Jon Roberts Page 26

29 Sep

A MORE SPACIOUS VISION

In

By Barry Casey — I think I have always been fascinated by imagination. When I was a teenager, it seemed to be the element that separated the true artists, musicians, poets, and writers from the rest of us. It was a quality that transcended mere talent and hard work. It was mysterious.

When I listened to the singer/songwriters of my time, like James Taylor, Paul Simon, Jackson Browne, and Joni Mitchell, they all seemed to have imagination in abundance. So did the Beatles, Sting, Peter Gabriel, and Bruce Springsteen. All of them produced music and lyrics that looked afresh at the universals of love, loss, tragedy, beauty, and the spirit.

I studied them, pulled apart their lyrics and musical structure, looking for keys to their brilliance. What they did seemed effortless, an economy of words and composition that didn’t waste a note or a syllable.

I noticed the same in some of my favorite writers, beginning with Hemingway, a master at creating a scene with as few words as possible. In different ways than Hemingway, but no less imaginative, were Saul Bellow, Kurt Vonnegut, John Gardner, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Joan Didion, and James Lee Burke.

All of them, writers, and musicians, drew on an inner power that expressed a more spacious vision than I found within myself. I wondered if you had to have lived a respectable number of years to write in that way. But many of these icons were doing some of their best work in their twenties and thirties. Maybe you had to travel the world on a merchant freighter, be a short-order cook, do time in a county jail, start a business, and fail at it, get married and divorced, or give up a law practice to write full time. Well, no, not really. All of that might give you experience to draw from, but it wasn’t necessary. There was something else.

Anne and Barry Ulanov’s book, The Healing Imagination, emphasizes imagination as the creative activity of the psyche and the soul. We work with the images that appear to us, often unbidden. “They just happen,” they write, “They arrive in consciousness from the unconscious, like a wisp of spirit. . . they speak of another life running in us like an underground river-current.”

I’ve come to believe that this creative impulse in all of us originates with the Holy Spirit, even if we don’t recognize it as such. No matter how it plays out and through whom it appears, imagination is critical to our humanity and to our spiritual growth.

The development of imagination, for example, in the act of creative writing, whether it be fiction, essays, drama, sermons, songs, or poetry is an exercise in dropping the barriers to one’s inner life. “Art’s desire,” comments Jane Hirshfield, in Ten Windows: How Great Poems Transform the World, “is not to convey the already established but to transform the life that takes place within its presence.” The presence of an unexpected newness.

We see this newness in the parables and sayings of Jesus. They are a wellspring of wisdom, never depleted on multiple readings. I believe Jesus discovered how to listen to his unconscious, that depth which is in all of us, and how to open his mind and spirit completely to God. What he offered the disciples was a glimpse of that imaginative power.

Our reflex is to reject these images. The new breaks in upon us often without form, almost unrecognizable at times. Hirshfield comments in Ten Windows that it’s a question of how much of the random, the chaotic, and the mysterious we are willing to admit into our lives, assuming we have a choice.

We can also draw a distinction between hope and imagination. We can think of hope as an extension of present reality, but with the possibility of God breaking in to make something new. Then imagination is the seed from which hope grows. Our difficulty is in perceiving and believing that God can bring a new creation from the chaos of our situation.

Cease to dwell on days gone by
and to brood over past history.
Here and now I will do a new thing;
this moment it will break from the bud.
Can you not perceive it (Isa. 43:18,19)?

The Ulanovs note that our play as children in imaginatively creating personalities for our stuffed animals and toys, sustains our capacity as adults to enjoy and create images of God from tradition, Scripture, and experience. “Imagination digs the soil,” they write, “and brings the water so that what comes to us grows . . . In this space between our single unconscious life and our shared conscious life with others, imagination plays and heals.”

For poets, artists, and the rest of us, what really matters in life begins with questions: Who are we now? What shall we be? Where will we find healing for our souls? How can we respond to hatred and indifference with love, justice, and mercy?

Since the first thing to go in a crisis is imagination, our subversion of the status quo is plain: we must begin to imagine together the newness of what our worship, our service to our communities, and our spiritual arts could look like in the face of such global shifts as climate change, the displacement of millions, and the presence of COVID in our midst.

–Barry Casey taught religion, philosophy, and communication for 37 years in Maryland and Washington, D.C. He is now retired and writing in Burtonsville, Maryland. More of the author’s writing can be found on his blog, Dante’s Woods. His first collection of essays, “Wandering, Not Lost,” was recently published by Wipf and Stock. Email him at: [email protected]

29 Sep

MY IDEAL CHURCH—UNITED BUT NOT UNIFORM

In

By Zdravko Plantak — We can think about the church in many ways and describe it by many picturesque metaphors. But it does seem quite pertinent to think of the church in the way that Apostle Paul, at least in one of his significant descriptions of the church, thought of the community of believers as a body—a healthy, growing body. And the passage in 1 Corinthians 12:11-26 is his fullest explanation of this picture of a church as a human body. Because here, using this image, he makes four points about the communal aspects of the church. For me, it describes the church in a very imaginative way.

Firstly, he describes the church as one despite the differences. This is surely describing a church that is united. And a united church does not imply a uniform church. Paul does not disguise the differences among the faithful. For example, he has just explained in Verse 4 that people are gifted in different ways. And these gifts are used for different responsibilities within the church. There are in Verse 5, varieties of service; Verse 6, varieties of working; and then, in Verses 7-10, Paul goes on to give a list of different gifts given to individuals so that not all members of the church are gifted in the same way. So, he freely acknowledges the differences in gifts. But then he goes on in Verse 11: All these different blessings are inspired by one and the same Spirit who apportions to each one individually as the Spirit wills.

Again, Paul does not deny that there are differences in cultural background: there are Jews and Greeks; or differences of social background such as slaves and free (13). Paul would be the last person to say that differences are to be ignored. But they are nothing beside the great unifying factor which is a common experience of the Spirit—Verse 13: For by one Spirit, we were all baptized into one body, Jews or Greeks, slaves or free, and all were made to drink of one Spirit. Whatever our cultural or social background may be, we all, each one of us, has been brought into the body of Christ, into the church. And all of this is mirrored in the human body—Verse 12: For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body”. The human body has many limbs but is still one entity.

The church is one despite its differences. And this, the Corinthians needed to know. They raised the gift of tongues to an importance that it never deserved. Some were jealous that they didn’t get it. They felt distant from those who had it. And Paul says: There are differences, but there is one body. How much we need to be reminded of this truth. It is easy for us to look at people more gifted than ourselves and be jealous, or feel they are miles above us. But Paul is adamant that all these gifts whatever they are, all these gifts, however seemingly humble, are inspired by one and the same Spirit (11). And it is up to Him to apportion the gifts as He chooses. Perhaps you are very conscious and aware in our church of cultural differences.

Or you are aware of social or economic differences. And yet, Paul says in Verse 13, Don’t you see that all these things pale into insignificance beside our common experience of the Spirit. And that first taste of the Spirit is like a refreshing drink which each one has access to. Yes, says Paul, the church is a motley bunch, with many very different people in it, but it is one despite the differences. United, but never uniform.

It’s a picture, secondly, of the fact that the church is made up of various members. This is the argument of Verses 14–20. Verse 14 says: For the body does not consist of one member, but many. And then Paul imagines the less prominent limb of the body feeling it has no real significance in the body: the foot feeling inferior to the hand, the ear feeling less important than the eye. And out of the inferiority complex, one begins to form the opinion that one doesn’t really matter to the body. Paul says: “That’s ridiculous!” (15). Just take for a moment any one organ in the body, however valuable it might be. If that was the only organ, the body would be infinitely impoverished. “If the whole body were an eye, where would be the hearing, if the whole body would be an ear, where would be the sense of smell.” (17) In fact, there would be no real body at all. “If all were a single organ, where would the body be?” (19).

Indeed, an organ that feels unimportant, wasted, with no significant part to play in the body, is rebelling against God Himself. In Verse 19, as it is, God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them as He chose. And so Paul sums up the whole argument in this section: “As it is, there are many parts, yet one body” (20).

And this is a lesson much needed today: there are many in our communities who feel inferior and unimportant. And sometimes, these other body organs push their importance so much that it may be almost natural for some to feel pushed to the margins. Paul reminds us that this is a complete misunderstanding of what the ideal church should be like.

Suppose, for example, that the church consisted entirely of preachers and there was no one to make a hot drink afterwards or to collect our offerings. That would be a very great impoverishment of our life as a body. Suppose everybody was an organizer, everyone in church was running groups, and no-one had the time or ability to invite members of these groups for a meal. We would perhaps be a well-run machine, but there would be no warmth, no humanity. And, as Paul says in verse 20, there would be no body. No body of Christ. Indeed, to feel unimportant, to feel it wouldn’t matter if we did nothing and just slipped away from the church, to feel we don’t really belong to the Christian body, is to rebel against God. You did not choose your place in the body, God did. Verse 18: God arranged the organs in the body, each one of them as He chose. And Paul uses this picture of the body to urge the important truth that the church is made up of various, that is to say different, members.

Thirdly, the church must respect the contribution of each part (21-22). Now Paul turns from those who feel inferior, who think they have gifts not worth talking about, to those who know very well they are gifted, to the more prominent members of the body. And he tells them not to imagine they could do without the others. Verse 21 says: “The eye cannot say to the hand ‘I have no need of you.’ Nor again head to the feet ‘I have no need of you.’ On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. Take the hand, for example—it seems a fairly unimportant appendage to the body, much less vital than the eye. But just imagine the vast range of things that we couldn’t do if we had no hands. Or take the feet. Sometimes they seem just as like ugly lumps of flesh, very quick to sweat, prone to diseases like athlete’s foot or developing bunions. But just think how much your life would be restricted if you had no feet. No, says Paul, these parts may seem weaker or less important, but for a full healthy life they are, according to Verse 22, indispensable. We should never underestimate the power and importance of the seemingly less important limb of the body.

Finally, the interdependence is essential to flourishing in the Body of Christ. God has created the human body in such a way that it has the instinct to lavish a great deal of care on what might seem the least worthy part (vv. 23-24). And we could see this in action, in Verse 26: If one member suffers, all suffer together. If the stomach is upset, the whole body is thrown out of joint with it. If one member is honored, all rejoice together. If arms or legs have been involved in some athletic activity, and have done well, maybe lifting weights or running fast over a distance, the whole body feels good as a result. Because in the human body, all the limbs know very well that they are not independent entities, but that interdependence is a significant and necessary posture. They belong together in one body. And there are people in our communities that seem weak. They are decidedly less honored in the world’s eyes: those who will never have prestigious jobs, who might never become leaders even in a small church. There are even, in recent times, members who push for different realities of the world we live in. They are on the opposite side of the spectrum on politics or understanding the pandemic, vaccination, or other public health measures, or just disagree with us in the way we think about environmental responsibilities or social, economic, or racial justice.

But the whole point of this passage of Paul is that we belong to each other because we are one body. We are not independent entities. We belong together. Of course, we struggle with this. Of course, we may even think, should we really stay connected to that body? And yet, we are invited to think about such a community that God creates, despite vast differences within its parts, as ‘e pluribus unum’, out of many, one.

Yet, God’s priorities are exactly opposite of the world’s and are mirrored in the human body He has made. Verse 24: God has so composed the body, giving great honor to the inferior part, so that there may be no discord in the body but that they can have the same care for one another. If some weak member pours out their suffering to the group, our reaction cannot be: “Not again. We heard all this last week.” This would only be possible if we belonged to two separate worlds. But we don’t. We belong to the one and the same body.

It’s a rich picture, this picture of a church as the human body. And Paul uses it to make important points. But, in a way, it’s all summed up in Verse 20: There are many parts, yet one body. The ideal church is an extraordinary collection of different people. I have only to look around the church (or even the family) that I belong to. And in the ideal community of the faithful, we must allow people to be different, nay we must celebrate our differences, and then, especially, care for people in their weaknesses, the entire time never losing sight of this important fact that we are one body!

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

29 Sep

BACK TO THE FUTURE

In

By Andre Wang — I have been an Adventist my entire life. I’m a product of Adventist education. My church membership has been at the same church since I was fourteen years old. I’ve served on church committees and boards too numerous to mention.

Then in 2014, I was invited to apply for the position of general counsel for the North Pacific Union Conference. I really wasn’t interested. I was in a comfortable law practice and I was already serving on the union’s executive committee, participating in the governance and oversight of the six conferences in our territory. I didn’t consider myself a “church guy” but the involved layperson that sat on church boards and committees to be the voice of reason and hold my church accountable.

But instead of dismissing the invitation outright, I agreed to the greatest non-committal answer in all of Christendom: “I’ll pray about it.” And I did—earnestly. After a few days, I revealed to my wife that my ambivalence was turning into intrigue. Upon more reflection and prayer, I submitted my resume to the union personnel committee. I didn’t bother polishing it or even checking it for typos. I just went to my computer, found a file labeled “Andre Resume,” attached it to an email to the union president, and clicked “send.” I was looking for a Gideon-like signal and sending the unproofed resume was my fleece.

I met with the personnel committee twice (ironically, a committee I was a member of) and answered questions about my upbringing, my spiritual journey and my familiarity with denominational operation and policy. After a day of deliberation, they voted to offer me the position.

After another two days of further prayer and reflection, I accepted the invitation with convincing clarity. I now know what pastors mean when they talk about being called to ministry: I was called. I felt it. It was real, tangible, and unmistakable. This was what I was supposed to do.

I didn’t seek or choose this job; it sought and chose me.

Every day, I am blessed to work with people that keep the mission of the church moving forward–from pastors and teachers to treasurers and administrators. Even though we are a religious organization, the church is still a business with issues and matters that impact us legally and corporately. If you told me eight years ago that I’d be working for the church, I would have hysterically laughed at you until you sulked out of my presence. But for the last seven years, I have used my professional skills in areas that have been interesting, challenging, and rewarding—and having fun doing it.

From the perspective of a denominational employee, even though only for a brief time, I have observations—and suggestions—about the future of the church in the following areas:

Workforce

According to Pew Research, 10,000 baby boomers enter retirement each day. Today, the Seventh-day Adventist Church is facing an unprecedented number of retirements from its workforce. It is estimated that 60% of the personnel in the North American Division will reach retirement age by 2023, including pastors, educators, administrators, and employees in higher ed. Today, conferences are already scrambling to fill pastoral, teaching and administrative positions.

But consider the ripple effect these mass retirements are causing throughout the denomination. When a pastor or teacher retires, that position is filled by another pastor or teacher. However, when a principal or church administrator at the conference, union or division level retires, those positions must be filled by an experienced educator or church leader. The nominating committees of these various levels of church governance must search for new leaders from people holding other leadership positions or look for emerging leaders from the field of pastors or teachers. This scenario is going to play out many times over for the next decade and beyond.

If the church is not proactive in building its “farm team” of pastors, teachers, principals, accountants, and human resource professionals, who will fill the executive leadership, treasury and education superintendent positions at the conference, union, and division levels?

Remuneration

At the 2019 NAD Human Resources Conference in Lexington, Kentucky, Randy Robinson, the treasurer of the North American Division, said, “We need to reform our system of remuneration to attract millennials to work for the church because someday I’ll be dead.”

Simply put, the church must pay more. While the notion of “service” to the church is noble, pastors and teachers notwithstanding, Gen X-ers, Millennials and younger generations don’t have denominational employment on their radar. In embarking on a career path, denominational work in professional areas such as finance, communication, IT, etc., are never the first option. In order to make church work attractive, wages should be commensurate with the private sector.

Generational Awareness

According to Adam Fenner, director of the Adventist Learning Community at the North American Division, the church as an employer must educate itself on the culture of character of different generations to accomplish our missional objectives and, most importantly, have operational longevity. From my observation, there is very little intergenerational interaction within the denominational workforce. Baby boomers–the ones reaching retirement age–are not generously passing down crucial institutional knowledge and skillsets to younger generations to carry the Adventist banner into the future.

Within the next decade, Gen Xer-s and Millennials will be occupying conference and union presidencies and other administrative positions. If the church is going into the future with resolve, the transfer of information must happen now. A common refrain I hear from younger generations is, “If I were in charge, I would do this . . .” Buckle up, everyone. Your conference or union may be one or two constituency sessions away from electing a millennial executive team.

Embrace Differences

There is a lot of diversity in the church today—and not just ethnic diversity, but everything from culture and worship-style preferences to political opinions and lifestyle choices. Adam Fenner again counsels that we should embrace our differences rather than resent them. We must also understand the cardinal rule of politics: one must give a little to get a little. While we are sentient, thinking human beings that hold strong viewpoints and positions and vigorously defend them, we are above all, children of God. With the diversity of all our “diversities,” that is the bond we all have in common.

I am fortunate to use my professional abilities every day to help advance the ministry of a church that is part of my DNA. Everything I do in my work is first viewed through the prism of, “How does this reveal Jesus to others and further His kingdom on earth?” In many ways, I am still the outsider I was before I entered denominational employment.

Upon reflection, I guess I still don’t consider myself a “church guy.”

–Andre M. Wang serves as general counsel and PARL director for the North Pacific Union Conference. Email him at [email protected]

29 Sep

IMAGINE UNDOING RACISM

In

By Nathan Brown — I was in law school in the early 1990s at the time when one of Australia’s most landmark court case was decided. Taking its name from the already deceased Indigenous plaintiff who was seeking recognition of his pre-existing native title over the traditional lands of his people, the Mabo case saw most of the judges of the High Court of Australia reject the long-held doctrine of terra nullius—the assumption that the land now known as Australia had belonged to no one before European colonization. A legal fiction more than 200 years old had finally been undone.

As an upstart law student with all of a few months of legal education behind me, I wrote a paper critical of the High Court’s decision and their “unprecedented judicial activism” in overturning such an established legal doctrine. In 30 years of writing, it is one of the few pieces that I regret. Thankfully, no one read it beyond my long-suffering professor and the paper is now long lost in my academic history—but it represents attitudes that probably have had real-world applications at different points in my life.

Of course, there is an element of humor in reflecting on my precocious railing against the legal judgment of the highest court in the land, but there is also regret that I did not recognize and celebrate this ruling for the watershed moment it was for Indigenous Australians. And I am deeply disappointed that for all my years of Adventist upbringing, worship services, Bible studies, Sabbath schools and Pathfinder classes, I did not have a theology that would have helped me respond better to an issue such as this, even in the context of my studies but more so in how this might have been lived out. In further studies in more recent years—including a postgraduate degree in justice and theology—I have become increasingly convinced of the centrality and pervasiveness of racism in many of the issues of injustice in our world today, how deep-seated, and systemic the roots and realities of racism are, and that racism is primarily a theological issue.

This growing realization of racism as a theological issue brings two immediate and profound responses. The first is a sense of shame: for those of us with a Christian heritage and confession, this is a faith issue—and we have mostly not done it well, either historically or presently. The second is a sense of hope and imagination: theology is something we can work with and the best response to bad theology is better theology.

As commentators such as Ta-Nehisi Coates have pointed out, race is primarily an invention of racism. There is no biological or other scientific basis for identifying race, and the concept as we know it is largely a creation of our modern world. While the Bible describes rivalries between families, tribes, and peoples, these are more focused on cultures, languages, and gods than they are on any physical appearance. Fast-forwarding through history, the plays of Shakespeare offer a relatively more recent literary example in which different characters are portrayed, but “without explicit value judgment, political utility, or the sort of generalizing about a people group with which we are familiar today.”

The historical reality is that racism and race developed significantly in the 15th and 16th centuries as a theological rationale for the burgeoning European expansion, exploration, and colonization of the world. The physical differences of the inhabitants of the colonized lands became a practical short-hand for implementing a theological decree issue by Pope Nicholas V issued on June 18, 1452, which gave the king of Portugal permission “to invade, search out, capture, vanquish and subdue all Saracens and pagans whatsoever, and other enemies of Christ wheresoever placed”—meaning almost anyone non-European—“to reduce their persons to perpetual slavery” and “to convert them to his [and his successors’] use and profit.” Part of what is known as the Doctrine of Discovery, such belief was the theological basis for much of what has become the politics and economics of racism, as seen in slavery, discrimination, systemic disadvantage and disparity, and so much more in the centuries since. It was also the underlying belief of the terra nullius doctrine so recently rejected by Australia’s High Court.

Unfortunately, this innovation of late-medieval Christianity received less attention in the great reformation movements of following centuries and remains a largely unfinished, perhaps barely commenced, work of Christian reformation. So many in our world have suffered for it. Employing a second Latin term for this short article, we are called to semper reformanda—the heirs of the Reformation are always reforming. In the theology of race, there is much work yet to be done and it begins with better theology.

Our foundational understanding of what it means to be human is that all people are created in God’s image (see Genesis 1:27), loved (see John 3:16), and invited (see Revelation 14:6) by God. This ought to be particularly so in the context of the fellowship and work of the church: “Distinctions of race, culture, learning, and nationality, and differences between high and low, rich and poor, male and female, must not be divisive among us. We are all equal in Christ, who by one Spirit has bonded us into one fellowship with Him and with one another; we are to serve and be served without partiality or reservation.” But, as the concluding comment might suggest, this should also be our posture towards those in society around us.

Here there is yet more theological work to be done. The assumptions of 550 years of theological history are not easily untangled or undone. We have followed much of the dominant Christian world in reading the Bible as a white and Western text. We perpetuate the Doctrine of Discovery in our standard interpretations of Revelation 13, and we maintain a prophetic focus that ignores much of the world, its peoples and its history. We privilege music, language, and art from a European heritage as somehow holier than other cultural expressions. We have grown our missionary and evangelistic reach on the wings of American empire across the 20th century.

A better theology and better expressions of our theology will launch us into the world around us with more to contribute to the necessary theological and systemic work of un-doing racism. Perhaps this was hinted at in the words of then-General Conference president A G Daniells in summarizing part of the life work of Ellen White at her funeral in 1915: “Slavery, the caste system, unjust racial prejudices, the oppression of the poor, the neglect of the unfortunate—these all are set forth as unchristian and a serious menace to the well-being of the human race, and as evils which the church of Christ is appointed by her Lord to overthrow.” This is the language—and faith—of reformation and revolution.

I wish this was the understanding of faith that I was taught at Sabbath school, Pathfinders, and church when I was growing up. I wish this was the faith that I held when I stepped into law school almost 30 years ago, which would have seen me much better equipped to applaud and support the slow but significant progress in recognizing Australia’s Indigenous peoples at that time. But I also imagine the difference that such a better and growing understanding of our faith could have in the church today—and in our world that so needs to be changed.

–Nathan Brown is a writer and editor at Signs Publishing near Melbourne, Australia. His Christmas devotional book “Advent: Hearing the Good News in the Story of Jesus’ Birth” is great for seasonal reading and gifting. Email him at: [email protected]

Notes

  1. Ta-Nehisi Coates, “How Racism Invented Race in America,” The Atlantic, June 24, 2014.
  2. Ken Wytsma, The Myth of Equality: Uncovering the Roots of Injustice and Privilege, IVP, 2017, p. 33.
  3. Quoted by Mark Charles and Song-Chan Rah, Unsettling Truths: The Ongoing Dehumanizing Legacy of the Doctrine of Discovery, IVP, 2019, p. 15.
  4. Fundamental Beliefs of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, #14. Unity in the Body of Christ.
  5. Life Sketches of Ellen G White, p. 473.
29 Sep

What If?

In

By Tony Hunter — I want to ask you a bunch of questions. I’m going to just throw them out rapid fire, in whatever order they come. But I want you to do something for me. I want you to not react to them. I want you to observe whatever feelings you get, whatever reactionary thought that pops up, set it aside, and consider that reaction. I want you to honestly, and without falling back on Adventist cliché and someone else’s arguments, consider why you felt the way you did.

Then, having set your reactions aside, I want you to consider these questions again, but as if it were the first time you’ve ever thought about questions such as these. Look at them from new angles with a fresh perspective.

Here we go . . .

What if people mattered more than organizations?

What if we actually trusted God to change lives and dictate a person’s path or calling?

What if we didn’t use fear to control behavior, but instead used patience and love to encourage a person’s exploration of the divine?

What if we weren’t afraid that someone would make a choice different than our own? What if we could accept that two different, and maybe even opposing, choices from two different people could both be okay and healthy?

What if we didn’t measure our comfort by the differences between us and someone else?

What if someone else’s goodness and righteousness wasn’t measured by our own individual or organizational comfort levels?

What if we accepted that we don’t know everything, and in fact, know little more than nothing compared to what we think we know? What if it didn’t matter whether we proved someone wrong?

What if we treated everyone with the equality, we say we believe in? What if we backed it up in our organizational practice?

What if we let God be judge and jury and stopped taking those titles for ourselves?

What if love mattered?

What might we look like if any or all of those things were true? Individually? Organizationally? What might Adventism look like if any or all of that were true?

What would happen if we accepted any given context in life for what it is? What if we worked within that context, instead of trying to change every context we see to one that doesn’t exist anymore, for the sake of authoritative weakness and our personal comfort?

What could Adventism become if individually and organizationally we believed in, and were capable of, change?

What if we cared about God and people more than we do about Adventism?

That’s a lot of “ifs”.

I suspect that, on the first reading, some of you were offended. Maybe because you assumed you knew my intentions. Maybe it was because you assumed my beliefs. Maybe it was because you don’t like being questioned.

Or maybe because you didn’t like the implication of the honest reflection you gave yourself personally, and as it related to the organization that is the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

Some of you were likely excited. You read questions that echoed your own. You felt in my words the pain or the hope that exists in your soul as it relates to these things.

But I’m willing to bet good money (like a good Adventist), that, no matter which category you fall into, some . . . many . . . maybe even most . . . read those questions and, at some point, immediately thought of someone specifically, or some group of someones, who either represented those questions and you don’t like it or what they represent, or . . .

. . . you thought of someone who doesn’t represent those things, and you’d love it if they would read this, and then be there just to see them cringe.

If any of that described you, or you feel it described the organization, I have two things to say to you.

One, you’ve sort of illustrated the point.

Two, don’t feel bad. I fall into one of those categories, too. I’m not an exception. I’m just as big a part of this tension as anyone else because when I reflected on my own questions, my biases and resentments and anger slapped me in the face and I realized, again for the zillionth time that I’m not better than anyone else.

Me being a white male doesn’t make me better than anyone else. Me being an Adventist doesn’t make me better than anyone else. Me being educated doesn’t make me better than anyone else. Me being a chaplain doesn’t make me better than anyone else. In the grand view, I’m not smarter, more moral, more ethical, or more righteous, than anyone else.

I’m not more saved than anyone else.

What if we all accepted that is true for all of us, and then started over from there?

Would we be able to hear people and know them better? Would we be able to hear God and know Him better? And if we could do that, what else could we do and be?

What if Adventist leaders walked with people on their journeys, no matter how different and alien, and didn’t try to convince them they are wrong? If that person felt supported and loved and had room to grow and make mistakes and never felt condemned for any of it, who might they become? Where might God take them if we got out of God’s way?

What if Adventist leaders cared less about keeping their power and instead cared more about empowering everyone they know and meet? Would that person find belonging and love with people who might be very different? Might they find the freedom they need, and the support they require, to become the best versions of themselves as God designed?

What if we as Adventists, leaders or not, did those things?

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

29 Sep

WHY ARE WE SO WEIRD?

In

By Mark Johnson — A painted line ran down the middle of the sidewalk in the center of the school campus. “This line separates the boys’ side from the girls’ side,” our student guide explained. “The boys walk on that side of the sidewalk, and that is their side of the campus. The girls stay on this other side.”

Our family was visiting one of our Church’s boarding academies in the 1960s, looking at potential schools for my sister and me. “That has got to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” I thought to myself.

Unfortunately, it was not to remain so.

I didn’t attend that school, but over the next few years I attended four different Adventist academies and an Adventist college. Each of them had their own unique set of rules, customs and regulations. Based on those, it seemed to me that the main purpose of most Adventist schools was not necessarily to ensure a high level of education, but to safeguard their students from being “conformed to the world”, mainly by keeping the boys away from the girls* and by keeping all of them away from drugs, tobacco and alcohol.

The weirdest example of this I found at a boarding school for missionaries’ kids high in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas. They had a system of one-star, two-star and three-star social events. For a one-star event, you could invite the girl of your choice. As I recall, there were only two one-star events during the entire school year. For two-star events you could invite anyone except the girl of your choice (the faculty was occasionally fooled because it was difficult to know who was dating whom in such an atmosphere), and for a three-star event, you were either assigned a date, or you rotated, and spent time with each of the girls (except your girlfriend) during the event. It was really weird.

This archaic process made more sense when I learned that there had been several student pregnancies in the preceding years, but it still felt weird. It also highlights the notorious, but not unique, problem that Christians seem to have with sex. The unchurched love to gossip about the sexual exploits of prominent, fallen Christian clergymen and women, but research in neuroscience using functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (fMRI) may help to explain this apparent hypocrisy. It has identified an area in the brain that activates and rewards highly emotional experiences, whether they are induced by drugs, music, sex or religion. Thus, for someone whose religious life is highly emotional, the rewards they receive from their spiritual and sexual lives may be indistinguishable. This can be problematic in relationships.

As a child, it hadn’t taken long to learn that our Church was different. We worshipped on a different day than most others, we played Rook™ instead of poker, and we went to our own separate schools. Officially, we didn’t eat many of the foods others ate, we didn’t drink many of the things others drank, we didn’t dance, we didn’t smoke, and we frowned on the use of makeup and jewelry. To top it all off, we had our own somewhat iconoclastic female prophet.

By socially clustering together, we tended to camouflage our differences, at least from ourselves. We seemed to believe that isolation would provide insulation from temptations and from “outsiders.” This produced our own cultural hierarchy and status symbols. We had our own magazines and books. We had our own television shows, record labels and recording “stars.” We had our own food companies, making many food products that only weird people seemed to enjoy. We had our own youth groups. We had rather inward-looking church congregations and we “partied” with ourselves for Saturday night entertainment.

There were some among us, however, who stood out as being particularly odd. In the church of my youth, there was a family in which the mother and girls always wore long-sleeved blouses, with pants under their skirts and dresses. There was a couple who ate so much garlic that you needed to stand upwind, and, there were rail-thin “nuts and berries” folks who seemed to be constantly dyspeptic but smugly believed they would live forever. They had a special scowl of disapproval for the young people of the congregation.

There were also those folks who just looked and talked weird. They always included a, “happy Sabbath,” or a “thank the Lord,” even if you were talking about something as secular as football. They seemed happy, and were typically friendly, with a personality that some have called “Midwest nice”, but it appeared that their highest form of humor consisted of corny stories. They seemed to feel that using painful puns made them clever. Their personae often came across as being more pleasantly plastic than human. Unfortunately, many of our pastors fell into this category.

We actually took pride in being weird. We believed we had “the truth”, so what did we care what others thought of us? We memorized Bible verses that praised those who were “a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people.” We lustily sang about being pilgrims in a world that was not our home. We didn’t belong here with the worldlings, we were just passing through to our glorious reward. Unfortunately, it took me years to learn that being peculiar, in the biblical sense, meant having a special, or unique, relationship with God, not being weird. I also learned that this world apparently is our home, and will be so for eternity.

Perhaps at this point I should clarify a couple of things. By its very nature, this is a critical and judgmental article. Any critic opens themselves up to receiving criticism in return. This is one reason I have included a “we” in the title, not a “you.” I wholeheartedly include myself in the weird group being examined. The truth is that every group and tribe is weird in some way. That’s one reason they’re a separate group or tribe.

I have also discovered that it is very difficult to define “weird.” Psychologists have struggled with this as well. There seems to be some consensus, however, that you are weird if you are considerably socially awkward or inappropriate; if you are significantly non-conventional; if you don’t mix well with others; if you are really naïve; if you are inappropriately hyperactive or childish; or if you have truly odd beliefs compared to the norm. While the word may be difficult to define, I believe most of us “know it when we see it,” to use the phrase Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart coined when attempting to define pornography.

Whether or not you believe Ellen G. White was inspired, it is undeniable that she had an enormous influence on our Church and its culture. It is also true that some of her teachings regarding diet and fashion, among others, have caused us to be different from the rest of the world, and have increased our appearance of weirdness. But a summary of her thoughts on this topic reveals that she was actually quite open-minded.

She plainly states that by believing the Bible and obeying God’s commands we will be seen as being different (“singular”) from most other people. But she then tells us not to be weird about it. It is not our duty to be out of fashion. We should not be odd in our dress or diet just to be different. We shouldn’t be any weirder than we have to be to avoid sin and to honor God. In fact, it’s wrong to be different than others unless being different is required for us to do right. Being different just to be different is “positively detestable” and damages our influence with others. God doesn’t require us to have strange, odd doctrines and theories. “There is a medium position in these things. Oh, that we all might wisely find that position and keep it.”

When I imagine the Seventh-day Adventist Church of the future, I see a people who are different from most because they are true to the principles of the Bible and they shun sin. But they are not weird. At least they’re not any weirder than they have to be, or any weirder than most people are. Through wise counsel and example, they immunize their children against using harmful substances, unhealthy sexual relationships and other destructive practices, but they do so in ways that make good sense. They mix freely with others and are not socially awkward or inappropriate. When people think of Adventists they don’t focus on their odd behaviors, doctrines and theories, they don’t tremble at their view of the judgment, but they marvel at the love and compassion they show for others, based on a most loving picture of the character of God.

And they don’t use puns.

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

*At that time there was no consideration of LGBTQ relationships in our schools, although I am aware of several that occurred, and the boarding school model actually facilitated them.

29 Sep

COMMUNITY

In

By Becky De Oliveira — I have been involved in a number of Seventh-day Adventist congregations over the course of my life. Three stand out as particularly good—from my point of view. In trying to determine what I envision for the church of the future—the theme of this issue of Mountain Views—I’ve tried to consider what qualities those congregations had that made them good. I’m not naming names, but rather giving loose geographic locations and descriptions that might enable the careful observer to identify the congregation in question.

Kent, England

Nothing about this church initially recommended it. On my first visit, I considered it deeply weird. Located not far—but far enough—from London, in a ramshackle town, the building was junky. Many of the women wore hats. A few insisted on lace head coverings that looked like doilies when they prayed or stood up on the platform. The hymns were traditionally somber and accompanied by an anemic organ. But of the two churches and church plant my husband and I attended—he as an intern pastor partly responsible for their flourishing—this church was by far my favorite. Why? There was a great community of people who often spent time together. We’d gather at homes after church or during the week. One youngish couple often invited a homeless person to join us. We were a multicultural group made up of people native to Britain of all races, as well as those from various European nations and those originating in the West Indies or African. There was even the one American—me. One night a group of us were returning to one member’s home just as a burglar dashed off into the dark and we discovered the front panel to his door had been broken and things were missing from his house. We stood around while he phoned the police, comforting him, being there. When I hosted American Thanksgiving, the people from this church made up the bulk of the guest list.

Hertfordshire, England

This church had a reputation as a difficult place for a pastor, so naturally we ended up there just two months before our oldest son, now almost 22, was born. At first, predictably, I hated it. So many fights about flowers and carpet tiles and paint swatches and music style. But again—community. By the time we moved, we had two small children, and this church was a perfect environment. There were lots of young families, and, best of all, after church was over everyone gathered in a large multi-use hall for drinks and biscuits (cookies). All the kids ran around while the adults chatted. We took church trips to the beach, to a large nearby garden, to a forest. We were friends.

Michigan, USA

After sitting with friends one afternoon in Michigan and confessing that we had ceased to enjoy going to the huge local church in our area (too crowded to find a seat, few opportunities for interaction), we decided to start a new church service for all the people who were like us. Who knew how many there would be? It turned out to be hundreds, and our weekly service was soon packed—again, families with teenagers and kids—often families that had stopped attending anywhere else. We started serving an informal breakfast and the teenagers and young adults piled their plates high with whatever was on offer. At first, no one was even in charge of breakfast. People brought random offerings, as they might to a potluck, and the table was a delightful hodge-podge of homemade banana bread, boxes of chocolate covered Hostess donuts, string cheese, tiny orange juice bottles, granola bars—anything anyone wanted to contribute. We spilled outside onto the patio when the weather was good to talk after church was over. When it was cold, we made use of the large hallways, both upstairs and downstairs. When members were sick, the community banded around them, delivering meals, offering gifts, phone calls, taking up monetary collections.

Each of these congregations is an example of how church can be a family. That is what I would most like to see catch on to a greater extent in the future. I’m not sure it matters exactly how this is accomplished, and good congregations like these will likely look different in different areas. You will know them by the way they make you feel. Like you don’t ever want to leave. Like these are your people.

–Becky De Oliveira is a doctoral student at the University of Northern Colorado. Email her at [email protected]

29 Sep

IMAGINE TRANSFORMING

In

By Alexander Carpenter — The American artist Janine Antoni returns to her childhood home to create a work of performance art. Each day, to prepare, she practices walking on a tightrope. After about a week, she starts to get her balance. Actually, she says that it wasn’t that she was getting more balanced, but that she was getting more comfortable with being out of balance. She embraces the tension. Antoni says she wishes she could do that in her life. When she’s ready to perform her work, the artist strings a rope outside just a few inches above the horizon line that she grew up looking at where sky meets land. As she walks across, the rope dips, and for a second, she touches the horizon.

That’s imagination. The visual artist creates a fresh perspective by altering our usual patterns of seeing and thereby offers viewers a new understanding. That line between sky and land, we are reminded, is an illusion. Not a border—it’s boundless space.

I have a confession to make. I have never believed in balance. Growing up in Sabbath School and church, I didn’t like how a debate over something like faith and works would usually end with someone saying, “Well, you just need to be balanced.” I never understood what that meant as a practical matter. It seemed more like a platitude than a helpful step in the Christian life. Being balanced appears to be too perfect a picture of someone on Facebook or Instagram. It’s beautiful, but it’s just a half-second frozen moment on the teeter-totter of life. Hidden are the mundane minutes and days of drudgery. I have really never felt balanced. I careen through my self-care. I see no balance in our world. Now as I sit down to write about imagination, our current reality—smoke in the skies, storms on the land, illness everywhere—makes imagining a better future feel like a Sisyphean errand. Our world is out of balance. Tensions rise—just like the global temperature. Where’s the progress for today’s pilgrim?

Is there hope beyond the horizon? Tension exists in all the cares of this world. Churches, schools, jobs, family, governments—these institutions frame our existence, giving meaning to our lives, but also creating a lot of anxiety. Institutions represent profound connection and oppressive power. Our churches, schools, jobs, family and government are the machines that make our world work, but too often they are less than heavenly. Sometimes they seem to offer nothing beyond the borders of this world.

The artist invites us to re-imagine our realities in fresh ways, to find a new perspective. So does the Apostle Paul. He writes in Romans 12:2, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Sometimes people condemn culture as worldly, but the concept of the world is actually much more profound than that. The world is any structure of meaning that we humans inhabit. Without a miracle, our bodies cannot escape the world and institutions will always define us in some way, but when we imagine, our minds float free. As Paul writes, we avoid conforming to the world by mind renewal, by gaining a new perspective, thinking beyond the usual boundaries. To renew a mind, to adjust a viewpoint, requires imagination. One cannot see beyond the superficial by just reflecting common sense or conforming to a worldly institution. Our minds connect us to God and any institution that tries to shut down its power, must be transformed. I am part of many institutions that create more tension than balance. I am an Adventist and I have made a commitment that I will always be defined, in part, by its borders.

I imagine a future Adventism focused less on conforming and more on transforming. Not just converting, but changing ways of thinking, living, and making a living, learning, defining families, and reforming the way we use institutional power itself. The faithful exist in institutions but have higher values than mere institutional preservation. This is not a matter of balance; it’s intentional community building.

So was my Adventist identity. It’s rooted in Colorado, in part defined by a story my dear grandma, born in 1927, tells about her own grandma and mother.

“My mother, Irene, was born in 1898. Around 1901, when she was a baby in Aspen, Colorado, grandma attended an Adventist tent evangelistic meeting and accepted the teachings. Around this time, Mama contracted polio and the doctors in Aspen told Grandma that Irene would never walk again. But Grandma never gave up hope that her baby would be able to walk once again. She believed firmly in the power of prayer and so began earnestly praying and giving Mama hot and cold treatments and massaging her leg for hours each day. Later that summer, a camp meeting was being held in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, so Grandma took Irene and the ministers anointed Irene and prayed for her. They returned to Aspen and a few days later, Irene was able to get up and walk. The doctor in Aspen was astonished and had no explanation other than that a miracle had occurred. Mama’s right leg was always about an inch and a half shorter than the left leg and the right foot was deformed so she needed a shoe a size and a half smaller for that foot. She walked with a limp all her life but led an active farm life and was able to get around very well. This experience greatly strengthened Grandma and Mama’s faith, and both remained devout Adventists all their lives. These two women were the major religious figures in my life. We always had Bible study at home on Sabbath afternoon. In fact, I really learned to read from the Bible and developed a love for reading early. Mama always subscribed to the Little Friend and then in my teen years to the Youth’s Instructor. I did not make a personal commitment to the church until I was in nurse’s training when I attended a series of meetings and filled out a card indicating my desire to be baptized. But the card apparently fell through the cracks and no one contacted me, and I was too shy to call anyone. Mama encouraged me to be baptized and about a year after I got married, while I was teaching school in Proctor, Colorado, I was baptized at the nearby Sterling Seventh-day Adventist Church.”

As she shares this story, my grandma, now an active 94, is quick to also note that there is no proof for this miracle. And yet, it’s clear this generational narrative of spiritual meaning, like a faithful green cord, runs forward and back through the fabric of her faith. There is a powerful thread in this family story for her, of barely post-pioneer women who took care of each other—grandmother, mother, daughter (my grandmother) who have sewn together a familiar meaning beyond their time in this world.

I’ve heard miracle stories all my life, always verified by nameless physicians who cannot believe their eyes. But I see the reality of this narrative, not just because I love my grandmother. It’s a tightrope I walk leading past my home and family and every other institution that provides meaning for my life, including Adventism. The artist, and the apostle Paul, and this story of the faithful women in my family spark my imagination. Can we see beyond what we usually call reality? What comes when we embrace being out of balance?

Will there exist a future Adventism defined more by transforming than conforming? I do know that when I take a tension-filled step along that narrative cord of faith offered by my grandmother, I touch the horizon for a moment.

Emily Dickenson writes:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

Beyond the illusive borders that separate us, our imaginations give us hope—fletched and eternal—intentionally renewing our realities: personal, institutional, and always spiritual.

–Alexander Carpenter is the executive director/executive editor elect of SPECTRUM. Email him at [email protected]

29 Sep

2026

In

By Kiefer Dooley — You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. —Matthew 5:14

The church that I want to belong to in 2026 will not only be a warm, welcoming, and inclusive body of believers, but will also focus on the broader context of local community. The church that I want to belong to is a fresh expression of the Seventh-day Adventist movement that puts more emphasis on Jesus and less emphasis on being “SDA.” This church worries equally about creating holistic outreach opportunities through community partnerships as it does about creating Sabbath School lessons that will inform participants about the “straight and narrow.” Did I say equally? My church forms partnerships, meets needs, shows love, and offers truth. My church knows that the gateway to the straight and narrow is love.

This church might have all the normal, liturgic forms to which we are accustomed–music, a community prayer time, a sermon, a benediction, and a closing song. But it also might introduce snacks at the beginning of the service. Those snacks might grow to be a whole breakfast bar. That I wouldn’t mind.

Yes, the church of the future should definitely have a complete breakfast bar.

This church might also have all the “hip” church lingo, sleek marketing, fun church band, and a pastor who wears skinny jeans (or whatever the trend is in 2026).

Does all this matter—the breakfast bar and the marketing and the skinny jeans? Maybe yes; maybe no.

What really matters is that the church I will belong to will be comprised of a community of members who care deeply about three things:

  1. Their individual relationships with Jesus,
  2. The church community to which they belong,
  3. Sharing their excitement about items 1 and 2 with everyone else.

At my church in 2026, the people do not come to church on Saturdays to consume a service; they arrive to create a service.

There is a passion and excitement centered around the hard work of engaging community that fuels the creation of music sets and sermon series, outreach programs, Saturday morning jam sessions, Saturday afternoon Bible studies, and every-day ministry in the workplaces, classrooms, and non- profit community organizations all across town.

New arrivals in town hear about this church because, after all, it cannot be hidden. When church wraps up on Saturday afternoons, it’s not the end of the service but the beginning of it. From there, my church spreads throughout the entire community into schools, workplaces, gyms, auto shops and grocery stores. Where the people go, so does my church.

Saturday’s sermons usually prompt hearty conversation and sometimes spirited debate. Discussion takes place not to prove “right” or “wrong” but to seek understanding and continues through the lunch hour and often at the dinner table.

Members don’t ask my church to serve them better, to cater more fully to their desires, to put out a better breakfast bar or to wear skinnier jeans. My church understands that a community that only looks inward, seeking after its own selfish desires, and feasting on its own strife, loses its flavor and appeal. After all, “. . . if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet” (Matthew 5:13).

No, there is no inward focus in my church. Its members there are too focused on diligently creating a safe and healthy space for others that they lose track of their own preferences. A rotating group of community members share the responsibility for leading and directing the church from crafting sermon series to running sound or setting up the breakfast bar. At my church, genuine passion, generosity, and excitement about how Jesus meets our needs drives our desire to wholeheartedly meet the needs of others. We seek those needs and selflessly work to fill them.

My church in 2026 feels like it holds the center of gravity for its community, actively drawing in those around it, meeting needs, sharing the Gospel, inspiring action, and granting responsibility. Everyone knows and everyone cannot help but be, all in.

A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.

— Kiefer Dooley is RMC corporate treasurer for asset management. Until recently he was RMC youth ministry director. Email him at [email protected]

29 Sep

IN CONVERSATION: WE KNOW OUR ULTIMATE FUTURE

In

By Chelsea and Doug Inglish — Doug: Well, this could be interesting. It’s not the first time you and I have talked about issues in the church, but it has pretty much always been about the present or the near future. The question of what we imagine Adventism will be further down the road is a lot more speculative, and it is based on very little evidence.

Chelsea: True. It is impossible to predict the future, but I think a lot of people are wondering what the future of Adventism is, as we near the Second Coming.

D: Which brings up what ultimately every Adventist knows is our ultimate future–the Second Coming. But pretty much every generation thought it was so soon that speculation on our future was a waste of time. Naturally, I hope that today’s conversation will be made pointless by Jesus’ immediate return, but so far, we are still here.

C: I know you’ve been an Adventist your whole life. What kind of changes have you seen in the denomination over the years?

D: Fortunately, I don’t think those changes have primarily been doctrinal or theological, as in most denominations. There are exceptions, of course, such as our initial reluctance to accept the existence of the Holy Spirit and fringe elements still fight over that. Some would also argue that seismic shifts have occurred at one point or another, and the points of some matters may not necessarily be fully settled. There have also been attacks from time to time on settled points of doctrine, but things have been mostly stable in my view, although saying so will likely generate some letters with contrary opinions.

Instead, most of the changes within the church are cultural. When I was in boarding academy, wearing jeans to class was just not done. When I started pastoring, I could drop in on members unannounced. Now we laugh at the strictness of some of the dress codes but are much more careful about calling ahead.

Another big change is administrative styles. Churches and pastors have more input on pastoral changes. That’s just one example, but there is a far less authoritarian model at work in most places.

What about you? Notice any differences from the time you left college?

C: I’d say the fact that I am a woman in ministry is a big change, maybe not since college, but since my childhood. I never thought of women as pastors when I was a kid, because I didn’t see them, and yet here I am today with an entirely different outlook and deeper insight into issues of equality in the church because of my personal experience. I know this isn’t a doctrinal issue, but the division of opinion over it can make it seem so, at times.

D: I agree. There were women involved decades ago, but I appreciate that it is now common enough that it generates very little comment. In some ways, that has followed cultural trends of more women working outside the home since the end of WWII. When I was a kid, few women were doctors, and now that doesn’t seem even mildly curious. I believe ministry is becoming that way, and I appreciate the perspective that it brings to congregations and to the pastoral work force.

So, what are we saying? That most of the changes to Adventism in the future, like women in ministry and fewer neckties in church, are mostly cultural?

C: I think that the changes we see are mostly cultural, but as people of the Word, it is important for us to remain open to the Holy Spirit, should He guide us into further truth, as we continue to root ourselves in the Word.

D: I don’t see a coming change in beliefs, but I am aware that the Holy Spirit may lead us to further understanding our beliefs. “New Truth” is always being peddled, but I haven’t seen any in my lifetime that stood up to the scrutiny of the Bible or got a wide and sustained following. Nevertheless, we can’t close our minds to God presenting things that are as of yet hidden.

C: As far as cultural changes go, I think it is important for us to be able to distinguish culture from doctrine, so that we continue to be people in the world, adapting to changes that do not actually defy doctrine. I think we often struggle with this, holding onto the past culture as if it is doctrine, when it is simply tradition.

D: These are very good points. Of course, you are also getting into uncomfortable territory for a lot of people. There have always been, and still are, significant battles over whether a particular practice is doctrinal or merely cultural. I remember my elementary school teacher saying that when she was a little girl, the church was split over feathers in women’s hats! For some, that was a doctrinal matter. On the other hand, we can’t blithely say that everything is cultural, either.

But even in solid doctrinal matters, we must adapt to a changing environment. Fifty years ago, a public meeting in which truth was presented by a gifted evangelist standing in front of a crowd yielded results. Now there are diminishing returns with that approach. But in its place are new methods of outreach, mostly driven by technology, but not entirely. The way that people respond to any kind of information is changing, and I am glad to see the church exploring different options. I am convinced that those methodologies will continue to adapt to cultural changes while the truth we teach remains stable, but honestly, I can’t predict how.

C: I agree. Culture is like a language. We can translate the Bible into any and all languages in the world, but the message remains the same. I think it is important to be able to spread the message in the cultural language of today, and I believe we can do that without diluting the message. It may take some work, but it is well worth it, and it is what we are called to do.

D: Absolutely. I don’t believe for a second that the future of Adventism involves a change in beliefs or in mission. It does involve remaining sensitive to changing cultures and methods, but that has always been true. The leaders of the church in the past resisted pastors owning cars, doing radio evangelism, and producing their own television programs. Now we take all those things for granted, while other methods have had to be abandoned. Ingathering didn’t die, as some would argue, because members got lazy. It died because strangers knocking on your door became offensive to the culture. Staying in touch with a changing world is key to our future.

C: None of us can know exactly what the future of Adventism will look like any more than we can predict how our day will turn out when we wake up in the morning. But I do have hopes for the future of Adventism. I hope the future of Adventism involves a willingness to listen and learn in love. I hope it involves the courage to admit when we’ve been wrong and to grow when necessary. I hope it involves a strong commitment to loving people as Christ does, both within our culture and, in some cases, despite the culture around us. I see that happening right now, and I hope it will continue!

D: I see that as well, and having conversations with your generation, and with the generation that follows yours, solidifies that conviction. For all that we have in common, being related as we are, you and I are not only of different generations, but we are also different genders and involved in different parts of church work. But I have enough interactions on topics like this with teachers, young pastors, lay leaders, students, and others to know that the viewpoints we just shared are widely accepted.

C: Yes, we do have differences, but we also have some strong similarities of experience, such as growing up in the church and being employed by the church as pastors. It’s interesting to discuss topics like this, coming from our own points of view. I know it is easy for us to discuss because we are in the same family, but I hope that others in the church are also able to discuss topics like this, despite differences in perspectives. Open and loving communication, even of sensitive topics, is critical to a successful future for our denomination.

— Chelsea Inglish is youth pastor of Madison Campus Church, Madison, Tennessee, and daughter of Doug Inglish, RMC vice president of administration, Denver, Colorado. Email Chelsea at pastorchelsea@ madisoncampus.org; email him at [email protected]

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