiable quest for more (and newer and bigger and better) has been the disintegration and near destruction of the family.

When fathers leave their homes each day to travel to a job and work many hours in a factory (or some facsimile of a factory), the family suffers. When a father’s work regularly takes him away from his family for days at a time, that family suffers more. When fathers come home, bring their office work with them, and further neglect their families, the problem is compounded. Children are shortchanged. Marriages are stressed, often to the point of breaking.

Worse yet is when mothers forsake their domestic calling and go to work outside their homes, often as the helpmeet of men other than their husbands. No daycare facility can properly substitute for a parent. Government schooling will never be able to compare to homeschooling. Television, video games, the internet, and other lonely, meaningless modern amusements are not a suitable substitute for daily parent-child interaction and family activity.

The plain truth, like it or not, is that, in order to succeed in this modern world, on its terms, you must sacrifice your family on the altar of Industrialism.

Yes, I know that is a harsh thing to say. Many people will disagree with me because the industrial model of family life is seen by the masses as normal and, therefore, good. But it is neither normal nor good. It is the spawn of 19th century Industrialism and a historical aberration. It weakens and destroys families. That is the truth and the truth can hurt. Believe me, I know.

The saddest aspect of this situation is that so many professing Christian families willingly buy into the materialistic hubris of our industrial culture. They fall for that big industrial lie, which is..... You can have it all! And in the pursuit of it all, they fall prey to the many curses of industrialism. Among those curses are perpetual debt, high stress, premature sickness and, more to the point of this missive, hurting, damaged, and ruined family relationships. When this happens, the light dims and the salt looses its savor.

I’m convinced that if God’s people are going to be an effective witness to those in the dying industrial culture around us, we must do more than believe in a personal savior, and we must do more than proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ. It is imperative that we also live our lives set apart to God. That does not mean that we can simply Christianize the ungodly industrial model and, in so doing, somehow become immune to it’s pernicious evils. It means we must separate ourselves and our families from the ungodly culture of industrialism.

The only way I know for Christians to effectively separate from the culture of industrialism is to embrace Christian-Agrarian life and culture. Christian-Agrarianism (sometimes called Biblical-Agrarianism) is Christianity lived within an agrarian paradigm. It is trusting God, His word, and His promises more than the false promises of materialistic industrialism in all it’s manifestations. It is filtering every vestige of industrial culture through the sieve of a Biblical worldview and discarding that which does not please and give glory to God. It is fathers and mothers focusing more of their time and effort on their homes and family relationships and less on their own selfish desires. It is families physically working together to break away from dependence on the industrial providers and, in so doing, growing closer to each other while becoming more dependent on the Lord. It is Christian families reflecting the love of Christ in their churches and in their communities.

I can tell you that the fruit of Christian-Agrarian life is not bitter. It is sweet. For now, I remain tied to a factory job, but my focus over the past few years has dramatically changed from pursuing success as defined by the popular culture, to pursuing my calling as a father and leader of my family. In that time, we have, as a family, embarked on a great agrarian adventure here on our little 1.5 acre homestead. We are physically working together to provide for the needs of our family. We are learning the skills of self-sufficiency, which, for a Christian, is really God-sufficiency. We are discerning between needs and wants and making do with less. We are seeing and enjoying the beauty of God’s creation all around us. We still have far to go and a lot to learn but we are on our way.

As a result of our home-based agrarian lifestyle, our Christian faith has grown. We are a closer family, we are more content, more patient. Our little home has become a peaceful and productive haven in the midst of this troubled world. And the light in our dwelling has grown brighter....

”And the Lord said unto Moses, stretch out thine hand toward heaven, that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, even darkness which may be felt.

And Moses stretched forth his hand toward heaven; and there was a thick darkness in the land of Egypt three days:

They saw not one another, neither rose any from his place for three days; but all the children of Israel had light in their dwellings.”
Exodus 10: 21-23


Please notice that the light was in the homes of God’s people. If those of us who call ourselves Christians are to positively impact the ungodly people around us, and confidently endure the increasing darkness of our dying industrial culture, we must have that light in our homes too. I’m not speaking of some neon glow from a faddish, feel-good, modern spirituality. I’m talking about the burning-white, holy lumination that comes from genuine, feel-humble-and-fear-the-Lord-God-of-Israel spirituality.

It is this light, shining from the homes of godly families, living simply and separately for His glory, that will have a far greater impact for the Kingdom of God than any well-funded, well-organized, topdown, Christian-political movement or parachurch ministry. God always works from the bottom-up. He uses the poor, the weak, and the humble far more than He does the rich and successful.

It’s something to think about as we enter this new year.


The Wife of My Youth

 Dateline: 18 December 2005

 Reception at the Old Grange Hall
Moravia, N.Y.

It all started back in Moravia high school, half way through 11th grade, in Miss Pelak’s typing class. It was the old days, when people still used typewriters. But it wasn’t the real old days because the typewriters were electric. As Providence would have it, Marlene Myers sat at the desk to the left of me.


Our typewriters were plugged into outlets along the wall. As Providence would again have it, my cord ran directly under Marlene’s desk and plugged into the wall outlet beside her. On the first day of class, she moved her feet, inadvertently snagged the cord, and disconnected my power.


After figuring out what had happened, I tapped her on the shoulder and explained the problem. She apologized for her clumsiness, re-plugged the cord, and gave me the sweetest smile I’ve ever known. It would happen again, several times in the days that followed, and Marlene admits now that it wasn’t always an accident when she unplugged my typewriter like that.


We developed a friendship in school that consisted of small talk, passing hellos in the hallways, and little waves across the cafeteria study hall where she would sit with her girlfriends. Thirty years later I can still recall how my heart skipped when Marlene showed attention in me and flashed that intoxicating smile of hers.


Summer vacation came and we did not see or talk to each other, except once, when I was waiting in the car for my Mother at the bank in Moravia. Marlene happened to ride her bicycle by and I yelled to her. She circled around and we talked for awhile. On her bike, with a summer tan and a healthy glow and the sweet smile, she looked so fit and fresh and beautiful. She was a fair maiden and I was smitten. There was an unmistakable chemistry between us. I informed her that I had recently gotten my driver’s license.


When my mom came out of the bank, I introduced her to Marlene. Never would my mother have imagined that, 27 years later, this young girl on the bicycle would so lovingly and faithfully help care for her as she lay slowly dying of cancer.


On the first day of our senior year of school, as soon as I saw Marlene, I told her I had permission to use my dad’s car and I asked if she wanted to “do something” the next weekend. She said yes. It was to be a first date of the kind for both of us.


I picked Marlene up at her house after noon on Saturday. The day was pleasant, warm, and sunny. I met her mother and then we headed out. We went to Bentley’s Knob. Not many people know about Bentley’s Knob. I knew about it because it was near my house and I had been there a couple of times on church hay rides. To get to the Knob you have to drive a few miles down dirt roads into Bear Swamp State Forest. Then you park the car and hike across some fields. The knob is an overlook that provides an incredible view down the length of Skaneateles Lake, which is the deepest and cleanest and coldest of New York’s eleven Finger Lakes. On a good day, you can almost see the other end, sixteen miles away. The land rises from both sides of the lake and it is a pastoral panorama of farms and fields and forests.


Marlene’s ancestors on her mother’s side were among the original settlers of this region. Her father’s family farmed the land hereabouts for several generations and he had made his living as a dairy farmer. So Marlene was a native and a country girl. She loved the outdoors, and I did too. We were comfortable in each other’s company and had a wonderful time together that day. After our hike we drove to the city of Auburn where we had dinner at McDonalds. Then we went to see a new movie by the name of JAWS.


Both of us now have the fondest memories of that first date. It was innocent and wholesome and magical. We dated for the next five years. 

There are emotional dangers in dating at such a young age; in giving your heart to another. But, young as we were, we were Christians and we sincerely desired to do the right thing in our dating relationship. As a result, God was gracious to us. Our dating years were a good experience, an incredible lesson in delayed gratification, and an important foundation for the future. 


After high school, a few years of college, and periods of separation from each other (absence did indeed make our hearts grow fonder), we returned to Moravia. Marlene got a job working for a local doctor in town and I got a job doing carpentry work. Each of us lived at home with our parents. The time was right for taking the next step in our relationship.


I formally asked Marlene to marry me in the spring of 1980. I recall the moment well because she was picking peas in her father’s garden. It was a pea patch proposal. I did not give her a diamond engagement ring. I was not flush with money and we were both intent on saving for the future. A November wedding was planned.


In the summer, we found a three-room apartment upstairs in an old house on Congress Street in Moravia. The rent was $155 a month. Marlene made curtains for the windows. To outfit the rooms, we went to auctions, bought old furniture and refinished it. I moved in to my temporary bachelor pad.


Marlene’s parents were married in a Reformed church but they had become Methodists, so we were married in the Methodist Church in Moravia. We had two sessions of marriage counseling with the minister. He stressed to us that marriage is a holy thing, ordained by God, and that when we took our vows, we would be entering into a holy covenant before God and with God. He told us that a covenant relationship is a lifetime commitment. The minister gave us good counsel.


Two high school friends stood with me on my wedding day. Art and Bill and I shared a lot of memories. Among the best of those memories was the one week we backpacked together on the Appalacian Trail, deep into the mountains of southern Vermont. Marlene’s childhood friend, Maureen, and a college friend, Peggy, were her bridesmaids. My little sister was the flower girl. The ceremony went off without a hitch.


Our wedding reception was outside town, at the Grange hall on Jugg Street. The big, white, clapboard building is old and plain, inside and out, but it served the purpose. Marlene and her girlfriends decorated the inside and the Grange ladies made a good meal, though I don’t remember much of it. There were no ice sculptures, limos, professional photographers, or anything like that. But we did have a live band and I, a man who does not dance, awkwardly managed my way through a few slow tunes with my new wife.


The reception went well, but there was one close call. Bill, my best man, came out of the men’s room and had neglected to zip up his fly. My grandmother noticed right off and waved me over to let me know. Bill was, of course, embarrassed but not nearly as much as he would have been a short while later when, with the whole room looking on, he stood to toast the bride and groom.


Our wedding day was clear and cool but snow was in the forecast. So, what better place to honeymoon than northern Maine? I wanted to show Marlene the land where my family’s roots went deep. I wanted her to meet my grandmother Philbrick, who was not able to make it to our wedding. What I remember most about that trip was getting within a few miles of my grandmother’s place and one of my tires went flat. It was a jet-black night on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere and the snow was coming “down” sideways. I had a flashlight and managed to get the tire changed but it was not easy (things like that stick in a guy’s memory forever).


Nevertheless, we were finally married, and we loved each other, and we had our whole life together ahead of us, and it was a beautiful thing.


###


Twenty five years have now passed since Marlene and I were married and it is still a beautiful thing. We have had our ups and downs in that time, but the ups have far outnumbered the downs. Our love for each other has matured and deepened. The greatest expression of our love has been our three boys, each such an incredible blessing.


Our spiritual faith in the God of our salvation, the One we entered into the marriage covenant before and with, has grown stronger. He has worked in our hearts and continues to do so. We are wiser. We are more humble. We are more mindful of, and thankful for, His mercy and grace than ever before in our lives.


I do not know what the next 25 years will bring. I know what I would like them to bring. I would like my children to grow in faith and wisdom. I would like each to sincerely embrace the Christian faith. I would like my three boys to find godly wives—women who desire to serve the Lord by being mothers and helpmeets to their husbands. Wives like my Marlene. I would like my boys to be men of God, exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit in their lives and exercising godly leadership in their homes. I would like, by the grace of God, for my sons and their wives to bring forth and raise godly seed for His glory. 

I would like to one day be able to afford land, woods and fields, that I and my children and my grandchildren can live on and care for and love as God’s stewards. I would like to grow old with the wife of my youth, in health, and be a blessing to those around us. I would like for Marlene and I to have the days we need to be an influence for righteousness in the lives of our grandchildren and, in so doing, be an influence for righteousness in the lives of the generations that follow. This is what I would like. It is my earnest prayer.



Me and Marlene in 1980


###

Looking back, it is interesting to note that a lot has changed in a quarter of a century. Miss Pelak retired a long time ago and I occasionally see her at the post office in Moravia. I walked out to Bentley’s Knob a couple years ago with my sons and was amazed (and disappointed) to see that trees had grown up so dense and high around the knob that we could see nothing of the once-magnificent view. The McDonalds we went to on our first date is gone. The old theater where we went to see JAWS has been closed for years and is in great disrepair. Marlene’s father, my mother, both my grandmothers, and my friend Art have all passed away. Bill works for the government in defense somewhere around Washington DC and I have lost touch with him. The Methodist church where we were married was torn down and the Methodists took over the old Congregational church. I assume the few remaining Congregationalists became Methodists, but I’m not sure about that. It seems that the only thing that hasn’t changed is the old Grange hall out on Jugg Street. Oh, there is one more thing that has not changed.... the smile. Marlene’s sweet smile. It still makes my heart glad and lifts my spirits, just as it did three decades ago when our love was fresh and new.



Diary of an Early American Boy

Dateline: 7 December 2005

Back in the 1970’s I started buying and reading a variety of books with agrarian themes. Among them were several written by Eric Sloane. My cheap ($2.95) Ballantine paperback copy of Diary of an Early American Boy is in poor condition now. The pages are loose and the cover is held together with scotch tape.

Sloane’s book was inspired by the actual wood-backed, leather-bound 1805 diary of 15 year old Noah Blake that Sloan found in “an ancient house.” Along with the diary was a handmade stone inkwell and an almanac.

Using Noah Blake’s diary entries, Sloane weaves a wonderful tale of rural American life as it was two hundred years ago. It was not a life of drudgery. There was certainly a lot of hard work to be done but there was the joy of accomplishment, of holiday celebrations, and of living in close community with other like-minded people. Underlying the story is a clear acknowledgment of the Blake family’s Christian beliefs and the Christian culture that they lived in. Sloan’s numerous pen & ink illustrations are excellent and serve to explain such things as how Noah’ made his ink well to how a post & beam sawmill is built and operated.

You will like this book and learn a lot from it. If you have young boys, they will enjoy having you read this book to them. I know this because I recently read it to my 11 and 14 year old sons. They were very taken with it and that pleased me greatly.

Pilgrims & The
Christian-Agrarian Exodus
of 1620


Dateline: 22 November 2005



The Thanksgiving holiday is a time when we recall how a small group of people known as the Pilgrims came to the shores of America in 1620 and established a settlement in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Most Americans who have any understanding at all of the Pilgrims believe that they came to America for religious freedom. I’m here to tell you this is not true. I’m here to tell you there was another reason why they came to America. After reading what I have to say here, your view of the Mayflower Pilgrims will be forever changed.

I used to think religious freedom was the reason for the Pilgrim Exodus but then I read William Bradford’s book, Of Plymouth Plantation. Bradford was on the Mayflower and was the elected leader of the Plymouth settlement for 36 years. His book tells the whole story of the Pilgrims from 1608 to 1650. There is no better way to understand who the Pilgrims were and why they did what they did than to read what they themselves wrote on the subject.

The story of the Pilgrims is a riveting chronicle of a small group of everyday folks who changed the world. They laid the foundation for what would eventually evolve into our Constitutional form of government; a form of government that, in the beginning (at least), clearly recognized the God of the Bible as the holy sovereign He is, and applied principles of His law as the basic foundation for all civil government.

It is worth noting that the Pilgrims did not change the world as they did by conquering nations with powerful armies, or with political wrangling and domination. On the contrary, they changed the course of history by living simple, separate, deliberate, and obedient lives for the glory of God and the advancement of His kingdom. Christians of today can learn much from the Pilgrim example.

Now, Governor Bradford and I will tell you the real reason why the Pilgrims came to America. The quotations that follow are the words of William Bradford. For my own purposes I have taken the liberty of making some portions of the quotations bold.

============

To fully understand the Pilgrim story, you must first understand who these people were. According to Bradford, the original Pilgrims were from a single rural church congregation in England. They lived a ”plain country life” and they worked at ”the innocent pursuit of farming”.

In other words, the Pilgrims were people of the soil… They were Christian-Agrarians.
.
The Pilgrims would have remained plain farmers in England if not for their non-conforming Christian beliefs. They did not agree with the dominant English church which still held to many of the traditions of the Roman Catholic church. Bradford writes that they

”...endeavored to establish the right worship of God and the discipline of Christ in Church according to the simplicity of the gospel and without the mixture of men’s inventions, and to be ruled by the laws of God’s word...”

For this, they were known as “reformers.” The powerful state church did not take kindly to such people. Yet, the Pilgrims were resolute in their beliefs. Bradford again says

”Those reformers who saw the evil of these things, and whose hearts the Lord had touched with heavenly zeal for his truth, shook off this yoke of anti-Christian bondage and as the Lord’s free people joined themselves together by covenant as a church, in the fellowship of the gospel to walk in all His ways, made known, or to be made known to them, according to their best endeavors, whatever it should cost them, the Lord assisting them. And that it cost them something... history will declare.”

The established church, with the aid of civil authorities

”... began to persecute all the zealous reformers in the land, unless they would submit to their ceremonies and become slaves to them and their popish trash, which has no ground in the word of God.”

This persecution became so bad that the Separatists (as they were also known)

”...were hunted and persecuted on every side, until their former afflictions were but as fleabitings in comparison. Some were clapped into prison; others had their houses watched night and day, and escaped with difficulty; and most were obliged to fly, and leave their homes and means of livelihood. Yet these and many other severer trials which afterwards befell them, being only what they expected, they were able to bear by the assistance of God’s grace and spirit. However, being thus molested, and seeing that there was no hope of their remaining there, they resolved by consent to go into the Low Countries, where they heard there was freedom of religion for all.”

The “Low Countries” Bradford mentions were the Netherlands, and Holland. The reformers left England and went to Holland (not America) so they could have religious freedom. Bradford tells the story:

”For these reformers to be be thus constrained to leave their native soil, their lands and livings, and all their friends, was a great sacrifice, and was wondered at by many. But to go into a country unknown to them, where they must learn a new language, and get their livings they knew not how, seemed an almost desperate adventure, and a misery worse than death. Further, they were unacquainted with trade, which was the chief industry of their adopted country, having been used only to a plain country life and the innocent pursuit of farming. But these things did not dismay them, though they sometimes troubled them; for their desires were set on the ways of God, to enjoy His ordinances; they rested on His providence, and knew Whom they had believed.”


With much trouble and harassment, the Pilgrims left England for Holland. They were practically destitute. They went first to the city of Amsterdam and then to the city of Leyden where...
”...they fell to such trades and employments as they best could, valuing peace and their spiritual comfort above any other riches whatever; and at length they came to raise a competent and comfortable living, though only by dint of hard and continual labour.”
During their time in Leyden (approximately 12 years), the Pilgrims earned the respect and trust of their employers. They also...
”lived together in peace and love and holiness; and many came to them from different parts of England, so that there grew up a great congregation.
That might have been the end of the story, but...
experience having taught them much, their prudent governors began to apprehend present dangers and to scan the future and think of timely remedy. After much thought and discourse on the subject, they began to incline to the idea of removal to some other place; not out of any new-fangledness or other such giddy humour, which often influences people to their detriment and danger, but for many important reasons...”
Now we get to the real reason(s) why the Pilgrims came to America. William Bradford lays out four of them.

1. the hardships inherent with living in Holland were a detriment to many of their brethren who could not (or would not) join them because they could not...
”endure the continual labour and hard fare and other inconveniences which they themselves were satisfied with.”
The fact is, the size of their congregation was dwindling. So the Pilgrims sought to find a better and easier place of living so as to accommodate their less hardy brothers & sisters who wished to join them.

2. Old age was creeping up on the congregation and...
”their great and continual labours, with other crosses and sorrows, hastened it (old age) before their time.”
They did not, in other words, know how much longer they could take the physical hardship and they felt that, for the long-term survival of the congregation, they needed to make a move while they still had the strength and stamina.

3. Their children were suffering.
”Many of their children, who were of the best disposition and who learned to bear the yoke in their youth and were willing to bear part of their parents’ burden, were often so oppressed with their labours, that though their minds were free and willing, their bodies bowed under the weight and became decrepit in early youth,—the vigour of nature being consumed in the very bud, as it were. But still more lamentable, and of all sorrows most heavy to be bourne, was that many of the children, influenced by these conditions, and the great licentiousness of the young people in the country, and the many temptations of the city, were led by evil example into dangerous courses, getting the reins off their necks and leaving their parents. Some.... embarked... upon... courses tending to dissoluteness and the danger of their souls, to the great grief of their parents and the dishonour of God. So they saw their posterity would be in danger to degenerate and become corrupt.”

4.
”Last and not least, they cherished a great hope and inward zeal of laying good foundations, or at least of making some way towards it, for the propagation and advance of the gospel of the kingdom of Christ in the remote parts of the world, even though they should be but stepping stones to others in the performance of so great a work.”

Clearly, these Christian-Agrarians, separated from the soil and transplanted into the wicked culture of a worldly city, were not in the best place to raise their families. One can imagine how these people, separated from the comfort of their own farms must have pined for land to once again raise crops and animals to once again care for.

God had surely worked in their congregation to refine them during those years in exile. But He did not intend for them to stay in such an ungodly environment. He would bring them back to the land; to a new land; to a better land. This hardy band of humble servants were called to establish a Christian-Agrarian civilization. And that is exactly what they did.

Howard King
On Biblical Agrarianism

Dateline: 16 November 2005
Updated: 3 September 2013

I have not had the time to write in this blog lately. But I stopped by Howard King’s Foundations web site awhile back and read some of his thought provoking comments about Biblical Agrarianism there. I'd like to share them with you.

Issue #63 has an article titled Some Common Misconceptions About Biblical Agrarianism. What follws are extensive quotes from that article. I recommend that you go there and read the full article and Mr. King’s other comments about agrarianism (each issue of his newsletter typically has a Biblical-Agrarian article).

I’d like to point out that it was a series of articles by Howard King that introduced me to the whole concept of Biblical Agrarianism and for that I am most grateful.


#####


1. Doesn’t agrarianism mean that everyone has to become a farmer?

No, there are other legitimate callings besides full-time farming.  These include doctors, ministers, judges, craftsmen, builders, and many others.  However, it does mean that we have to stop looking down our noses at farmers and farming, as if they and their work were beneath our dignity......

....... And it does mean that those who do nothing to support the common task of subduing the earth by agriculture, but support themselves by doing what harms their fellowmen ought to be regarded as parasites and criminals, and treated accordingly.

2. Aren’t agrarians against technology?

No, technology – that is, the making, using and refining of tools is not evil.  But the making of tools that cannot be used without polluting the air or water or soil that we all depend on for life is an evil.  The use of tools for evil purposes, such as the military or economic conquest and enslavement of our fellow-man is an evil.  And the refinement or development of tools purely for personal enrichment, without regard for the ends they serve, or the effect they may have on the rest of society, is an evil.  These are the great evils that have shaped our modern era, and that now characterize us as a culture.

3. Isn't agrarianism a retreat from real life?

Not at all!  It is rather a return to real life......

4. Isn't agrarianism against evangelism and the great commission?

Not at all!  The goal of biblical agrarians is to fulfill the original plan of God for mankind.  This can only be done through evangelism; for the nations will never convert to a biblical agrarian way of life until they are first converted en masse to Christ.  All Christians believe that Christ is a Restorer of what was lost when man fell.  He restores God’s designed relationships in our families and churches.  Biblical agrarianssimply take that truth one step further; and say that He also will ultimately restore mankind to the original agrarian calling for which he was created.

Was the agrarian order prevalent in this country early in its history a hindrance to evangelism?  Not at all!  Those were times of missionary activity and great revivals that affected a large proportion of the population throughout the land.  Agrarianism provides a solid base for the evangelistic enterprise; and an important end of evangelism is to create agrarian societies where they do not already exist.......

5. Isn't agrarianism opposed to “taking dominion”?

Not really.  To begin with, in the language of Scripture, godly dominion is not so much “taken” as “given”.......

.... Biblical agrarians are not advocating a weak, retreatist program, but quite the opposite.  We yearn to see the church actually overcome the world, in history, as it certainly shall!

Agrarianism is opposed to the unscriptural idea that Christians are supposed to be “taking dominion” over the institutions of the worldly urban culture.  We are nowhere in Scripture told to do that.   This teaching breeds an ungodly ambition; and inevitably leads to compromise with the world in order to advance ourselves and to gain power within its institutions.  Rather, we are told to abide in our callings, to work hard at them, and to leave it to God to prosper us as He sees fit...

...Agriculture is the proper use of the dominion God has already given us: dominion over our own piece of land, and our own animals.  It is a real dominion, though the dominion of a steward -- not of the true owner.  God did not give Adam merely the abstract right to rule the earth, but he gave into his hand the whole world as his property, to distribute in time among his numerous progeny.  As we work our own land, we exercise the godly dominion our Lord intended.

6. Agrarianism won't work in our modern world.

If it is meant that the modern world will not tolerate a return to agrarianism, this may be true.  It will not willingly tolerate the rule of its rightful King in any respect; nevertheless, it will surely bow to Him in time.  But it is busy just now in futile rebellion: ........ 


Making Apple Cider
In The Old Days

Dateline: 7 November 2005

As I explained in a previous blog entry, our family recently took a short vacation to Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts. One part of the village that we especially liked was the cider press. I’m not talking about a little, portable press like I’ve used in the past. I’m talking about a cider mill; a whole building (like a barn) that houses a big apple grinder and a big press from the 1830 to 1840 era of American history.

Back then, cider was big. I mean really big. Most every New England town in those days had at least one such press, and often more. The farmers (and, remember, most everyone was a farmer back then) would haul their apples to the cider mill where they would be processed and the juice put into wooden barrels. The typical family put up 40 gallons of cider per person. So, if you had a wife and husband and 10 kids, that would amount to 480 gallons. Figure 560 gallons if Grandma and Grandpa lived there too. Let me tell you, it takes a whole lot of apples to make that much cider!

At Sturbridge we watched as a horse connected to a long wooden arm, powered a big, all-wood, apple grinder. Men shoveled apples into the mechanism and pomace fell out the bottom into a wooden trough. The pomace was left there to season before being pressed the next day.

To press the pomace, a square, wooden frame about 6” high, and a couple feet long on each side, was set on a heavy platform underneath two large wood screws. Rye straw was laid into the form and pomace was shoveled in to fill it. Once full, overhanging straw was folded over, the form was removed, and boards were laid over the top. Then the form and more straw were used to repeat the process, building more layers. Once there were enough layers in place, the screws were slowly cranked down and the juice flowed.

None of this process was sanitary. The apples were not washed. The grinder and press were not clean. Did people back then really drink juice made this way? No they did not!

According to the men who were making cider at Sturbridge that day, folks back then did not drink fresh-squeezed apple cider because they knew it would make them sick. Instead, all the juice was fermented into alcoholic (hard) cider. The fermentation process purified the beverage. In fact, cider was, by definition, understood to be an alcoholic drink. Only in recent American history has cider meant fresh-squeezed, sweet apple juice. In Europe today, cider is still understood to be alcoholic.

The alcohol content of cider in the 1800’s was around seven percent, and it was consumed daily by the rural population, including children. That’s right, children drank alcoholic cider. But, children’s cider was different. After the first pressing, the pomace stack (technically known as the “cheese.”) was watered down and a second pressing was made. Juice from this 2nd pressing was not as sweet and, therefore, made cider with less alcohol (typically 1 or 2 percent.

So that’s what we learned about cider making at Sturbridge Village. I hope you enjoyed this little history lesson.

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UPDATED INFORMATION....March 2009
My book, Anyone Can Build A Whizbang Apple Grinder And Cider Press is now in print. You can learn more at www.Whizbang Cider.com


The Agrarian Moneychanger

Dateline: 6 November 2005

“If there is one idea I want you to take home today, it is this:  community is essential to agrarianism.  To take up an agrarian life style, we must build communities, and these communities must leaven the rest of our society, because the modern world has gone so far wrong that it cannot be corrected; it must be rebuilt.”

The above quotation is from Franklin Sanders and it begins his story titled, The Leaven Community & The Agrarian Ideal. I recommend it to you.

Mr. Sanders is a christian-agrarian farmer and has been a gold & silver dealer for many years. His web site is called The Moneychanger.

With the spectre of inflation (or worse) looming in this country, many people are putting some of their savings into precious metals. If you have considered this but have not done so, read the Moneychanger’s 10 Commandments For Buying Gold & Silver.

Great Agrarian Vacations

Dateline: 2 November 2005

My idea of a great vacation is to have time off from my non-agrarian regular job so I can stay home, be around my family, and work outside in the garden, in the woods, or in my shop. I don’t need to go anywhere else. I don’t want to go anywhere else. I do not dream of a leisurely Caribbean cruise or lounging on exotic beaches. And I sure don’t dream of going to some big city!

My dream is, instead, to work as a husbandman of the land, to be a co-creator with God in the midst of His creation. In due time that will be my full-time avocation. But, for now, it is, for me, my idea of a great vacation.

Nevertheless, there are times when Marlene and I and our three boys will take a small family vacation that involves leaving our little homestead. We try to do this once a year for three or four days. That’s long enough. Our vacation destinations almost always have an agrarian theme.

One year we went to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to learn about the Amish and see their farms. On the way home we stopped off at the Rodale experimental organic farm in Emmaus, PA. We have been to Genesee Country Village near Rochester N.Y. a couple of times. The Farmer’s Museum in Cooperstown, N.Y. was our destination another time (we skipped the more famous baseball hall of fame in favor of The Farmer’s Museum!). Hancock Shaker Village in Canterbury, New Hampshire, was also a nice vacation destination. This year we visited Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts.

We went to Strubridge last month (the off season) for three nights. We always splurge and get a hotel with an indoor swimming pool because that is something our three boys make good use of and really enjoy. They would enjoy camping too but Marlene is not much of a camper any more.

We save some money by eating out of a small food cooler and drinking ice water from a water cooler. We make sandwiches and salads and have cheese and crackers and tabouli and yogurt and granola, and we restock the cooler as needed at grocery stores along the way. For one vacation meal we eat out in a nice restaurant, which, on this last trip, was a Cracker Barrel. In other words, we keep the food thing simple.

We all enjoyed Old Sturbridge Village. It was my third time there. My first time was when I was in 8th grade and my social studies class went by chartered bus on a two-night field trip. I was a suburban kid at the time and the place impressed me greatly. The second time, Marlene and I went shortly after we were married.

The village’s era is 1830 to 1840. America sure was a different place back then. The Industrial Revolution was ramping up and rural America was changing but we were still an agrarian nation..... a Christian-Agrarian nation, I might add, with Christian-Agrarian beliefs and values.

Most folks worked their own small farms back then and/or they were skilled tradesmen. Daily life centered around the family, the church, the community, and the land from whence the people drew their physical sustenance. Life was not easy. But it varied with the seasons and it was rich and full.

My boys saw a small part of what life was once like with no television, no automobiles, no computers, no plastic, no factories, not massive centralized governmental bureaucracy, no supermarkets, no skateboards, no BMX bikes, and no fast food restaurants, and they liked what they saw. Even my oldest son, who has less of an agrarian inclination (for now), thoroughly enjoyed himself. After spending a whole day, from opening to closing, my boys all wanted to go back the next day! This pleased me to no end and we returned for 1/2 day more before heading home.

My hope is that fertile seeds were planted on this trip; that, in glimpsing the past, my sons also caught a vision for their future. I am not saying we can, or should, go back. That is unrealistic. But we can recognize the best virtues of agrarian life and culture from the past, and we can endeavor to reclaim them for ourselves and our families here and now in the 21st century. Indeed, we must do this if we desire to live “the good life.”

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Living history museums, like Old Sturbridge Village, are very popular tourist destinations. Why is this? I suspect it is because, deep inside, even the most modern of “Moderns” understand that the industrial culture they live in is shallow, fractured, and unfulfilling. They long for the past, when life was simpler and people focused on the truly important things in life, like family, faith, & fellowship.

I firmly believe it is only within Christian-Agrarian culture that mankind can experience true fulfillment. This true fulfillment comes from knowing the Sovereign One, through His son Jesus Christ, from humbly acknowledging His lordship over all, from living and working close to His creation, as He has mandated that we should, and from doing all of this for His glory.

To live any other way, with any other objective, is foolishness and vanity.

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One of the highlights of our Sturbridge trip this year was the turnip toss contest. My youngest son, James, made the winning toss for his age group. The prize was a bunch of raffle tickets for a Sturbridge Village gift basket that was being given away at the end of the week. James’ mom filled out his tickets and he put them in a box with hundreds of other chances. Two days after getting home, we got a phone call informing us that James had won the basket. It arrived in the mail a short while later, packed with some choice examples of Sturbridge Village craftsmanship. There was a tin cup, a tim wall sconce, a hand-turned, red, glazed, earthenware pot with a lid, a crock-like creamer with decorative cobalt blue markings, a handmade whisk broom, a hand-forged iron hanging hook, and a book about old pottery. James likes the tin cup best because he can use it and he spent a lot of time watching the tinsmith those two days. We have put the pottery on a high shelf where it will stay safe and serve as a lasting memento of this year’s wonderful agrarian vacation.

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Have you been to other living history museums that you can recommend to us?


Cider Pressin’ 2005

Dateline: 30 October 2005

In my last Blog entry I told you the story about When Me & Ed Made Apple Cider. After that experience I decided that I must have my own cider press. The Garden Way company was selling cider press kits back then and I really wanted one. But it was three years before I could afford to buy it. By then, Marlene and I were newly married and had regular jobs. There were no children yet, and we were enthusiastic about acquiring homestead tools and self-sufficiency skills.

The Garden Way kit had all the hardware needed to make a press and detailed plans for cutting out and assembling the wood parts. Parts and plans for a hand-crank apple grinder were also included. I used plywood and pine boards to make the press and put several coats of polyurethane on to seal the wood. It was a dandy press that Marlene and I used to make a lot of great cider. We also loaned it out to some of our friends so they could make their own cider.

There was, however, one problem with the grinder. It did a decent job of pulverizing the apples, but the hand-cranking was a lot of work. So I put ball-bearing pillowblocks on each end of the grinder shaft and employed an electric motor to drive it. This improvement made the tedious task of apple grinding downright fun! The grinder was spinning so fast that it violently gulped the apples down and shredded them as quickly as we could toss them in.

The years passed. I became more and more consumed with my work as a carpenter and remodeler. Homesteading was not the focus like it had once been. As a result, the cider press languished in Marlene’s parent’s basement. Then came a time of purging, which is to say, we had a garage sale. The press and grinder sold fast.

I’ve always regretted selling that cider press, especially now that the kids are old enough to participate in and appreciate the process of making fresh apple cider. For the past five years or so, I’ve been intending to make another press. I could buy another kit but Garden Way is out of business and the kits I’ve seen don’t impress me. They are also more expensive than I think they should be. An already-made press is definitely more money than I want to spend. So I’ve been giving a lot of thought to making a press of my own design. I’m still in the thinking and research stage of this project. It will come to fruition one day. In the meantime, this year I borrowed a cider press from my friend Ken.

Ken and his wife, Mary, have been good friends of Marlene and I since high school. We have a lot in common. For the past few years Ken has borrowed my Whizbang Chicken Plucker to process his chickens, and he told me I could use his cider press any time. So, last weekend, I took Ken up on the offer.

Marlene and the kids picked seven bushels of apples one weekday while I was at work. They were from a variety of big, old trees that are not sprayed with any chemicals. That meant the apples were not picture-perfect, but they were just great for cider.

Ken’s press is made from a Happy Valley kit (specifically, it’s the “Pioneer Jr.”). I can tell you that the quality of the Happy Valley kit is nowhere near as good as the Garden Way kit I once had. The fit of the pre-cut parts and the quality of the metal parts is not commendable. That isn't to say the Happy Valley press and grinder do not work, because they certainly do. I just think that the press could be made a little better.

As with my Garden Way machine, the weakest link with the Pioneer Jr. unit is the grinder. Ken’s unit has no hefty circular handle that acts as a flywheel, helping to make crushing a bit easier. I see from their web site that the Pioneer Jr. now comes with a better handle but grinding apples with Ken’s grinder is so laborious that it does not leave one feeling very happy at all.

Pillowblocks and an electric motor would make a huge difference. But my internet research into apple grinders led me to the unique concept of using a garbage disposal to crush apples. I was intrigued enough with the idea that I dipped into the Whizbang Books R&D budget to buy a 3/4 HP In-Sink-Erator garbage disposal. I jerry-rigged the disposal into a scrap of 1/2” plywood and wired it up.

We scrubbed the apples clean by hand in our outdoor sink using lots of cold water (but no soap because I didn’t want any soapy flavor) and piled them by the disposal. I put a big bowl under the disposal outlet and started feeding apples into the machine. The disposal will accept a fairly good size apple but we found it works better if the apples are quartered first. With a big knife and a cutting board, you can quarter apples fast.

The garbage disposal does a truly awesome job of crushing apples. It macerates them almost to the consistency of applesauce, which is far better than any hand-crank apple crusher I’ve ever used. Finely ground apple pomace is more desirable than coarse-ground because it renders more juice.

The only problem with the garbage-disposal-grinder is that it overheats fairly quickly and the built-in circuit breaker will trip off. Then you have to wait several minutes for the motor to cool down. This is a significant drawback. I do not see this kind of grinder as a tool that will reliably grind a lot of apples for years to come.

Be that as it may, using the garbage disposal, we managed to convert all those bushels of apples into many gallons (I did not keep track of how many) of sweet cider. My boys learned what a delight it is to make their own cider and that home-squeezed beats pasteurized, store-bought cider any day of the week.

We gave a couple gallons away, drank a few, and froze lots of it in one-gallon ziplock freezer bags. All in all, cider pressing this year was a grand success.

If you happen to have any experiences or insights into this subject of cider presses, grinding apples, or making cider, I welcome your input. And I will continue to ponder how to best make my own equipment for, hopefully, next year’s cider pressin’ adventure.

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UPDATED INFORMATION....March 2009
My book, Anyone Can Build A Whizbang Apple Grinder And Cider Press is now in print. you can learn about the book and homemade cider production in general by going to www.Whizbang Cider.com

When Me & Ed
Made Apple Cider

Dateline: 26 October 2005
Updated: 18 April 2013

It was an old cider press like this. (photo link)


In my last Blog entry I told you about the year I spent at The Grassroots Project in Vermont back in 1976-77. It was during that time that my buddy Ed and I made apple cider, and I’m going to tell you the whole story....

Edwin Parker Bais sounds like such an erudite name, but Ed was a regular guy from the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio. His dormitory room was across the hall from mine and we became good friends. When my school-assigned roommate, Dave, got himself kicked out of school, Ed became my new roomie.

Ed and I became such good friends that when we had some sort of mild disagreement (real or imagined), we would settle it by fighting. It might start, innocently enough, with me pushing him so he tripped and fell down. To which he would respond by getting up, yelling out a battle roar, and body slamming me across the room into the wall. This clash would be the beginning of a real donnybrook. We would tumble, pummel, wrestle and toss each other about the room, out the door, and down the hall.

It was, of course, an exaggerated and somewhat theatrical mock brawl, but we were good at it. So good, in fact, that, the first time it happened, our fellow dormitory dwellers came to see what was happening, and they were not sure if we were serious or not. It was physical enough to hurt and, eventually, exhaust us. When that happened, we would call a truce, pick up the mess we made, nurse our wounds, discuss the fight and, in general, feel pretty good about ourselves.

Several years ago, Ed sent me a photo he had taken of me just prior to one of our “rumbles.” I have just burst through the door (he knew I was coming) and have a heavy length of tree-branch-for-a-club raised in my right hand. A menacing scowl is on my face. I’m about to thrash him. I’m sure Ed was laughing when he took the picture, which, I’m also sure was just before he commenced to boldly meet my challenge.

Friendships like me and Ed had are rare and memorable.

One day Ed found out the school had a cider press that anyone could use and he wanted me to help him make some apple cider. It sounded like something new and fun to do even though I absolutely did not like apple cider. Ed wondered how anyone could not like apple cider.

I explained to him that the first and last time I had a drink of apple cider was when I was 5 years old. I still remember it very well.... I was at someone’s house for a special occasion. The cider was hot and mulled. Everyone around me was raving about how delicious it was. I took one sip and got a headache. It tasted toxic. It was so gross, and I was so traumatized by the experience, that I never again took even a tiny sip of the stuff. So, as far as I was concerned, Ed could have all the cider we made to himself.

There were several apple trees here and there around the school and the town. We collected a bunch of the ripened fruit and hauled it to the press which was in the yard behind  the dormitory called Madison House. The press was a heavy, dark, old thing with a hand-crank, cast-iron apple grinder. The ground apple mash fell into a slatted tub and, when the tub was full, a wooden disc was set on top of the mash. Then a big screw was turned down to squeeze out the juice. I’m sure you have seen a cider press like I’m talking about.

Ed and I worked together to collect and crush the apples and we captured the juice when it started to run out the bottom of the press. Ed drank a bit, raved about how awesome it tasted, and urged me to try some. I reluctantly agreed and took a tentative sip.

A split-second after the amber, apple nectar hit my taste buds, my brain informed me that it was absolutely delectable. Incredulous, I took another sip and focused intently on tasting it. There was no mistake. That cider was not merely awesome... it was the most exquisite, luscious, ambrosial experience of my life. That moment was my apple cider epiphany. I had tasted the juice of apples in its purest, freshest, most unadulterated form, and I was a believer.

Nowadays, when cider season returns each year, I can’t help but remember sitting around in my dorm room with Ed and a few other friends, eating Triscuits with little chunks of Cabot Creamery caraway-seed cheddar cheese on them, and chasing it down with cold apple cider. We sure did enjoy those apple squeezin's. But that is not the end of this story....

Ed got the idea that we should use some of our sweet cider to make hard cider. I have never been an alcohol drinker, but the idea of making hard cider had an old-fashioned appeal, and I was intrigued. How, I wondered, do you make hard cider? Ed said that all we had to do was add some brown sugar and raisins to the cider, cork it shut, and wait.

With that in mind, we collected a couple dozen tall CocaCola bottles (the green, thick-glass, old-style bottles that the soda company used to refill) and bought some corks to fit the tops. Into each bottle we put some raisins and some sugar. Then we filled them most of the way with cider, pushed the corks in tight, and stored them on the top shelf of the closet in our room.

We were feeling pretty resourceful, making our own hard cider like that, and, though we had no idea how long it would take, we relished the thought of how great it would be to drink hard cider that we had squeezed and fermented ourselves.

I don’t recall exactly how long it took but I’m sure it was more than a week, maybe more than two. It was long enough that I had practically forgotten the bottles up in the closet. But all that time, in the darkness of that closet, the fermenting process had been working.....

I remember we were in our room one evening discussing something or other when, all of a sudden, there was a loud POP! sound. I looked at Ed and he looked at me. “What was that?” I asked. “I dunno,“ he replied. Then there was another POP! “The corks are popping off the cider bottles!” he exclaimed.

We opened the closet door and, sure enough, some corks were missing. Another bottle violently blew its top as we were watching. With a big grin and a sparkle in his eye, Ed said, “Let’s try some!” Seeing as Ed had a whole lot more experience with alcoholic beverages than me, I handed him a bottle. He could quaff the first one down.

Ed sniffed at the open end and took a sip. I could tell from the expression on his face that our experiment had been a failure. The cider was somewhat alcoholic but the flavor was not at all what Ed had dreamed of.

We dumped the bottles out and lamented the loss of such good cider. Then I shoved Ed against the wall (it seemed like the right thing to do) and he responded by jumping on my back and putting me in a headlock. A thrilling clash ensued. So, in the end, even though the hard cider did not come out the way we had hoped it would, we had a fun time anyway.

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P.S. Hey Ed Bais! Where are you? If you ever Google your name and read this, drop me an e-mail. It's been a long time...... herrick@planetwhizbang.com

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UPDATED INFORMATION....March 2009
That episode of cidermaking so long ago was the genesis of my interest in homemade cider, and it has recently led to the publication of my book, Anyone Can Build A Whizbang Apple Grinder & Cider Press. You can learn more at www.Whizbang Cider.com