Blog

20 Sep

Like the Velveteen Rabbit

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Like the Velveteen Rabbit

 

By Carol Bolden

Have you ever met a child (maybe your own) who pretends to be an animal—a lion, a zebra, or a giraffe? It’s typical behavior for children under five to engage in this imaginary play while they’re exploring what it’s like to be someone else, to feel something else. This “theory of mind” they’re working on is an exploration of the idea that other people have thoughts and those thoughts can be different from your thoughts.

While this stage is appropriate for a child under five, as we mature, we hopefully move on from that stage to become more authentic adults, able to relate in authentic ways without pretense.

When life’s disappointments and hurts flood us, it can be natural to hide, to put on masks or to do whatever it takes to protect ourselves from further hurt. While this is a natural response, it’s not a healthy one. Authenticity comes from recognizing our frailties, from seeing our weaknesses, knowing that God is working in us to prepare us for His kingdom—to will and to do of His good pleasure.

Consider it a truism, but for Adventists, it’s especially important to be authentic. How else can we relatemeaningfully with the world and communicate the vitally important truths we hold? How else can we have compassion for a world that hurts?

The authentic Adventist is willing to look at their life and let go of the inauthentic parts.

A healthy, authentic community of believers does life together, struggling with their own life issues and wrestling over truth, together. Their hearts are open and giving and the hurts they experience are recycled into the ability to show empathy for the hurting they meet on their path.

These authentic Adventists have been with the Author of authenticity, the One who knows them inside and out and loves them still. His love and compassion for them is the catalyst for their healing.

When Lot’s wife looked back at the burning city of Sodom, she was expressing her desire to hold on to her inauthentic ways. While we want to be the salt of the earth, becoming a pillar of salt accomplishes nothing. The authentic Adventist is willing to look at their life and let go of the inauthentic parts.

When the authentic Adventist fails, he/she is quick to confess, to talk it over with God, ask for forgiveness and surrender again to the One who heals. It’s the authentic Christian who carries with them God’s healing power. They know that many people desperately need the help only Jesus can give and that they could be for them the critical link to Jesus.

Like Rabbit in the book The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, when you’re loved enough, you become Real. When we allow God to love us in all aspects of our lives, that’s when we become Real. We become authentic. RMC

Carol Bolden until recently provided editorial support for the RMC communication department. Email her at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Parents Baptizing Children, Members Baptizing Friends

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Parents Baptizing Children, Members Baptizing Friends

 

By Andy Nash

In the winter of 2008, my wife Cindy and I studied the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation—from tree of life to tree of life—with our daughters. That summer I baptized our girls in the Jordan River.

I was not a pastor at the time. (My invitation to pastoral ministry came later that same year) I was simply an Adven- tist church member and an ordained elder. But I could find nothing in Scripture that prohibited me, as a disciple of Christ, from teaching and baptizing my own children. In fact, I’d found just the opposite. Prior to stepping into the Jordan River, we had visited the Galilean mountainside where Christ spoke these words to His followers: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach- ing them to obey everything I have commanded you . . .” (Matt. 28:18-20).

To whom did Christ speak these words? Ellen Write writes: “The Savior’s commission to the disciples included all the believers. It includes all believers in Christ to the end of time. It is a fatal mistake to suppose that the work of saving souls depends alone on the ordained minister. All to whom the heavenly inspiration has come are put in trust with the gospel. All who receive the life of Christ are or- dained to work for the salvation of their fellow men. For this work the church was established, and all who take upon themselves its sacred vows are thereby pledged to
be co-workers with Christ” (Desire of Ages, p. 822).

The gospel commission to teach and to baptize is for all believers. None of us would disagree that, as church members, we are called teach others. But what about the other half of the commission—the call to baptize?

Traditionally, in our church, only ministers have bap- tized. While we encourage members to teach a child or a friend, they typically do not baptize that child or friend. Only the minister can do that—regardless how well the min- ister knows the child or friend. (I remember a local Adven- tist church frantically calling nearby Adventist churches, requesting that a minister come and baptize a new believer that evening; their own minister had to be out of town. There was no thought of the local elders and members who had actually studied with the new believer also baptizing the new believer.)

Why is this? Why shouldn’t a church member, a disciple of Christ who has studied with a friend or child, be the one who baptizes the friend or child? How can I find the words to express the overwhelming joy and privilege I felt that day in the Jordan—baptizing my own girls? What difference might it make in the lives of our church members if they realized that they could—and should—baptize those closest to them? How might this elevate their sense of calling as priests in the high priesthood of Jesus Christ?

Why shouldn’t a church member, a disciple of Christ who has studied with a friend or child, be the one who baptizes the friend or child? How might this elevate their sense of calling as priests in the high priesthood of Jesus Christ?

But shouldn’t things be done in order—under the guidance and blessing of leadership? Of course they should. Church members should always work in concert with the pastors and the conference, receiving approval for baptism and training in how to do it.

Like the church member Philip simply baptizing the one he studied with (Acts 8:26-40), why shouldn’t our church members do the same? RMC

Andy Nash is senior pastor of LifeSource Adventist Fellowship in Denver, Colorado. Email him at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Poems

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Poems

 

By Vicky Blisserd-Carrick

Habakkuk

If my life holds no promise of fulfillment,
And my dreams are never realized,
Though earth’s remedies bring me no health
And my life’s cherished work comes to nothing.
If my home offers me no refreshment or rest
And I face old age all alone,
Still, I know You will be my source of gladness
And remembering Your grace and faithfulness
Will be my constant joy.

 

Across the Chasms…

Across
the Chasms
of my sins,
my companion throws the shadow of his cross.
His steady hand upon my shoulder makes
Of that slim,
Dark stripe
The Way
From where
I am . . . to
That place
as yet
unknown
where he
would have
me go.
Under the
burden
of that hand,
I find . . . that I . . . am strong,
And unafraid to walk the Narrow Way.

Vicky Blisserd-Carrick spent most of her life in the Willamette Valley, Oregon, before coming to Colorado. She is a graduate of Laurelwood Academy and Walla Walla College (now Walla Walla University). She and her husband Ron are members of the Grand Junction Seventh-day Adventist Church where she currently serves as head deaconess, and they host a small fellowship and study group in their home. She has four grown children scattered in Arkansas, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Montana. Email her at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Open Purses

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Open Purses

 

By Doug Inglish

Some things are almost guaranteed to stir up emotions and cause controversy. Very close to the top of the list (somewhere between politics and the Yankees/Red Sox rivalry) are money and religion, so this article is almost guaranteed to generate a reaction in some people. Nevertheless, you can’t travel the Road to Authentic Adventism with- out running right through the issue of stewardship.

Our church was founded by people who were absolutely convinced that Jesus was coming soon, and they had a mission to tell the world. Whatever else authentic Adventism embraces, and other articles in this issue will cover some of those things, you cannot remove either the Second Coming or our mission to proclaim this Gospel to the whole world from Adventism and still retain any level of authenticity. Some of the passion for those two points might have cooled; it’s hard to keep that level of intensity going for the better part of two centuries. But today we still believe in these twin concepts: His Kingdom is coming, and we do have a mission.

The authentic Adventists who founded the church responded to those realities with open purses. Understand- ing that earthly currency has zero value in the heavenly economy, they spent what they had on the mission like it was Monopoly money. Laying up treasure in heaven meant, in practical terms, getting the word out as far and as fast as possible by combining their means with heaven’s blessings.

Think about this: If, as authentic Adventists today, we believe that Jesus is coming, and further believe that our mis- sion is to tell the world and keep on telling until He arrives, then is it possible to have a logical response to those beliefs without a commitment to sacrificial giving for the cause?

No, it is not possible. If our founders had tried to spread the word without sacrificial giving, the mission never would have started. If we try to continue the mission without sacrificial giving, we’ll just end up spinning our wheels.

You may be forced to spend money on things you don’t like, but if you love something, it’s easy to shell out a little treasure on it. Authentic Adventists are focused on the kingdom, and they love the mission, so it naturally follows that they will support both.

But authentic Adventism isn’t just about being practical in our approach to giving, i.e., that without giving the work can’t continue. It’s far more personal than that. The only reason authentic Adventists care about Jesus returning to this earth is that they love Him and want to be with Him. Whatever practical reasons there are for giving pale when compared to giving out of a grateful heart. The more we know and love Him, the less the Monopoly money of earthly treasure means to us. It has its uses for sure, and we can’t get along without it. But sacrificing so more people can look forward to the day that we long for is of greater value than whatever we can accumulate during our short time here.

Authentic Adventism is and always has been focused on the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever time we have on earth is considered temporary, limited, and not worthy to be com- pared with the things that are in store for us. Paul admon- ishes us not to conform ourselves to the ways of the world (Romans 12:2), which is sensible advice when you truly be- lieve that this is not our home.

Our bodies may be present, but the heart of an authentic Adventist is in heaven. Not without reason, to be sure. Jesus calls on us to keep focused on the Kingdom when He says, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Luke 12:32–34).

Notice how He draws together the ideas of focusing on the Kingdom and using our means for the mission. He even tells us why these concepts are so intertwined. It’s because the heart and the treasure are inseparable. You may be forced to spend money on things you don’t like, but if you love something, it’s easy to shell out a little treasure on it. Authentic Adventists are focused on the Kingdom, and they love the mission, so it naturally follows that they will support both.

It’s not always easy to talk to people about religion or money. In my job, I can’t avoid either topic. But you know, if we stick to the bland topics, we’ll never learn anything from each other. So if I can leave you with one thought, it would be this: The Road to Authentic Adventism can only be traveled if your heart and your treasure are together in the Kingdom. RMC

Doug Inglish is RMC director of planned giving and trust services. Email him at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Masks

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Masks

 

By Shayne Mason Vincent

Over the years, I have become more compassionate toward pretentious people. I came to see that the bigger the mask, the darker the secrets of the night. Human beings are right to be skeptical. We live in a world overflowing with violated trust, judgements, and the kid who stole my entire matchbox-car-collection when I was eleven. Trust, in a turbulent world, seems so unreasonable. It’s much easier to simply maintain the mask.

Larry Crabb, in his book, Real Church, Does it Exist? Can I Find It?, said this about why we avoid authenticity:
“At all costs, I feel compelled to protect myself from ridicule, rejection, or revulsion.”

You see, the reason most of us choose facade over authenticity is simply because it’s lonely. Authenticity isn’t wanted in polite society. Conformity is king. And for those few seekers of truth who dare cross the boundary of propri- ety, the reward is typically rejection. It’s a price common- sense is loath to pay. It’s far easier to simply dance in the masquerade ball.

But God loves authenticity. We can’t just write people off because they’re exasperating; we’re even meant to love them. And just here is where popular Christianity seems to nearly always get it wrong. Sin isn’t just fornication and drunken- ness, those are secondary sins, coping mechanisms. Sin’s real impact is the lifeless, soul crushing drudgery of earning love through conformity. The illusions of value based in success.

So, if our spirit longs for more than dry bones, then we will have to confront ourselves with a very serious question: “Are we willing to accept the consequences of being true to ourselves? Are we really willing to pay the price of what could possibly be the loss of friends, church approval, career, or rejection from loved ones? Are we truly willing to plunge the blade right through our reputation in order to be truly alive?”

Ezekiel 37:4-6 (NLT) says, “Then He said to me, ‘Speak a prophetic message to these bones and say, ‘Dry bones, lis- ten to the word of the Lord! This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Look! I am going to put breath into you and make you live again! I will put flesh and muscles on you and cover you with skin. I will put breath into you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”

If we really do prize truth above all other things, then we will need to trust that Jesus will empower us when He ignites our bones. He knows on a deep personal level what it’s like to be rejected. When He loved those society hated, His repu- tation paid the price.

When He exposed fake religion, they murdered Him for it. Yet, in being true to His own calling, He brought a whole world of dead bones back to life! And His authenticity has stood as the very emblem of courage for the past two millennia. So, we have no reason to be afraid of standing out in the crowd, because Jesus will be right there with us in the furnace: Daniel 3:25 (NLT) says, “‘Look!’ he shouted. ‘I see four men, unbound, walking around in the fire, unharmed, and the fourth looks like a God.’”

We can’t just write people off because they’re exasperating; we’re even meant to love them.

In abandoning the mask, in refusing to bow the knee before the golden image of approval, the rewards we will find will be worth far more than the losses. What we lose are fake friendships, and formal platitudes. And what we gain are real love, authentic fellowship, and deep spiritual growth. Fear is replaced with peace. Dry bones come back to life. Broken trust is healed. And we are no longer alone. And in this place of Spirit-filled honesty, it is then that God enfolds His wounded children under the shadow of His wing.

Authenticity has restored the circle of unending love through grace. RMC

Shayne Mason Vincent is lead pastor of the Casper Wyoming District. Email him at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Defend the Tradition

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Defend the Tradition

 

By Jessyka Dooley

Every good business, church, school, etc., will have some kind of vision and mission statement they cling to as their compass for their journey forward and as a metric of success. In the Rocky Mountain Conference Youth Department, our vision is for every kid, teenager, and young adult to “Live the greatest story.” We dream of making that vision a reality by working diligently on our mission to “Make it easy for kids to know God.”

Maybe you’re beginning to think of your company’s vision and mission, or maybe you personally have your very own “motto” that you live by. Normally, I love a good mantra, but recently I read one that made me throw up in my mouth a little. As we were driving through a neighbor- hood, I saw a beautiful school building. On the front of the school carved in stone read, “Douglas High School: Defend the Tradition.” Once my nausea subsided, I turned to tell my husband, Kiefer, about this school and promptly spat out, “Man, it would be terrible to have to attend that high school.”

I love traditions, and I bet you do as well. My family has a handful of incredibly special traditions during Christ- mas time. One of our traditions is to cut off a slice from the bottom of our Christmas tree and write the year on it. Each year we lay out all the past years and add the new one. Traditions make things extra special. But I cringe when I hear the word “defend” in front of “tradition.” Why? Because I feel like it elevates the tradition itself over the culture the tradition creates.

Looking back on history we see many beautiful traditions and many harmful ones. I, for one, am thankful we have blotted out many traditions which have caused other human beings harm and, in many instances, death.

In his article, published in the Human Rights Watch 2013, “The Trouble with Tradition: When ‘Values’ Trample over Rights,” Graeme Reid points out the flaw with the idea of defending traditions. He states, “In countries around the world, Human Rights Watch has documented how discriminatory elements of traditions and customs have impeded, rather than enhanced, people’s social, political, civil, cultural, and economic rights.”

The idea of tradition in itself is neither right nor wrong, but it is what we make it, and so many times, we become
so glued to traditions that they become our idols, our gods.

Let me point out that it would be easy to begin ragging on the church and how we place tradition over love, creativ- ity, and our communities, but I want to take it a step deeper. You see, it’s too easy to find the flaws on the bigger scale, such as in religion and government. It’s more difficult to look in the mirror and see how each of us places tradition over people and the greater good.

We not only expect but also demand that our pastors and leaders pull us through troubling times. That they fix the wrongs of our church’s or country’s traditions that no longer fit for real time. We challenge our communities to be authentic, real, and vulnerable, but are we all those things ourselves?

If we genuinely believe that the character of God was fully and perfectly revealed through Jesus, then we cannot ignore the very obvious idea that our God is for others.

I honestly have no clue what it would be like to walk through the doors of Douglas High School. I don’t know what it looks like for the faculty, staff, and students to “defend the tradition.” I don’t even know what their “tradition” is. What I can tell you is that the Jesus I read about in the Bible defends people first and traditions last. He is constantly in conflict with leaders in the church who adamantly “defend the tradition.” If we genuinely believe that the character of God was fully and perfectly revealed through Jesus, then we cannot ignore the very obvious idea that our God is for others.

As I think of traditions, ideas, beliefs, and values that I hold near and dear to my heart, I’ve felt the need to hold them up against the question, “Does this tradition, value, belief, [you fill in the blank], bring someone else harm, or does it bring life, joy and peace?”

Authentic Christians, genuine followers of Jesus, will always, first and foremost, be defenders of the people. RMC

Jessyka Dooley is RMC assistant youth ministries director. Email her at [email protected]

20 Sep

Step Away From The Authenticity

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Step Away From The Authenticity

 

By Becky De Oliveira

I‘ve done graphic design, including hundreds—perhaps thousands—of assignments for Seventh-day Adventist institutions and organizations, for more than two decades. My experience leads me to conclude that the authenticity problem in the Adventist church can be summed up in one word: earrings.

Try to guess how many times I’ve removed earrings from a photo using Photoshop. Let me put it this way: If I just had a dime for every time I’d be—in the words of country singer Maren Morris—“sitting on a big [mild expletive] pile of dimes.”

Not only have I removed earrings (and necklaces and bracelets and nose rings and lip rings and eyebrow rings and finger rings) from stock photos of models who are not personally known to anyone in the church, but I have had to erase them from pictures of people who actually go to church every week wearing these items. Everyone can see that they are wearing them. So who are we trying to fool? And how must the photographed person feel when they see their edited photo? They certainly would be aware that their earrings and other “adornments” have been removed. What does this communicate exactly? It doesn’t seem to say, “Come as you are.”

When I was editor of a publication called LIFE.info, designed to be a Christian lifestyle magazine with topics that most anyone might relate to, I once had to write a letter of apology to the entire Adventist Church in Scotland. If memory serves me correctly, it was because I’d accidentally neglected to edit out the advice of our non- Adventist nutrition writer who had suggested that white meat, such as chicken, was a healthy option, and that alcohol should be consumed “in moderation.” I’m well aware of the official Adventist stance on meat and alcohol—but these pieces of advice were in line with what most nutritionists would recommend. And this kind of “editing” seems to neglect the fact that many Adventists are meat eaters. Some of them drink and wear earrings. Adventists view pornography. They get divorced. They shout at one another in the car on the way to church. They take drugs and abuse children and beat their wives. Some of them sing along to rock/rap/ country/hip-hop songs with objectionable lyrics. Not all of them do all of these things, but some of them do some of these things, at least some of the time. But we can’t have people thinking we’re falling short of the standards, even if these standards (not wearing earrings) are not standards anyone else would even recognize as indicative of holiness. My brother and I, as adults, have often commented that the central oddest feature of our upbringing in Adventist churches and schools was the utter lack of perspective. Is drinking coffee really just as sinful as embezzling from your employer? We were taught—mostly implicitly—that all sins are equal. No wonder Adventists have trouble with authenticity. What a burden to carry.

Who, Me?

I can’t quite figure it out. The church leaders—usually communications professionals—who have asked me to remove jewellery from photos are always sheepish and apologetic about it. They don’t care about the jewellery. But nor do they feel like fielding endless rabid phone calls from the faithful. (Dear reader, that may well be you.) I’ve also sat in hundreds of Sabbath School classes where we’ve discussed these sorts of issues and everyone agrees that we should lay them to rest, that people should be accepted without reservation no matter what they happen to be wearing. At least half the women in any given group are themselves wearing earrings and rings and necklaces and bracelets. Many have tattoos or nose rings—or both. Admittedly, the churches I have generally attended are not on the more conservative end of the spectrum—and I certainly sympathize with people who make the personal choice not to wear jewellery. I know many Adventists still make that choice, but it seems that most people favor extending grace toward others and allowing them to be as they are— at least in matters that can be designated as “style over substance.” We all talk about living love and modelling Christ’s  character in accepting people and allowing them to grow. So who exactly are all the people—these teaming swarms—who freak out when they see a photograph of a woman wearing earrings and promptly get on the horn to complain? I’m not sure anyone will admit to being such a person. I’ll wager that at the average church, if you asked for a show of hands, not a single hand would appear. Who is doing all this intimidating of soft targets, mostly church employees and young women?

I am a researcher and a topic I’d love to study is the phenomenon of individuals issuing anonymous death threats—often for surprisingly trivial reasons. When British comedian Sue Perkins was named as a possible replacement for Jeremy Clarkson as Top Gear host, she received dozens of death threats, including one in which the individual indicated he’d like her to burn to death.

We say we want “authenticity” but what we really want is conformity.

This is just an example of the kind of thing that passes for discourse these days. But here’s the most important thing: No one readily admits to issuing death threats. No one brags about it on Facebook. Statistically speaking, given the number of death threats that occur each year (when Obama was president, there were apparently 30 threats per day against him alone), you or I must know people who issue death threats. Unless, of course, they are all done by a 400-pound guy sitting on his bed in New Jersey.

It would follow that we must also know the people making enraged calls about earrings. They are among us, perhaps talking about how much they value authenticity.

Do We Really Want Authenticity?

Malcolm Gladwell talks about how consumers say they want one thing while really wanting another. He uses coffee as an example, saying, “If I asked all of you what you want in a coffee . . . every one of you would say I want a dark, rich, hearty roast. What percentage of you actually like a dark, rich, hearty roast? . . . somewhere between 25 and 27 percent of you. Most of you like milky, weak coffee . . . . But you will never, ever say to someone who asks you what you want that I want a milky, weak coffee.”

I wonder sometimes if we are the same—we say we want “authenticity” but what we really want is conformity. I had a client once for several years who always insisted she wanted a really “edgy” design but she always chose something traditional, usually based around a navy blue color scheme.

There are many reasons we struggle with authenticity— like all people do. There is the continual sway of social media and the need to impress other people, for instance. But I don’t think we can discount the possibility that we don’t really want it or encourage it. Perhaps one reason authenticity is so hard to come by in our churches is that there is a sizeable if somewhat hidden population that is uncomfortable allowing people to exist simply as they are without kicking back. I don’t know that death threats are commonplace in our churches, but other kinds of intimida- tion are, even if these are subtle and pitched as “concern.”

We have a great deal to gain from being ourselves and accepting others as themselves (baring, of course, violent, abusive, or criminal behavior). I have to believe that God created us each for a reason and that existing fully as the people He made us to be, rather than weak copies of a sup- posed ideal, is part of what we are here to do. The strength of our individual characters is what allows us to do great things in the name of God, not merely abstain from sins or behaviors that might be frowned upon by our communities.

If we are to have faith communities that truly exist in authenticity, we have to really mean it when we say we want our “coffee” dark, rich, and hearty. (Note: When I say “dark coffee,” I mean “authenticity.” It’s a metaphor.) Perhaps it is an acquired taste, one that we must begin learning to appreciate now. The Bible indicates that this is what God wants from us—honesty: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (1 John 1:8, ESV). Being authentic means accepting our own imper- fections along with those of others; it means cultivating a culture where authenticity is actually encouraged. RMC

Becky De Oliveira is a doctoral student in research methods at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley. Email her at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Decisions, Decisions…

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Decisions, Decisions…

 

By Joshua De Oliveria

My first year of college felt like an expansive test of my willpower. Within the first few weeks of school, I had to strap a backpack to an asphyxiating friend who had been carried to my room at two o’clock in the morning after having con- sumed too much alcohol. Only a couple of weeks later, some dorm mates and I would stay up with a friend well into the night as he made incoherent and rambling conversation, a trashcan between his legs and vomit all over his clothes, sheets, and the rug at his feet. He would later laugh at all the stupid things he’d said that night and thank us repeatedly for not hospitalizing him.

Over the past year, many people have asked me to explain why I’m teetotal. The answer could be simple—albeit reductive: I could just say, “I’m an Adventist, and Adventists don’t drink,” and leave it at that. But I find that, for me, the answer is a lot more complicated than that.

I grew up in the church, the son of a pastor, and I was surrounded by Adventists during my childhood in Berrien Springs. Even after leaving the Adventist school system for the local public middle school, most of my closest friends were Adventist. For that reason, alcohol was not of any cultural im- portance to me. As sheltered as it might sound, discovering that any adult I knew at the time drank would have truly shocked me.

Despite a drastic demographic shift in my friend group and wider community when I moved to Colorado and began attending Boulder High School, the sway of alcohol was not all that great. I knew plenty of kids who drank, along with a pot dealer I bunked with while in Italy, but my core friend group was ultimately uninterested in boozing. And, I think, because they weren’t interested, I wasn’t interested. While I can attribute a good deal of my lasting sobriety to my straight- edge, rule-following, risk-avoidant personality, I can also easily state that I am not a person of above average willpower—I could have easily begun drinking and it wouldn’t have particularly mattered that it was “not Adventist” to do so, simply because I had no real reason to believe that it was a destructive behavior. I hadn’t seen enough of it to know.

My first year of college felt like an expansive test of my willpower.

When I eventually arrived at university, the sheer pace of the drinking culture came as a shock. I initially balked because alcohol had always felt foreign. Also, I was—and continue to be—afraid of the police and of breaking the law, and I felt completely out of my element. I didn’t refuse be- cause I was Adventist, although I would certainly argue that my Church-supplied estrangement from the wider drinking culture for much of my life contributed to my initial refusal.

However, when things slowed down and there seemed to be less vomit in the bathroom stalls and fewer hospital visits, I had to seriously consider why I had chosen to be teetotal. I came to the somewhat uneasy—and not particularly glamorous, spiritual, or pious—conclusion that the reason I don’t drink is a whole combination of different influences. I can’t easily say that I’m a “grade A” Adventist who follows all the rules perfectly and that’s why I don’t drink, because I’m not perfect and a lot of the time being perfect isn’t even my fore- most concern. But I can say that growing up with Adventism and all its unique cultural appendages has given me the power to step back and think about what I value and determine what I really want out of my life.

My first year of college was a steep learning curve, in ways I never anticipated. But that same first year also gave me the opportunity to make some concrete choices in my life, to finally stop drifting through indecision. Because I have come to the conclusion that I don’t want alcohol to be a part of my life, I own that decision. It is mine. But no matter what, I can’t dismantle my understanding that without Adventism in my life, I might not have even thought of sobriety as a decision for me to make. For that reason, I’m thankful to my faith community for giving me the space to ask questions and come to my own conclusions. RMC

Joshua De Oliveira is a sophomore at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana, where he studies environmental earth science.

20 Sep

Faking Authenticity: The Trouble With Laodicea

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Faking Authenticity: The Trouble with Laodicea

 

By Dany Hernandez

The older I get, the less I know. I’m learning to live with this tension in my life. I don’t like it, but I have to embrace the fact that I’ve been wrong many times in my life, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be wrong many more times. But this is not about right or wrong. This is about not pretending. This is about being comfortable enough with who I am, with who we are as a church to maybe admit we’re flawed. This is about looking at ourselves in the mirror and admitting there are times when we might be wrong and owning it. Some of you reading this will agree with the previous statement, while others of you will push back, perhaps with some anger and resentment at me for suggesting such a thing.

Let me ask you not to take this personally, or as an attack on our dear church. After all, we all want something better, more effective, and more world-changing from our congregations around the globe. But there’s a problem from my perspective.

We’re really not that real.

In 1991, Canon USA came out with an ad campaign featuring an up and coming professional tennis player named Andre Agassi. Flashing his outlandish outfits and bleached long hair, he would remove his sunglasses, stare into the camera and proclaim, “Image is everything!”

That same year I began pastoring my first church in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. On Friday nights, we would hang out at the beach and provide food and basic necessities to a group of homeless individuals. The following morning, we would pick up any who wanted to attend church and take them to spend the day with us. Soon there was some rum- bling among our dear church members.

“Pastor,” they said, “do you know some of them are going outside to our parking lot and smoking before the church service? What will our neighbors think?”

I became keenly aware that for a lot of us, image is everything. And, because image is so important, we created a culture where pretending is better than truth, and image more valued than reality. Why do small groups have such
a challenge becoming part of the culture in our Adventist churches? Because a small group requires vulnerability, honesty, and authenticity. Reader’s Digest recounts the story of a bishop who had just had a cup of tea with a parishioner and commented, “I’m glad to see in what a comfortable way you are living.” The churchgoer replied, “Oh, bishop, if you want to know how we really live, you need to come when you’re not here.”

Can We Be Trusted?

One Thousand Gifts author Ann Voskamp recently posted on her blog: “I have felt it—how no one wants anything of anyone but to be honest and real and to trust enough to take off the mask.”

Here’s part of the challenge. To you, these examples might not seem like a big deal, but to me they speak of the lack of authenticity we sometimes display to others. How many times do we plan a cooking school for our community as a means of getting “names” and getting them comfortable with the church before we invite them to an evangelistic meeting? We’ve talked ourselves into believing we are really doing it to help our neighbors live healthier lives and be- cause we love them enough to want them in heaven. And what’s wrong with that? Maybe nothing—but maybe every- thing. How many times do we launch a series of meetings in a conference room of a hotel and keep the fact we’re Adventists hidden as long as possible before the big reveal? Think about it . . . we call it strategy. Let’s not tell them we’re Adventists until Week 4.

We’re really not that real.

We gather and pray that God will impress the minds of the people who have been attending the meeting for three weeks as we finally tell them the truth about who we are. We’ve grown up in a culture where we’ve normalized a lack of transparency. So many times, we pretend not to be something in order to lead people to become the thing we’re pretending not to be.

And one of my favorites—friendship evangelism. Really? Why don’t we just stop at “friendship?” You know why? Because we really don’t know how to do something without strings attached. Because no matter how great your inten- tions, if you’re not honest about who you are and what your motives are, then you are no better than a used car salesman detailing the outside of a car while rust eats the vehicle away from the inside. At some point, you’ll realize that what you purchased, what you bought into, is not really what was presented.

Would it be so wrong to become friends just to be friends? Would it be so horrible to help people live healthier lives so they can be healthier? But what about the Great Commission? We’ve bought into the idea that God needs our assistance by not being transparent and authentic in our motives. We believe that only with better strategy and slick marketing can God work in the hearts of people. How arrogant of us. How about we love people because they deserve to be loved?

One of the most impactful things that theologian John Stott ever said was this: “When our good deeds are moti- vated by evangelism, our philanthropy reeks of hypocrisy.” So, on the one hand we say, “We care about you” but the ultimate message is, “But only if you become one of us.” How many people did Jesus feed, heal, and comfort who never became His followers? We have no clue, and I suggest that Jesus didn’t keep track either. The good things from Jesus extended from a heart of compassion, not from a desire to convert individuals to a specific belief system.

Be Cold, or Be Hot

What if the message to Laodicea is a call to authenticity? Maybe it’s the same message Amos preached centuries before: “I’m tired of your fundraising schemes and your fancy mission and vision statements. I’m tired of your songs and sacrifices. . . . You know what I want? You know what I really want?” says the Lord. I want oceans of justice and rivers of righteousness.” Maybe the message to us is, “Quit faking it. . . . Be cold, or be hot, just don’t pretend. Don’t play it safe. Be truthful about your motives, be honest about your struggles, be real about your doubts.” Because there’s nothing more offensive than pretending, nothing worse than a lack of authenticity.

The transparency and authenticity of Paul is honestly quite refreshing in a Christian and/or secular culture that longs to elevate its own voice and brand to position ourselves for success. When was the last time you heard from an “expert” or pastor these words: “I came to you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling” (1 Corinthians 2:3)? Imagine your pastor standing in front of your congregation and stating those words. Think of the words of King Jehoshaphat when he said, “I don’t know what to do.” What made him a great and humble king perhaps is summarized in those few words. Yet this very sentiment is what our hearts long for and, in fact, what secular culture longs for: authenticity.

The good things from Jesus extended from a heart of compassion, not from a desire to convert individuals to a specific belief system.

The Apostle Paul summarizes the biblically authentic life we all need to model.

“Not that I have already reached the goal or am already perfect, but I make every effort to take hold of it because I also have been taken hold of by Christ Jesus. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and reaching for- ward to what is ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize prom- ised by God’s heavenly call in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:12).

Go and live authentic, imperfect, messy lives before a broken, imperfect, and messy world so that others may see Jesus redeem and transform you into His image. RMC

Dany Hernandez is lead chaplain at Littleton Adventist Hospital. Email him at: [email protected]

20 Sep

Inevitable or Prophetic?

In

Mountain Views, Fall 2019

Inevitable or Prophetic?

 

By Nathan Brown

Over the past few years, I have been intrigued by a series of conversations with my friend Dr. Lisa Clark Diller, professor of history at Southern Adventist University, in which she has explained to me that one of her key tasks with her students is to shift them away from seeing either historical events or the present as somehow inevitable. After one of these conversations, I invited Lisa to contribute a chapter to a book project I was working on at the time. The chapter she wrote included the following summary:

“The job of the Christian historian is to help us be more creative in seeing how many choices there have been in the past and, by implication, how many there still are today. So when we try to understand the past, we are expanding our imagination. Things did not have to be as they are. Recognizing this can cause us to change how we act now and create new possibilities for the future. This is what the biblical prophets did. While they predicted outcomes based on current actions, they were always begging people to behave differently so that they could have a different result.”1 

It is part of our human psyche to tend to think that the way things are is the way things ought to be, even when it isn’t. We too easily come to understand our experiences as expected and natural. And the inevitability of the status quo is also urged on us by the loud and collective voice of the powerful interests that benefit most from the way things are in our societies.

The realities of the world around us are not inevitable, nor are they unchangeable, as overwhelming, intransigent, or gloomy as they might seem.

But the assumed inevitability of our past, present and future is something that perhaps we as Adventists need particularly to guard against. While we might see the hand of God guiding in key historical events, we also insist on free will. None of us—whether kings or queens, bishops or pawns—is merely a piece on some kind of cosmic chess-board. We cannot proclaim freedom to choose at the same time as assuming the inevitability of the status quo or that the history of the future has already somehow been written.

The realities of the world around us are not inevitable, nor are they unchangeable, as overwhelming, intransigent, or gloomy as they might sometimes seem. Whether in the words of the Bible or those who echo its vision in so many ways, prophetic voices are those that urge hope-fueled alternatives to the way things are, and better futures than the assumed continuities or extrapolations of those present realities.

Comparing the liberal disregard of God in their politics of justice and compassion, theologian Walter Brueggemann describes the “tendency in other quarters to care intensely about God, but uncritically, so that the God of well-being and good order is not understood to be precisely the source of social oppression. Indeed, a case can be made that un- prophetic conservatives did not take God seriously enough to see that our discernment of God has remarkable sociological implications.”2

It has been observed many times that the winners most often write the history. This is one of the ways by which the powerful tend to defend the status quo. But too often they also influence the dominant theology. Without great care and much prayer, theology too easily morphs into—or is co-opted toward—a justification of the world as it is and the inevitability of the divide between the poor and the powerful, with their many injustices and outrages.

The faithful and prophetic voices reject these assump- tions of inevitability. Our vision of God and His kingdom always offers an alternative reality. Neither our ultimate confidence nor our greatest fears are invested in the powerful, the political or economic structures, or the status quo that our society urges us to accept (see Psalms 146:3).

The actions of God as we see them recorded in history have not been inevitable, rather they have always been dis- ruptive, counterintuitive, and a real threat to those in power: “His mighty arm has done tremendous things! He has scat- tered the proud and haughty ones. He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble” (Luke 1:51, 52, NLT). Observing God’s revolutionary acts should give us pause. It is sobering to hear the voices of the prophets and recognize the ways in which we might be on the receiv- ing end of their warnings and rebukes—simply read any of the Hebrew prophets, without assuming we are the “good” people in the story. While we are tempted to applaud as the prophet critiques those we don’t agree with or don’t like, the louder we applaud, the sooner the prophet’s focus will turn on us.

But the rejection of inevitability also frees our imagina- tion. The world did not and does not have to be as it is. Guided by the glimpses we see of God in the Bible and in our world, we can imagine societies shaped by Sabbath economics and the redistributive principles of jubilee, for example. We might imagine what it would mean to reclaim our roles as gardeners and stewards of Creation. We can see a shopping mall, airport lounge, detention center, or even a church as filled with people, each one of whom is created and loved by God, meaning that these are places filled with the love of God.

We will be people who begin to hear the voices and the stories of those whose voices and stories are not usually heard. Joining with God, our preference will be always “for the least of these” (see Matthew 25:40), giving ear and ampli- fication to the “weakest reed” and the “flickering candle” (see Matthew 12:20). We honor the humble and welcome the stranger, seeking justice and creating beauty in both obvious and unlikely ways and places.

We will be people who begin to hear the voices and the stories of those whose voices and stories are not usually heard.

In all of this, we join with God in His mission of disrup- tion and rejection of the inevitable. And we do this not in di- minishing or disregarding the faith we claim, but precisely because of our faith and its distinctive insights: “What is des- perately needed are people who speak distinctively and mov- ingly from within Adventism to the larger community; voices who, from the core of Adventist particularity, express a uni- versal message for our time; people who allow the power of the gospel to challenge those who oppress the vulnerable.”3

Our discernment of God must have “remarkable socio- logical implications.” It is universal and personal. It urges our freedom to choose—and insists that we choose well. It seeks to reshape societies and remodel economies, to rebuild communities and renovate lives. It demands the best of our human imagination, creativity and problem-solving. It requires effort and energy.

It culminates in the ultimate disruption and discontinuity of the Second Coming. But, because of this hope, it begins today—in ourselves, our churches and our communities— whenever we choose love over fear, courage over safety, generosity over consumerism, humanity over tribalism and nationalism, thoughtfulness over assumptions, welcome over prejudice, others over ourselves, the prophetic over the inevitable. RMC

Nathan Brown is a writer and editor at Signs Publishing in Warburton, Victoria, Australia. His book For the Least of These was recently published as a companion to the Sabbath School Bible Study Guide, Third Quarter 2019. Email him at: [email protected]

References

1. Lisa Clark Diller, “My Historical–Prophetic Imagination” in Nathan Brown and Joanna Darby (editors), Manifest: Our Call to Faithful Creativity, Signs Publishing, 2013, p. 168. 2. Walter Brueggemann,
The Prophetic Imagination (Second Edition), Fortress Press, 2001, p. 8.
3. Charles Scriven, quoted in Zdravko Plantak, The Silent Church: Human Rights and Adventist Social Ethics, MacMillan Press, 1998, p. 135.

1 … 209 210 211 212 213 … 240