Every historian, I am told, writes with a bias. Since a preface is a place to confess shortcomings, I must tell you I am not trained in the fine craft of the historian. I am more a storyteller than a historian. I am eighty-three years old. Sixty-six of those years I have been a preacher of the gospel. So limits and biases plague me and are evident in this book and its companion volume, which are less focused on historical analysis and interpretation and more on storytelling than would likely be the case if I were a professional historian.

Memories, beliefs, experiences, and relationships fill my mind. My first memories are of the Marion Mennonite Church in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. I was nurtured by that church and her institutions. All of my life I have been a part of and concerned for Mennonite churches. I am biased toward the church.

My home and church introduced me to God and Jesus. Jesus came in the image of God, his Father. Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28-30).

I was once wearied by what the apostle Paul called the law and by my sins. I was burdened by Mennnonite church rules and regulations. I came to Jesus. I accepted his yoke and learned from him. I found him gentle and humble in heart. I found his yoke easy and his burden light. I love Jesus. I want everyone to know him. If there is another way to peace on earth, I do not know it. I am biased toward Jesus.

I understand that the Holy Spirit, the Holy Wind and Fire of the Pentecost, wants to change me to be more like Jesus. Not only me. The Spirit wants to change the church and the world. I once thought God wanted me to protect the church from change. Now, after these many years of experiences and observations, I expect the Spirit to initiate changes that surprise me.

I believe that the Holy Spirit works through churches. The church may be large or small, Amish, Mennonite, or of another denomination, conservative or change-minded. I honor each church and the grace of God that allows it to be a Temple of the Holy Spirit.

I believe that the Holy Spirit intends to fulfill the mission of Jesus in the world through the church. A church may reject modern conveniences and witness to a simple life as Jesus did. A church may cross racial or cultural boundaries as Jesus did. Like Jesus, church members may mingle with sinners and invite the ignorant and those who are out of the way to repent, believe the gospel, and be saved.

I acknowledge that no church lives up to its potential. As I write, war seems to be winding down in Iraq but has left great wounds. In times like these, many churches regress. Called to be peacemakers in the name of Jesus, they adopt the ways of the world. Such churches add to the darkness. That is the shadow side of the church. Yet other churches are both salt and light in the world. They preach good news to the poor. They seek freedom for prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind. They release the oppressed and consider this to be God’s year to act. That is the light side of the church (see Luke 4:17-21).

My biases cause me to turn my back on the darkness behind me. In his day the apostle John saw that the darkness was passing and the true light was already shining (1 John 2:7-11). Readers of this book will discover that the church in the Southeast began as a union in Sarasota, Florida, and as a mission in Tampa, Florida. Our consciences divided us. Jesus prayed that his church would be one (John 17:15-21). I write in hope of a reunion. I face the light.

Rhoda and I were born in Pennsylvania in 1926, the year the first Amish baby was born in Tampa, Florida. We arrived in Florida in 1950. Much of what happened after 1950 is thus very personal to us. Thus at times this book is personal memoir in addition to history. Yet although I am biased, I wrote as honestly as I could, and when writing about my own involvements did so largely in third person as a way to hold myself at some distance from my own role and to fulfill  the intent of this book, which was to tell the story of people whose Anabaptist faith and diverse cultures helped the church of the Southeast to be what it is today.

I present this book of history for the benefit of many people. It is for the descendants of the Amish, Amish Mennonite, and Mennonite pioneers who came to Peninsular Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina; for those who need to know how their churches were planted as missions in the Southeast; the I-W men and the men and women who gave the energy of their youth in Voluntary Service (VS) in the Southeast; newcomers from other countries and cultures who enrich and bless the family of faith; the pastors, leaders, teachers, and parents; the thousands of Amish and Mennonites who annually come south to worship in our churches, eat in our restaurants, visit relatives, and bask in the warm sunshine or seek an alternative to common Christendom and find it in a Mennonite or Amish church.

Footnotes acknowledge my indebtedness to many persons and sources. I note below a special indebtedness to the following in preparation of both this volume and volume 2 (Cascadia, 2011) of Roots and Branches:

• John Sharp, Mennonite Church historian, and Dennis Stoesz, archivist, who opened to me the resources of the archives of the Mennonite Church;

• Amanda Kurtz, Alvin Kurtz, Lewis (Lewy) Ebersole, Elta Eicher, David Eicher, David R. Miller, Jerome Yoder, Anna Mae Overholt Yoder, and other sons and daughters of the pioneers who worked the muck land in Fruitville or settled in Sarasota, Florida, and shared their memories, artifacts, and pictures with me;

• the many correspondents who wrote letters to the Missionary Messenger and the Proclamation;

• Dora Taylor, who trusted me with the diaries and picture album of her years in Tampa as a mission worker;

• Harold Shearer, Kenneth Nauman, and David Kniss, colleagues in ministry, who trusted their papers to me and who read a draft of this book, made suggestions, and gave me their encouragement;

• Irene Stauffer and James Miller III who gave me their unpublished papers;

• the staff of the Lancaster Historical Society Archives, where Paul Zehr and I were privileged to research significant documents related to our history;

• Martha Kauffman Weaver, great-grand-niece of Anna Kauffman, for allowing me to copy letters written from Arcadia and Tampa by Anna Kauffman;

• Marilyn Slabach for editing “Bay Shore Mennonite Church, Sarasota, Florida celebrating its Thirty-Fifth Anniversary, May 3-4, 1980.” The bulk of the booklet was composed of items from church bulletins from 1949-1980;

• H. Michael Shenk, pastor of the Tuttle Avenue Mennonite Church, who wrote “And Mennonites: A Historical Sketch of Mennonites of Sarasota, Florida with Special Attention to the Establishing of Their Churches, 1924 to 1970.” Among other resources, Shenk relied on an interview with Mr. and Mrs. Ernest Yoder and an article published in Mennonite Life (July 1957) by John Umble, “The Mennonites in Florida”;

• James P. Miller II, who was asked as part of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Tuttle Ave/Bahia Vista Mennonite Church in 2001 to write a history of that church. Miller did extensive research which he recorded in an unpublished document he called “Silver Linings.” He made his findings and the document available to me. I am deeply indebted to him for his work and generosity;

• Paul Wenger, who at no cost to me kept my computer working;

• Steve Henkle, a true non-Mennonite who knew nothing about them until he retired in Sunnyside Village. As an artist, writer, and publisher of books and magazines, Steve read drafts of this book, asked questions, made suggestions, and proved himself to be a well-meaning friend and tough editor.

Finally, we are all indebted to D. Lowell Nissley, Jewel Shank, David Brenneman, Richard MacMaster, Susan Fatzi, Jean Pfeiffer, and Sara Alice Zimmerly, who encouraged the publishing of these two volumes, promoted an annual fund-raising banquet, and founded the Anabaptist Heritage Association. 

I am most indebted to my loving and forgiving wife, Rhoda, who allowed me to devote hours of many days in the past ten years to this book. She read every draft and made invaluable suggestions as to wording and fact. She corrected many of those worrisome commas, misspellings, and other inaccuracies. In many ways this is her book also.

—Martin W. Lehman
Goshen, Indiana