In my last post, I noted 5 things I miss about not belonging to a traditional Mennonite community. After reading that list, you could be forgiven for wondering why we ever left.

But wisdom means recognising and embracing complexity. Most decisions aren’t about comprehensive solutions, but trade-offs.

True, we had to bid farewell to many wonderful things when we left the Mennonites, but it is also true that we gained in other areas. As with so many complex realities, you can’t reduce it down to, “Leaving the Mennonites is good” or “Leaving the Mennonites is bad.” Forced into making tradeoffs either way, we ultimately decided our reasons for leaving outnumbered our reasons for staying. And grueling as the decision process has been, here are 5 advantages that resulted from it, again not in a conscious order of importance.

Faith. I remember hearing from a family member who left the Mennonites around the same time we did that it was either he who had to leave or his faith. While I might not have put it that baldly, I see his point. Admittedly, there was a relatively gentle approach to God and Scripture in the group I belonged to most recently (known as the Beachy Amish), more so, certainly, than in the previous subset I was with during my formative teenage years.

In both groups, however, everything was shrouded in fidiestic, nearly impenetrable God talk. People got cut off at the knees if they voiced doubt or approached the faith from a different angle. And I get it: every social group has its unalienable defining characteristics. But aren’t social groups fundamentally dynamic? And although there is a danger of calling evil good, isn’t there an equal danger of calling good evil?

Amid the raw emotions of leaving, I cynically told someone our decision came down to the 3 Fs of Fundamentalism: the First chapter of Genesis must be interpreted as a Britannica-style retelling of natural history; the Fires of Hell will punish most of humanity forever in conscious torment; and Females must never be in positions of leadership. (And the fourth F is F you if you disagree.) Today, I can take a step back and see there is too much snark and aggression in an answer like that. I now think it’s better simply to say that some people need space to wrestle with their questions in order for their faith to survive.

Marriage. I got married, and that was easy; I remain married, and that is difficult; I am trying to grow as a person in my marriage while encouraging my wife to do the same, and that requires all available resources.

While traditional Mennonite communities are great for kids (see my previous post), they are dependent on firm boundaries. Sometimes God gives people the near supernatural capacity to honor those boundaries while also delving into the complex human realities outside the idyllic community. For whatever reason, God did not give us that capacity. We needed more space to question, to probe, to come to a deeper understanding of how reality works. We also needed more freedom to allow husband and wife roles and personalities to grow naturally. Marriage is a dynamic relationship and always in flux. Manmade rules and community expectations that cut off access to resources for personal growth will suck the oxygen out of that marriage faster than you can say ordnung. Where there is no personal growth, there is no growth in marriage.

Christian liberty. I admit that a big part of our decision really did come down to freedom. I have always found it sanctimonious to say things like, “God led us out of the Mennonite church.” Once, I asked my dad why he joined a somewhat more modernised Anabaptist church, and his answer was, “Because I wanted to drive a car instead of a horse and buggy.” His reason was refreshing because some of his peers making the exodus claimed all kinds of spiritual revelations and new-birth experiences. Deep down, most onlookers probably sensed that owning a car was the real reason anyone leaves the Old Orders (the most traditional Amish).

If I am honest, it has to do with freedom in my case too. I want to go to the cinema, wear what I want to, shave when and where I want to(!), and pursue any interest I want to–unshackled from arbitrary manmade dictates. That probably sounds hyper-individualistic, yet I would meekly point out that the New Testament has a thing or two to say about Christian liberty. (“For why should my liberty be determined by someone else’s conscience?” 1 Cor. 10.29).

Culture. (Weak point, pound pulpit hard.) I know–so much of mainstream culture is lame at best and nefarious at worst. But it’s still great to watch The Green Mile without a niggling sense of guilt, and enjoy all the other awesome stuff that we awesome humans create.

I admit that I don’t know if I always have an adequate moral compass now that I have left the “training wheels” of Mennonite ordnung behind. I will, however, make two brief observations and leave it at that. First, never underestimate your conscience–it is a powerful guide if you nurture it; and second, sometimes we are changed more by the example of the Christians we associate with than by the rules they lay down for us.

Cultivating an openness to risk. We tried to leave the Mennonites long before we actually took the plunge. The thing that always ended the discussion was, “It’s too risky.” Among other risks, our social network and financial stability were at stake, and indeed we have experienced lean times in both of those areas. But God has always provided for us, sometimes in unexplainable ways. Maybe God has provided for us despite our choices, not because of them, but either way I don’t see how you could read the Bible and deny that the life of faith is a life of taking risks. Of course, the naysayers would say not all risks are equally worthy of our emotional energy, yet isn’t some measure of irrationality an inherent element of taking risks?

In the end, leaving the Mennonite community–with all its gloriously impossible paradoxes of uncomfortable security, its strong sense of identity and belonging that we could nevertheless not fully embrace, its imperfect perfection—it was all a risk, a tradeoff, and an excruciatingly complicated decision which, in many ways, the jury is still out on.

But if one is granted one more increment of peace than before, that is not nothing. I believe it as my Muslim friend says: at some point we must stop asking God for help in making a decision and ask God to bless our decision. This is, more or less, what we have sought to do.

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.