The outstanding gift which Adventism has given to my life is shape. Shape in many senses. For that I am enormously grateful.

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My journey towards the Adventist church originated really before I was born, in a theatre of war. My father had served in the British army in WWII in the Mediterranean. I was born a year or so after he returned. He came back wanting to find something which would make some sense of what he had so recently witnessed. He wanted to find some strength to live in a difficult post-war world. Not finding it in the local Church of England, he happened upon an evangelistic meeting run by Seventh-day Adventists, who were at the time a marginal sect in the UK. The very name was a problem.

Nevertheless, the church provided some sense of place in the grand scheme of things. He had just had first-hand experience of a world-wide conflict. The meetings highlighted the rise and fall of nations and empires in a biblical context. He was impressed and eventually joined the small group of Adventists. More than that, the Sabbath provided a resting place after the rigors of war and a shape for every week.

The church also provided a small local community to which to belong in an anonymous suburb of London. It was a safe space. To be sure, there were some eccentrics among the 60 or so members but there were serious and friendly people too. My father, like so many others, was hungry for some warmth in an impersonal, shell-shocked, decimated world. And so, we became Sabbath observers at a time when it was a very strange thing to do. My father believed the benefits outweighed the costs. My mother was less sure—especially about the 10% church ‘tax’ when money was very short. But, in time, the church became our happy place.

The Sabbath School lessons took the whole business of studying seriously which suited my studious nature. The mission stories told of exotic places which might just as well have been on another planet. But they slowly lifted my sights beyond the horizon of my neighborhood. I liked the singing too. I was shy and these people were gentle with me. I came to see a difference from my Monday-to-Friday world in state elementary and high schools.

Some of what I heard seemed a bit crazy. Some of the behavioral norms were a bit restrictive. But there was a trade-off between pros and cons and usually I found that the pros won. This was because the people were non-judgemental. I was accepted for who I was.

And then, gradually, there were the occasional excursions into the larger Adventist world. A few camps, some regional get-togethers. There I got a wider perspective on what Adventism was all about. And I met some Adventists of my own age, in my stage of education, with similar interests. It was a relief after being in a small church with few peers. The high point was a great excursion on a church-run touring camp to Norway. Fjords, towering mountains, the clearest mountain water, pure air. A whole new world. A new shape. I wanted more.

By this time, I was in my second year at a secular university. No question of an Adventist education. Not another Adventist in sight among the thousands. And slowly I came to feel that the church was not growing with me. It was precisely at this critical moment I met Helen. At a time when my grip on the church was slackening, I met the one who was to become my soul mate for life. It was just two weeks after my father died—too young. The Lord gives, the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.

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I mention all this not because I think you will be particularly interested in my life story but because readers may find echoes of their own. A safe personal space. A place which gave some meaning to life. A place which took my serious self seriously. A window on a larger world beyond my London Street.

* * *

But there was something else. I was attracted to this Jesus whom they talked about so much. He seemed an approachable and authentic human. Were it not for the Adventist church I am not sure that I would have taken faith seriously. I might have turned up at the parish church sometimes, but, beyond that, I would not have taken Jesus seriously. The Church provided me with a starting place on a spiritual quest which goes on even today and which I expect to continue for the rest of my days.

* * *

By a totally unexpected turn of events, Helen and I, now married, were called to teach at Newbold College. I taught some contentious subjects to a wide range of students: philosophy, ethics, sociology. I had no experience of teaching adults. Looking back, it seems to me that the College board, and specifically the College principal, took an enormous risk on me—or acted in faith, whichever you prefer. I had no Adventist pedigree whatsoever, no Adventist education, I was a secular creature who had found the Gospel, or rather been found by it.

* * *

It was at Newbold College that I came to understand and embrace the Gospel in all its fullness. I was teaching but learning far more than I taught. From colleagues deeply imbued with a spirit of Adventism. From students some of whom had been born into Adventism. Eventually there came invitations to speak beyond the U.K., opportunities to travel in most parts of Europe, tasting the many varieties of Adventism. And then to U.S.A. where Adventism seemed a very different creature from what I had grown up with. Different shapes of Adventism. Opportunities came to further my education at secular universities, specifically London and Oxford, all thanks to the generous investment in me by the Church.

* * *

I cannot say that at every turn I sought God’s will. Helen was more schooled in that way of spiritual reflection. But now in later life I can say that I can see a mysterious Providence at work in my life. A divine shape. Mine was an unconventional route to Adventist College teaching. I tried to bring a little freshness of thinking to my students. Some of them had been right through the Adventist educational system and had jaded palates, glad to hear someone speaking Adventism in a different “accent.” Some were not quite sure what to make of me. But the College board and administration gave me unwavering support, which looks all the more remarkable as I look back on it. The Church has given me shape in life when I might well have gone shapeless and drifted. But this should not suggest that it has been straightforward. This brief expression of gratitude cannot conceal the many ups and downs of my journey.

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One of my watchwords comes from the gospel of John, the story of Jesus’s meeting with Nicodemus. I feel some kinship with this man, this “teacher in Israel who does not know these things.” I have been ignorant of so much. Yet, the Lord, through His people in the Church, have sustained me. I have much to be grateful for.

“The wind blows where it wills and you do not know … ”

So, it has been.

Michael Pearson is principal lecturer emeritus at Newbold College in the U.K. For many years he taught topics in ethics, philosophy, and spirituality. He and his wife, Helen, write a weekly blog pearsonsperspectives.com. Email him at: [email protected]