The Garden Is Growing

Dear brothers and sisters, friends and family in Christ,

A week has passed since our time in Minnesota, and I can say without hesitation: it was deeply meaningful. To witness firsthand the grace, generosity, and hope the Grove family and ministry have extended to so many—especially those seeking an alternative in homeschooling and homesteading—was profoundly inspiring.

For three days, we shared meals, built friendships, and gathered for session after session of questions, testimonies, teachings, and worship—held under a canvas tent on a grassy hillside in front of the family barn. We spoke candidly about the hope and hardship, the prerequisites and promises of genuine community life. But more than that, we felt it. You could sense the breath of God moving—the hope of becoming tangible expressions of Christ’s Body, His Church, His covenant community.

I believe with all my heart that the seeds sown in that gathering—whether in the local fellowships to which the attendees belong, or as the nucleus of a new congregation beginning to form with the Groves—we will see lasting fruit.

Thank you for your prayers, love, and support throughout this journey.

The Driftless Region – A Storybook Still Turning

Now to Wisconsin. We wound our way on country roads through the so-called Driftless Region—an area long ago passed over by the glaciers that leveled the plains, leaving behind untouched undulating hills and valleys. Here, industrial agriculture couldn’t conquer the varied terrain, and so family farms remain—small acreages, 40 to 80 acres each, nestled in the valleys and perched on hillsides.

Every curve of the road feels like another page in storybook America: white farmhouses with sweeping porches, massive barns with stone foundations and gambrel roofs, maple trees towering over front-yard swings and picket fences. It’s nostalgic and picturesque.

But beneath the pastoral serenity, what we came searching for—and what we found—was not just scenery, but life. The living heartbeat of Christian community. The soul-deep joy of God’s people walking and working  together in love and covenant.

A Table Set with Love and Song

Not long after parking our trailers, we drove to the main hub property—about 80 acres, home to several family homesteads, an enormous community garden, a new orchard, and a renovated meeting hall inside a historic barn. A beautiful meal had been prepared to celebrate the birthday of Brother Jared Wayman (from New Zealand, visiting because his daughter has become engaged to Isaiah Herbert of Wisconsin).

We gathered around a long handmade maple table in the warmth of an Amish-style kitchen—candles lit, wood stove behind us—and one by one, many of the dozens gathered spoke words of welcome, gratitude, and joy.

We couldn’t hold back tears.

In a time of increasing hostility against our faith community, the love that flowed so freely between us felt like a healing balm—breaking through the stress and clamor of a hateful world.

Then someone picked up a guitar, and there in a circle before dinner, we began to sing. It wasn’t just a harmony of tenors and altos, sopranos and basses—it was a harmony of hearts. Southern Californians blending with Amish families still dressed in traditional garb, Texans standing beside New Zealanders. And every face radiant with the glory of God’s presence.

Stanza after stanza rose in reverent joy:

Father, make us ready
For all our hands have sown
We can hear it raining
This garden's gonna grow

Spirit, keep us steady
Seasons come and go
To never stop believing
This garden's gonna grow

Mother, don't you worry
We won't let it die
All that you have dreamed for
We'll watch it come alive

My mother was so overcome with emotion, she couldn’t speak. There was just something profoundly affirming and rewarding about traveling for days across unfamiliar terrain to find yourself surrounded by a circle of strangers whose faces were entirely new . . . and yet whose hearts felt instantly known.

And in a single, unmistakable moment, like an epiphany, you realize: it’s the same heart. The same love for God. The same grace. The same joy in the Holy Spirit. And it’s astounding.

They are us. We are one.

Though separated by miles and background, the same truth—the same spiritual DNA—is producing the same fruit. The very fruit we’ve labored to protect, cultivate, and pass on. And in that moment, you see it clearly: the dream still lives.

It’s not only alive—it’s flourishing.

True to its roots, yet taking on new colors, new faces, new voices, new expressions. A vibrancy that feels like prophecy fulfilled.

A Feast of Testimonies and Faith

Dinner was a delight—handmade noodles, organic chicken, and garden vegetables seasoned with Thai basil and kaffir lime, all grown on site. But the stories were the true feast.

In thick Pennsylvania Dutch accents, men and women told of crying out to God while still in isolation—before they had fellowship, before they had teaching—how the Holy Spirit met them, baptized them, sometimes leading them to break ice on a frozen pond to baptize each other in Jesus’ name. The room brimmed with joy and awe.

It felt like watching the prayers of generations fulfilled. The cry of the early Swiss Brethren rising from the ruins of empty religion to catch fire again in this generation—sons and daughters of Old Order Anabaptists who wanted God more than tradition, more than conformity.

Reviving a Rural Town—One Market, One Family at a Time

In town, we toured their vibrant grocery store—Heritage Market—a bustling hub on Main Street, offering both high-quality and affordable food to a community starved of healthy options. Local officials are so moved by their work that they’ve offered them a second building—for free—with tens of thousands of dollars included for renovation.

In a region slowly being choked by the economic vacuum left by mega-corporations, here is a spark of life—a community bringing hope and food and meaning back to small-town America.

No Grave Gonna Hold This Body Down

But nothing compared to our Wednesday night service.

More than 150 people packed into a massive old dairy barn—wooden floors, massive beams, voices rising to the rafters in praise. California transplants, Amish converts, Anabaptist seekers. Families with head coverings mingled beside tattooed brothers and California youth, all lifting hands in worship, faces glowing with joy.

Testimonies poured forth: deliverance from addiction, from despair, from dead tradition. Worship rang out—until someone struck up “Ain’t No Grave Gonna Hold My Body Down”—and people twirled, danced, rejoiced in the Spirit.

Yes, Californians and Amish alike. This is what God is doing.

A Garden Already in Bloom

It was an honor to minister the Word of God among them. But more than that—it was a privilege just to behold what’s already growing.

The speed of growth, the number of conversions, and the sheer diversity of those coming in—from across the country and across tradition—is astounding. And none of it would be possible without the faithful, gracious leadership of the Herberts, the Rumseys, and their entire ministry team.

We’ve served them long-distance through calls, letters, and counsel—but to see, firsthand, their order, their gratitude, their love, their joy, and their unity in the Spirit . . . it’s beyond words.

God is raising a witness. No—He has raised a witness. Right here, in the hills of Wisconsin’s Driftless Region, amid tens of thousands of Anabaptists, He is proclaiming: The dream lives. The Spirit is available. What was dead can live again.

The Pattern Still Brings Life

The pattern of God’s restored covenant Body brings life—and this is the promise and pursuit of every one of our congregations across more than 15 locations worldwide. The truth still sets free. And it is the Spirit—not tradition, not charisma, not systems—but the Spirit who gives life.

To all who have prayed, supported, and believed in the Wisconsin work: take heart. It is a beacon of hope. A model for what God longs to establish across the earth.

May all the glory be His.

Your kingdom come.
Your will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.

In love and gratitude,

Asi