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By Becky De Oliveira

This article serves as a shout-out to Boulder Adventist Church—in my opinion a very welcoming if not the most welcoming church in the Rocky Mountain Conference. Since I’ve visited only a couple others, I can’t very well proclaim it the most welcoming—but it is by far the most welcoming of those I’ve visited. (The others have generally seemed to find my presence as an unknown stranger suspicious for some reason.)

I moved here with my family in 2014 and Boulder was only my children’s third church. As a pastoral family, we haven’t moved around as much as some do and even when my husband has changed jobs (church to conference, for in- stance) we’ve been able to stay in our house and community.

I was nervous about moving out here from Andrews University where my kids and I flew safely under the radar. Japhet wasn’t “the pastor;” he was the chaplain. There is a slight but significant distinction and I knew I’d had it easy for a long time. At Boulder we would live in a fishbowl, under a microscope, the beneficiaries of continued scrutiny, so I was told. I remembered it from England, the way people would pay attention to my clothes, to the way I handled my children. The massive ace I carried in my pocket in the UK was my status as a foreigner; because I was American the judgement fell less harshly. People made allowances for whatever I did, kindly assuming cultural differences or pure ignorance At Boulder I knew I would receive no such free pass. “Ugh,” I said to myself when I thought about it.

We arrived on a Wednesday as did a pair of Australian houseguests who politely stepped over the clutter of un- packed or semi-unpacked boxes as they used our parsonage as a base for travel around greater Denver. Our oldest son started high school the very next day.

There were flowers on the porch when we arrived with a short note welcoming us. (Japhet had already been living in the area for more than eight months, staying with a generous couple who provided him a room and sense of family.) Maybe the flowers don’t sound like a huge deal, perhaps many churches extend gestures like this. But none we’d ever encountered. The flowers were only the beginning. In the five years Japhet served as Boulder Adventist Church pastor, a role he only left this past summer, church members went far above and beyond the call of duty to make us feel loved and welcome. Birthday and Christmas gifts. Lunches and dinners out. Excursions across the state to experience more of our new home. An anonymous donor provided our youngest son with an intensive educational experience that made a huge difference to his learning and confidence. Two couples took our oldest son on a medical mission trip to Belize, an experience that he enjoyed and that proved important for his college applications later on. We often received random gift cards for Whole Foods or Flatirons Coffee. Our kids received bicycles. But best of all was the unconditional friendship offered by so many people in the church—whether or not my husband always did exactly as they wished. My children were not criticized or harassed. Having heard firsthand or read about nightmarish stories of pastoral family bullying, I cannot express how relieved I am to have raised my kids more or less to adulthood without any major church-induced trauma.

When Japhet took a job in California this summer and decided to commute for a couple of years while I finish my doctoral work and our youngest son completes high school, a few people encouraged us to find another church, to give the new pastor “space.” We’re absolutely giving Pastor Jenniffer Ogden (who is fabulous!) space, but we’re sticking with our people, with our community. “Where else could we possibly go?” I asked Japhet, rhetorically. “These are our people; we have no others in this place. We love these people.”

–Becky De Oliveira is working on a PhD in research methods at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley.

By Kiefer Dooley

Charles Darwin once said that “the face is a billboard for the heart.” The sentiment of this statement is widely held as truth by most people. Humans wear their feelings on their faces. For us in the land of plenty in 2019, we take in a lot of information about others based on what we see. This is only furthered through our consumption of media, whether it be a TV show or a novel.

In the most popular sitcom of all time, Friends, Season 5, Episode 14, “The One Where Everyone Finds Out,” Ross comes to discover that his best friend is in love with his sister. Even if viewing with the TV on mute, a viewer would know that Ross is conveying surprise and shock. His face says it all. . . eyebrows raised, eyes wide, jaw dropped. We make sense of other facial expressions as well. If we see someone frowning, we think that person must be unhappy or upset. A smile means happy or amused. Wrinkled eyebrows? Concern or worry.

In his most recent book, Talking to Strangers, Malcom Gladwell explains that people often follow a generalized set of beliefs about a stranger’s facial expression, assuming that what they see on a person’s face equates to what the other must be feeling. In other words, we believe in rules of transparency or that we can correctly infer non-verbal information about others based on facial cues.

Interestingly, this translates to how we feel about ourselves. We often believe that we ‘know’ how our own face appears simply based on how we are feeling.

Gladwell explores an experiment by German psychologists Achim Schützwohl and Rainer Reisenzein to investigate this very question. Do we know what our faces look like when we are surprised?

Imagine that you were led down a long narrow hallway into a dark room. You sit and listen to a recording of Frank Kafka short story, followed by a memory test of what you’ve just heard. After finishing the test, you exit the room to return from where you came. Upon your exit you discover that instead of being in a hallway, you’re in an entirely different room. It’s been rearranged. Where there was once a dark corridor, there is now a square room with bright green walls and a single, red chair illuminated by one light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A room where a room should not be. You are surprised! But, what would be written on your face?

According to the world presented by Friends, you’d have Ross’s face. Or, Joey’s face in the next episode when he rushes into Monica’s apartment and discovers two of his best friends about to fight each other. His face tells you everything you need to know. Eyebrows shooting up. Eyes going wide. Jaw dropping.

Schützwohl and Reisenzein created the Kafka scenario and ran 60 people through it. Afterword, they asked the participants to rate their feelings of surprise on a scale of 1-10. The average for all 60? 8.14. Highly surprised! Next, they asked if the participants felt that the shock was displayed on their face. All of the respondents were convinced that surprise was written all over their faces.

A video camera in the corner proved otherwise. After coding the participants’ facial expressions in the moments after they exited into the room where a hallway should have been, Schützwohl and Reisenzein discovered that only five percent of cases had wide eyes, shooting eyebrows and dropped jaws. In 17 percent of the cases, they found two
of those expressions. In the rest, they found nothing that would normally associate with surprise at all.

The participants’ highly overestimated their surprise expressivity. Why? They inferred their likely facial expressions to the surprising event based on what they felt their face should look like. An inference made from living in a society that assumes truth about life from reading novels where a character’s “jaw drops with astonishment” or “eyes widen in shock,” or from watching TV sitcoms where heroes show the “Joey face.” In most cases, this inference was erroneous.

If you are super into sociology like me, you’d find this study and its conclusions fascinating. You’d also wonder things like . . .

● What do real people actually look like when they are surprised?
● Am I shaped into the person I am by factors beyond my control?
● Maybe I don’t watch Friends very often, but is the structure of the world I live in influencing me to believe one way when reality is another?
● Or, is it possible that we can allow outside factors to influence the way we feel about our own spiritual walk to the point that we’re getting it wrong? That we believe our heart is expressing through our bodies in one way, when in fact it actually appears like something else entirely?

Are we getting it wrong?

Fortunately, as Christians, we have the truth. And His name is Jesus. When everything else is uncertain, Jesus is the way. Live in the world, but not of the world. Allow the Father into your heart and let His way inform your steps. Partake in the Word and know Christ.

When you’re in the Word, you’ll see yourself (and others) clearly. There will be no chance for folk psychology, pop culture or even church culture to influence the way you think about or assign expressivity to your spiritual journey, because there will be no stranger—only the true you. Inform the way you see yourself and your spiritual walk through direct connection with the Father, because in the end your face should be a billboard for the heart of Christ.

–Kiefer Dooley is RMC youth director. Email him at: [email protected]

By Ron Price

I recently heard a message from Pastor Miles McPherson, a former NFL player, and the author of The Third Option: Hope for a Racially Divided Nation. In his talk, he stated that as humans, we tend to differentiate between those who appear to be like us and those who do not. While all generalizations will break down at some point, I believe he is on to something.

If you happen to be Caucasian, it does not necessarily mean you are a racist if you tend to associate with others of your race. The same is true for African Americans, Latinos, Hispanics, or any other group that comes to your mind. This preference to be among your “own kind” is pretty much universal, and it starts young. Look around at church next week and see who the kids like to hang out with. Then observe the senior citizens, then the young marrieds, then . . . well, you get the idea.

The fact that you tend to gather with others who are like you does not automatically indicate you are snobbish, elitist, or any other negative-sounding label you might apply. There’s just a certain comfort level that comes from being with people who you feel have a better idea of what your life is like than those who do not share your situations and experiences. You might feel you have less to explain, and that these people “get” you.

Might this theory apply to Seventh-day Adventists? I dare say my answer is yes, and therein may lie a problem. For sure, the concept applies to Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, and others, but we Adventists sometimes pride ourselves on how different we are from those of other faiths. After all, we worship on the correct day, we have the Spirit of Prophecy, we rightly interpret the biblical teaching on the state of the dead, and there are many more unique factors I could cite. In fact, we like to think and sometimes proclaim that we “have the truth,” thereby implying that others do not.

Please don’t get me wrong. I believe in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and I believe that the Seventh-day Adventist Church’s teachings most closely align with His Holy Word. But what if our uniqueness causes us to shun others who are not of the faith? What if we look down on people who act or believe differently than we do, or as we think is proper? As author Stewart Stafford said, “When you choose to look down on something, you render yourself incapable of understanding it.” Might the same be said for looking down on others?

What if we tend to cluster together and only befriend other church members? And, even then, what if we only sit at the same table with those same members at fellowship meals or socials, possibly ignoring visitors and denying our- selves the opportunity to meet new friends? Methinks that might be a limiting factor in how we represent our Lord and do His bidding.

I came to Christ and the church later in life than many (age 28). That simply means I do not have an ingrained Seventh-day Adventist heritage. As such I frequently find myself in the company of people who are not Seventh-day Adventists. Unfortunately, often I am the only Adventist there. I do not intend that to sound boastful or like a put- down, but I challenge you to think about how many people who are not Adventist are in your close circle of friends.

Back in my colporteur days, I heard various beliefs that people held about our church. I heard that we do not like to give blood, that we try to build our stairway to Heaven by keeping the Law, that we are a cult, etc. And, while we can ably dispute these false claims, do we not share some responsibility for their formation? Have we isolated ourselves so much that others do not have a right understanding of who we are and what we believe?

As with so many areas of life, I believe balance is called for in this situation. One of our famous pastors (forgive my aging memory as to which one), when asked about his religion, replied, “Well, I hate to brag, but I’m a Seventh-day Adventist.” Another reply to that question is, “The Bible tells me I’m going to be a Seventh-day Sabbath keeper in Heaven (See Isaiah 66:22,23), so I’m just getting a headstart down here.”

We need not shy away from who we are and what we believe. We need to follow the counsel as Peter recorded in 1 Peter 3:15b (NLT): “And if someone asks you about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it.” Having said that, however, we need to be so careful that we do not become exclusionary. For our church to be healthy and growing, we need to be open, warm, and welcoming. We must never sacrifice our principles or beliefs, but neither should we allow them to be a dividing wall between us and everyone else.

–Ron Price is a member of the RMC executive committee from Farmington, New Mexico. Email him at: [email protected]