MV Fall 2018 Page 2

Becky De Oliveria

My husband Japhet and I host a podcast called Daily Walk. It’s a pretty simple format: our jingle plays, I give the date and welcome people to the podcast, Japhet prays, I read the portion of Scripture we’re focusing on for the week in one of several translations we use, and then we discuss a “recalibrate” question devised by the author of the written Daily Walk (online at boulder.church). For the past several months, we’ve been slowly making our way through the book of Romans, and there have been some interesting discussions along the way.

Last week, we discussed Romans 13. This is the chapter where Paul discusses submitting to authority. People have very different ideas about how to interpret this counsel—and these appear to correlate to how they feel about the authorities who are currently, well, in positions of authority. Many people who cite this chapter with great enthusiasm might have been less enthusiastic say three years ago. Look out for a drop in enthusiasm in 2020 or 2024 as the case may be. Don’t worry; it won’t be hard to detect if you happen to be on Facebook or ever leave your house.

Naturally, much of our discussion centered around the recent arguments over authority in our church and even the nature of truth itself. I am not one who believes that truth is whatever you want it to be—although I would argue that very few people fit into that category, really. The ones who do can be properly termed “liars.” No, the naysayers who poke fun at the people they label “liberals”—the word used clearly as a pejorative that ignores the many positive traits associated with this approach to life—who believe that truth is relative are mostly creating a straw man argument.

There is obviously objective truth; facts cannot be altered just to suit the individual. London is the capital of the United Kingdom. It isn’t Birmingham. Fair enough. But things get significantly stickier when we start to consider facts that affect people, which is in many cases the only way in which they are relevant outside of the purely academic or theoretical. Take for instance the question of whether peanuts are poisonous. Not to me they aren’t! I eat peanut butter pretty much every day. Not sure I could live without it. The “truth” about peanut butter, for me, is that it is a delicious and highly nutritious food, one that I would almost certainly choose if I had to be trapped on a desert island for the rest of my life. Of course, peanuts are not a suitable food for a great many other people who suffer from such severe peanut allergies that a mere whiff from an open jar of peanuts can require the use of an EpiPen.

So what is the “truth” about peanuts? They are a legume, classified as Arachis hypogaea. They are grown and. used all over the world, often even to fight malnutrition in developing countries. And yet some 0.6% of people in the U.S. alone suffer from severe allergic reactions to them. So what are they? Good or bad? The truth about peanuts really probably depends very much on the truth about you.

Aren’t there a great many things that can be looked at in this way?

Earlier this week, a casual friend in another part of the world contacted me after having listened to me give my peanut argument on the podcast. She and her family are being ostracized in their local church because of the stances they take on certain issues: the role of women in the church, the role of LGBTQ people, etc. The usual. The pastor went so far as to preach a sermon that was clearly about them (everyone understood this to be so) in which he stated that “the shaking” was taking place and that they (being obviously wrong) were prime examples of this. I hear these kinds of arguments often : some“truth” is cited that everyone must agree with and if they don’t agree they aren’t just wrong but toxic and evil and dangerous.

I was struck first—as I often am—by the sheer confidence of such a pronouncement. You have to be pretty sure you’re 100% correct to get up in front of a crowd of people and denounce a fellow child of God. How can you ever be certain that you are not the one being shaken? The first rule of life is that you must always remember that you might be the one who is dead wrong. About something, about everything. It’s possible. Even probable. Right now, sitting wherever you are and reading this, you are wrong about something. Right now, sitting at my desk at 6:00 a.m., I am a wrong about something. Take what I say with a pinch of salt. I’m sorry; this isn’t a very compelling campaign slogan, but it’s the best I can muster.

I currently study statistics (which I love!) and I saw a t-shirt recently that read “Statistics means never having to say you’re certain.” Some people might find this frustrating, but I really like this aspect of the discipline. It’s a good reminder of the deep complexity of the world in which we live, which does not give itself up to easy answers. The lack of certainty does not, as some people might think, mean that you abandon all attempts to find truth or meaning. You absolutely do both of these things and you use evidence to build conclusions about what you think the truth is. But you always remember that while you are maybe 95% or even 99% certain, you are not—and never can be—100% certain.

My friend and her family are basically being force-fed peanuts by a group of people for whom peanuts are delicious and nutritious, oblivious to the fact that they are not good for everyone. All of us recognize the enormous problem caused by the deep divisons we face culturally and spiritually as we try to make meaning of our lives and our discipleship path as followers of Jesus. The best thing I’ve read this week came from Romans 14, where, in The Message, believers are compared with guests at a dinner: “God, after all, invited them both to the table. Do you have any business crossing people off the guest list or interfering with God’s welcome? If there are corrections to be made or manners to be learned, God can handle that without your help.”

–Becky De Oliveira is a doctoral student at the University of Northern Colorado, studying research methods. She also has has several jobs, in teaching, writing, editing, graphic design, consulting, and podcasting. Email her at: [email protected]

By Doug Inglish

I’m privileged to experience worship in a different congregation almost every Sabbath. I do enjoy my rare weekends at the Brighton church, appreciate the friendships there, and wish I could be there frequently enough to engage more deeply in the local mission. After so many years of being the pastor for other people, it feels really good to let Wayne Morrison take that role for me. But while my responsibilities get in the way of developing those local connections, I consider myself to be compensated to some degree by the delightful time Susan and I have in so many different churches.

One thing I try to notice in pretty much all those churches is the mission statement. I can’t say that I ever read one that was off the mark, but if I had to sum up what they all say, in different ways, it would be this: the mission of every church is to build the Kingdom of God.

That’s it. Everything we do should have that as our ultimate goal.

Why do we do Pathfinders? To build the Kingdom of God.

Why do we have a Community Service Center? To build the Kingdom of God.

Why do we have a children’s story, or communion, or Super Bowl parties, or women’s ministries, or prison outreach, or the ABC? To build the Kingdom of God. Even those informal things like getting to know the neighbors or inviting people to lunch on Sabbath are all about pointing people to Jesus so that the Kingdom of God will grow.

Obviously there are many ministries that I haven’t mentioned, but the same applies. Whatever we do is to build the Kingdom of God, and keeping that focus brings perspective to all our missions.

This matters to me and my departments. When we are doing property transactions, whether buying or selling, leasing to or leasing from another group, the reason is never to make money or even to save money. It’s to build the Kingdom of God. Sometimes it is by acquiring more appropriate facilities, sometimes it is by supporting fellow Christians, sometimes (sadly) by withdrawing from an area that has closed itself to the message we share, but always we do it to build the Kingdom of God.

When we assist people to develop estate plans that provide for their retirement, meet their obligations to the next generation, support the mission of the church, and express their values to their family and church and community, we are doing these thing to build the Kingdom of God.

When we encourage pastors and congregations to learn about stewardship, to see the opportunities there, and share stories of success, it is to build the Kingdom of God. And when we see results in tithe, local budgets, Rocky Mountain Advance, and mission offerings, we rejoice that the Kingdom of God is being supported by our members.

Why do we do what we do? Whatever it may be, our efforts are energized when we keep in mind that it is for the glory of God, and its purpose is to build the Kingdom of God. It’s why we are here, why we have churches, and why congregations and individuals engage in mission.

May you be blessed for the many different ways you personally build that Kingdom.

–Doug Inglish is RMC director of Planned Giving and Trust Services. Email him at: [email protected]

By Shayne Mason Vincent

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful” (Proverbs 27:6, NKJV).

For years, I avoided facing issues head on out of a naïve desire to help. I was always the “peacemaker.” If something blew up among friends or family, I was the first to throw water on the fire. I would work my magic to assuage the mighty beast of conflict through humor, redirection, placating, or serving. I considered myself able to get along with anyone; that is, until I met Anthony.

Anthony had this nasty habit of intentionally dealing with issues as soon as they happened. Basically, he was my polar opposite. He could be abrupt, antagonistic, and outright offensive at times. Yet, on the other hand, he was able to move on just as quickly as the conflict began; while I, the conciliatory one, sat seething in humble martyrdom. When I first met him, I considered him rude and obstinate, but slowly, I came to see that he was actually just good at communicating and setting boundaries.

Truth be told, was I really a “peacemaker” or was I just adept at sweeping things under the rug? As much as I might like to consider immediately forgiving people as meekness, in reality it is often just avoidance and enabling. I mean, really, is stuffing issues into the closet even biblical? Imagine if, when the Pharisees came to Jesus, He became timid and mousy, caving into pressure to keep the peace: “They said to Him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that she should be stoned: but what do you say? They said this only so they could trap Him. So Jesus sheepishly looks down at the ground, and with His finger, anxiously scribbled, hoping to avoid the issue. But when they continue asking Him, He reluctantly lifted Himself up, and said, ‘Gee guys, whatever you think’” (John 8:1-11).

Unfortunately, we often confuse turning the other cheek with passivity. When God asks us to love our enemies, He isn’t referring to a whimpering fear of rejection. His Son didn’t go to the cross playing victim; Jesus chose that path, because He clearly understood His identity. God is not an enabler. He has always taught through consequence just as often as by grace. Therefore, communicating, and setting boundaries is an act of love just as much as forgiveness is.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not advocating that we go around and intentionally create conflict. That’s more about being needy or controlling. But what I am saying is that Christlike relationships require authenticity. It’s normal to have feelings, to have needs, to make mistakes. That is how we learn—it’s OK. God created it that way. Learning to love like Christ loves is a journey, not a destination. As the Apostle Paul says, “Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other” (Romans 12:9-10, NLT).

Avoiding conflict:

Can create sterility of soul
Often prevents healing
Can develop resentments
Can create mind games
Destroys fellowship
Can develop mental health issues
Can lead to sabotaging genuine love
Creates additional conflicts

Facing conflict allows us to:

Stop abuse and enabling
Increase love and respect
Develop identity
Create authentic ministry
Minimize assumptions
Bring closure
Heal relationships

Healthy conflict looks like:

Authentically communicating
Not making decisions based upon assumptions
A willingness to risk vulnerability
Using appropriate timing, and biblical methods
Consistency in following through with boundaries and consequences
Forgiving after the issues have been addressed
Knowing that things can’t always be fixed
Accepting that agreement isn’t a requirement
Healing without regard of the other party
Letting go, moving on, and creating something new

Truth is, if there were no conflict, if we never dealt with difficult issues, there would be no cross, there would be no martyrs, no church, no redemption, no backbone of conviction. After all, who likes a limp handshake? And as Anthony taught me, “stirring the pot,” as it were, i.e. not running away from difficult issues, can actually bring healing. Therefore, the bright side of healthy conflict bears all the hallmarks of the fruit of the Spirit, in genuine-peacemaking and the healing grace of mercy.

As the Apostle Peter writes, “Now that you have taken care to purify your souls through your submission to the truth, you can experience real love for each other. So love each other deeply from a [pure] heart” (1 Peter 1:22 TVB).

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

By Ron Price

During a recent rare visit with my atheist sister-in-law, she asked me what my religion was. In response to my answer, “Seventh-day Adventist,” she asked, “So what are the rules?” I was taken back by her question, but quickly realized that so much of religion centers around rules and expectations of behavior.

On that note, I’m afraid we are no different from so many other faiths. I also fear that many non-believers think that living for God is simply a matter of doing or not doing.

Now, before you read too much into what I am saying, please know I am happy to be a member of a church whose constituents take seriously their role of submission to the “Higher Power” (please note the capital H and P). No one would ever accuse us of subscribing to a “cheap grace” philosophy.

Having said that, however, it seems plausible that we might fall into the trap of making our obedience and our fidelity to expectations the cornerstone of our walk with God. We could easily expect others to live by the same standards of faith that we deem appropriate. In the proper pursuit of unity in the church, we might mistakenly seek to implement uniformity.

Sometime ago, I read an article in a Sabbath School leaders’ magazine which contrasted principles and applications. I don’t have time or space to get deeply into this now, but suffice it to say that principles are universal, timeless, and applicable to all. How we apply those principles to our individual lives, however, can vary greatly from one person to another.

Instead of achieving unity, when we demand or even insinuate that all members and guests must act, think and believe identically to everyone else, we could actually create disunity and resentment.

At a Western Slope camp meeting, a speaker told us that he chose to be very conservative in leading his own life, but very liberal in letting others live theirs. Please don’t take that too far. The Bible clearly tells us that if we see a brother or sister in open sin, we are to go to them directly (not to any- one else!) and lovingly confront them about their actions.

The point I got from the speaker was that it is not my job to be the Holy Spirit and tell others how they should live.

It seems that so much of life is striking the right balance between two extremes. In this case, do we want our churches to be private clubs where only those of similar beliefs and practices are welcome, or should we strive to be an association of sorts where all are free to practice their faith however they see fit? My view is that neither option is how Christ would have us live. As in all areas of life, Christ must be the standard by which we shape our lives.

So here are just a few thoughts on what we might do to make sure that our churches are loving and welcoming for both members and visitors alike:

The Golden Rule might be a great place to start. And while you’re at it you may want to consider the Platinum Rule—treat others as they would have you treat them. Remember to “Push the Pause Button” and choose your attitude and mindset before you enter the church building. Determine in advance that you are going to be a loving representative of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Last, and most important, make sure that you and God are on good terms. Spend sufficient time with Him that you know, and you know that you know, that He loves you, He values and esteems you, He chooses and accepts you. Be so filled with His Holy Spirit that His love, grace, mercy, and kindness can’t help but overflow from you into others.

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

By Edwin Vargas

Church planting can be a very humbling experience.

As our Newday pastoral team searched for a space to rent for our downtown public worship gathering, we came across an Assemblies of God church. It was right in the community that we wanted to reach, it had parking, space for children, and a nice seating area appropriate for conversations. We talked to the pastor and asked if he would be willing to rent the church to us for our weekly Sabbath worship. He heard our story, our vision, and gladly welcomed us into his church.

As we worked on the rental agreement, something incredible happened. The pastor refused to accept rent money from us for the first six months! I couldn’t understand what was happening. Why wouldn’t he take our rent money? His answer was something like this. “If God wanted us to reach all of the people in this community, we would have already reached them and we haven’t. We believe God is sending you and we want to invest in the Kingdom of God.” I was incredibly disturbed and humbled by his approach. I asked myself, what if it were the other way around? Would I see my fellow brother and his congregation as sent by God, as part of His Kingdom?

What comes to mind when you think about the Kingdom of God? I have to admit that I am tempted to think about the Kingdom of God along the lines of my personal ministry, my local church, and my denomination. But could it be that the Kingdom of God is bigger than our personal ministry and our local church? Do we even dare to think that it may be even bigger than our denomination? If perfect theological understanding was required to be part of God’s Kingdom, wouldn’t the disciples have been disqualified to announce the Good News, heal the sick, and cast out demons? Wouldn’t Martin Luther have been unable to lead a much-needed Reformation in the existing Christian church? Wouldn’t William Miller have been unable to lead the Advent movement in its early days like he did? Why is it so hard for us to see God’s Kingdom today beyond the walls of our theological understanding, personal ministry, or local church?

Could it be that we love our church more than we love Jesus’ church? Could it be that we are more concerned with our denominational kingdom growth rather than God’s Kingdom growth? Are we comfortable saying that God’s Kingdom is bigger than our denomination? Before you start having an imaginary argument with me, please take a deep breath and hear me out. I am not saying that our local church or our denomination are not important, or are not part of the Kingdom of God. I believe that Jesus used a local church to save my life. I deeply love the Seventh-day Adventist Church, I believe in it, work for it, and have invested everything God has given me into it. What I am suggesting is that God’s Kingdom is bigger than our denomination, local churches, or personal ministries, and we should be OK with admitting that. If we prayerfully take a closer look at our communities, we should be able to identify God’s Kingdom beyond our comfort zone. Are you feeling better now? If not, then continue your imaginary argument with me. Don’t worry; I won’t fight you. We can still be friends.

It is important that we have a healthy view of God’s Kingdom because it will affect our definition of success. If we define God’s Kingdom narrowly as our personal ministry, local church, or denomination, we will have a self-ab- sorbed definition of success. Most churches measure success by the “ABCs.” A = Attendance; B = Baptisms; C = Cash (tithes and offerings). In other words, success would have an internal focus. It would be about what happens in the church. Then we would wonder why we have so little impact in our communities and our society. Once we realize that God’s Kingdom is bigger than our local church, we can move from an internal focus to an external focus. This means that the church no longer exists for itself, but is called to minister beyond itself.

This shift in focus helps us partner with God in what- ever He is doing in our communities, moving from the comfort of our church buildings and helping us to join God in building His Kingdom beyond our walls.

Another important Kingdom shift that happens is we realize that developing people is more important than developing programs. Jesus came to save people not programs. Instead of starting with the idea of developing programs, we should start with the idea of developing people. Discipleship needs to be a priority in the church because the Kingdom of God is composed of disciples. Every church member should know what is expected from them as disciples of Jesus. Every member must serve in a ministry, every member must be part of a discipleship group, every member should be committed to the Kingdom with their time, talents, and treasure. Programs don’t make disciples, only disciples make disciples.

Lastly, another Kingdom shift is changing from a church-leadership mentality to a Kingdom-based leader- ship mentality. A church-leadership mentality thinks about having more and better leaders to lead what we are doing within the church. That mentality tends to hoard the best talents, leaders, and resources for itself. A Kingdom-based leadership is happy to send leaders wherever God is calling them. Paul and Barnabas are a great example of this. The church was young, they didn’t have “all the leaders they needed,” but the Holy Spirit told the church to send them, and they did. What would happen if we would do the same?

We believe that Jesus is coming soon! We have the privilege of preparing the way for His coming. Like John the Baptist, we must proclaim “The Kingdom of heaven is near.” But how near are we to the Kingdom of Heaven beyond our familiar context of local church, personal ministry, and denomination?

I pray this can be an ongoing discussion that helps us grow.

–Edwin G. Vargas is pastor of a Newday Denver Adventist Church plant in the city’s Five Points neighborhood. Email him at: [email protected]

By Rajmund Dabrowski

Now in her early nineties, my mom continues to slow down, but there are moments when she is quite alert. I call her several times a week, bridging the distance between her home in Poland and mine in Colorado. During a recent visit, she shared a memory, a story I had heard once before, but this time she offered a punchline. Such moments in our conversations make me richer in discovering yet another piece in an ever bigger puzzle of my own life.

That day, she told me how she was reminded of the exciting days when at the age of six she would sit in a projection booth at her father’s Odeon cinema, a theatre he owned for a decade or so in Tomaszów Mazowiecki, a town in central Poland.

My grandfather, Jan Jedrzejak, was an actor, and traveled for seven years entertaining audiences in the region with musicals, vaudeville, and comedy acts. He later owned an Odeon cinema franchise. My mother recalls watching silent movies from a projection booth. “I was small, so my legs did not touch the floor as I sat on a table, peeking through a small projection window, watching all these film stars,” she recalled. “I was mesmerized and excited to see them, though the movies were silent. What I wished was to hear their voices,” she recalled. She also wished to meet them one day, beyond the silver screen encounters. She fell in love with the film stars, she reminisced.

Jan ultimately became a foreman and a unionist, who for me, as I connected the dots, defined what solidarity of the working class meant. Around 1927 or 1928, he was selected to represent the region in parliamentary elections as a National Democratic Party candidate. Apparently it was not yet time for an actor to succeed in politics—he was not elected.

Then, all of a sudden, my mother herself connected the dots of her early experience. “In those films, silence was silver,” she quipped. And then, speaking of her father, she said, “life could not make him silent when he saw how people lived, how they were treated. He had to speak and speak loudly.”

“And they say that silence is golden,” she added.

As for my grandparents, they continued what was deep in their humanity. When Nazis occupied Poland, they were saving the lives of those who were destined for the gallows or a concentration camp, occurrences that made them stop and do something. Silence was only needed so a Jewish family hiding in their home would not be discovered. It was golden then.

The days of my life now are days when silence screams louder than the lyrics of songs bellowing about a happy life. The lyrics speak about the golden silence, but songs are full of noise. Our own songs are all too often also full of noise.

The meaningful songs, it seems, are those challenging my patina-covered silver life calling me out of indifference. Oh, how I love silence when hearing the cries of children pulled away from the asylum-seeking mothers by the border guards. Why should I bother, I reason in my mind. And my mind is telling my heart to shut up, too. Politicians are there to say or do something, I reason in my sleepy, silent brain. And the church pulpit is screaming, “Let us pray!”

A few reflective thoughts came to me loud and clear when reading how the Christian Good News seems to ignore the least of these, leaving them in limbo. At best. And silence can be seen in our absence in standing against those who abuse power, who mistreat one another, whose anger shouts abuses, while a priest and a Levite walk in silence next to someone’s human predicament. The Apostle Luke describes silence broken by a stranger on a journey.

Walter Brueggeman in his latest book, Interrupting Silence: God’s Command to Speak Out, talks about the multiplicity of silence in our world: “Silence is a complex matter. It can refer to awe before unutterable holiness, but it can also refer to coercion where some voices are silenced in the interest of control by the dominant voices.”

There is a silver side to silence. When the golden silence is challenged, it turns into a silver hue.

–Rajmund Dabrowski is RMC communication director and editor of Mountain Views. Email him at: [email protected].