MV Summer 2023 Page 2

24 Jul

THE GRACE OF ESSENTIALS

In

Sabbath has been a constant in my life from childhood. Everything about it in the beginning was odd until I got used to it and then it was familiar and after that it was like muscle memory—something that happened with little thought and predictable results. It wasn’t until I had some freedom to make decisions about how I would spend my Sabbaths that it became more than simply rote.

I can clearly remember the time and place in which the freedom to walk through the fields on the Sabbath like the disciples and to pluck from the world all that would give me nourishment, first occurred. I was a high-school teenager in Northern California in the summer of 1968. My grandparents had left me home alone for the weekend with the agreement that I’d go to Sabbath School and church as always.

My friend, slightly older than I, suggested we hitchhike after church from PUC, where we lived, out to the coast and back through the Napa Valley. It would be our missionary journey: we would witness about Jesus to anyone who picked us up. I remember the shock of realizing it was my decision to make, the thrill of the unknown, the anticipation of the open road, and the adventures that awaited us. So, we said a quick prayer and set out. We agreed that we’d welcome rides from hippies in VW vans but refuse rides from creeps in Cadillacs and Buicks.

It being the Sixties and the Summer of Love, there was an abundance of VW vans with cheerful young people only a couple of years older than us. They would stop, we would hop in, and the conversations about God, drugs, rock ’n roll, and politics would begin. It was exhilarating being far from home, traveling on tickets punched by the Holy Spirit.

__________

I would like to be authentic.

To be authentic is to be true to oneself, to one’s essence. It is to discover the original version of yourself, since authentikos is Greek for “original.”

Albert Camus, French existentialist, resistance fighter against the Nazis, and Nobel Prize winning author, gave me one example of authenticity. For him, it meant taking responsibility for one’s actions in an absurd universe. We freely choose our actions, and we take responsibility for the consequences. In the absence of God, we make ourselves. We breathe in freedom, and we exhale authenticity.

As I understand it, I must aim to be authentic. However, unlike Camus, I know I can’t achieve it by myself, nor can I readily recognize it in myself. My actions toward others are a measure of my responsibility: authenticity is the echo coming back to me from my relationships.

Unless we are completely self-consumed, we seek the acknowledgement of others. We want to move through life with confidence that we can affect others positively, that in some real sense we belong here. We know we are not self-sufficient; we are not islands unto ourselves. Neither are we pure versions of ourselves. We are, to some extent, the partial product of anyone who has influenced us.

I grew up with the Sabbath, its rhythms and restrictions so deeply embedded in my conscience that my body obediently followed. Sabbath, for many of us growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, was not a celebration. It was a day in which adults did whatever it took to guarantee we didn’t do our own pleasure on the Lord’s Day. The Sabbath was the fourth commandment, the hinge of history, upon which the very reason for the Seventh-day Adventist Church turned. An authentic Adventist observed the Sabbath dutifully, if a little grimly. According to the lore, all those saved who were not Adventists would keep their first Sabbath on the trip to heaven, a baptism through ritual observance.

Authenticity is one of those states of being that needs its opposite. We’re always measuring it against the inauthentic. We begin with what we think is authentic and the corruption of that is inauthentic. In a practical sense, one does not exist without the other. This means we carry around two standards in our heads, one constantly rubbing against the other. Behind the authentic is something difficult to define but recognizable when experienced. To see it, really see it, is to know it. It’s no Olympic torch, it’s more like a flickering flame seen best in the darkness.

The Sabbath and the Second Advent are the connective tissue that joins this global Adventist body together. We are beings who both influence and are influenced, and the crossover between these two complicates and deepens our understanding of who we are and where we fit in our communities.

__________

The sulfur lights in the railway yard burned with a yellow intensity, but the fog softened and dispersed their gleams like smoke. We picked our way over the train tracks toward buildings that fronted a street. My three friends and I had crossed the English Channel on the ferry that December night to disembark at Calais.

It was close to midnight, and we had no place to stay until morning, but a guy we met claimed to have a key to the rail cars. We could sleep in one of them and be out before morning. It was briefly tempting: it was freezing and damp and we were tired. But we said no, partly on the theory that anyone who would break into rail cars isn’t to be trusted, and partly because it just seemed wrong to start our European adventure with a minor crime.

Besides, it was Friday night, the beginning of Sabbath, the 13th Sabbath of the church quarter. Back in the States, our friends on their Adventist campuses would be celebrating with agape feasts. So, we found the one shop still open and bought baguettes and Fanta—an orange soda—and the four of us sat in the stairwell of an apartment building and had our own Communion service.

 __________

I praise the Adventist pioneers who first came up with the name “Seventh-day Adventist.” It’s a stroke of genius, a three-word title and description that tells you everything essential about this church whose purpose, however imperfectly, is to live toward the kingdom of God-in-Jesus.

I distinguish “essential” from “fundamental.” I am perplexed how 28 beliefs, most of which we share with other Protestant denominations, can still be characterized as “fundamental.” That’s a lot of fundamentals. I would rather try to live with “essentials,” and the Sabbath and the Second Advent fit that bill perfectly.

They are like magnets whose force fields keep the poles apart. Flip them around and they snap together. We live within the tension between the two, a tension that provides a robust philosophy of life.

The Sabbath roots us to this Earth. It calls us to care for the created order as God’s gift to humanity. The Sabbath is a powerful symbol of liberation from materialism, from slavery to false gods and authorities, and as resistance to the power of evil in this world. It is a time of rest, an analgesic for the soul.

The Second Advent builds on the hope embedded in the Sabbath and assures us that, while all our efforts toward peace and justice are necessary, they are penultimate to God’s ultimate action of cosmic and earthly liberation.

This Earth is our home; being with God is our destiny. The Sabbath is our portable cathedral, as much a place of worship in a stairwell in Calais as it is a feast of connection with others on the roads through Sonoma to Bodega Bay to the Napa Valley. No matter where we are, if we are in the Sabbath, we are home.

I am simplifying my life. For many years now, when asked, I reply that Sabbath and the Second Advent are the shoes I walk in as I try to follow Jesus. The other 26 Fundamentals are givens as far as I’m concerned. What I live with daily are these two essentials, as authentic as you can get for a follower of Jesus of the Adventist variety.

If you feel for any reason pushed out of this church, ask yourself what real-time and eternal consequences it would have in your life. You will still carry the Sabbath with you; it can be your sanctuary. As long as there is time, the Sabbath will be your dwelling place, the tent in which God-in-Jesus is truly God-with-us.

And the Advent of Jesus still to come is the hope that is within us. Not tied to our own achievement or merit, not even unfolding according to a rigid algorithm of biblical calculation, but coming when it is the kairos, the right time. We may live to see it or we may not. It doesn’t matter. We are here now, and the kingdom is within us. This is the grace that blossoms from the essentials.

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]

24 Jul

CONFESSIONS OF AN IGNORANT AND CONFUSED ADVENTIST

In

The gentleman in Western Tanzania was drop dead drunk, but his dull red eyes brightened. He flashed a toothless grin when he heard I was an Adventist.

“So am I,” he said cheerfully!

He probably was.

The way I see it, it’s a “behaviors versus beliefs” issue. One can behave like an authentic Adventist, or believe like an authentic Adventist, or both.

I consider myself a bit of an expert on authentic Adventist behavior. I’m great at evaluating lifestyles and assessing appearances. It’s an important part of my life as an Adventist. I can observe what you eat and drink, how you dress, what you do on Saturdays and Saturday nights, how and whom you love, and tell, with a great deal of confidence, if you’re behaving like an authentic Adventist. I’m very good at it.

But I would never claim to be an authority on Adventist beliefs.

On the beliefs side, I’m relatively ignorant. Or at least confused. I have limited access and little insight into the hierarchy of all the pronouncements, guidelines, rules, principles, commitments, vows, fundamental beliefs, position statements, and requirements that an Adventist must hold and uphold socially, spiritually, economically, ethically, and theologically to permit me to identify an authentic, belief-based Adventist. It may not even be possible.

Part of the problem is that Adventism apparently is not a single, unified church. The late William Johnsson, editor of the Adventist Review for a quarter century, claimed that there are two different versions of Adventism, while Jon Paulien, the past dean of the Faculty of Religion at Loma Linda University, has identified at least four brands of Adventism. It’s difficult to define authenticity among those in division.

We Adventists come to our present discord, in large part, because of our church history. Our denomination was born in confusion and disagreement. Adventism suffered a “great disappointment” based on a significant misinterpretation of prophecy, and then splintered into numerous Adventist components. The splintered components then fragmented further.

As with many Protestant churches, early Adventists claimed to believe in the “priesthood of all (male) believers.” They also believed in “present truth,” the idea that truth was progressive; dynamic, as opposed to static. This is a formula for fragmentation.

Having a church full of individual “priests” studying the Bible for themselves leads to singular convictions that often result in sharp divisions and disputes among members and between members and leaders. This difficulty was magnified in the group that eventually became the Seventh-day Adventists. There, believers could not only study and view biblical writings differently, but they could also study and interpret the writings of their “prophetess” differently. This led to confusion both inside and outside of the church.

To prevent and suppress such chaotic behavior, most churches adopt a standard creed. Our denomination, however, was founded by leaders who were not just non-credal, they were dogmatically anti-credal. Many of them felt that creeds stifled the work of the Holy Spirit. However, not having a creed, or even a list of fundamental principles or beliefs, made it difficult to “shepherd” the members, and almost impossible to explain to the outside world what it was that they believed.

There was no “officially” pronounced set of fundamental beliefs for more than a century of the church’s existence as an organization. Unofficially, though, in 1872, Uriah Smith, the editor of the church’s leading periodical, published a “Declaration of Fundamental Principles.” He did this, in large part, to address the confusion that reigned in the Christian community regarding what it was that made Adventists different. This unadopted and unofficial list of Adventist principles essentially defined the church and explained its mission until 1931. Unfortunately, it included key items that were not only unorthodox, but they were also seen as being heretical by many non-Adventist Christians.

By 1931, church leadership realized that the “Declarations of Fundamental Principles” were causing Adventism to be seen as a cult. Additionally, requests to clarify our beliefs were coming in from church divisions around the world. In response, a committee was established to produce “a statement of what Seventh-day Adventists believe” to be printed in the church’s Yearbook. It was felt that “such a statement would help government officials and others to a better understanding of our work.”

The committee’s product became known as “The Fundamental Beliefs of Seventh-day Adventists.” This was first presented to the public in the February 19, 1931, edition of the Advent Review and Sabbath Herald. There was no official church vote on its acceptance, nor was there any apparent push to adopt it as a creed for the denomination. However, it finally offered to the world, and to church members, the articulation of “our faith” in a manner that presumed to reflect an entirely agreed upon system of beliefs. Importantly, it corrected the heretical positions that had been present in the earlier list of principles.

Unfortunately, this document was not widely disseminated, and the odor of heresy and the criticism of being a cult continued to hang over the church.

In 1955 and 1956, a group of Adventist scholars and theologians met with several non-Adventist Evangelical leaders over a period of eighteen months, hammering out answers to a number of questions about our church and its beliefs. This led to the publication, in 1957, of Seventh-day Adventists Answer Questions on Doctrine. This book warmed the hearts of leading American fundamentalist Evangelicals, who finally agreed that Adventists should be admitted into the Christian fold.

Many Adventist theologians who had not been involved in the publication, however, loudly criticized the work. They felt we had surrendered too much of our distinctiveness in purchasing a seat on the bench of so-called Christian orthodoxy. And, although the book was “prepared and authorized” by the Seventh-day Adventist General Conference administration, it was not an “official pronouncement” of the church, as it was never “endorsed or adopted” by the General Conference in session.

Finally, in 1980, at a representative meeting of the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists in session, the church officially adopted a comprehensive summarization of “Fundamental Beliefs of Seventh-day Adventists” in 27 paragraphs. The Bible remained as the church’s only creed, but the church officially now had a statement of the shared beliefs of the community in a form which was structured by subjects which summarized its core tenets. This was in contradistinction to a creed, which has been defined as “a statement of the shared beliefs of a community in a form which is structured by subjects which summarize its core tenets.”

In 2005, a 28th fundamental belief was added to the list to apparently help support and assist perfectionists. This list constitutes the church’s understanding and expression of the teaching of Scripture. The Bible is still our only creed, but we now have an “official” way of identifying, by both beliefs and practices, an “authentic” Adventist.

Or do we?

Sadly, confusion remains, at least among some of us living in the intellectual and theological hinterlands. While we have the 28 fundamental beliefs, there are still two different sets of baptismal vows and dozens of official church position statements that expand on and attempt to clarify the list of beliefs. Knowing which of these statements are authoritative is perplexing, as they have been variously approved by the General Conference Administrative Committee, the General Conference Executive Committee, the General Conference in session, the General Conference Communications Department, and the General Conference Communication Department on behalf of the President’s Office.

Personally, there are some official statements and positions with which I disagree. Fortunately, I have been told by several local pastors and conference officials that one does not have to believe all of the Fundamental Beliefs and official position statements to be an Adventist. But still I worry. Am I authentic? Who has the ultimate right to decide?

Our church includes numerous categories of believers, all of whom are encouraged to spread our beliefs to the world. There are lay members, such as I. There are Bible workers, local pastors, elementary and high school Bible teachers, college and university professors, independent and employed evangelists, and seminary theologians. Additionally, there are local conference officers, union and division administrators, and executives of the General Conference. But not everyone is on the same page. Does the General Conference president speak with more authority regarding our Fundamental Beliefs and positions than does a local Bible worker? How can one be certain?

The official position of the church is that our fundamental beliefs and doctrines are given the formal imprimatur of the church when the Adventist General Conference is in session, with accredited delegates from the whole world field present. These General Conference in session meetings occur every five years. Perhaps the safest thing to do is to wait until 2025, when, hopefully, we’ll once again find out what it is that “authentic” Adventists believe. Until then, however, I’ll just keep spreading my own little list of present truths! I am, after all, an authentic (male) priest.

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

24 Jul

A CATHEDRAL SPEAKS

In

Come with me into an English cathedral. There are over 40 of them in my country. Come with me into the one I know best: Salisbury Cathedral. And as we enter this great Anglican church, where worship has been offered by the faithful for many hundreds of years, allow it to speak to you a little about authentic Adventism. Listen to the cathedral.

As we enter, our voices drop to a whisper. We all immediately know that this is a different kind of space. A special space. Our whispers witness to a stillness. In his book The Sabbath, the Jewish philosopher and writer, Abraham Joshua Heschel, says that Jews do not build cathedrals in space; they build cathedrals in time. So too for Adventists. The Sabbath is our cathedral in time, a holy place. An intersection where God meets us. The Sabbath defines Adventist spiritual life (Fundamental belief #20). It takes us to the very heart of things … if we let it.

I read once that Sabbath people are rested people, and rested people are resourceful people. There’s truth in that. When we observe the true spirit of Sabbath, when do not rush around frantically simply to keep the religious show on the road, when we don’t allow the Sabbath to become a dull routine, when we don’t allow it to become just part of the weekend, we put ourselves in a place where we may be filled with the fullness of God (Eph. 3:19, NRSV)

Be still and know … (Psalm 46:10).

Even though this Anglican cathedral is a place of stillness, there is nevertheless a lot going on. Priests float noiselessly along the aisles. Volunteers work away at creating welcome. The notice boards tell of a multitude of activities which are part of the cathedral’s witness to the goodness of God (#22).

So too with the Sabbath. Rest does not necessarily mean passivity. It is stillness with a purpose.

Activities will stop briefly at midday when tourists are invited to pause for a short act of worship—probably “Our Father …” (#3), a word of welcome (#12), a brief reflection given by a vicar.

It is not only the stillness which first impresses. Your eyes will soon inevitably be drawn to the lofty vaulted ceilings. This space is immense. It speaks of God’s own immensity (#2). This English Gothic church is an important reminder to us that, all too often, we domesticate God. We create God in our own image. We make God serve our own agenda. Everything here reminds me that my God is too small.

How did they get those vaults up there centuries ago? It would be a great feat even with modern technology and engineering but in the mediaeval period …? It is a spectacular and costly act of creation (#6). It displays boundless imagination and vision. And dedication. And love. No doubt some of the masons, carpenters, and other labourers met their accidental deaths here—for this. My mind goes back to the opening chapters of Genesis: And God ventured to say: “Let us make man in our own image …” God’s audacious risk. Breath-taking vision.

We turn towards the nave and are confronted with a brilliant modern baptistery (2008). The water is continually flowing, and it is big enough to allow full adult immersion (#15). In baptism we are, for a moment, submerged, overwhelmed by the continuing generosity of God. Around the baptistery are inscribed the words from Isaiah 43: 1-2: Do not fear for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you. And through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you. This is the heart of Adventism. Called by name. Water welling up to eternal life.

We proceed down the nave towards the East window. The Holy Scriptures always stand open on the lectern (#1). We arrive eventually in front of the altar, the area called the chancel or sanctuary. Until the 17th century, fugitives could flee to the sanctuary, and find a safe haven in front of the altar, holy ground, beyond the immediate reach of the law or their pursuers.

The sanctuary is the sacred place because of the belief that God is physically present in the Eucharist. We may differ over whether Holy Communion is about the actual or symbolic presence of Christ, but, at base, this broken-hearted celebration affirms that Christ has made our journey to God a safe one, which we can make in all confidence. With debates over prophetic times and symbolic meanings, the doctrine of the sanctuary (#24) has a controversial history in the Adventist church. Sadly, this has sometimes obscured the basic teaching—that we are safe with Jesus. This is my body given for you. This is my blood shed for you.

Look up and you will not see a contorted Christ figure on a cross. The cross is empty. He is risen, risen indeed! Alleluia! (#9) A cross bearing a crucified Christ reminds us that we are hopelessly sinful. The empty cross, Jesus liberated by the resurrection, calls us to life with an altogether new quality. It calls for engagement with others. It calls us to responsibility. The occupied cross can lead us to a kind of passivity. We sometimes emphasize Good Friday at the expense of resurrection Sunday. No! The cross is empty. The tomb is empty. He is risen!

While there may be many representations of Christ in church, it is more difficult to represent the Holy Spirit. But if you look up now you will see a flame flickering in the sanctuary lamp—a sign of the eternal presence of Christ with us in the Holy Spirit (#5) The wind blows where it wills … So it is with the Spirit. Sometimes we forget this and believe that the Spirit is only active where our church has a presence. Sometimes we speak as if the Holy Spirit is a kind of fuel which we use to do our work. Nothing could be further from the truth. The wind blows where it wills …

There’s more to see. On one of the aisles, there are a couple of chantries. They are like very small chapels within the cathedral. They were built as places where prayers could be said, masses sung for a very wealthy patron, a lord of the manor. They are based on the idea that you can intercede for the souls of the dead, at least the very rich dead. And that you can earn merit by sheer effort (#10). This is in stark contrast to the more biblical teaching held by Adventists that when you are dead, you are dead. Ashes only (#26). While the idea of an expectant sleep may give solace to the dying, it is not an immediately comforting teaching for those who survive.

For that, you need to go to the return of Jesus. You will have to look harder to find evidence of the doctrine of the second coming of Christ as cherished by Adventists (#25). The traditional teaching of the established church, based on fear of hell, gave it power and leverage. No church can prosper when fear is the underlying motivation. Adventism at its best is clear about this. Sadly, some expressions of Adventism trade in fear. Even so, come Lord Jesus.

Some of the stained glass is mediaeval, mostly representing scenes from the life of Christ. The windows were the ancient version of a multimedia show. The dazzling windows were a vital means of indoctrinating the illiterate majority. Adventists are undeniably good at multimedia communication of the gospel. We are less good at what you find in the Trinity Chapel behind the altar. Its modern stained glass and superb tapestry call us to think about Prisoners of Conscience around the world (1980). We are less good at fighting for justice. We fear political entanglement unlike some of our abolitionist pioneers.

There’s a rare copy of the Magna Carta over in the chapter house. The document is an affirmation of the rights of ordinary folk against hierarchies which so easily overreach themselves and oppress. There’s no time to visit the cloisters where scholars spent long hours on Bible study. They were highly valued. In our church, the scholars have sometimes been regarded as an irritating presence.

It’s time to leave. We exit by the huge West door which admits all who will come. Without condition. Do we sometimes impose conditions on who can come?

The cathedral has been a long time in the making. It inspires me to seek greater faithfulness to God within my own community. In this great church, you will hear whispers of God. This voice from beyond our familiar Adventist experience witnesses authentic discipleship … if we let it.

We take one long last look at the spire. I once heard a guide say that, in strong winds, the spire may move as much as 4 feet—it seems unbelievable. But the metal rods inside the masonry give the spire a flexibility which allows it to stand so nobly. Such agility brings strength. The spire points me away from myself, upwards, outwards. To God.

The test of authentic Adventism is that it will help you, just for a moment, to touch eternity.

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]

24 Jul

ARE YOU FOR REAL? BEING (OR BECOMING) AN AUTHENTIC BELIEVER

In

Last year, the Southern Baptists denomination in the United States lost half a million members. This means that in just twelve months, roughly one of every 25 members decided to walk away from their church. Although there are some specific reasons that contributed to this extraordinary exodus, in recent decades most Christian denominations in the western world had to face a constant and intensifying hemorrhage of members, suffering an even more dramatic decline in church attendance.

Numerous books have been written about the reasons why people leave the church, and, indeed, there are many different factors that play a role. But one element is mentioned more often than any other reason—in particular by members of the younger generations—namely: hypocrisy. David Kinnaman, the president of the Barna Group which researches developments in Christianity, wrote: “Whether we like it or not, the term ‘hypocritical’ has become fused to young people’s experience with Christianity.” He added that 85 percent of all young people who have had at least some exposure to Christians and to the church have concluded that Christianity is hypocritical (p. 42).1

Countless people give up on the institutional church—and often also on their faith—because of the glaring inconsistencies between the words and the actions of fellow believers and, in particular, of church leaders. The sexual scandals in the Roman Catholic Church as well as the numerous cases of sexual indiscretion, or worse, among prominent pastors in Protestant churches, have done colossal damage to the credibility of Christianity. Also, many erstwhile strong believers have become totally disillusioned about the church, as they observed the dubious lifestyles and selfish behavior of many faithful churchgoers. And the fact that extreme piety often disguises serious moral problems does not go unnoticed.

In addition, other forms of hypocrisy leave many believers wondering to what extent they can still trust their leaders. Too often, they discover that there is a substantial discrepancy between what pastors teach and preach and the convictions they privately hold. Is it a matter of not wanting to jeopardize their job and their career opportunities? Unfortunately, there is no reason to believe that the Adventist Church is faring any better in this respect than most other faith communities.

An Issue of All Times

Hypocrisy is not a new phenomenon. We find it already in Bible times. Jesus did not mince words when He accused the spiritual leaders of his days of hypocrisy. He called them “blind guides,” “snakes,” and “white-washed tombs” (Matt. 23:13-36). They sadly lacked what should have characterized them most: authenticity.

Even in the earliest days of the Christian church, hypocrisy raised its ugly head. Ananias and Sapphira appeared to be generous people. They decided to sell a piece of land and to give a large chunk of the money to the church. But their generosity was phony. They wanted to look good and enhance their reputation as pillars of the newly established church. They pretended that they were giving the entire proceeds of the sale to the church, while in reality they kept part of the money for themselves. Their lack of authenticity cost them their lives (Acts 5:1-10).

But let’s be honest. Hypocrisy and pretense are not just things of the past and do not only occur in other faith communities. There is also much window dressing among Seventh-day Adventist Christians. As church members, we know we are supposed to act in certain ways. We must do certain things and abstain from particular activities if we want to safeguard our reputation as members in “good and regular standing.” Alas, when other church members are in sight, we may behave differently from when we think we are “safe.” But the critical question is not who we are when we are on the platform of our church on Sabbath morning, but who we are when no one is looking!

A Corporate Issue

The Seventh-day Adventist Church has tended to pride itself with various complimentary labels. We have called ourselves the “remnant church,” meaning: We are the only last-day community of people who are truly loyal to God. We have pointed to ourselves as members of a global missionary movement who are “totally involved.” And we have often claimed to be a “caring” church. But how true is that?

I have no doubt that there are many local Adventist communities that do indeed “care” for their members and for those they come into contact with. But what do we see when we take a more comprehensive look? What is the quality of pastoral care in many of our churches? How inclusive is the average Adventist congregation when it concerns men and women (and others) with a “different” sexual orientation or with some “liberal” theological ideas? How much care do local congregations manifest towards the people with specific needs in the wider community? Must we not regretfully conclude that many (if not most) Adventist churches have a long way to go in practicing what they preach?

What Our Church Needs

The church needs authenticity and, as individual members of the church, we must be authentic. Dictionaries provide us with many synonyms for the term authentic, such as real, genuine, worthy of trust, not fake or phony, pure, credible. In the past, the first question most people asked when choosing a church would be whether that church teaches biblical truth. Today, this is still an important aspect, but the question “What do you people believe and preach?” has taken second place to: “What kind of people are you? Do you practice what you preach?”

My mother once (now some decades ago) told me about the quarrels and bitter disagreements between members in the small church in which she grew up. I asked her why she decided to stay in that kind of a church. Her answer was quite straightforward: “Because, whatever happens, our church has the truth.” Today, many react in a different way. They turn their back on a church where people cannot get along with one another and miserably fail to reflect the attitude of the One they profess to follow.

As a church—globally, regionally, nationally, and, foremost, locally—we must radiate authenticity if we want to be a living, attractive, and growing church. We must do away with all false pretenses and all the promises we cannot keep. The reputation, programs, slogans, and strategies of our church must, at all times, be credible and genuine. Our message is to be based on biblical truth, but it must also embody true love and care. Our church must be an authentic beacon of positivity and hope in our community.

What I Need

My individual challenge as a Seventh-day Adventist Christian is directly linked to what I just said about our church: How can I become, be, and remain, an authentic person?

The Old Testament story of the anointing of David as the king of Israel reminds us of a crucial fact. The prophet Elia preferred Eliab, an older brother of David, as the royal candidate, but God told him that David was the one He had chosen. The lesson of the story is summarized in just a few words: “People look at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

This is in many ways reassuring. God does not build his assessment of me on my external qualities and on what people say about me, but on what I really am deep down. However, it remains true that people do get a particular impression of me when they meet me and talk to me. When they interact with me, they will wonder whether I am for real, or am I hiding behind a façade. When they wonder whether my Christianity is make-believe, will they somehow sense that it is genuine?

If we want to share our faith with others in the western world of 2023, it remains, of course, essential that we have something important to say and that we are able to say this in words and images that can be understood by people around us. But, beyond anything else, the key for any meaningful sharing of the gospel is that we are authentic. People—and especially young people—nowadays smell phoniness from miles away. As I try to live as a Seventh-day Adventist Christian, I have to take a good look at myself.

Am I someone who is for real? Am I honest about myself, not only willing to talk about my successes, but also about my shortcomings? Do I have the courage to tell other people about my faith, but also about my doubts? Am I prepared to listen to the stories of the people around me, but also to make myself vulnerable by telling my own story? This is all part of being authentic.

What counts in the end is not primarily whether people see me as a pious person with a lot of Bible knowledge, but rather, first and foremost, as a genuinely nice person who models acceptance and forgiveness. Christ was and is the true I AM. He was perfect in his authenticity. It should be my most earnest wish to reflect my Lord’s authenticity to the best of my ability in all I do and speak.

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]

 

1 Kinnaman, D., & Lyons, G. (2012). Unchristian: What a new generation really thinks about Christianity—and why it matters. Baker Books.

24 Jul

TEN ADVENTISTS AND TEN ANSWERS

In

Being in Adventist ministry my entire work life means that I’ve moved a bunch. Some Adventist workers have had to move a lot, but I’ve only had to move a bunch (which is less than a lot). The eight times we’ve moved each had its own unique challenges, especially when it comes to finding a suitable place to live.

The first two times we moved we were assigned housing both at Adventist boarding schools. But from then on, it was up to us. Move number three was a bit unique in that the conference I was moving to did not invite me to bring Jana along to look over the call and find housing, so I bought a small three bedroom condo in San Diego without Jana being present to look it over. Fortunately, Jana was very gracious about it. It did help that we could pick carpet and tile color after the purchase, but I learned then that it’s never wise to make that sort of decision on your own if you are married!

As we continued in the work and moved more times, I learned that when we looked for houses together, and then later still when we began to take our children into consideration, it became very obvious that each of us valued something different in a house. One feature or another would catch one of our fancies, and they, only rarely, turned out to be the same features that were special for all of us. So we had the same end goal in mind, but the things we each found most appealing about a given housing opportunity always varied. But, in the end, we found a way to make whatever our choice ultimately was work out just fine.

If you were to ask any 10 faithful Adventist Christians what authentic Adventism was to them, my hunch is that you’d get maybe 10 different answers. That may be because there are different parts of being an Adventist that really hooks into a person’s soul that may not resonate the same way for another person. Oh, we’re all on the same track—we have the same goal in mind. But different things might bring different joys to different people.

For example, some of us find Adventism precious because we truly can give ourselves a break once every week to lay aside all our stresses and struggles and rest. I imagine that of all the commandments given in the desert to the soon-to-be-wandering Israelites were greatly surprised they could actually have a day when they did not have to work—they of former slave status that had no concept of resting on a Sabbath.

For others, it might be the comfort of knowing that those they love whom they have lost are asleep. Still others will be grateful that God does not punish with eternal hellfire.

I imagine that one of our dearest and most cherished hopes is our belief that Jesus is coming soon. Some of us are tired of this world and want to go home!

Some of us are desperately in love with Jesus, and want to do all we can to live for Him.

So we can all be one as Adventists and yet still love different things that bring us joy, all the while appreciating and loving all the other wonderful things it means to be an Adventist.

What I am most uncomfortable with is when one of us tries to enforce our view of what it means to be a true, faithful Adventist on our brothers and sisters. Some even point to specific periods of time and observe who we were back then and say, “this is what we should be today.” But a careful study of our history will show that there was much development of our church and its structure and doctrines over many years. It’s true that we still have disagreements about what some of those “old days” meant in terms of authentic Adventism, so maybe pointing to different eras of the church may not be so helpful.

May I posit one suggestion? It’s not meant to settle the question: what does “Authentic Adventism” mean? Rather, it’s a starting point and perhaps even an ending point. If we don’t start and end with at least this, then all of the stuff in between can be used in unhealthy ways.

Just three short sentences from Jesus—who is the head of our church: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples (John 13.34-35, NLT).

I want to be that authentic.

Mic Thurber is the RMC president. Email him at: [email protected]

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