Elisabet Kirkland Page 66

31 Jan

THE BELIEF NARCOTIC

In

Not for us the silver needle through which flows euphoric highs … and death. Not for us the innocent-looking pill which tempts overdose. Not for us the bubbly drink delivering magic mood alteration. No, we have a unique belief system that works for us. 

Seventh-day Adventists are not immune from addictions or obsessions. In particular, we may be susceptible to addiction to our belief system.

Religious addiction is a phenomenon that has recognition among therapists and researchers as a real emotional and mental dysfunction.

We are perhaps most familiar with addiction to substances. But there is growing acceptance of the concept of behavioral or process addictions. This form of addiction shares characteristics with substance addiction. Anticipation. Cravings. Mood ups and downs. Dependency. Withdrawal. Skewed attention.

This is because behavioral or process addictions and substance addictions overlap in a key way. Both activate the brain’s reward network. They deliver payoffs that addicts seek. It could be a high. It could be relief from pain. It could be euphoria. It could be release from guilt. All of those are rewards for behaviors that can become addictive. 

“This process is mood altering due to participating or not participating in religious experiences, associating only with like-minded persons and withdrawing from others, and attending church with like-minded persons.” 1

At this point, we must be careful. Religious activity often delivers rewards to the brain in legitimate ways. But there is a point at which seeking the reward out of a need for another “hit” can become a mood-altering necessity. 

The proposition of this article is that Adventists sometimes display characteristics of being addicted to the belief system, the doctrines, and prophetic interpretations. Some have a tendency to idolize our beliefs. We tend to focus on our beliefs more than we do basic Christian realities. I am personally doubtful that a single soul will be saved through doctrinal and prophetic correctness. And yet …

For example, we might experience a sense of safety, specialness, and harmony with God because we know the right day to worship. We might feel we have inside information about the future because we know how last day events will unfold. We might find comfort because we know better than the other 2.5 billion Christians what death is really like. We might find euphoria because we think we understand the codes of Daniel and Revelation.

On the downside, we may experience anxiety and/or fear because we feel compelled to monitor the activities of the papacy or watch the economy with an eye to looming end times or seek to discern signs of the last days in international relations. We are given to making prognostications about end-time events based on reading signs and omens even though neither we nor Ellen G. White have ever been good at predictive fervor.

Adventism began with a particular set of prophetic interpretations and doctrinal beliefs that set it apart from other Christian brands. Part of the culture became a continuous emphasis on the Adventist belief system. When you are a minor sect, you have to keep reinforcing your uniquenesses. 

So, this focus on truth has come down to us through 180 years of reinforcement. We see it in Revelation seminar after Revelation seminar. Daniel seminars. Prophetic reviews. Ongoing focus on, and speculation about, signs and times. Getting ready. Perpetual focus on end-time schedules and events. 2,300 days. 1,260 days. 1844. 1798. Three angels. Last generation theology. 

And more. 

It seems to this writer that there is a tendency to focus on these things to the exclusion of other matters more crucial to Christian life. We tend to overlook core Christianity while obsessing about our doctrine, prophecy, the future, and Ellen G. White. 

In short, focus on the apocalyptic and eschatological can, and in many cases does, distract us from the reality that the kingdom of heaven is among us now. We are encouraged by Elizabeth Esther to “offer the gift of our presence in the present, allowing God to take care of our afterlife.” 2 Instead, we tend to have our eyes on future events. 

When was the last time your church had a 1 Corinthians 13 seminar? Can you recall a seminar on the sheep and goats of Matthew 25? 

Have you ever attended a series to discuss Jesus’ statement regarding the great two commandments (love God and your neighbor)? Even though Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 13 that being a loving Christian is more important than just about anything, we are addicted to studying prophecy, times, signs, end-time events, and Ellen G. White. 

“If I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:2 [ESV]).

A brief story illustrates the dilemma. Loren Seibold, editor of Adventist Today, tells a story. He went to pastor a new church, committed to preaching only about Jesus and the gospel. He was soon approached by a church member.

Church member: “What we’re really missing is the meat.”

“I preach the gospel every sermon.” 

“No, we mean the prophetic meat. The signs of the end, the persecution, the Catholics, the Great Controversy, the things we have to do that set us apart like eating right and dressing right and keeping the Sabbath. You don’t mention those things.”

“I thought Jesus was the meat of the message.” 

“All churches preach Jesus. The meat for us is all these other things.”

A real risk of obsession with our belief system is that we will be deluded to believe our standing with God has to do with beliefs. Our standing with God has to do with His gift, not doctrine or prophecy. Let us focus on the gift!

There is another problematic aspect of addiction to our belief system: the need for certainty. We may feel safe only if there is certainty about the correctness of the truth we hold to. 

“…  The development of extreme religious beliefs, like extreme political ideologies, occurs out of a need to simplify and find black-and-white answers … straightforward answers where ambiguity generally exists … a conviction that one’s views are correct … and that other views are wrong. The belief that one is right allows a person to think in a reductionist manner and undermines one’s ability to critically assess different points of view. Extreme ideological belief systems are based on the view that one’s beliefs are universal and right while opposing views are wrong.” 3 

Our belief system is, for the most part, not the problem. It is our obsession and preoccupation with our beliefs to the exclusion of weightier matters that is the problem.  Jesus pointed out the risks of lopsided religious focus.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint, dill, and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith.” 4 

Commenting on the issue at hand, Renee Notkin, said “Our witness is not right doctrine; it is our relational orientation … As friends of Jesus, we love one another—and that includes people different from us. In fact, no one can be an ‘other,’ because in Christ we belong to one another … Instead of being people who stink with judgment and criticism, we are to be an aroma of blessing, hope, joy, peace, and love.” 5

The first step to conquering an addiction is to admit it exists. It is a tough first step, but necessary. Perhaps we should contemplate our spiritual priorities. 

Edward Reifsnyder is a healthcare consultant, president of The Reifsnyder Group, and senior vice-president of FaithSearch Partners. He and his wife Janelle live in Fort Collins, Colorado, and have two daughters. Email him at: [email protected]  

1 Thomas Roberts. Religious Addiction: A Disease or a Misnomer? https://www.Abstract elephant.com  

2 Elizabeth Esther, Spiritual Sobriety, p. 15.

3 Thomas Roberts. Religious Addiction: A Disease or a Misnomer? https://www.Abstract elephant.com

4 Matthew 23:23 NRSV.

5 Renee Notkin, Co-Pastor, Union Church, Seattle. Quoted in New York Times Opinion essay, Why Jesus Loved Friendship by Peter Wehner, December 23, 2022.

31 Jan

PHARISAICAL ADDICTION TO RELIGION: WHAT DID JESUS DO?

In

Can you “have too much religion”? Depends on what you mean by religion, of course, but from one perspective, the answer is surely, “Yes!”

Merriam-Webster’s dictionary defines addiction as “a compulsive, chronic, physiological or psychological need for a habit-forming substance, behavior, or activity having harmful physical, psychological, or social effects.” Could this apply to the way we approach religion too?

Say what you like about the Pharisees, but at least they were totally committed to their religion. All too often we paint a caricature of these God-fearing believers, labeling them as just bunch of legalists, hypocritical, and self-righteous.

But let’s look a little deeper. Their name comes from the Aramaic word for “separated,” since they wanted to live different lives from others, more committed to the truths of Scripture. They were a lay-led movement who wanted to help others take their faith more seriously. This led them into the role as the main religious teachers in the country.

After the disaster of the Exile to Babylon, those who returned to Judea determined to follow God better, and not to make the same mistakes that had led them into captivity in the first place. The Pharisees were an extension of this perspective, wanting to do all that God had said in the most detailed manners.

In many ways then we can identify with the Pharisees. They were doing what they thought was right. And there’s the problem, right there. The concentrating on doing. Jesus’ criticism of the Pharisees was that they only did what they understood God wanted and thought that it didn’t matter who they were. In the words of Francis Chan, “If God cared only about religious activities, then the Pharisees would have been heroes of the faith.” They concentrated so much on religious actions that they didn’t even consider inner principles and motivations.

They took this to such extremes that they could readily be classified as being addicted to religion. What they thought they needed to do for their faith influenced every aspect of their lives. From the moment they woke up to the time they fell asleep, their primary concern was making sure they kept all the religious rules. Their self-worth depended on such religious affirmation just as much as a drug addict depends on their latest “fix.” To help with this, they looked for the approval of others by being called “Rabbi” in the marketplace, praying on street corners, or looking miserable when they were fasting.

Let’s ask a few questions. Was it compulsive? Yes. Was it chronic behavior? Yes. Was it habit-forming? Yes. Did it have “harmful physical, psychological, or social effects”? Yes. So, by definition they were addicts, addicted to religion.

Now comes some questions: How do you deal with such people and such behavior? What do we learn from the way that Jesus treated them, remembering that “sometimes we emulate the Pharisees more than we imitate Christ.” (R. C. Sproul). How does Jesus speak to us if we exhibit such thinking?

Interestingly, he identifies with them, at least in their role of teaching God’s truth! He tells both the crowds and his disciples, “The teachers of the Law and the Pharisees are the authorized interpreters of Moses’ Law. So, you must obey and follow everything they tell you to do …” (Matthew 23:2, 3 GNT).

But then he gets to the heart of the matter when he continues, “Do not, however, imitate their actions, because they don’t practice what they preach.” (Matthew 23:3 GNT). Here’s the problem with such a religious addiction. You are so caught up with all the doing that you don’t really do things with meaning and proper perspective. You just go through the motions. Nor do you stop to consider the fundamental question of why you’re doing what you do. You have the requirements, so you just follow them. In this, they were just like the people God addressed through Isaiah (1:11, 13 NLT): “‘What makes you think I want all your sacrifices?’ says the LORD. ‘I am sick of your burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fattened cattle. I get no pleasure from the blood of bulls and lambs and goats … . Stop bringing me your meaningless gifts; the incense of your offerings disgusts me! As for your celebrations of the new moon and the Sabbath and your special days for fasting—they are all sinful and false. I want no more of your pious meetings.’”

This from the God who spent so much time describing in detail the sacrificial system! Yet if you’re a religious addict, you think that’s what is required so you concentrate on just doing that. So how did Jesus deal with these people who are too often so much like you and me?

The first point to make surely is that even though he had some tough words for them at times, Jesus wanted them to respond to his offer of love and salvation. He told them “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Of course, the Pharisees saw themselves as righteous and healthy when they were not. His call, repeating Hosea 6:6, was a reminder that God wanted care for others, justice for the marginalized, and heartfelt love for those in need so much more than he wanted religious observance in the form of sacrifices. But if you are sure that you are on God’s side doing what he wants, why do you need to worry about that?

So that’s one example. Jesus is trying to get them to think. In the over eighty instances in the gospels of Jesus’ interacting with the Pharisees, that is primarily what he is attempting—to break through the outward shell of religious duty to get to the inner person and develop a relationship with them. Generally, he failed because they were so sure they were right. They were so addicted and had invested so much in their “system” that to admit they were wrong was to them an impossibility. Yet there were a few who responded, such as Nicodemus, who is identified as a Pharisee.

In Matthew 23, Jesus pronounced seven woes on the Pharisees, calling them hypocrites, blind guides, and even snakes! He catalogues their errors and speaks truth to power. This shows that, at times, direct interventions are necessary in dealing with addicts, especially religious addicts. But even here it is done in love, for Jesus weeps over them and all the people of Jerusalem who would not come to him (Matthew 23:37, 38).

These hyper-religious people cannot even see anything wrong in plotting murder after Jesus heals a man with crippled hand in synagogue on Sabbath (see Matthew 12:14). They are so furious about him “breaking” the Sabbath by healing, they don’t see that they are breaking the commandment by trying to kill him.

So, let’s bring it home and ask ourselves some pointed questions. In what ways may we Adventists be guilty of believing some alternative to the true good news of God? Getting obsessed over the furniture in the Sanctuary? Identifying the toes in the image of Daniel 2? Preaching salvation through vegetarianism? Being preoccupied with the King of the North? Being addicted to apocalypticism? Arguing over the 28 Fundamentals? Taking up the cudgels to beat one another over the role of women? Making tithe-paying the passport to the kingdom?

We all have our hobby-horses when it comes to the kind of Adventists we are. The problem for the Pharisees was not just their rule-keeping but they were so totally confident in their system. In the end they crucified the Lord of the Sabbath and then went home to keep the Sabbath. Jesus says to all of us, “Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:20 NIV). 

It’s a whole different kind of righteousness Jesus is talking about—it’s not about being so sure you’re right. It is righteousness that breaks the chains of pharisaical addiction to religion as a system and legalistic obedience to become more of a loving person who is focused on others more than focused on self and the rules that could easily cause the death of a Savior on Friday so that they could observe the celebration of Sabbath. 

The questions remain: how can the pharisaical addiction to religion blind us to pursue God’s desire for us to be God’s hands and feet and heart in the broken world today? Do we contribute to brokenness by being stiff religious addicts or do we work on healing the world in the spiritual and physical realm by loving our God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and loving our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:37-39)?

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

31 Jan

FAMILY RULES

In

The Question 

“If you take an alcoholic family, and an ultra-conservative family, and you remove the concept of religion and alcohol, and you compare apples to apples in the rules and roles of the home, are they mirror images of each other?”

It was a question that arose from having lived in both. I knew firsthand what the “fruit of the tree” tasted like—my childhood was filled with it. Addictions, yelling, abuse, shame, silence, denial, neglect. So, when I came into the church, I was filled with hope! Finally, I had found family. Where acceptance flourished. Where forgiving love was the norm. And people cared about one another … kind of.

Certainly, there were individuals who were warm and loving. But, unfortunately, the same relational issues I grew up with were also present: addictions, yelling, abuse, shame, silence, denial, and neglect. Now I am not referring to outliers. To deviations of a small group here and there. I’m describing the bell-curve. Sadly, warm and loving seems to be in the fringes among communities that are hardcore fundamentalists. 

This is not to say that holding strict biblical beliefs is the source of dysfunction. But what I am saying, is that “… sin crouches at your door; its desire is for you, to over-power you …” (Genesis 4:7 [AMP]). Sin is universal. Everyone is subject to its power. Religious or not, if your relationships are based upon its principles, the outcomes will be the same. 

The Source 

To the point, when sin first entered our world, what was the immediate effect of it? It wasn’t drinking, or fornicating. It wasn’t the mark of the beast. What sin damaged was our relationships. Love became based in fear and shame, rather than acceptance and joy.

Just like the emotionally-stunted children we are, humanity immediately began pointing at others rather than being accountable for their own decisions. As it says in Genesis 3:12 (AMP) “And the man said, ‘The woman whom You gave to be with me—she gave me [fruit] from the tree, and I ate it.’ ” And so, death entered … and to this very day, slowly asphyxiates our relationships until they die from conflict and dysfunction.

You can see it in the sibling rivalry and approval seeking of Cain. It was in the triangulated mess between Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar. You see manipulation in all of Jacob’s descendants. And enabling was the cause of out-of-control children with Aaron, Eli, and David. Even the disciples were constantly in conflict, obsessed with control.  

Since the fall, human beings basically became one gigantic dysfunctional family, which by definition is: “a family in which conflict, poor-boundaries, denial, extremes, neglect, and abuse take place.” And so, while we would love to believe that Christians are above sin and dysfunction, unfortunately, according to the Bible itself, God’s people are often leading the charge.

The Lies

You see, the church is really good at teaching people about what happens when you die, salvation in Jesus, repentance from sin, and the like. All of which are super important truths. But we rarely, if ever, address the family rules and roles they believe, such as: How do you handle conflict? How do you process difficult emotions? How do you deal with stress and failure? How do you set boundaries and avoid extremes? 

As a consequence, when people are baptized, they may have repented of their outward-behaviors, but their inner-beliefs about relationships are still fully intact. And when we peek behind the wizard’s gigantic green curtain, be the extremes of liberal or conservative, the principles they do relationships by are essentially the same. They are both following a sort of “10-Commandments” for Dysfunctional Families:

  1. Control: It’s not okay to make mistakes; be perfect.

  2. Approval: Be who I say you are; I have no interest in who you actually are.

  3. Authoritarian: Do as I say, not as I do, and don’t question me or you’ll risk rejection.

  4. Secrets: Make us look good, regardless of what’s really happening.

  5. Triangulation: Keep it in the closet, never share family secrets or you’ll be ostracized.

  6. Neglect: It’s not okay to have emotions; don’t share or talk about them.

  7. Abuse: Having needs and boundaries is selfish; it’s not about you, but about me.

  8. Denial: Little to no communication, thinking it is only black and white extremes.

  9. Avoidance: Not talking about things will make them go away.

  10. Escalation: Accountability is shut down through conflict or redirection. 

These beliefs not only inform their subsequent theology, but they are the very opposite of righteousness, as it says in Romans 12:9-10 (AMP) “Love is (supposed) to be sincere and active, the real thing—without guile and hypocrisy … Be devoted to one another with authentic love as members of one family … .”

Is God controlling, screaming at you when you violate His rules? Is shame for your existence or your needs a fruit of the Spirit? Does Jesus avoid the truth through redirection and avoidance? Does the Father demean you every time you make a mistake and withhold His love from you until you do everything right? It’s obvious, isn’t it?! All these traits are the character of Lucifer. Not of God.

The Truth 

Thankfully, God is nothing like humans. His way of doing family is often the exact opposite of what we see in His own people. And He has his own “10-commandments,” 

as it were, for Functional Family:

  1. Trusting (Psalms 37:23-24; Proverbs 24:16)
    It’s normal to make mistakes, it’s how we learn, forgive, move on. Let God be God.

  2. Approval (Jer 32:3; Jer 1:5; Jer 29:11)
    Your identity is given by God. Find a solid mentor. God created you specifically.

  3. Boundaries (Gal 6:5; Prov 25:17; Matt 5:37)
    True authority is protective; it knows its limitations, God is jealous for your good.

  4. Honesty (Prov 12:22; Prov 11:1; Ex 20:16)
    We are all on a journey; we are all struggling; we are grateful for God’s mercy.

  5. Vulnerable (James 5:16; Psalm 22:1-2)
    Be real. Learn from one another and grow together. God loves an honest heart.

  6. Engaged (Gal 6:2; 1 Pet 3:8; 1 John 3:17)
    Difficult emotions take maturity and time to master, I’m here for you; God is here for you.

  7. Respect (Ecc 4:12; 1 Thess 5:14; Tit 2:3-5)
    Take care of yourself and others; know how much is enough. God knows and sees your needs.

  8. Communicative (Col 3:9; Prov 25:11; Prov 12:18)
    Talk about the issues; let go when they’re resolved. God has a thousand ways.

  9. Accountable (Gal 6:1-5; Prov 27:17; Luke 17:3)
    Facing things is hard, but facing things is what brings healing. God loves to heal.

  10. Humble (Prov 22:4; Col 3:12; Eph:4:2; James 4:6)

We listen to what the other person is telling us and process it openly. God loves the humble.

As it says in 1 Kings 19:12 (AMP) “After the earthquake, there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire, there was the sound of a gentle voice.” Unlike the chaotic mess we call humanity, God is gentle, stable, and kind.  

The Hope 

Call me naïve all you want. But I believe that we are able to repent of our wackadoodle beliefs. We can learn how to love. Through the Holy Spirit, we are capable of becoming islands of warmth and loving support for those drowning in the vast oceans of sin.

Because in God’s family, there is no need for eggshells. Instead, we can talk openly, apologize for our mistakes, forgive, and move on. People that truly follow Jesus don’t try to control one another; rather, they mentor others and celebrate their gifts. God only uses power to protect and discipline, never to abuse. 

As God’s children, there is no need for games and politics. We do not operate based upon secrets, because our relationships are founded upon honesty and merciful limitation. In the book Ministry of Healing we read, “The strongest argument in favor of the gospel is a loving and lovable Christian.” (p. 470) Truth is, even the blind can see when a church is really following Jesus, because their very atmosphere is dripping with grace.

Shayne Mason Vincent, MSW, is pastor of the Daytona Beach Adventist Church. www.YouTube.com / @PastorShayne Email him at: [email protected]

31 Jan

ARE CHURCHES ADDICTION SUPPLY INDUSTRIES?

In

I never felt I was bad enough to be a minister.

I’m not saying I was a saint, nor am I claiming to have been a choirboy, but I never did drugs, never joined a gang, never killed anybody, didn’t smoke, drink, or abuse sex, and never lived like a hippie in a cave.

When I was younger, these types of experiences seemed to be prerequisites for joining the clergy, at least as a youth pastor or an evangelist. Having been redeemed from such habits and lifestyles provided opportunities for emotional testimonials that apparently enhanced evangelical effectiveness. They gave hope to the hopeless. They also seemed to help build careers in church administration.

There was something else about these folks. Many of the most enthusiastic Christians had the most colorful histories. The most passionate sinners became the most zealous saints. Perhaps pendulums retain their basic nature at both ends of their arcs.

My spiritual life was boring. I didn’t have an exciting redemption story, or even an interesting conversion. My experience was more like the one Christ described to Nicodemus. The Spirit came into my life periodically, like a quiet wind. I didn’t hear it coming, wasn’t sure from where it came, and couldn’t always see where it was leading. It’s hard to give a moving testimonial or preach a powerful sermon about an event for which one can’t “tell the exact time or place” it occurred and can’t “trace all the circumstances in the process.” 1  

So instead, I went into medicine. 

The medical specialty I chose contains addiction medicine as a subspecialty. My coursework included training and preparation for the provision of prevention, evaluation, diagnosis, and treatment services for those with unhealthy substance use or substance-related health conditions.

But no one really understands addiction. To comprehend addiction accurately and intelligently, one would have to have a complete understanding of the human brain and all of its genetic and social influences. While progress is being made in understanding the brain, we’re far closer to the beginning of the search than we are to the end.

Speaking of addiction, Dylan Thomas said that “an alcoholic is someone you don’t like who drinks as much as you do.” 

Here, though, is a better working definition of addiction:

“Addiction is a treatable, chronic medical disease involving complex interactions among brain circuits, genetics, the environment, and an individual’s life experiences. People with addiction use substances or engage in behaviors that become compulsive and often continue despite harmful consequences. Prevention efforts and treatment approaches for addiction are generally as successful as those for other chronic diseases.” 2

This suggests that human behaviors fall on a spectrum of habits and life activities that at some point can “become compulsive and continue despite harmful consequences.” Exactly where on that spectrum an individual passes from “normal” into addiction can’t be predicted and seems to differ for each person. The definition also proposes that addiction is influenced by both genetics and environment and involves complex neural circuits in the brain. 

The human brain is, arguably, the most complicated, intricate, and marvelous object on earth. It weighs about three pounds, feels a bit like tofu, and is about 80 percent water. It only experiences the world as a stream of electrical pulses and chemical interactions. And yet your brain, with its billions of nerve cells and trillions of cellular connections, is the site of your personality, your mind, your sexuality, your spirituality, your emotions, your memories, your thoughts, your sensations, your decisions, your impulses, your will, and much more. As Bill Bryson has said in describing the human body, “Your brain is you. All the rest is plumbing and scaffolding.” 3 

There are a limited number of neurotransmitters, though, which means each one stimulates many of our brain’s diverse functions. Dopamine is one neurotransmitter that has been extensively studied. It influences desire, creativity, meaning, planning, learning, memory, aggression, motivation, and judgment. It also interacts with circuits related to control, spirituality, sexual activity, impulsivity, and general pleasure. Dopamine has, in fact, been called the pleasure molecule, but perhaps a more appropriate term for it is “the molecule of more.” 4 It always pushes for more and never accepts the current situation as being adequate. It is a major actor in addiction. 

Without knowing anything about neurotransmitters, many authors have recognized addictive personality traits and the interplay of ostensibly conflicting systems and circuits in the brain. “Sex and religion are bordering states. They use the same vocabulary, share like ecstasies, and serve as substitutes for one another.” 5  “Sometimes the Bible in the hand of one man is worse than a whisky bottle in the hand of (another) … .” 6 “In religious fervor, there is a touch of animal heat.” 7 “Whatsoever odd action they (religious zealots) find in themselves a strong inclination to do, that impulse is concluded to be a call or direction from heaven, and must be obeyed; it is a commission from above, and they cannot err in executing it.” 8 Our professor of bioethics at medical school used to tell of a young man who preyed upon young women at religious revivals. He had found that their emotionally charged spiritual enthusiasm also decreased their moral inhibitions.

We usually talk about addiction to substances, and this process has commonly identified steps. First, one is exposed to a substance that brings great pleasure or relief. Then one begins to crave, use, and finally, abuse it. They become physically or psychologically dependent on it. Gradually, the dosage of the substance must increase for them to get the same effect. And, finally, the substance becomes the controlling object in their life. They continue to abuse it despite adverse consequences in their health, their family, their job, their finances, and their social interactions.

We also, however, now talk about addictive behaviors. We speak of addictions to things like sex, gambling, shopping, video games, plastic surgery, and even religion. Behaviors and addiction intersect at the point in our definition which states, “People with addiction … engage in behaviors that become compulsive and often continue despite harmful consequences.”

Foundational to the whole process of addiction, however, are important players that we sometimes overlook—those who provide, and usually push, the addictive substances and behaviors on vulnerable and often unsuspecting populations. These have been called addiction supply industries. They include such entities as drug cartels, cigarette companies, alcohol producers, pornography and video game creators, casinos, sports betting companies, and many others.

The concept of addiction supply industries raises some potentially disturbing questions about addictive behavior and religion. We may agree that addiction to religion happens, but we like to think that such characteristics are limited to cults, such as the People’s Temple at Jonestown in Guyana, Heaven’s Gate in Rancho Santa Fe, California, or the Branch Davidians at the Waco massacre in Texas. A closer look at all religious behavior, however, reveals some common features with other addictions. 

The promise, hope, and communion of religion provides pleasure to many, as well as relief from guilt and pain. Some adherents learn to crave it, use it, abuse it, and eventually become dependent on it. It may take control of someone’s life, and many religious communities require a complete surrender of the will. 

There are also many examples of pious preoccupations with religion producing severely adverse social and personal consequences. The religious leaders in Christ’s day hurried home to keep the Sabbath after having crucified the Creator of the Sabbath. In 1989, a 14-year-old son in a Seventh-day Adventist family died of starvation when his father refused to buy food with the thousands of dollars he had on hand because they were reserved for tithe.9 

Most of us would say such fanatical, addictive behavior is a sign of mental illness, but does the Church bear any responsibility? I would argue that it does. In my experience, some authorities in the Church have implied that an almost worshipful adherence to tithing, diet, baptism, temperance, and the hours of the Sabbath is required, even at the risk of the health and wellbeing of their members. Sometimes addiction supply industries do awful things out of sincere and apparently benevolent beliefs. But the Bible stresses freedom, which does not call for addictive behavior, even toward God, and Christ made it clear that pious behavior should never take precedence over the basic needs of humanity.

Mark Johnson, MD, is a retired public health physician and the chairman of the Boulder Vision Board. Email him at: [email protected] 

1 White, Ellen G., The Desire of Ages, p. 172.

2 Definition adopted by the American Society of Addiction Medicine Board of Directors, Sept. 15, 2019. (Used with permission.)

3 Bryson, Bill. The Body: A Guide for Occupants. New York: Anchor Books, 2019.

4 Lieberman, Daniel Z. and Long, Michael E. The Molecule of More. Dallas: BenBella Books, 2018.

5 West, Jessamyn. Hide and Seek. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1973.

6 Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1960.

7 Whitman, Walt. The New Religion.

8 Locke, Jonathan. Essay Concerning Human Understanding, 1689.

9 https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1989-02-19-mn-170-story.html 

31 Jan

“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO FOR YOU?”

In

I was sitting in a doctor’s office one afternoon in 1978, flipping through Sports Illustrated. One article caught my eye. Sebastian Coe, a British middle-distance runner, was quoted by his interviewer as going out for a leisurely “four-minute mile.”

I sat upright. Something in that image grabbed me. The idea that a world-class runner could hit such a pace on his day off made me think maybe I could find my own leisurely pace. I was a full-time grad student, getting my exercise by riding my bike to classes. I’d run track in high school, won some races, and even set a school record in the 440. But it had been years since I’d run and I wanted to stretch myself.

So, I began. That year I ran my first 10K on a beautiful morning in Long Beach, California, breathing my mantra, “I won’t win, but I’ll always finish.”

In the years that followed, running became a regular part of my life. After teaching my classes, I’d slip out for an easy mile or two. On weekends, I’d go to a local track for wind sprints or run through the county parks nearby. During the summer and early autumn, I’d run six or seven 10K’s. It was a good way to relax, get some exercise, and fantasize about becoming Sebastian Coe. 

And then I got injured—badly enough that I couldn’t run. For a few days, even walking was painful. I’d strained my back carrying weights in each hand, trying to increase my muscle tone and endurance. That was the end of my racing career and eventually the end of running for me.

The weeks that followed my injury introduced me to addictive withdrawal. Because I couldn’t run without further injury, I had to stop cold turkey. Nothing felt right. My daily rhythm was off, I felt sluggish and irritable and my Puritan sense of duty was thwarted. How could something that made me feel so good—even the pain was good—be bad? After all, it was a good addiction.

I was planning to begin this essay by claiming I don’t have any addictions. Then I read Gerald May’s Addiction and Grace and understood how deeply entrenched in addictive behavior I am. 

May was a psychiatrist who devoted himself to the spiritual and psychological treatment of people with addictive behaviors. He describes addiction as “any compulsive, habitual behavior that limits the freedom of human destiny.” 

That got my attention because I rely on habits. At their best, habits are efficient ways to accomplish tasks without the drag of decision-making. At their worst, they are the precursors to addictive behaviors.

Addictions arise out of desires, says May, and when we desire and love, we are vulnerable to suffering. As anyone knows who has experienced unrequited love—or even the garden variety love between two people—love hurts. When it hurts, we repress the passion that fuels our desires (from passio, Latin for “to suffer”). Even our love for God, disguised though it might be, hurts us when God does not always cause us to lie down in green pastures, but appears as a wildfire or mysterious swirling darkness. 

We repress the desires that hurt us, says May, but addictions attach desires. Addictive attachments channel us away from freedom and nail us to addictive behaviors, creating the most powerful enemy of our desire for God.

My desire for God grew during high school. My generation was part of the first fruits of righteousness by faith in the 60s after the famine of legalism and perfectionism. There was a lot of resistance to this by leaders who feared that letting up the pressure to perfectly reflect the character of God would result in anarchy. But it was a liberation and, for many of us, it was the beginning of a spiritual life deeper than religious observance.

We’re all addicts—psychologically, neurologically, and spiritually. We seem predisposed to addiction by the physiological construction of our brains: neurons that communicate through connections called synapses, and synapses that are bound into vast networks that mediate our thoughts and feelings, our sensations and memories, and our actions. Habits create a tolerance that must be upped to maintain balance. The complexity of the brain and its trillions of synaptic connections guarantee that, for all our probing of this mysterious mass, we will never fully understand our motivations and hopes.

When we realize that our addictions are controlling our lives, we tend to choose one of several options. We might deny our addiction, claiming that we’ve chosen these behaviors of our own free will. Or we tell ourselves we can handle it; we can quit anytime. Or we can admit our defeat and trust in God to break our patterns. 

That’s what I thought I was doing when I opened the door to Jesus while giving a talk at a Week of Prayer in high school. I’d been a good kid, a spiritual leader of sorts, but my attitude was merely dutiful. After conversion, I wasn’t demonstrably giddy, but I did experience joy disguised as relief. 

Gerald May notes that we make only three responses to God’s fierce, but loving call. First, we may deny or repress our desire for God. That sometimes works, but just as often Jesus’ call nudges us as Peter painfully discovered. Second, we create an image of our spiritual identity, a new persona to preserve in place of God. Or third, we choose the contemplative way, to be as open to God and reality as we are able. 

My addiction was transactional: I would obey and God would reward me. That hadn’t worked at all. I couldn’t perfectly obey and when I tried, it was for all the wrong reasons. God wants a cheerful lover and I was the petulant and surly sort. After conversion, I fell into a different addiction: the certainty that I was on the winning side and was now a fully-certified evangelist, commissioned to right wrongs and harass people into the truth.

Now, at seventy, I face a new addiction: to distance myself from Christianity and those who have embraced “God, guns, and Trump.” Yet, as Brian McLaren points out in Do I Stay Christian? distancing myself from the fatal weaknesses of Christianity allows me to proclaim my own innocence and to live swollen with spiritual pride.

I am far less certain of almost everything about God except that “nothing can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus.” Trusting in that allows me to admit my distrust and to discover my true self, created in God’s image.

I’ll never be completely free of spiritual addictions, for I am created to long for God, a longing that leads me into temptation as much as it opens me to God’s unfathomable grace. To transcend any idol of addiction is to experience the feast that creates a hunger for the filling of God’s love. Perhaps then we will have an answer, as Jesus asked the blind man, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Barry Casey has published in Adventist Society for the Arts, Brevity, Faculty Focus, Lighthouse Weekly, Mountain Views, Patheos, Spectrum Magazine, The Dewdrop, and The Purpled Nail. His collection of essays, Wandering, Not Lost: Essays on Faith, Doubt, and Mystery, was published by Wipf and Stock in November 2019. He writes from Burtonsville, Maryland. Email him at: [email protected]

31 Jan

DO YOU PLAY THE ADVENTIST LANGUAGE GAME?

In

When I lived in England and watched the part of the BBC news in which the results of the day’s cricket matches were announced, I was totally lost. I had (and have) no idea what is meant by “wickets,” “innings,” and “overs.” Many people likewise feel totally excluded when computer nerds discuss their current cyber activities, since they have no idea what is meant by such terms as “cloud,” “cookies,” “IP- address,” “terabytes,” or “spyware.” Although I am using my laptop very intensely, I must confess I have only a vague idea what most computer terms mean. 

For most of the people in today’s secular society, religious language is just as mysterious as the cricket lingo is for me, and the cyber language is for most seniors. Terms like “atonement,” “justification,” “sanctification,” “covenant,” and “salvation” often mean very little, if anything, to them. And many do not have a clue about the difference between imputed and imparted righteousness, nor do they have any idea who Jacob, David, Solomon, James, or Nicodemus might have been. 

Unfortunately, many Adventist communicators have not adequately mastered the art of communicating to secular people who have little or no knowledge of the Bible. No genuine communication can take place when the language used by one party is “foreign” to the other. Communication is a complicated process in any case, and much of what is “sent” by the “speaker” is often lost in the “noise” of the communication process, and not “heard” by the “receiver.” It is vital that, at the very least, the speaker and the hearer use the same language. However, the fact that both may use a form of English, Dutch, or Spanish is no guarantee that communication actually takes place.

Language Games

Experts in linguistics have pointed out that groups of people tend to create their own language, with its own peculiar vocabulary, in which words may acquire a meaning that is unknown to outsiders. This applies to members of a particular profession, to those who study a particular discipline, or have the same hobby. But it is also true for people who share a body of religious teachings. Such groups, philosophers of language tell us, “play” their own “language game.” 

The famous Austrian-British philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) developed this concept and argued that words, and even sentences, have a meaning that results from “rules” which have been agreed upon by the members of such a group. I would certainly not agree with Wittgenstein’s view that our words are nothing more than that, and that they do not actually refer to any kind of reality behind them. I simply want to stress the point that a religious community, like that of Seventh-day Adventists, creates its own language.

The fact that Adventists have their own peculiar jargon can be a serious obstacle, not only when we connect with non-believers, but also in our contacts with other Christians and even with new Adventist Christians or those who are on the fringe of the church. Let me mention just a few examples of words and expressions that seem like gobbledygook to “outsiders”:

Adventists are called to help “finish the work.” The “loud cry” must be heard, and the “latter rain” must fall before Christ can come. Of course, the world will have to face the “great tribulation” and “the time of Jacob’s trouble,” before the believers can ever hope to stand on “the sea of glass.” The “pioneers” have given a bright example in “stewardship” and “health reform,” but the core of the “present truth” is found in ‘the ‘three angels’ messages.” We are guided by the “Spirit of Prophecy” and are expected to know all about the “seal of God” and the “mark of the beast,” about the “dragon” and the “little horn.” 

And so on. Most non-Adventists wonder what this is all about.

The Three Angels’ Messages

Lately, Adventists hear frequent appeals that they must “go” and share “the three angels’ messages” as widely as possible with other people. For many of us, the term has become so common that we hardly stop to think what it actually means. We are accustomed to pictures of three angels flying in close formation, with trumpets, or hands cupped around their mouths, indicating that they raise their voices with their important messages. 

When I worked in the office of the European regional office of the Adventist Church in St. Albans (UK), our family doctor had his office right across the street. One day, he asked me where I worked, and when I told him it was in the building he could see from his office window, he said: “That’s a nice place, but what do these three rabbits on the front mean?” He referred to a sculpture of the three angels but had no idea what this symbolized. Until a few decades ago the official logo of the church featured the three angels, but in 1996 the denomination decided to adopt a different logo, since it was clear that the former one was quite meaningless for the public at large.

Yet, the concept of the three angels’ messages remains an essential part of the identity of our church—regardless of whether the denominational logo refers to it. During a recent important meeting of the executive committee of the world church, it was linked to all aspects of Adventism. The expression is found in virtually all mission statements of denominational entities. We read in the Mission Statement of the General Conference—Our Mission is:

Make disciples of Jesus Christ who live as His loving witnesses and proclaim to all people the everlasting gospel of the Three Angels’ Messages in preparation for His soon return (Matthew 28:18-20, Acts 1:8, Rev 14:6-12).

But let’s be honest: Do most Adventists understand what the words “three angels’ messages” actually mean, or is this expression for most members just part of traditional Adventist jargon and of the Adventist language game? Do they know what they must tell people when they want to respond to the appeal to “go” and “proclaim the three angel’s messages”?  

Effective communication presupposes that you know what you are talking about. And, also, that you know the language of your audience and can express yourself in that language. And, equally important, that you are able to translate the message in words and images that are part the other person’s world and fit with his/her level of understanding. It seems that many leaders, who emphasize the “total involvement” of all church members, ignore these fundamental principles. As a result, no real communication can take place. Preachers who ignore these basic elements will soon discover that most people fail to respond. Moreover, many church publications do not use the kind of language that most of the intended audience understands.

I have from time to time tried to find out how much the average church member actually knows about the “three angels’ messages” by asking some questions before I embarked on my sermon. Simple questions, such as: Can you summarize the message of angel number one? And of angel number two and angel number three? In each case the response was quite disappointing. Most church members know that the expression refers to a few texts in John’s Revelation. A fair number connect the words “everlasting gospel” with the message of the first angel. But knowledge about the content of the messages of the three angels is very meagre indeed. 

Communicating What the Angels Say

How can we get beyond the stage of simply using Adventist jargon? How can we intelligently talk about this topic with those who do not know the rules of our language game? First, we must understand what we talk about. At this point, the church faces a momentous challenge: How do we make sure that the people in the pew not only know that they can find the passage of the three angels in the book of Revelation 14:6-12, but also in what broader context this passage is situated. And how do they learn to explain in twenty-first century language what these messages mean for our times—and why other people must know about their content.

What is the core of these three messages? What is the essence of what we must share with others once we understand it ourselves? This, I believe, is the core:

  1. The gospel of Christ has abiding significance: Followers of Christ are called to worship God as their Creator and must therefore show themselves conscientious stewards of the environment which He has created and entrusted to their care.

  2. Coming out of Babylon means: Followers of Christ must be very selective in what they believe and preach, as well as in the lifestyle they adopt. They must resolutely turn their back on everything that clashes with sound biblical teachings.

  3. Following Christ means: Making a clear choice, for or against a life with, and in, Christ. Followers of the Lord must know where their ultimate loyalty lies, with all the concrete implications this involves.

We can only hope to communicate the messages of the three angels if we have truly understood them ourselves and have grasped how they impact the way we live and worship. If we decide to spend time and creative energy in translating the message of the three angels into realities of the twenty-first century, we may trust that the Holy Spirit will guide us in our endeavor.

Reinder Bruinsma, PhD, has served the Seventh-day Adventist Church in publishing, education, and church administration on three continents. He writes from the Netherlands where he lives with his wife Aafie. Among his latest books is I Have a Future: Christ’s Resurrection and Mine. Email him at: [email protected]

31 Jan

I CAN STOP ANYTIME I WANT TO. I JUST DON’T WANT TO.

In

Do you know why people smoke crack? It’s the same reason why people smoke cigarettes, or weed, or shoot heroin, or do meth, or drink excessive amounts of alcohol, or binge sugary things.

It makes them feel good.

It does not make them BE good, only FEEL good. It’s that feeling that is part of what leads to addiction. It becomes a need because, when they don’t do the thing that makes them feel good, they feel exceptionally bad.

Of course, not everything people become addicted to is inherently bad. People can be addicted to eating, even if the food is healthy. Exercise can be addicting. Sex.

When we are addicted, even good things are taken to bad places.

One thing that makes it difficult when dealing with someone addicted is that they often convince themselves that what they are doing is both healthy and correct. To see it any other way suggests they have a problem and need to change.

But change can be uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel good in the moment. Especially when we usually only change when we accept we are incorrect about something. And incorrect is wrong. And wrong is bad. And bad is evil. And evil is sin. And sin is damnation.

Next thing we know we are going to hell and burning forever.

Or only burning for a moment.

Or whatever it is that person believes that might not actually be true.

Perhaps that’s why belief and religion can be an addiction. Some people believe what they believe in part out of fear of consequences. But others believe what they believe because it makes them feel good.

That isn’t automatically bad. But what if that belief/practice/religion that makes them feel good, isn’t actually accurate? What if it doesn’t matter that it’s easily disproven? What if, if they can’t believe that thing that is incorrect and easily disproven, they can’t handle life without it? What if they would rather become horrible, unhealthy people living a lie than feel that feeling of being wrong?

And what if they would rather make someone else feel horrible about themselves than accept the truth of their own errancy? 

This is where things stop being about religion and belief, which is about seeking truth, speaking truth, and living truth to the best of our ability … which requires constant adaptation and change, and they start being about culture, which doesn’t require any sort of accuracy or honesty at all.

Culture also isn’t inherently bad. It just isn’t inherently good. But it can breed some very bad things. And it can normalize those things as a positive way of life. And positive is good. And good is righteous. And righteous is sinless.

And sinless is salvific.

And suddenly we are saying or doing or being or teaching terrible things and declaring them the way to heaven. Or whatever one believes about such things.

And the truth never once comes into play. Because for whatever reason, that way of life has been skewed to benefit us in some way that makes us feel good about ourselves or the way we do things. It makes us feel good and people like to feel good at almost any cost.

In recent years, we have all born witness to someone screaming something horrible and inaccurate with some sort of righteous fervor, either politically, religiously, or both. Something that is obvious and easily disproven. But when the research/facts are presented, they deny it all with a blind certainty that is terrifying in its insanity.

They do this because they NEED that lie to be true. They have built a self-view upon that thing, whatever it is. It makes them feel good about who they are and what they believe.

There is more to it, of course, and I may be over generalizing some. But before dismissing it all, consider how, over the last 6 years, white nationalism and Christianity have become besties. Not universally. But to an uncomfortable degree. And by “uncomfortable degree” I mean that any degree at all is evil.

And then, loud and large chunks of both groups have created the narrative that, to be a good American is to follow their lead. 

Now, I don’t actually care what political group any of you are a part of. None of the groups have the market cornered on truth and goodness. But the moment that anyone pushing racism and an “I’m right and you’re evil” mentality as being a “good American,” we’ve collectively jumped the shark and now it’s no longer about right and wrong and truth and accuracy. It’s about what makes me feel good in relation to those around me and makes sure I’m accepted by the people I think I need to be accepted by.

And, just in case one wishes to believe Adventism is some sort of exception, I give you the long list of independent ministries lead by conspiracy theorists who make their living selling to Adventists who need what they say to be true. And a denomination who won’t put a stop to it because half the leadership is buying what’s being sold.

When I was pastoring churches, I once had one of our prominent independent ministry health chefs leave a voicemail on the church answering machine that was the most arrogant and hateful thing I’ve ever had anyone say about me. Apparently, he had called before and not received a return phone call. This turned out to be because the very kind, and very old, ladies who ran the clothing giveaway ministry we had, where we gave away clothes to people who needed them, would try to check messages and accidentally delete them … about 99% of the time.

I never had, and still never have, met this man who told me in no uncertain terms that anyone who wouldn’t return his phone call and invite him in was of low moral character and a servant of Satan leading his church to hell. He went on to say that any congregation that would allow me to be their pastor couldn’t possibly love God and care about people, because if we did, we would invite him because his ministry saves lives. He continued by telling me how important he was, how many awards he’d received, and how popular he was on 3ABN and some of our other TV networks.

I only know this because I happened to check the machine after he made that call, but before the kindly elderly ladies tried to “help” me by accidentally deleting messages. The entire message was over 6 minutes long. Go ahead and rant for 6 minutes and tell me how long that is? I’ll wait.

But, you know, I’m sure he felt good about himself after sending that message. And why wouldn’t he? The culture he lives in tells him he was correct to do so. 

When our affiliation to group and culture starts dictating belief and practice, and not God and accuracy, our belief and practice become nothing but a useless addiction that does nothing but make us feel good. And there is more to life than feeling good.

Like, maybe, trying to be good.

It’s just a thought.

Tony Hunter is a Seventh-day Adventist pastor and a hospice chaplain working for Gateway Hospice in Northern Colorado. Tony, his wife Nirma, and daughter Amryn live in Firestone, Colorado. Email him at: [email protected] 

31 Jan

REFLECTION ON BEING A SEVENTH-DAY ADVENTIST

In

During one of my recent presentations, the interviewer posed the question: Do you consider yourself a liberal or conservative Seventh-day Adventist? Momentarily, the spontaneous and direct question stopped the flow of my thoughts, steering them toward in-depth personal cogitation. 

First, I wouldn’t say I appreciate being labeled. The confrontational nature of comparable questions reverts my mind into defensive alertness—a space of fear of being exposed to the darts of criticism, stifling the freedom to think freely and creatively. However, this momentary hiatus elicited soul-searching rumination on my beliefs, particularly my understanding of God’s self-revelation through Jesus as applied to my life’s journey.  

Second, the notion of conservatism scares me, as it tends to view the pathway of faith from a retrospective perspective that confines God to doctrinal expressions locked in time, a space of assumed security so often submerged in static boundaries of human assumptions, rather than a dynamic mystery of God who acts according to His will and mercy. As Quartey argues, “The core idea of conservatism—together with its close cousin, fundamentalism—is preservation: holding on to an idealized past in hopes of transmitting it “unadulterated” to future generations.” 1  The focus on preservation induces conservative, safeguarding, and replicative attitudes governed by the spirit of hegemony to secure established beliefs through compliance and control.

Consequently, the named qualities mold the progressive dynamism of faith into static informative expressions detached from its relevance to contemporary life. Simultaneously, the spirit of safeguarding generates an addictive power over what often is rationalized as the required capacity to defend the truth—a stance to “preserve a pristine or desirable past.” 2 

In contrast, my spiritual journey prompted me to engage with the progressively changing world in its social, cultural, environmental, and political domains. It empowers me to discern God’s presence in the turmoil of my doubts, failures, pain, disappointments, shouts of whys and scary moments of loneliness to understand His silence. This is my world, the world of today, the world embracing my life—a thirst to know and understand that God moves beyond the need to ensconce beliefs in the iconic vestiges of the past and habitual religious practices that tend to shape the patterns of religious addiction, i.e., habitual practices and rituals removed from the pathway of my struggles. 

Dale S. Ryan and Jeff VanVonderen described this space quite adequately: “At its root, religious addiction begins when our faith stops being about a spiritual connection with God and becomes instead an attempt to control our lives—or to control God—by behaving in certain ways.” 3  In that sense, I’m not a conservative Seventh-day Adventist, but I’m respectfully appreciative of my heritage and beliefs for another reason.

I connect with the story of the Seventh-day Adventist movement, which shaped the pioneers’ faith and recaptured inspirational experiences encoded in the narratives, rites, and images that transmit the passion of lives once lived—stories associated with struggles to understand God in the context of the pioneers’ time and culture. For this purpose, I immerse my thoughts in the memory lane of time. On this point, Halas defines memory’s fascinating and dynamic nature and function: “Memory consists of communicative acts transmitting reflexive knowledge about the past from the perspective of a future present.” 4  

Her view’s significance rests in the fact that this proposal no longer defines memory as turning exclusively toward the point in time locked into the distant past. It also highlights its dual function. She proceeds to make a compelling point: “Memory cannot be reduced only to a set of ideas about the past because it is linked with action and, thus, with an orientation toward the future.” 5 In her understanding, the ensuing reflexivity is not merely a static recollection of past events and beliefs, but rather a memory that determines “the transmission of meanings which will be formative for the future.” 6 For a moment, let’s review the story of how the past relates to the present in the context of a lived experience.

The pioneers’ lived experience.

Circa 1862, a time when the Seventh-day Adventist movement was experiencing transitional struggles to establish its identity, Ellen G. White made a fascinating observation: “We cannot be accepted or honored of God in rendering the same service, or doing the same works, that our fathers did. In order to be accepted and blessed of God as they [the forerunners of her generation] were, we must imitate their faithfulness and zeal—improve our light as they improved theirs—and do as they would have done had they lived in our day [emphasis added].” 7 Here, she stressed the interconnected relationship between the past and present. 

Simultaneously, her view highlighted elements of discontinuity concerning sameness as applied to the future present. In her mind, the memory of the past was critical, for it provided essential inspiration necessary for the ongoing progression of faith. This encompassed faithfulness, zeal, and a struggle to shape the contours of faith in the context of its time. However, in her understanding, faith moves beyond the boundaries of established beliefs encoded in the verbal expression of a particular generation, to a living faith relevant to its time and place. 

The depth of such spiritual experience translates into a meaningful contextualization of God’s presence in the fabric of human life, i.e., such a process enhances space for new negotiations, meditation, motivation, and nurturing that, in turn, builds the drive toward a meaningful comprehension of God and the passion of His heart. In this context, I’m not a conservative Seventh-day Adventist, nor a defender of truth, but an open-minded believer endeavoring to make sense of God’s presence in the history and complexity of life TODAY. Does this position make me a liberal Seventh-day Adventist?

Given the expressed thoughts, my understanding of the spiritual journey may align me with the freedom and attitude of liberty that I take to question traditional or orthodox positions and the emerging religious fundamentalism in my faith tradition. However, in the context of religious liberalism, determined to be emancipated from supernatural demands and the authority of the Bible as the source of God’s inspired revelation, I do not view myself as a liberal Seventh-day Adventist. Allow me to share a succinct response.

The history of Seventh-day Adventist heritage suggests that one of the foundational pioneering voices of the movement, Ellen G. White, maintained an open-minded and progressive understanding of God’s revelation. She maintained that growth in understanding God’s grace contributes to a clearer understanding of His Word, but that a decline in spiritual life tends to impact the advancement of truth. Her conclusion was rather enlightening: “Men rest satisfied with the light already received from God’s word and discourage any further investigation of the Scriptures. They become conservative and seek to avoid discussion.” 8 Furthermore, she added, “There is no excuse for anyone taking the position that there is no more truth to be revealed, and that all our exposition of the Scripture (is) without an error. The fact that certain doctrines have been held as truth for many years by our people is not proof that our ideas are infallible.” 9 Recapturing such inspirational guidance encoded in the pages of history motivates me to adopt an open-minded, progressive, and liberal approach to my understanding of God. 

But more to the point, an essential question requiring attention is: Am I identified as Christian, a follower of Jesus? In this context, Ellen G. White challenged the Church to recapture the memory of Jesus’ story as a historical event and a transformational motivator oriented toward the future. She wrote, “To all who profess to be Seventh-day Adventists, I would say, ‘You are entitled to the name of Christian only as you employ your talents in harmony with the plan of the Lord Jesus Christ, only as you are co-workers with God. The life of Christ is the only pattern that is safe for us to follow.’ ” 10  The outlined focus on a faith-oriented relationship with Jesus impacts my view of the origins of human life—its present purpose—and imparts my life with hope, providing a sense of security and inspirational motivation to embrace life’s journey with a renewed view of God that always is open to a deeper understanding of His love. 

A relationship with Jesus imparts boldness to relinquish status-quo traditions to embrace a contextualized and refreshed, but biblically grounded meaning of faith. It transforms the concept of leadership influence from a defensive, prescriptively authoritarian, and informative mode to an inspirational voice calling on people to visualize the incomprehensible benefits of God’s kingdom of grace. Thus, I wouldn’t say I appreciate being labeled as conservative or liberal, for primarily, I identify as a Christian, a Seventh-day Adventist, an open-minded believer, and a progressive thinker on a journey of faith with Jesus. 

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 Matthew Quartey, “The Paradox of Conservative Adventism,” https://spectrummagazine.org/views/2020/paradox-conservative-adventism 

2 Ibid.

3 Dale S. Ryan and Jeff VanVonderen, “When Religion Goes Bad: Part 2 Religious Addiction.” https://www.nacr.org/center-for-spirituality-and-recovery/when-religion-goes-bad-part-2-religious-addiction 

4 Hałas, Elżbieta. (2010). “Time and Memory: A Cultural Perspective.” TRAMES, 14(64/59), 314.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Ellen G. White, Testimonies for the Church (Mountain View: CA, 1948), 262.

8 Ellen G. White, Gospel Workers (Washington: D.C.: Review and Herald, 1915), 38.

9 Ellen G. White, “Christ Our Hope” Review and Herald (December 20, 1892), para 1.

10 Ellen G. White, Lt 9, 1905.

31 Jan

GOD, WE BE ADDICTED TO RELIGION?

In

I recently watched the story of a Seventh-day Adventist couple in my area who was kicked out of their local Adventist congregation for promoting anti-trinitarian views. The YouTube video had been watched nearly a quarter of a million times, which is an astounding number for an episode that took place in a small congregation in rural Maine. But there is, apparently, an appetite for such stories.

Though I don’t know the couple personally, we share a lot of mutual friends and I know much of the leadership of the church they were nudged out of, including the pastor, whom I consider to be a good friend. They are all really good people, as the couple themselves repeatedly admits in their YouTube “testimony.”

I don’t really know what to make of the whole situation, having questions about the role of church discipline in general and the degree to which we should hold people’s feet to the fire when it comes to theological precision. 

Don’t get me wrong: I’m firmly trinitarian, of course. And I certainly wouldn’t want to reduce this important truth to the realm of theological minutia (though it does seem there’s a line we can cross that enters fully into the sphere of speculation). I’m also aware that, for whatever reason, there continues to be a growing anti-trinitarian faction within the Seventh-day Adventist Church, which is unfortunate.

What struck me the most about the couple’s testimony, perhaps more than anything else, and which I think speaks to the growing trend of anti-trinitarianism within the denomination, was the underlying preoccupation with uncovering some new and novel biblical insights. They were deeply intent on—perhaps even obsessed with—theological correctness.

To me, this is just a symptom of a much larger reality within Adventism—and, in many ways, their experience is just the proverbial chickens coming back to roost.

Adventism is certainly not unique in this, but we have, essentially from our very beginning, emphasized a religious experience that is primarily focused on doctrinal rightness. We mostly stay in our heads and have intellectualized our faith. We have largely turned the Bible into a mathematical equation—literally following the lead of our grandfather William Miller—which we think simply requires rational engagement. We often read the Bible like it’s the Da Vinci Code, with hidden meaning behind every jot and tittle. And then we argue over those jots and titles as though eternity depends on them.

I’m speaking in very broad strokes, of course, and perhaps sounding a bit too cynical. There are many, many wonderful features about this faith community—and I absolutely wouldn’t be a part of any other denomination. 

I believe, by God’s grace, we’re blessed to understand the most beautiful and fullest expression, at least to this point, of God’s character.

But in my 15 years or so of pastoring—and in particular, in my 15 years of pastoring in northern New England, where Adventism essentially began—I’ve noticed that much of Adventism is characterized by a preoccupation with being intellectually and biblically right.

We are, in short, addicted to theological correctness.

Is Religious Addiction a Thing?

Five or six years ago, my friend Jim, who is a pastor-turned-alcohol-and-drug-abuse-counselor, introduced me for the first time to the existence of something he called “religious addiction.” It was a new term for me, but one I found intriguing and clarifying.

Religious addiction, he explained, is when people are overly focused on and obsessed with religious rituals, practices, and beliefs. 

Of course, it’s good to be highly committed to and zealous about our faith. We don’t want to be lukewarm and non-committal, after all. But the real issue with religious addiction is that people cling to and obsess over religious rituals, practices, and beliefs as a way to avoid dealing with deeper emotional and psychological wounds that are too painful to face and process.

This is the nature of addiction in general. People experience trauma, for example, which produces significant shame—and that shame is too painful to acknowledge or process. So as a way of avoiding the feelings of shame, they turn to various substances—drugs, alcohol, sex—which buries those feelings and masks the pain.

Religion, it turns out, has been one of the best tools to help us avoid processing and dealing with our pain. For example, instead of sitting with our shame, and processing the things that have deeply affected us on a psychological and emotional level, we quickly turn to a positive Bible verse that allows us to assure ourselves that everything is going to be okay. Or we use prayer—not as a way to share our feelings of emotional pain and shame to God, but as a way of bypassing those feelings.

Similarly, a religion of the head is also a symptom of religious addiction. The more we can stay in our heads—the more we can argue about theological minutia—the more we can avoid what’s going on deep down inside of us. It’s why the average Sabbath School class, at least in my experience, is an exercise in theological argumentation. It’s just a lot safer that way because if we’re arguing about the Bible, it means we don’t have to be open and vulnerable in the way the Bible wants when it seeks to address our wounds and traumas.

What also happens so often is that people who are converted to faith in general, and Adventism in particular, from an experience that was characterized by substance abuse, are often prone to high religious addiction. Such people just trade one addiction for another. This is also especially true for people who have experienced traumas over which they felt they had no control, since rituals and traditions offer a sense of control.

In laying this out, I hope I’m not giving the impression that I’m immune to any of this or that this is a problem only other people have, as though I’ve reached some sort of superior religious experience. Neither am I wanting to give the impression that rituals, traditions, studying the Bible, or pursuing and being excited about theological insights are wrong. These things are all well and good and important. 

The point, however, is that we must be very intentional about growing three-dimensional disciples who are well-rounded intellectually, physically, socially, and emotionally. We must create spaces that help foster an environment that allows people to openly process what’s truly going on inside—not just discipling people to be in their heads all the time.

As my friend Ty Gibson likes to say: religion is one of the best places to hide from God. It’s also one of the best places to hide from our pain and shame, in unhealthy ways, and to experience “clean” addictions that nevertheless deeply hinder our ability to love our neighbors as ourselves to the degree they need.

It all reminds me of a term Ellen G. White frequently applied to others as she looked over the theological and religious landscape in her day: “fanatics.” This was used in reference to people who were unbalanced in their religious approach, who became obsessive about biblical interpretations, couldn’t consider alternative perspectives, and zealously, annoyingly, and closed-mindedly promoted their viewpoints every opportunity they had.

In one instance, for example, she spoke of a church in Norway that was comprised of members who were “magnifying matters of little importance into tests of Christian fellowship,” displaying a “spirit of criticism, fault-finding, and dissension” over the issue of dress. They were “making the matter of dress of first importance, criticizing articles of dress worn by others, and standing ready to condemn everyone who did not exactly meet their ideas.” Such people, she said, were “fanatics” and “extremists,” “one-idea” people who “can see nothing except to press the one thing that presents itself to their minds,” which ultimately caused the church’s witness to suffer in the surrounding community. “The church,” she boldly proclaimed, “needs to be purified from all such influences” (see Historical Sketches, pp. 211-212).

Though I don’t know that Ellen G. White connected any of this to deeper psychological deficits, I think the connection is clear and obvious. At the same time, I think it would be a mistake to assume that such individuals are outliers or exceptions. It seems to me that precisely because of our nineteenth-century DNA, which places a premium on theological correctness, Adventism is especially prone to produce such an approach to faith—where we become addicted to doctrinal rightness and consequently correct those who don’t get in line. 

The solution to such religious addiction, just as it is for any form of addiction, is prioritizing healthy relationships—with God, with ourselves, and with others. Only as we allow ourselves to be embraced by the gospel, and realize God wants us to be made whole—spiritually, intellectually, socially, emotionally—can we step into freedom.

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

31 Jan

OUR FUNDAMENTALIST KNOTS

In

Two of the most interesting books of Adventist history published in the past year offer alternative views of the relationship between Adventist faith and fundamentalism. It is one of those arguments that we might be tempted to dismiss as merely academic or primarily semantic, but this topic matters because of the direct connections to many issues we continue to wrestle with in the church today—and also some of the things we don’t wrestle with, that we take for granted as just the way the church or the world is and ought to be.

As a sequel to 1919 and his study of the pivotal Adventist Bible conference of that year, Michael Campbell’s 1922 traces the further development and effects of a turn to Adventist fundamentalism in the 1920s.1 Influenced by similar movements in the wider culture and particularly among Christian churches in the United States, Dr. Campbell argues that key theological, cultural, and even political developments within the Adventist church constituted a significant fundamentalist turn, albeit with some uniquely Adventist features, which has profoundly shaped the development or not of Adventist faith and life in the century since.

Offering an alternative assessment is Ostriches and Canaries2—Gilbert Valentine’s study of the tension between fundamentalists and progressives, between administrators and academics, in the Adventist church in the 1960s and 1970s. Dr. Valentine argues that Seventh-day Adventists have always been fundamentalist, an assumption that has re-asserted itself at key points in Adventist history including the 1920s and 1930s, the 1970s and 1980s, and perhaps again in the past decade. Of course, this paints early Adventists as proto fundamentalists, given that the term only came into common usage with the larger cultural trends of the early part of the 20th century, but the argument is that key planks of fundamentalism, such as the inerrancy of the Bible, were assumed by many of the earliest Adventist pioneers and have been largely maintained throughout out most of Adventist history.

Perhaps I am exposing my Adventist nerd-dom, but I find it an intriguing point for friendly debate. There is a sense in which both perspectives are helpful to our understanding. Putting aside questions around the use of terminology, there was the possibility and practice of fundamentalism in our earliest Adventist thinking, but there are aspects of our Adventist fundamentalism that were not possible until the 1920s. There might also be a recency bias in this assessment, but it seems that our fundamentalist turn 100 years ago has had a more profound influence on what Adventism is today and—perhaps more significantly—what it is not.

The History Between

The history between Adventism’s proto-fundamentalism and the turn toward fundamentalism in the early part of the 20th century was spanned and guided by the ministry of Ellen G. White. Her life and work gave Adventists an up-close perspective on key questions of inspiration, demonstrating how God works through people to speak and guide in the community of His people. The presence of this phenomenon affirmed the reality of inspirational influence, reminded them of how it could be awkward and confronting, and guarded against the excesses of expectations of inerrancy. At least it should have—and then Ellen G. White was working among them to offer a corrective voice, as needed.

Looking back on Ellen G. White’s ministry and experience, it is also possible to trace the maturation of her spirituality, thinking, and leadership. In some aspects, this was sketched a few years ago in Alden Thompson’s book Escape From the Flames3 and it is a theme that has seen more academic attention in recent years. It can also be observed anecdotally in surveying Ellen G. White’s books and the growing focusing on the centrality of Jesus to our Adventist faith in her writing of her later decades, particularly the 1890s and 1900s.

Unquestionably, Ellen G. White urged and maintained a high view and understanding of the Bible. As General Conference president A.G. Daniells summarized her work and focus in his eulogy at her funeral in 1915—perhaps with some hyperbole—“No Christian teacher in this generation, no religious reformer in any preceding age, has placed a higher value upon the Bible … . Those who still believe that the Bible is the inspired, infallible word of the living God will value most highly the positive, uncompromising support given this view in the writings of Mrs. White.” 4

However, the early Adventists also sought what they described as “present truth,” expecting that they would continue to learn and seeking to apply biblical principles to the changing realities of their times and places in ways that would be practical and transformative. This was an approach to truth and its practices also championed by Ellen G. White. Quoting Daniells’ eulogy again: “Through the light and counsel given her, Mrs. White held and advocated broad, progressive views regarding vital questions that affect the betterment and uplift of the human family, from the moral, intellectual, physical, and social standpoint as well as the spiritual.” 5

This perpetual seeking after and progressive application of truth was a substantial moderation of Adventism’s proto-fundamentalist assumptions, leading them away from the narrow certitude of its earliest days. It was only after Ellen G. White’s death—with her matured, Christ-centred, progressive voice diminished—that a turn to 20th-century fundamentalism was possible. We could have responded differently to the questions and pressures of the 1920s, but this was a turn that caused the most damage to the ongoing influence and legacy of even Ellen G. White’s ministry, as both her fiercest supporters and harshest critics demanded yet more from her writings. This was a turn that continues to shape the church today.

A Conservative Progressive Church

While there is a spectrum of thought, belief, and practice within the Adventist community, this entire spectrum fits firmly within a small slice of the conservative spectrum of the larger Christian world. When we are arguing about different ways of reading and applying Bible verses, it is almost always a conservative position arguing with a more conservative position. But the tendency, temptation, and turn to fundamentalism have stifled our ability to think broadly and engage positively with social issues and needs in the world around us.

Our drift toward fundamentalism has led us to spend undue time defending not so much the indefensible, but the unnecessary. In “defending” both the Bible and the writings of Ellen G. White, apologists have mounted elaborate and sometimes disingenuous arguments that have created ever more problems, twisting ourselves into fundamentalist knots.6 This tendency has also seen our public witness too often co-opted by conservative political assumptions and attitudes.

By nature, we are a conservative church. But to be most true to our tradition, we are also called to be progressive, in learning and in responding to the world around us, and in including everyone we can in the invitation of God (see Revelation 14:6). If this sounds like mere academic debate or even just an argument about defining technical terms, it might be because we have not yet put what we say we believe into practice and set about that humble task of changing the world. As Ellen G. White herself put it, “If God’s word were studied as it should be, men would have a breadth of mind, a nobility of character, and a stability of purpose rarely seen in these times.” 7

In the 1920s, we had a choice to be different; in the 2020s, we have a choice to make a difference.

Nathan Brown is a writer and editor at Signs Publishing near Melbourne, Australia. Email him at: [email protected]

1 Michael Campbell, 1922: The Rise of Adventist Fundamentalism, Pacific Press Publishing Association, 2022.

2 Gilbert Valentine, Ostriches and Canaries: Coping with Change in Adventism, 1966-1979, Oak & Acorn Publishing, 2022.

3 Alden Thompson, Escape from the Flames, Pacific Press Publishing Association, 2005.

4 Life Sketches of Ellen G White, p. 471.

5 Life Sketches of Ellen G White, p. 473.

6 For example, consider the defense of slavery as part of making a case against the ordination of women as happened in the Theology of Ordination Study Committee or see an examination of another example of this tendency: Ronald Osborn, “True Blood: Race, Science, and Early Adventist Amalgamation Theory Revisited,” Spectrum Magazine, Vol 38, No 4, Fall 2010.

7 Steps to Christ, p. 90.

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