The Farmhouse

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The Farmhouse The Farmhouse is an attempt to reimagine our place by reimagining the church.

We seek to fulfill the essence of The Church and exist to foster the health of our place called Evergreen and its surrounding areas.

What we do on Sunday mornings.Sunday service, 10am.
09/24/2026

What we do on Sunday mornings.
Sunday service, 10am.

“Blessed are those hungering and thirsting for righteousness, because they will be filled.” -Jesus, in his Sermon on the Mount.

In the beatitudes it’s as if Jesus is setting context for the rest of his teaching; as if to say, here is where we’re starting. And he begins with the states of being poor in spirit, and mourning, and being meek.
Hungering for righteousness might be the response to these states. We see the suffering and poverty, tragedy and grief, we see injustice, and it makes us long for a better world.
But what exactly is righteousness? What does it look like, act like, how do we do it? Once again I’ll start with our textbook. Let’s see what Matthew says.
The word Matthew uses here is 'dikaiosene', and it can be translated as righteousness or justice.
What is it to be righteous? Since Jesus is the one who purportedly said these words, does that mean righteousness is about following his teachings or believing in him? Is righteousness about right doctrine? Does that imply then that those who are not Christian, or don’t at least have some kind of belief in God, can’t be righteous? Can Pagan people be righteous, or can atheists? Righteousness on the surface may seem to be about following the rules or obeying the law. But laws and rules are made by humans, who usually have some agenda or bias; in fact, laws can be very unjust sometimes.
And you’ll notice that the word is also connected to Justice. And this is true in the Hebrew as well. The word righteousness in Hebrew is 'tsedekah', and it is very often paired with the word 'mishpat' which means justice. Whether you want to remember the words or not, the thing to keep in mind is that it’s as if the Bible writers understood these two qualities as being inextricably linked.
The best way to say it might be to say that righteousness is about making all things right again, which would root it in justice, since all things being right would include a just world.
Another way I think you could say it is that justice = balance, and righteousness = flourishing.
There are two kinds of justice.
One is called retributive justice, which is where someone who has done wrong or done harm must pay for their crime. It’s a kind of basic balance trying to be found, where the person pays in equal measure for what they did.
This is eye for eye justice, and it has its place. Back in the days when the Israelites made this part of their law, it was to make sure there was no over-reach, that a person only paid in proportion for what they did, and it was fair, because it meant wealth or privilege could not protect you from the consequences of your crime. This is what our judicial system is mostly modeled on. It’s also the most familiar. And there is a certain morality built in, where innocent people have a chance to prove their innocence, and the victim gets some kind of restitution. These are natural responses.
And I’d say this is the way we mostly see justice. It’s intuitive, and we do this all the time. Even in our relationships, we want to feel that things are fair, and if someone wrongs us, we want recompense or an apology at least.
But there is another way, and that is restorative justice.
This is about more than just the criminal and the victim; it’s about how the community is impacted. This kind of justice is focused on a more systemic approach. Why did the person commit a crime, and what can be done to prevent that? And it allows for all the parties affected to be heard. This might not sit well with us initially, it might seem unfair, because we do have that natural tendency towards retribution, but there’s a reason why we might want this to happen.
What happens to one person in a community affects everyone. So while punishing a criminal might make sense, what will be the ultimate result? Will it bring peace? Will that restore the community?
Restorative justice focuses on repairing the harm. Something is lost in the community when crime or trauma happens, and there needs to be an ongoing effort to repair for both sides, for the life of the community to be able to move forward.
There are two different goals within these two forms of justice. Retributive justice is a more two-dimensional, good guy-bad guy dichotomy. You impacted me, and I need to deal with you, I need to punish you so I can be better. It is focused on the need of the individual, and in its healthy form may be a starting point: someone is brought before an official judicial system to be held accountable. But in an unhealthy form, it comes at the expense of what we call “collateral damage;” innocent bystanders that fall victim to the situation. It’s what happens in war, most obviously. So that with retributive justice, the goal may be a calling to account, but more suffering is often perpetuated in that process.
Restorative justice recognizes that we are all interconnected, so we need to figure this out. Humans are deeply social; even the place we live is embedded in us. What you do affects me, what I do affects you. This kind of justice sees restoration and peace as the goal. That despite whatever circumstances happen, we have to keep moving towards restoration. This is the wider vision.
And this isn’t just about crime, it comes up in our lives every day. In our relationships conflict arises, hurts are inflicted, intentionally or not, and we have to ask, what is our goal? To get even, or to repair what went wrong?
Because often retributive justice doesn’t repair anything. It may stop the wrong, but it doesn’t redeem. It is its own end point. And it can devolve into a cycle of vengeance. This is what is called the myth of redemptive violence, that somehow we can use force or punishment to right what is wrong.
With restorative justice, the focus is more on: this happened, how do we work to make sure this doesn’t happen again? The interests of all are interests of the one, and so it becomes about what steps a community can take to make sure this doesn’t happen again, that the deeper cause behind the crime or disruption are dealt with. Can healing be found in the midst of terrible circumstances?
Now, this brings up a question: Does it mean that those who do awful things shouldn’t face consequences? What about the victim? Biblical scholar Amy-Jill Levine says, “Justice without mercy is intolerable, but so is mercy without justice.” The victim of a crime should not have to shoulder the responsibility to make things right.
To allow an invasive species to spread unchecked undoes the balance of an ecosystem, so yes, there are checks and boundaries that must be imposed. Evil cannot be allowed to run rampant. And as long as human are humans, we will always struggle with that balance, because we are not God, we can’t restore the world on our own. Our judicial systems can be no better than the humans that create them, but it’s what we have to work with. And it has its place. It is sometimes necessary.
But it inevitably leads to a defensive posture. The question retributive justice asks is, what do we do to protect ourselves?

And as Christians, our question ought to be, what can we do to bring healing?
How do we look like Jesus in this?
Can we imagine a world where terrible things don’t happen? Can we imagine a world where the circumstances that create injustice and suffering don’t occur? And if so, can we hunger and thirst for that, see it so clearly until it’s an urge so strong we must do what we can to make it so?
And then, as an act of faith, with Jesus as the model, can we hold to the ideal of righteousness, as a state of all things in balance and flourishing, in themselves and in their community. And can we do our part to make that happen?
Because Jesus didn’t say righteousness was about following the right rules, or believing the right things. It’s about how we live together, and help to heal each other. It starts with wanting it so much it’s like hunger pangs.
And the tag end of this is, “for they will be filled.” But how should we understand that? Righteousness will be accomplished and then we’ll be satisfied? Maybe someday. But maybe it’s the process of wanting and working for righteousness that fills us. This isn’t just about victims and criminals. It’s about every way we live that can bring in that moment balance and flourishing. In our families, the way we eat, or buy things, the way we work, the way we care for ourselves even. The smallest things you do all have a moral dimension, because no decision you make can be made in isolation. Your own health, your own motivations, your own process impacts all of us, and the world as well.
Did I not say that being a Christian is hard? Because it is. I’m not saying salvation is hard, that you have to work for God’s approval. God’s love is built into your DNA, you not only don’t have to work for it, you can’t escape it.
But that is not what being a Christian is about. We’re not here to get a reward, we’re not here because following Jesus makes your live easier.
We carry the name Christian. We took that name because we are people who hunger and thirst for righteousness. It matters to us. It is who we are.
Turns out this is just another one of Jesus’ paradoxical teachings. To hunger for righteousness is to be filled with righteousness. Righteous people want justice, because they aren’t content with just their own needs or preferences being met, they desire these things for all the world, and they do not stop until the world is filled as well, and the kingdom of heaven is also upon Earth.

Anniversaries help us to look forward with renewed love. Love is not sentiment. It is continually choosing again what we...
09/10/2026

Anniversaries help us to look forward with renewed love.
Love is not sentiment. It is continually choosing again what we chose before; our history, proximity, shared vision and commitment.

It was Sept 11, 2017. I pulled into a gravel driveway by a white house and drove up to a raggedy low blue building with a man sitting outside the door on a rough bench.
I’m not shy, so I walked up and introduced myself.
“I’m Dave Kleeberger,” The man replied. “Good to have you. What brought you out here this evening?”
“I’m a friend of Brenda Holdridge,” I told him.
“Any friend of Brenda’s is a friend of mine,” said Dave, and we walked into the big open door to sit on the couch by the wall.

It was a Monday night, and two young men were leading a conversation about an idea they had for a community of people that would reimagine what church should look like. And they asked us the question: “What else could the church be? Is it possible for the church to exist for the good of the place it is in, and not just for its members?”
Almost exactly two years later, we had our first gathering in our new barn on Sept 8, 2019.
That means this past Tuesday was our 7th anniversary here.
I have had important days in my life: weddings and business openings; divorces and deaths.
But no day has changed my life like the Monday I walked into that little chicken coop and sat down to listen to a couple guys full of dreams. I was not a Christian. I did not want to join a church. And yet, I felt as if I’d found the thing I’d been looking for my whole life and didn’t know it.
We had our first service in this building in September of 2019, and 6 months later, in March of 2020, Covid shut us down. We lost a good year and a half of time. Not just our church but the whole world changed and it will never be the same. There are people we lost whom we miss daily.
Things changed. It doesn’t look like we expected when we started this.
But here we are, and we survive when many churches have not.
So this week is an anniversary that should be celebrated, because we are still here.
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There are four things that form a community, whether that community is a town, or a church, or a family, or even a couple. And the purpose of anniversaries is to make us become aware of them; to notice them in an intentional way:
1. History/shared memories—anniversaries are ways to look back and remember what you’ve been though together.
The Farmhouse/Metamora UMC didn’t just spring up like a mushroom ring overnight. What we’re doing right now was conceived in 1853, almost a 170 years ago. A group of nine people began what was called a Methodist "Class Meeting" by meeting in a home to form a church. Despite the difficulties of travel and life in those days, this group of people collectively grew to become the official Methodist Episcopal church in 1867.
Eventually they needed more space, and they built a small church in the village - one of the earliest in Fulton County. That church building burnt in 1894. They rebuilt. The village endured another fire in the early 1900's where everyone was forced to rebuild.
When it comes to the first decade of our community's life, it wasn't exactly ideal.
In 1960 a new sanctuary was built, and it became an important hub of activity in town. Metamora was in an economic boom, and the church was growing. But as happened to so any rural communities, that growth stalled as younger people moved away looking for better opportunities and big box stores became the place to shop. By 2013, things didn’t look so good. The church in town had succumbed to black mold and was shut down. The congregation moved to the Evergreen elementary school, and tried to stay together, but attendance dwindled. The blow came when their beloved pastor, Terry, passed away suddenly.
It looked like they were done. But a young man named Tyler was hired to help out, and he showed up with a vision, and here we are.
Now, with rooting the community in who we have been, we are leaning into where we are going next.
2. Shared vision—anniversaries re-affirm the reason we exist together, what it is that makes us a shared community.
We are reimagining the church. What does that even mean? Is it just some trendy thing to say? Are we really doing that? Is this a place to inspire transformation?
There is a quote we often refer to here, by a man named Willaim Temple:
“The church the only institution that exists for the benefit of its non-members.”
Can we be a beacon to transform the church? This building is designed to bring others in; we didn’t build it for our own use. We want to find ways to bring people here; all people, even those who do not go to church, so that they can experience “church” without the preconceived ideas that follow that concept.
3. Proximity—anniversaries reconnect us, they are an occasion to come together, to celebrate the relationship.
What drives us to be in this space together? We have been here in this building 7 years now. We’ve been a congregation for much longer. We are together in the fabric of this place, and you shape the trajectory of what we are.
The purpose of this is for people to leave different. That can happen here in a way that would never happen somewhere else; you can’t find that on YouTube, no AI-generated content can do that.
We are here to discover what it means to take the gospel story seriously. We want belong to each other. Human and Divine, earth and land together. To find a relevant place here for each of us.
And your story shapes our story; we are profoundly intertwined, we deeply impact one another, so our purpose is best when we are a group of people moving together in the same direction
4. Commitment to permanence—anniversaries re-commit us to each other, to say yes to our first love as it grows into deeper love.
When we moved in here, and started this season of our church, we asked the question; who do we dream to be? What do we hope for here? Since then we have experienced some shifts of purpose, but we can’t stop dreaming. What a beautiful thing we have here, if we can remember our first love. And don’t think that can’t be done, that love always inevitably fades into the mundane. It changes, of course. But it can be kept alive by our presence here, by allowing this place to shape you, and then take that change into the community and into your home. Love is not sentiment, it is continually choosing again what we’ve chosen before; a commitment to this place, this community, this group of friends.
It’s what the church has attempted to be since the beginning. We’re more than just another group that meets on a Sunday morning. We are the body of Christ. A body that gave itself up for the healing of the world. That embraced all beings, gave promise of restoration, and became a refuge of belonging for each of us to find our home.

Welcome to The Farmhouse, where the story continues.

Anniversary Sunday, 9/13, 10am.

Wendell Berry: August 5, 1934 - August 31, 2026   Novelist, essayist, poet and cultural critic, Wendell Berry never clai...
09/01/2026

Wendell Berry: August 5, 1934 - August 31, 2026

Novelist, essayist, poet and cultural critic, Wendell Berry never claimed to be a preacher yet he understood Christianity in a more thorough way than any theologian. His thoughtful writing about Agrarianism, communitarian ethics and and our connection to one another and the land bespoke the gospel story as one who knew it intimately and considered it carefully.
The model for The Farmhouse grew directly out of his philosophy and was shaped by his ideas. To be rooted in our rural place and foster its health is what Wendell would expect a church to be; one that took seriously its role as a hedge of protection for its community and a place where peace can take a long breath and love finds itself among friends.
Rest, Wendell, "in the grace of the world and be free."

What we do on a Sunday morning in the barn.
08/28/2026

What we do on a Sunday morning in the barn.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

None of us escape grief and mourning; in fact, it is a formative part of being a healthy human, and a natural progression of the wheel of life.
And so I offer this beautiful poem that articulates the love that comes from sorrow, the meaning that can be found in it.
EPITAPH -Merritt Malloy
When I die
Give what’s left of me away
To children
And old men that wait to die.
And if you need to cry,
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me,
Put your arms
Around anyone
And give them
What you need to give to me.
I want to leave you something,
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.
Look for me
In the people I’ve known
Or loved,
And if you cannot give me away,
At least let me live on in your eyes
And not your mind.
You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands,
By letting bodies touch bodies,
And by letting go
Of children
That need to be free.
Love doesn’t die,
People do.
So, when all that’s left of me
Is love,
Give me away.

We will be studying the Sermon on the Mount and the Beatitudes over the next several weeks. This Sunday we'll talk about mourning, grief, and how that is part of the human process. The Sermon on the Mount is one way of guiding us through that process; it’s finding ways to see ourselves and our lives differently, even when it gets complicated or sad.
Blessed are those who mourn. Although it is not a state of being we want, there might be potential for change that leads to transformation. Grief may not ever really go away, but we might find ourselves on the other side of it better equipped to comfort those who mourn like we do, and to show love to our neighbor. And within that love we can find comfort for ourselves as well.

Sunday service, 10am

What a wonderful barn party we had last night! Friends gathered to help celebrate the 50th anniversary of one of our dea...
08/22/2026

What a wonderful barn party we had last night! Friends gathered to help celebrate the 50th anniversary of one of our dearest couples; we all loved the variety and deliciousness of the food made and brought by everyone; and the highlight of having Laurie Swyers and Mary Dick from New Moon playing our stage made for an unforgettable evening.
Our next barn party will be Friday Sept 18 with Patrick Lewandowski. We really hope you can come too!

Laurie Swyers and Mary from New Moon are playing til 9. We still have some food left!
08/21/2026

Laurie Swyers and Mary from New Moon are playing til 9. We still have some food left!

Address

3188 State Route 120
Metamora, OH
43540

Opening Hours

10am - 1pm

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