Elisabet Kirkland Page 38

21 Dec

IS IT WORTH IT?

In

Sometimes people do important things for reasons other than the obvious. I started wearing glasses in the third grade because my eyesight required it, but I have met people with 20/20 vision who wear them for reasons of fashion. That doesn’t work for me, or perhaps not you either, but let’s not judge.

So, is it possible to be a Seventh-day Adventist for reasons other than what would seem obvious? Sure. Some reasons I have heard are keeping the family together (relationships); I like the worship service/pastor/potluck (culture); I don’t know enough about any other religion (inertia).

None of those are particularly bad reasons, but I have to say that none of them would do the trick for me. Leaving would be a hard thing because it would disrupt my family and, yes, I would miss the potlucks. In my case it is also an employment matter, which, in some ways, is bigger than family or cultural concerns. But none of those factors have ever mattered enough to me to keep me in the faith. I think it is good sometimes to reflect on my honest and true reasons for being a Seventh-day Adventist, and I appreciate being asked to write this article, which takes me down that path once again.

This issue is all about things that strike at the heart of why I chose, and continue to choose, being a part of this denomination. It focuses on whether it matters on a practical level, apart from (but not necessarily unrelated to) whether I buy into our belief system. But that is where it begins: the simple fact that I believe our message, all 28 fundamental points of it, and neither my study of the Bible nor my study of other beliefs has shaken me on any of those points.

For me, and I hope for you as well, it is important that my justification for being a member goes beyond my acceptance of it as true, so that it has meaning in the here and now. Karl Marx famously referred to religion as the “opiate of the masses,” and by that he meant all religions, Christian or otherwise. He proposed that the promise of paradise induced people to tolerate suffering now, and, since he didn’t believe in any type of afterlife, he saw religion as nothing more than a way for one class to exploit another. What he observed was that for the vast majority, believing in something good tomorrow didn’t translate into better lives today.

Let me be clear that I am not a Marxist, beginning with my conviction that there is a God and there is a very real heaven. But he had a point that the promise of heaven, while it matters a great deal to me personally, doesn’t get me out of the toil and trouble during my threescore and ten and perhaps more (see Psalm 90:10). What does my faith, both as a Christian in the broad sense and as a practicing Seventh-day Adventist in the narrow sense, do for me now?

My answer is, Plenty. On one level, I have the culture: worship services I enjoy, a pastor I like, and potlucks. On a higher level, I have improved family relations and a career that has been meaningful to me. I have my cultural concepts challenged regularly had have been forced to adjust, and family relationships are always evolving, but my beliefs have provided structure and comfort even during those times of change.

On a still higher level, don’t discount the very real benefits that come from belief itself. Knowing truth brings peace because it gives me a lens for viewing world events, a promise of something better (Marx couldn’t understand it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real), and a sense of purpose.

Those things don’t come cheap. Adventism may be my heritage, but for it to really be mine, at some point I had to consciously choose it. That point came while I was in an Adventist college, fully believing that I was already an Adventist and would remain so. Then I got blindsided with a challenge that changed everything.

There is always some wind of doctrine blowing through the church that strikes at our fundamental beliefs on one or more points. In the early 1980s, it was Desmond Ford challenging our interpretation of Daniel, which spilled over into our Christology, understanding of salvation, and other key points of doctrine. Someone I thought of as a committed Christian invited me to join in that challenge to our prophetic understanding and presented material containing the arguments.

I am happy to say that, from the outset, the arguments looked weak and easily answered, and, subsequently, I have seen that our church answered those questions long before Dr. Ford was even born. From that experience forward, Adventism was not just what I had been taught. It was what I believed, down to my very core, in a way that approaches what Jesus defined when he said that to be worthy of him, we have to place our love for him, our faith in him, our belief in him, higher than family, work, or life itself (see Matthew 10:37-38).

All good and well to truly believe, and some might even say that would be enough. But there’s more! The most meaningful part of being a Seventh-day Adventist Christian, in the here and now of all this toil and trouble, is that it has been and continues to be a medium through which I know my Savior better and better. You may well achieve that in other belief systems, but not only does this one square with the scripture in ways that others do not, I have found that it presents Jesus clearer, more accurately, and more deeply than anything offered anywhere else.

That even includes my own personal study of the Bible. Passages that might have given me struggles are clearer due to the understanding brought to me by my denomination. For example, I would never have comprehended the prophecies of Daniel on my own. Scholars, not all of them from our faith tradition, have interpreted the various parts of it in a way that makes sense. And while there remains even within our church some debate over certain points of prophecy, the accepted parts fit together perfectly. I may have been confused on my own, but I see it clearly as explained by our church. By contrast, my study of how those parts are interpreted by other religions has left me unconvinced.

That goes for many passages beyond the prophetic parts of the Bible. Believe me, I have taken skeptical approaches to our beliefs, trying to see if I could knock any of them down. Not from a desire to turn my back on my religion, but rather like a plumber who checks for leaks after a repair. He doesn’t want to find any, but he has to be sure they aren’t there. I’ve checked for leaks in our beliefs, and I can’t find any. Through them I have a closer walk with Jesus, and that walk changes me.

Even when I am not aware of it. As a graduate student in a public university, I was not shy about who I was and what I believed. I can’t say I was actively proselytizing, but people knew, and questions were asked and answered. One day shortly before I was to graduate, some question arose about whether I had done all the requirements. It turns out I had, but, since the outcome was uncertain, the department chairman said he would look into it, then left the room.

As soon as he was out of earshot the administrative assistant went into a rant about how unfair this was to me, that I only followed the directions of my advisor, and they were responsible to get me through on time, and on like that. She ended by saying, “And you just take it all calmly, and I know why. Your faith works for you. I don’t get it, but it works for you.”

I didn’t know it was obvious. You may not know it’s obvious in your life. But this walk that we have with Jesus, enhanced as it is by knowing the Bible truths that we share, changes us.

Is it worth it? I can only answer for myself, and hope that it gives you something to think about, but, yes, absolutely, it is worth it. Here and now, during my threescore and ten, and hopefully more, amidst the toil and trouble. The truth that I know, the church that I serve, and the people I fellowship with give me a culture I love, belief that brings peace, and assurance of paradise. It helps me know Jesus better, and that makes me a better person than I can be on my own. All of it improves my life, and none of it comes from within me.

Karl Marx should have been so blessed.

Doug Inglish is RMC vice president for administration. Email him  at: [email protected]  

21 Dec

BEING AN ADVENTIST: WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?

In

Does being an Adventist make you happy? Does it give you assurance and confidence? Does it provide hope for the present and the future? How does it affect your view of the world? How does it impact your personal relationships?

And we could continue with such questions. Because what you truly believe affects who you are. You may say you hold to a particular system of beliefs, but only what you are really committed to will make a difference in the way you live.

Thomas Fuller, a 17th century clergyman, recorded in his book Gnomologia the saying, “Seeing is believing, but feeling’s the truth.” Probably most Adventists would want to argue both phrases. Seeing is not always believing. What we believe cannot be solely based on what our eyes can see. Nor are feelings the basis for truth!

But having said that, being an Adventist should make a difference in the way we see the world, and we cannot deny the role of feelings in how we approach beliefs and truths. For if we are unhappy or discontented with our beliefs, especially religious ones, then our lives will be negatively impacted. The fundamental question is what does being an Adventist mean in practice?

So, let’s consider a few “Adventist aspects” that are different to the way most people today view “truth.”

God. And, here, let’s be very careful not to accept one of the many distorted pictures of God that are out there. Jesus said very clearly, Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father (John 14:9 NIV). Our relationship to a loving, saving, healing God is a major determinant of who we are.

Created by God as His Children. We are not some random products of an unthinking Universe, a mass of cells that have somehow developed into sentient beings. As beloved children, we experience our Father’s goodness and care and respond accordingly.

Heaven and Hell. For Adventists, there are no disembodied souls looking down from heaven on the trials and tragedies of those family members who are still alive. Nor do we believe in an eternal torment committed by a God who tortures his sinful children. A true perspective of what lies ahead is surely one to be thankful for.

A True Hope. Not some wishy-washing aspiration for something better or utopian, but a “sure and certain hope of the resurrection.” Jesus promises to be with us until the end of the world, and then to welcome us into eternity when he returns. Such a belief makes a difference in how we live and gives us a very different perspective on meaning and purpose.

God’s Special Day. The opportunity to rest on God’s Sabbath brings many benefits in terms of mental, physical, and spiritual health. What difference does this belief make in practice? Not only is it in contrast to the “rat race” experienced by so many in this consumerist world, but through prayer and worship we come closer to our saving God.

A Healthy Lifestyle. Meaning you can truly enjoy life to the fullest without being damaged by smoking, drinking alcohol, or a bad diet. In this case, the difference has been calculated—Adventists, on average, live ten years longer than most because of their better lifestyle.

A Supportive Community of Faith. Not that other religious organizations don’t have something similar, but in contrast to most secular people, Adventists enjoy the possibility of being supported by an integrated community that is not divided by race or other tensions.

So, let’s put it all together and ask the questions we began with, particularly what difference does it make being an Adventist Christian?

Our beliefs ground us in knowing who we are. This sense of identity and purpose is what many people struggle with today. While we are still affected by life’s problems, we can find help and comfort in our trust in God.

In Psalm 90, ascribed to “Moses, the man of God,” we have a summary of the kind of difference our beliefs should make in the way we live.

He begins by a firm acknowledgment of the eternal God: Lord, through all the generations you have been our home! (Psalm 90:1, NLT). You are God (Psalm 90:2, NLT). This is where we begin—just like the book of Genesis and the gospel of John. Everything else follows from this conviction of God and his role in our lives. We are not homeless and purposeless, because God is our home.

Moses admits that, in contrast to God, our lifespan is all-too-brief: Seventy years are given to us! Some even live to eighty. But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble; soon they disappear, and we fly away (Psalm 90:10, NLT). We look for peace, security, and happiness, but these too are temporary. Even our best years are flawed, and they don’t last for long.

Here is the age-old question—how to live fulfilled lives. In this our Adventist beliefs really should make a difference. We can look for happiness in many things, but what is truly satisfying? Abd Er-Rahman III, a Moorish king who was ruling Spain in 960 A.D. wrote this:

“I have now reigned about 50 years in victory or peace, beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, and respected by my allies. Riches and honors, power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor does any earthly blessing appear to have been wanting to my felicity. In this situation, I have diligently numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness which have fallen to my lot. They amount to fourteen.” 1

Fourteen happy days out of fifty years? What a tragic admission! For those who are committed to God and his ways, life brings a sense of contentment despite its many troubles and challenges. I hope to live a happy, rich, and meaningful life enjoying God’s good earth through creative arts and culture that may enhance and not take away from my love for God and for God’s creation. Jesus says, Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid (John 14:27). What we hold as being essential truth makes all the difference as an Adventist Christian.

Consequently, Moses asks God, Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12, NIV). This means that we should use our time wisely and well, not looking to indulge our selfish desires but to look for what is of eternal value.

So, what are the differences exactly? Well, our beliefs mold the way we treat others, how we deal with conflict in the family, how we relate to those who are hostile towards us. They influence our views about war and violence and criminality. They give us a perspective on the limit to human plans and legislation. Most of all we see the difference as we face the greatest leveler of all: death.

When my father died in the mid-1980s in the former Yugoslavia, many of my atheist schoolmates and friends came to the funeral and expressed a genuine sentiment how they envy my family and me for having a hope of reunion with our father at the second of Christ. This surprising expression from those who have no such hope and regard death as the absolute end have kept me many a time within a horizon of the blessed hope when faced with many more consequent deaths of family members and friends, or in moments of suffering, sickness, and pain. While we don’t look forward to the time when life ends, we know this is not the End.

Moses concludes this Psalm with the words: May the Lord our God show us his approval and make our efforts successful (Psalm 90:17, NLT). Only in our relationship with God can we say that this is what makes all the difference.

Zdravko (Zack) Plantak, PhD, is professor of religion and ethics at the School of Religion at Loma Linda University. Email him at: [email protected]

 

1  https://wisdomquotes.net/happiness-quotes/

21 Dec

THE GIFT OF ADVENTIST COMMUNITY

In

A few months ago, I found myself in a delightful situation that I realized could likely only come as a result of being a Seventh-day Adventist. Needing to travel to the UK for my doctoral studies, I decided to go a few days early so I could—among other things—go to Newbold College to worship on Sabbath with the Adventist community there and connect with some old and new friends I’ve made along the way.

On Friday night, I was hosted by a couple who I’d met during my previous trip, with them graciously allowing me to stay in their guest room. That, in itself, was quite remarkable, since I was welcomed into the home of a family—with the husband from eastern Europe, and the wife the daughter of missionary parents who’d lived all around Europe and Asia—I didn’t even know existed 12 months before.

On top of that, we went to their friends’ home—both of whom were from Brazil—for dinner that evening. And as we crowded around their small table, in their tiny apartment in Newbold’s student housing, all eating pizza together and laughing, it suddenly hit me: in what other religious community could this experience be replicated?

There we were, some of us relative strangers to each other a few minutes before, experiencing the gift and joy of Sabbath, all from our various parts of the world—Brazil, Europe, Asia, America—eating Italian food together. It was the quintessential Adventist experience, a community in which you can go anywhere in the world and immediately find family.

And that, to me, is one of the gifts of Adventism—a faith community whose theology implicitly and explicitly appeals to and seeks to reach those from every nation, tribe, tongue, and people (Revelation 14:6).

It was the result of many converging factors—some theological, some cultural, some missional.

The Sabbath unites Adventists around the world, as we all commit to setting aside the seventh day of the week in order to celebrate God together and fellowship with one another.

Also, because we have strong institutions and annual gatherings—academies, universities, hospitals, camp meetings, prayer retreats—we all seem to know each other, or know someone who knows someone.

Similarly, because we have a worldwide mission, believing we’re called to share the gospel with everyone, there’s hardly a corner of the globe you might travel to where you won’t run in to someone who at least knows someone you know.

This is Adventism at its best—at least one way in which Adventism is at its best. When we can all sit at the table together, having a common understanding, a common language, a common mission, and a common belief in the sufficiency of God and his message of love to the world, it’s a powerful experience.

Of course, sometimes it can also be Adventism at its worst—promoting insularity, exclusiveness, arrogance, and navel-gazing. Instead of inspiring us to reach out to others, seeking to extend that same powerful community to them, it can often encourage us to stick to ourselves, as we congregate in Adventist “ghettos,” and criticize the culture around us (and especially ourselves).

But that is, I’d submit, a corrupted version of the beautiful message and mission of Adventism—and not its most authentic expression. When properly understood and embodied, the Adventist message and mission propels us into the world as we attempt to live out and extend a safe and Jesus-centered community to others.

The Koinonia of God

One of my favorite passages of Scripture of late has been the words John starts his first epistle with. There, he launches right into his message, sharing with his audience, That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, concerning the Word of life—the life was manifested, and we have seen, and bear witness, and declare to you that eternal life which was with the Father and was manifested to us—that which we have seen and heard we declare to you, that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ (1 John 1:1-3, NKJV).

This is a thought pregnant with meaning. John testifies to the reality of God’s incarnation in Christ. He was a real person, whom the apostles heard, saw, and touched. He was also the center of their theological reflection, as they sought to pass along the Jesus-story to others.

But sharing the Jesus-story was for a specific purpose, he notes.

That, John says in verse 3, using a Greek word that signifies purpose, you also may have fellowship with us. In other words, they weren’t simply sharing the Jesus-story so others could hear it, accept it, and be saved. They weren’t merely preaching it so people could accept abstract teachings and check off doctrinal boxes. They weren’t merely sharing it so people could be safe against deception.

The purpose of John’s preaching of the Jesus-story was so that others could be drawn into fellowship with him and with other Jesus-followers.

The word for “fellowship” is the Greek word koinonia, which denotes the idea of communion or commonality. It’s coming into true community and experiencing a shared life. It is, to use a phrase that is quite popular today—and the recipient of an eye-roll or two—“doing life together.”

And that’s the whole point of the whole Jesus-story!

Not only that. John goes on to say that koinonia was not only to be shared amongst themselves, but it is, actually, to be shared with the Father and with the Son!

This is the end for which we were created and redeemed. It’s the reason we do evangelism or preach anything. The goal is not simply to get people to agree with us doctrinally. The goal is to draw people into community—safe, rich, beautiful, authentic, vulnerable, diverse, other-centered community—with the triune God and God’s family.

And I think that’s what Adventism—at its best—has the capacity to do.

Through our wonderful message centered on God’s character of love, which expunges false pictures of God (like an ever-burning hell, for starters), we have the chance to draw people into communion with God to greater depths than have been experienced in earth’s history before. They no longer have to run away from God out of fear but can allow His Spirit to draw them deeper into his heart of love.

And as we explore the depths of God’s love to greater degrees, it draws us into safe and authentic community with each other to greater degrees.

This is the precise point my good friend, Tihomir Lazić—who, quite incidentally, teaches at Newbold and also did his doctorate at Oxford—made in his doctoral dissertation, which was a reframing of the remnant concept within Adventism to have it focused on koinonia.

“The ultimate cause and basis of the church’s existence,” he thus writes in his dissertation, “is the whole-life response of the community of believers to the continuous presence, words, and actions of the Triune God, who dwells among them and draws them into mysterious union with himself and with each other.”

Indeed, he goes on to propose, echoing what I’ve outlined above, the whole purpose of mission and evangelism is to spread koinonia—to extend a safe and loving community to others, sharing life with them as we point to the God with whom they can ultimately share life.

I believe this is what God has always been after—seeking to help us recognize that he is chiefly defined as a relational being, whose ultimate hopes and dreams for us is to experience the warm, safe, and loving community of the Triune God for all eternity.

After all, this is eternal life, Jesus said, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent (John 17:3).

This is, I’d submit, the end toward which our theology, our beliefs, our mission aims. And the degree to which we understand and embrace it, is the degree to which we will fulfill God’s purposes for Adventism.

Let us, therefore, find ourselves around those tables, sharing life with those from “every nation, tribe, tongue, and people,” doing what Adventism at its best so often does.

Shawn Brace is a pastor in Bangor, Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil student at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram and Twitter @shawnbrace and sign up for his weekly newsletter at: shawnbrace.substack.com  

21 Dec

WHAT MATTERS MOST IN LIFE? REFLECTIONS THROUGH THE LENSES OF RELATIONAL TRUST

In

The events in June engraved in my memory a lasting and thought-provoking question of what matters most in life when I visited my now-retired administrative assistant at Sydney Adventist Hospital. During our 12-year work-related association in the Ellen G. White/Seventh-day Adventist Research Centre at Avondale University, I watched Marian’s unreserved commitment to mundane office tasks, commendable support of students, and creative engagement in research projects. She was a joy to work with, a fun-loving person, and a committed Christian.

Soon after her retirement in 2017—amid a later life worthy of peaceful, restful, and enjoyable years of well-deserved rest—she was diagnosed with cancer. I recalled when Marian asked me to anoint her, seeking God’s intervention and healing. For the next five years, I watched her struggle with the wretched disease, praying and hoping for a miracle. Then one day, I was standing in front of her hospital room, trembling with anticipation, not knowing what to expect.

After moments of waiting, a nurse asked me to enter the room. Marian greeted me with her usual gentle, yet mischievous smile; the same smile routinely welcomed my arrival in the office. But now, there was something different about her demeanor, perhaps stemming from pain, frustration, fear—and hope to hang on a little longer to the breath of life. After a few moments of silence, I said, “Marian, how lovely to see you.” In return, she looked at me and said, “John, I am here to die. Would you conduct my burial service?”  The unexpected and upfront request stopped the flow of my thoughts. Spontaneously, I replied, “Of course, Marian, it will be my honor.” However, the momentary silence that followed our cordial, but emotionally loaded, greeting raised a question in my mind. After all is said and done, what truly matters in life when the music stops playing?

This sad encounter challenged the entire construct of my theological worldview. Momentarily, my thoughts drifted to the most essential elements of my faith expressed in the language that explains the mystery of God, defines the purpose and meaning of life, and articulates convictions about the future. No doubt, a clear understanding of set beliefs is indispensable. Erikson argues that it is “needful because of the large number of alternatives and challengers abroad at the present time.” 1

Immediately, our conversation shifted to the hope of the resurrection at Christ’s Second Coming (1 Thessalonians 4:16). Marian believed in the event, as did Martha during her dialogue with Jesus (John 11: 17-27). In response to His reassuring promise, Your brother will rise again, referring to Lazarus, Martha replied, I know he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day (John 11:23-24). But faith as a conviction immersed in definable expressions of hope may be very distant from the unexpected reality that interrupts the joy of life. However, it is essential, for like a bridge, it spans the abyss of the unknown, unforeseen, unhoped-for, and unwelcomed circumstances—the world of doubts, fear, and emotional turmoil amid the ongoing pace of life. The tension is fittingly wrapped in Martha and Mary’s experience during the death of their brother.

The sisters yearned for more than a definable construct of a logically outlined hope concerning a distant future event. The pain of loss invoked an urge for a different quality of faith embedded securely in relational trust, evidenced in the presence of a trustworthy friend, one who cared and was capable of healing. Thus, they both cried, If you had been here, my brother would not have died (John 11:21, 32).

I sensed the same pain in Marian’s voice. Her faith in Jesus resting on the foundation of His promised return, but her trembling voice seeming to say, “Jesus, why was I not healed? Where were you when I needed you most? Why do I have to depart from my husband, children, and grandchildren?” In this experience, Marian stood on the edge of the precipice, moments of perplexing tensions in life’s journey between faith so often conceptualized in logically defined doctrines and simultaneously experiencing the assumed silence of God’s abandonment. Luxton refers to such moments as “Living with Silence,” a space in which one longs for the comfort of God’s presence.2  The described tension in Marian’s crucial moments prompted me to examine the anchor of my faith and what truly matters in life.

So, What Truly Matters?

The Seventh-day Adventist Church meanders between varied perspectives on what constitutes the essential anchor of one’s faith in God. William Johnsson describes it as the fragmenting of Adventism. He reasoned, “We face pressures and factors today that would rip us apart as never before in our history. We face the possibility of schism more than any time since the Kellogg crisis ninety years ago. And these pressures of fragmentation will continue to increase.” 3

It seems that the complexity of life, embraced by existing fear and uncertainty, positions the church on the edge of the spiritual precipice. On one hand, the ambiance of the unknown and the need to adjust to the conditions caused by the rapidly changing world generate a reversed reaction, a need to express beliefs in clear doctrinal statements as a set of protective boundaries of security. On the other hand, the described milieu encourages a search for a meaningful adjustment to life and an understanding of faith as an implicit trust and confidence in God’s presence.

Discussions with my colleagues highlight the existing polarized tensions’ veracity. One responded, “What truly matters is that while I feel my life experience within Adventism has been toxic, and in many ways, destructive, there have been positives.” He connects the positiveness primarily with the essence of the Gospel, but “feels deeply distressed about how my lifelong faith community approaches that reality.”

Furthermore, what truly matters is “how to maintain a vital conscious connection with God and what I believe He is trying to say to me through a fog of my own making. What truly matters to me is the assurance that He doesn’t give up on me … . He is unmovable and persistent.” 4 A response from another colleague fascinated me: “My connection to God is independent of religion, doctrine, and theology.” He continues. “In the end, God is in control, and I trust the outcome. I don’t know how this will hold up under tragedy or trial, where my trust has not been tested, but I want to be faithful.” 5

Both examples demonstrate the existing tension between faith grounded in the purity of defined beliefs and the need for intimate relational connectivity with God, a relationship that generates a bridge of implicit trust in His presence. Erickson defines it as theology in which “truth and experience are related.” 6

The Anchor of My Faith

The story of Martha and Mary’s experience speaks to my heart as to what, in the context of my faith tradition, matters most in life. Both sisters stood on the edge of a confronting precipice, the struggle of faith in a time of need––the loss of a loved brother and the longing for the presence of a trustworthy friend. In such circumstances, movement toward the future is slow, painful, and emotionally draining. During that climb, one needs much more than a linguistically defined expression of hope; one needs an anchor that helps sustain the climb through the moments of living with silence.

So, how does Martha and Mary’s narrative impact my view of what matters most in my life of faith? First, Martha’s experience reminds me that my faith in Jesus must be anchored in a person, not just a descriptive event. I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies. And whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this? (John 11:25-26). In this context, my faith requires ongoing interactive relational implicit trust in Jesus. He is the bridge that carries my life over the troubled waters of life.

Second, Jesus knows when my faith undergoes moments of doubt, discouragement, and a seeming loss of His presence. Through Martha, Jesus sent a message to Mary:

Martha went back to her sister and said, “The Teacher is here and is asking for you” (John 11:28).

Third, Jesus empathized with the pain of human life and wept with the weeping (John 11: 33-37). He then demonstrated that our hope lies not in the descriptive details of the resurrection but in Him, the one who is the Creator of Life, the Conqueror over death, the Bridge of Hope and Restoration. He needs to be the center of all the doctrines. So, what matters most in my life of faith is my implicit trust in JESUS.

Addendum:

Soon afterward, I conducted Marian’s funeral. She loved Jesus. During our conversations, we focused on our hope in Jesus. In the last difficult moments of her journey, Marian anchored her faith in Jesus to hope for the resurrection.

John Skrzypaszek, DMin, a retired director of the Ellen White/Seventh-day Adventist Research Centre, is an adjunct senior lecturer at Avondale University College, Coranboong, NSW, Australia. Polish by birth, John takes a keen interest in heritage, spirituality, and identity studies. He is married to Brenda and has two sons Raphael and Luke. Email him at: [email protected]

 

1  Erickson, Millard J. (1985). Christian Theology. Baker Book House. p. 29.

2  Luxton, Andrea (2002). “Jesus and Ourselves.” The Essential Jesus, Eds. Bryan W. Ball and William G Johnsson. Pacific Press. p. 226.

3  Johnson, William G. (1995). The Fragmenting of Adventism. Pacific Press. p. 17.

4  Email Correspondence, 9/27/2023.

5  Email Correspondence, 9/28/2023.

6  Erickson, Millard J. (2013). Christian Theology, Baker Academic. p. 29.

21 Dec

TWO HILLS, TWO STONES

In

In the distance, we can see two hills. Each is inviting us to climb it. Each will present its challenges, each its dangers. Each will leave us wondering whether we would have been better advised to put our energies into climbing the other. It will only become clear later that they are both hills of punishment and suffering.

The first is the hill of Sisyphus. In Greek mythology, Sisyphus had offended the gods and was condemned to the most severe punishment they could contrive. And so, Sisyphus’s fate was to push a huge stone endlessly up a hill. It served no purpose. When he reached the top, the rock would immediately begin to fall back to the bottom of the hill. Sisyphus then had to return to the bottom and begin pushing again—ceaselessly, throughout all eternity. Sisyphus is not the master of his stone. This is a picture of the futility of all human effort. It is the classic expression of the meaninglessness of life.

The second is the hill of Golgotha. The place of the skull. It was littered with instruments of torture. Criminals would be taken there and pinned to a cross, there to suffer an excruciating death. The dying could take days leaving the victim twisted in agony. But at least Golgotha eventually provided the relief of death. It was such a death that Jesus died. Whether Golgotha is a picture of just another futile attempt to challenge the power of empire, or of meaninglessness eventually transformed into vibrant meaning, is ours to decide.

Which picture tells the truth about human life?

For some of us the lure of the hill of Sisyphus may have been strong. So many of our human plans end in dust and disappointment. So many humans experience intolerable pain and pointless suffering. The universe seems to consist of unimaginably vast swathes of space, of void. We are like rats on a wheel which takes us precisely nowhere. Stand in any city and watch the rush hour unfold and you will see Sisyphus’s story retold. There’s no meaning to it all. It is better to face up to this brute fact and live as courageously as we can before oblivion swallows us.

It was Christian belief as embodied in Adventism which helped me to resist the magnetic force of such meaninglessness. And the attraction was strong. It was in the Adventist church that I learned that the next step was not struggling back up the hill of Sisyphus but, against my instincts, down. Down to a garden tomb where Jesus had been trapped by another stone. But He was master of His stone. He pushed it back by the power of His glory, greater than any exhibited by the Greek gods.

And so, from here it all begins.

It was from the vantage point of Seventh-day Adventism that I rejected the pull of meaninglessness. But there needs to be substance to the meaning which takes its place. And the pull of meaninglessness needs to be met with continuing resistance.

It is the Sabbath which provides space to consider what that meaning might be. That time ringfenced by God to give us the regular opportunity to get off the rat wheel, and reflect on who we are, what life is, who God is. To cultivate our knowledge of the God of all meaning. That time is so easily eroded in our lives. It is not possible to create it for yourself. The Sabbath is our moment of opportunity to discern and review the meaning of our lives. During the Sabbath we will feel our way towards life’s parameters. If we inhabit it wisely, we will in time find our direction of travel. We will find what we are called to. We will find
what we were put on this earth to become.

That will only happen if we come to sense, “in the inward parts” as the Psalmist says, that we are indeed loved by God. It is a commonplace in the church to hear that God loves us, but that idea can so easily float on the surface of our consciousness. It may become just a pious cliche. We may—God help us—take it for granted.

But stop. Listen. Know. We are loved. Loved by God. And loved by God through others. When we come to this recognition—and it may be slow in dawning—then everything changes. The need to explain and justify yourself and your actions before the watching world is gone. And with it, the demand that other people justify themselves to you. It changes the very nature of a community. It creates trust, breeds authenticity, and generates value. The Adventist church has offered us an enormous gift in the shape of a trusting community if we will only form it and sustain it.

And towards the center of that community is the communion service, the table of welcome. Its significance can so easily get lost in the formalities, but the communion table is the very expression of generosity of spirit. Everything is given. All can gather round it without qualification other than that we trust that we are loved by God. It is not ours to exclude. And this has little to do with doctrines, mission statements and all the paraphernalia of a religious organization. This is about the desire for truth to take root in our inward being; it’s about wisdom in my secret heart (Psalm 51.6).

As we sit around the welcome table of God, we see faces we do not recognize. They are not our type. In truth, they may make us feel uncomfortable or they may irritate us. These are people we would not have befriended in other circumstances. Even people we think should not be there. But they sit around God’s welcome table. It is not ours to ignore them. The Adventist church has done us the enormous favor of placing us among people we would not especially wish to associate with. They help us to know ourselves by contrast. We come to the table as family.

As the hill of Sisyphus still looms, the promise of the advent makes it clear that it will not be “business as usual” forever. No endless, pointless striving. There is some sort of end point, a focus. Our traditional ways of describing it may sometimes be rather naive, but the basic teaching remains. We do not live in an unending cycle.

This scenario of the hill of Sisyphus and the hill of Calvary is, I suppose, another way of describing what Adventists call “the Great Controversy between Christ and Satan.” Order against chaos, fertility against wilderness, relationship against aloneness, love against indifference, hope against despair.

My attempt here is to be creative, to try to make familiar theological formula come alive again in some hearts which may have become dulled by over-familiarity. Adventist teaching absolutely demands that we be creative. God was the Creator. We are made in the image of God. What else but to be creative? But the church has always been nervous about this logic because creatives threaten to become subversives.

Yet who was more subversive, more creative than Jesus? Old things made new. Ancient customs turned on their head. The marginal and despised loved. The powerful challenged. Stories which burst with meaning. For me, it is those words which ring out in the gospels which give life. It is the self-giving of Jesus which fills me.

The church responds to our desire for security and order in this chill universe. And there is every reason to be grateful for structure and direction … until it begins to constrain and oppress, as all large organizations threaten to do.

The church has many flaws, organizational, doctrinal, missional. But what it has done above all has been to give us—me at least—the assurance that my life has meaning, come what may. If only I will seek it. Above all, the church has taught me that I am loved. Loved with a passion. From that everything flows.

The second Secretary General of the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjold, knew that and it gave direction to his difficult life. Strength to do his task, a task which was monumental, impossible. And he too died climbing upwards—in an air crash. Probably assassinated. Under the weight of his stone.

Amid yet another political crisis, he wrote:

“But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone—or Something—and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.” (see Hammarskjold, Dag (1964). Markings. Alfred A. Knopf. p. XII)

The church long ago taught me that I need not be crushed by the oppressive rock of Sisyphus. I am raised by the dislodged stone in Gethsemane. I remain profoundly grateful to the church for developing in me the capacity to find meaning in a bewildering world. I remain determined not to allow the church itself to become another stone.

Michael Pearson is principal lecturer emeritus at Newbold College in the U.K. For many years he taught topics in ethics, philosophy, and spirituality. He and his wife, Helen, write a weekly blog pearsonsperspectives.com Email him at: [email protected]

21 Dec

A LIFE-CHANGING WITNESS

In

If you could only sense how important
you are to the lives of those you meet;
how important you can be to the people
you may never even dream of.
– Fred Rogers

Who are the people we meet? And how important are we to them?

Typically, Seventh-day Adventists have not had a good opinion of the ecumenical movement and have not cultivated any relationship with other churches. We have been taught an end-time scenario that has created in us fear and suspicion of other Christians. We are told that Sabbath keepers will be persecuted by their Christian neighbors after a Sunday law is passed. They will come at night and arrest us, take over our possessions, and even kill many of us. Catholics and mainline Protestants are the ones we should fear the most.

I remember listening to a group of Roman Catholics discussing this scenario (they had heard about it) and they were totally incredulous, dumbfounded that they would ever attempt such a thing. “We are no longer in the Middle Ages,” they said to one another. They did not know I belong to a church that teaches this.

I think that our witness to people around us is often impaired by our improbable eschatology.

I have attended a fair number of ecumenical meetings. For many years, I represented the Seventh-day Adventist Church on the Commission on Faith and Order of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Although we are not a member of the National Council or the Commission, the organizers of the Commission have routinely extended an invitation to non-member denominations to send a (non-voting) representative to their meetings to offer points of views and helpful insights into the theological and cultural topics and issues the Commission is asked to address.

I remember attending the October 2009 meeting of the Faith and Order Plenary Commission of the World Council of Churches, which took place in Kolympari, on the Island of Crete in Greece. A special request had come for a Seventh-day Adventist theologian or church leader to attend the meeting.

Just before lunch one day during this meeting, the general secretary of the World Council of Churches asked if I could eat lunch with him. I gladly agreed—not knowing what was in store for me!

During the great conversation we had, he asked if the Seventh-day Adventist Church would be willing to join the World Council of Churches. Before I replied, he said that they had been observing our church and had seen great things happening. We have a vast network of hospitals and schools. We care about the lives of people where we establish churches. We are growing while many churches in the Council are declining.

And then the general secretary said something about the Sabbath; that, although our observance of the Sabbath is odd when looking at the rest of traditional Christianity, it seemed nonetheless to be an aspect of the Christian message that others need to hear about. And if we were on the Council our Sabbath observance would not be an issue. Our presence on the Council would bring an unheard voice from an important sector of Christianity. He said our witness and our experience were needed; others needed to see and hear what we believe and do.

I was sad to have to say that I did not foresee my church joining the World Council of Churches in the near future. My response surprised them, and it seemed they thought that their invitation would be a welcomed gesture.1

It has been many years since that conversation happened, but I still wonder about what was said about us. These Christian leaders wished that Seventh-day Adventists would be more involved in relationships with them so we could share our experience, and witness what we believe.

This conversation has helped me shape a more positive understanding of my faith in relationship to other Christians and what really matters.

I’d like to say that we ought to be this kind of Seventh-day Adventist Christians who will witness positively of their faith to the rest of the Christian world, to the extent that others will say to us that our message is a blessing to them.

In my perspective, there are three essential values of the Seventh-day Adventist faith that make a difference in our lives and in the world in which we live. Beyond the special doctrines and beliefs we hold, these three essential values really make a difference. The world awaits our witness of these important values.

The Sabbath as Day of Rest

Which day of the week is the biblical day of rest?

Honestly, most scholars I know no longer challenge the fact that the biblical day of rest is the Saturday Sabbath and that the early generations of Jesus’ followers kept this day. History shows that the change of day of rest for most of Christianity happened in the third and fourth centuries for various reasons.

A hundred years ago, our Seventh-day Adventist pioneers debated over and over with other Christians which day of the week is the biblical Sabbath. For most of the scholarly world today, this is no longer a point of contention.

Although there are a lot of people in the world who don’t know which day of the week is the real Sabbath, and, frankly, most don’t care, it seems to me that much of western society is ready to hear about the benefits of the Sabbath as a day of rest. Many books and articles have been published recently on the need for a Sabbath day in our lives.

Our society is stressed. Almost every week I see articles on my news feed about tips for a less stressful life or about how to live a more meaningful life. The daily cycle of work, eat, and sleep seems to take away meaning and satisfaction from so many people.

For decades, Seventh-day Adventists have known a divine solution to this unpleasant reality. The value of the Sabbath is a blessing we need to share with this restless world.

God’s Ultimate Solution to Mankind’s Problems

Despite all good government interventions and programs, it is obvious that our world is not only restless, but it is also, for many people, hopeless.

Jesus predicted that at the end of time, just before his return, our world would be overwhelmed with conflicts, natural disasters, and disease. Nations and agencies are doing their best to overcome the social damages created by these events but, in the end, our world does not seem to be getting any better. Perhaps, one day, all will be well. But that is very unlikely.

Seventh-day Adventists have been conscious of this reality since our very beginning. And we have done our best to respond to human needs in times of crises. Our generosity of time and money through local community services or through our international Adventist Development and Relief Agency (ADRA) have touched the lives of millions of people. We have shared the gospel with our hands and feet as Jesus invited his followers to do (Matthew 25:31-40).

As stewards of the world entrusted to humanity at creation (Genesis 1:26, 28), Seventh-day Adventists have also been conscientious to help save our planet for the next generation—if time were to last longer than we expect. Our participation in recycling programs, saving energy, and reducing our carbon footprint are helping. But in the end, we have a sense (from our reading of Scripture) that the ultimate response must come from God.

God has promised that he will recreate our world after the return of Christ. And that is good news. Seventh-day Adventists expect this ultimate intervention of God.

So, while we collaborate in making our world a better place for all people, we also look to the future when God will fulfill another promise.

Part of our name witnesses to this dimension of the Christian faith. The glorious hope of the return of Christ.

In fact, our name Seventh-day Adventist witnesses to both of these human needs: we believe that the Sabbath provides now rest for a restless humanity while we hope for the advent of Christ for a hopeless world.

Wholistic Lifestyle

A third essential aspect of a most positive witness Seventh-day Adventists offer is our biblical understanding of wholistic living.

Life is a gift of God, and we believe it is our obligation to live in ways that will glorify his name and uplift humanity. To that end, Seventh-day Adventists have encouraged a healthy lifestyle, eating wholesome food, exercising, living in a good environment, and abstaining from substances and lifestyles that can cause harm. The recent interest in blue zones, in which centenarian residents of Loma Linda, California, is showcased, is evidence that this aspect of our message gives a most positive witness to the rest of the world.

Along with this we have also established schools and universities, hospitals, and clinics to benefit people and attend to their needs. And leaders of other churches have noticed this positive influence we have had on our communities.

Adventists have a beautiful vision with its biblical focus on rest, hope, and life that we can share with the rest of Christianity. We should value the positive witness these essential qualities generate. To me they are the ones that matter the most. And we should heartily witness about them in whatever context we can. In fact, some Christians are anxious that we bring out such a witness.

Denis Fortin is a professor of Historical Theology at the Seventh-day Adventist Theological Seminary at Andrews University, Berrien Springs, Michigan. Email him at: [email protected]

1  In the 1960s and early 1970s, leaders of the Seventh-day Adventist Church and of the World Council of Churches discussed whether our church would join the Council, and, for various reasons, we came to the conclusion that we could not.

 

21 Dec

THE ALREADY AND THE NOT YET

In

I remember sitting in a classroom at Southwestern Adventist University that was taught by none other than Dr. Bill Kilgore. Bill was always practical in his approach to instruction and ministry. One of the many wisdom sayings of Bill went like this. “Jesus may be the answer, But Jesus is not the answer to every test question.” Turns out Bill was right.

Many Christians fall into the trap of thinking that Jesus is the answer to every issue we face in life, and, while in some ways that is true, in many other ways the answer is not that simple. While we are focused on explaining Jesus theologically to someone, we may often fail to assist them with present practical needs that they lack. Simply stating that “Jesus loves you” may offer some comfort, but it falls woefully short of offering that person a blanket on a cold night. If we are not deliberate in our approach, we can easily get caught between the already and the not yet.

This tension between what “is” and what “will be” is a biblical construct. For instance, if one were to ask, “When does a believer receive eternal life?” One Adventist may respond confidently, “As soon as we place our belief in Jesus as Lord.” Which this is true. Another Adventist might also accurately state, “We receive eternal life at the second coming of Jesus, whether we are a living believer, or a believer who has already been laid to rest.” This too is also true. There is a natural tension betwixt the two, between the already and the not yet.

Every Adventist today lives in this tension, between the completed work of Jesus, which we claim by faith (and because of this, we claim the promise of eternal life today) and the present reality that we are living in a world where suffering is universal. And if that is not enough tension for you, there is another tension which exists in our fellowship, primarily along generational lines.

In my admittedly limited observations, the Baby Boomer generation and many from Generation X are more inclined (though certainly not unanimously) to focus on the “soon” return of Jesus (the not yet), while Millennials and Gen Z tend to focus more on alleviating suffering (social activism) in the here and now (the already). This generational tension often creates a schism in many churches as they wrestle with what mission they should be about. Should we alleviate whatever suffering we can now, or prepare people for the return of Jesus in the time we have left?

Younger folks will often give up and leave if their local church refuses to address the issues of the here and now. Older folks will leave or disengage if the only focus of the local church is addressing community ills, without engaging in some type of intentional proclamation about “the last days.” By being deliberate about doing both, churches remain relevant participants in their community and members remain engaged socially and spiritually.

Adventists should possess an extra dose of compassion for those suffering around us, both in the already and the not yet. We should alleviate as much of that suffering as we are able, like Jesus did. Jesus used a 3-prong approach in His ministry that included teaching, preaching, and healing. If we are only focused on one or two of these areas, we are falling short of what Jesus has called us to do. We teach to educate folks and win their intellect to the message of the gospel. We preach to showcase the love of God for every living creature to win their hearts. We heal by meeting people where they are to restore their body, mind, and purpose.

For Adventists, our beliefs shape our mission. We have the privilege of representing Jesus everywhere we go. One might ask, “How could life get any more meaningful in the here and now as we minister to the marginalized and meet the needs of those in our sphere of influence?” Another may say, “How could life get any better as we open the scriptures to the people around us who are hungering for something to give them meaning in life and hope for the future of what is yet to occur?” The reality is that we need both! People around us need to be cared for now, and they need to know that God has an eternal plan for them, and that Jesus is returning soon.

Brandon Westgate is RMC youth director. Email him at: [email protected]

20 Dec

e-BLOG: ON SHEPHERDS AND RANCHERS

In

Amy Gane – Greeley, Colorado … My husband and I come from very different backgrounds. His dad came to the United States from Australia to pursue his Ph.D. His mom was a piano teacher, and his brother is a professor at Andrews University, educating the next generation of pastors in Old Testament languages. He was expected to go to college, and he went on to get his master’s as well.

My family cares a lot about cattle. Horses and cattle. My sister and I have favorite quote: “money not spent on cattle is like dust in your mouth.” Up before daylight, my entire extended family grew up believing you feed the livestock first. My family reads voraciously but we value cattle, horses, and pickup trucks.

I remember the first encounter between my ranching family and my husband’s very academic family. It was Christmas, and my mom’s house was very crowded. My brother-in law takes a real interest in everyone around him, and he had a lively conversation with my uncle dressed in his Wranglers, his mustache waxed, and wearing his bolo tie.

They enjoyed each other, but my brother-in law commented that he hadn’t expected my uncle to be so well read. I asked him what he thought ranchers did all winter long. I mean, we can read, its just sometimes livestock journals and a lot of history.

I used to feel kind of awkward about this, as though my family were low class and maybe a little bit backwards, until one day I’m reading the Bible. It began to dawn on me that I’m reading the writings of a shepherd.

David was a shepherd before he was king. His experience of God came to him firsthand while out tending his father’s flocks. He wrote songs to God, some of the Psalms, while a very young man, probably a teenager, living rough and outside with animals.

Moses was raised to be the heir of all Egypt, educated in the ways of the court. But when he fled from there after murdering an Egyptian, God sent him to live among herdsmen, the nomadic ranchers of Midian. There it was where God first spoke to him out of the burning bush.

The prophet Amos was a shepherd and harvested figs. Amos wrote, Surely the Lord will do nothing, but he reveals his secrets unto his servants the prophets (Amos 3:7), a verse with some interesting applications in our church. But he also wrote, I was no prophet, neither was I a prophet’s son; but I was a herdsman, and a gatherer of sycamore fruit [wild figs] (Amos 7:14). He was a man living very much in the natural world.

Peter, James, and John were fishermen, out at night with nets on the water in the moonlight. They were Jewish, probably they knew the prophecies, but they were more or less normal guys with a very hard and stinky job. The greatest book of all time [in my view] is probably the Gospel of John, written by this same John, the young fisherman. But he encountered God, he wrote about it, and then he wrote a quarter of the New Testament!

The greatest single message ever given to humankind was delivered directly to some shepherds outside the town of Bethlehem: Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be for all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord (Luke 2:10-11, KJV). Literally shepherds, the guys out protecting the flock and helping animals give birth. They are not even named in the Scripture, just some field hands.

And that’s the point; God chose to speak to people who were out working in the fields with animals, or maybe those were just the ones who could listen. They saw God in his creation every day in the birth of lambs and in the provision of grass for their cattle. And to this day, theologians study the works of these farmers and fishermen. The greatest scholars are reading the writings of those who just talked to Him while out in a field.

Whoever you are, whatever job you are doing, God is available to you. He speaks to people in the lowest jobs or in the highest. He speaks to us, very often though, when we are outside among the things he created.

We are very concerned with people’s position in life, but the Bible is very clear that “God is no respecter of persons,” which means he doesn’t rank us based on our job, our income, our genetics, or our wealth. Make no mistake, the shepherds to whom the angels revealed the greatest news of all time, were field hands, “keeping watch over their flocks by night.”

Merry Christmas!

—Amy Gane, DVM, is an active member of The Adventure Seventh-day Adventist Church in Greeley, Colorado. Republished with permission. Photo by Unsplash.

19 Dec

REFLECTION: THE NATIVITY STORY

In

By Paul Negrete

The nativity story in the second chapters of the Gospels of Matthew and Luke captivates me, particularly the encounters with Christ as a baby involving various characters such as the shepherds, Herod, priests, Mary, Joseph, Simeon, Ana, and, my favorite, the magi.

The magi, a unique class of nobility and academics, sought truth through conversations, reading diverse holy and scientific texts, and observing nature. Notably, they stumbled upon the Book of Numbers chapter 24, where Balaam prophesied about a star and a scepter rising from Jacob.

Convinced of the Truth, the magi, guided by an anomalous celestial event, discover Jesus—recognizing the nobility of the Eternal One in the guise of poverty. They bow down, worship the infant, and become followers of the Messiah.

Interestingly, despite knowledge of Jesus’ birth, only a select few, including the magi, shepherds, Simeon, and Ana, found Him. The reason is simple: those who found Jesus actively sought Him. Seeking the Messiah led to discovery, emphasizing Jesus’ desire to be found by all. The Holy Spirit eagerly reveals Jesus to those genuinely seeking Him.

Even when not actively seeking Jesus, He desires to be found. Jesus continually yearns to be acknowledged in our lives, knocking at the door of our hearts. Some may perceive Him as an odd stranger interrupting their routine, but the truth is that Jesus desires recognition.

Today, people still search for Jesus, seeking truth. It is our privilege to reveal Him to others, akin to the angels informing the shepherds and the magi following the light to find Christ. We are part of the ongoing nativity story, encountering Jesus in various roles.

Jesus promised to return, and the signs are evident to all but recognized by a few. The Kingship of Jesus often clashes with self-rulership, making some hesitant to acknowledge the evidence of His imminent return.

Nevertheless, there are those still seeking Jesus, and we, as members of the Rocky Mountain Conference (RMC) and of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, are called to proclaim the Gospel message in our communities. Reflect on your role in this narrative, and let God use you to reveal Him to others.

—Paul Negrete is the RMC Department of Education associate superintendent. Drawing by Wonderlane on Flickr.

19 Dec

COMMENTARY: A GIFT OF ENCOURAGEMENT

In

By Mickey Mallory

Soon, the year 2023 will be in the annals of history. What will you remember about this year? I am sure you could probably think of a number of things that made this year special. How about the gifts you received this year? I am sure you could think of a few.

If you haven’t already, why not take some time to write down all the gifts you have received? Ask God to bring people/things to mind. You might be surprised to see how long your list will get.

One of the gifts on my list this year would be the gift of our pastors.

I have the privilege as ministerial director of the Rocky Mountain Conference (RMC) to serve them. While some call me pastor of the pastors, sometimes they pastor me by giving me words of encouragement and praying for me. I walk away from these experiences thinking to myself how blessed we are to have such a great team of pastors in our conference.

Not only am I grateful for our pastors, I am also grateful for the gift of the church members they serve. Whenever I visit a church, I am always greeted with kindness. I am treated so well that I have come to the conclusion that one of the reasons we have such great pastors in this conference is because they get to work with some great church members.

As I reflect on all the gifts, I have received this year, I am especially grateful for Heaven’s most precious gift, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Without Him, we would not have life, physically and spiritually.

In Him we live and move and have our being …
(Acts 17:28, ESV)

We truly have lots to be thankful for this December. May it be a month to remember how blessed we are. May all the gifts we have received (and will receive) lead us to worship the Giver, who loved us so much that He left heaven for us. From the cradle to the cross, He gave his life so that we may have life. And, someday, He will return as King so we can enjoy the gift of eternity in heaven.

Let us praise God for His glorious grace, for the free gift He gave us in His dear Son!
For by the blood of Christ we are set free, that is, our sins are forgiven.
How great is the grace of God,
which He gave to us in such large measure!
(Eph. 1:6-8, GNT)

—Mickey Mallory is the RMC ministerial director. Photo by Unsplash.

1 … 36 37 38 39 40 … 68