Depending on your conversation partners, you might know several reasons why you should avoid being a Seventh-day Adventist. Whether from those outside the denomination who look on Adventists with suspicion, or those inside the denomination who bash various theological or cultural pieces of our Adventist identity, it seems any number of reasons can be marshalled for why you should not be an Adventist. This can even be the result from efforts of those who love the denomination and, in that love, seek to call out its shortfalls, deficits, and inconsistencies: sometimes a friendly critique of Adventism can sound or feel like an exercise in denigrating Adventism. Any legitimate critique of Adventism needs to be coupled with a robust celebration of Adventism and being an Adventist.
Why am I a Seventh-day Adventist? What has Adventism given me that nothing else ever provided? An Adventist identity has provided me with three absolutes that have grounded my personal identity and sense of mission. First, Adventism introduced me to Jesus.I’m a fourth generation Seventh-day Adventist, but I was not raised in an Adventist home. My father was a Southern Baptist-turned-atheist, due to religious abuse in his home, and he did not want religion in the house while I was growing up. My mother was a lapsed, non-observant Seventh-day Adventist, and she kept her Adventism private to keep the peace at home. Such a home was not conducive to meeting Jesus. So how did I meet Jesus? Adventist education! My mother sent me to the Adventist school in Aurora, Colorado, hoping that I’d get my dose of Jesus there. My mother, however, got more than she bargained for.
The now-shuttered Aurora Adventist Elementary School introduced me to a God who loved me so much that he became a man to save me from my sins and reunite me with himself. I had heard from other Christians that Jesus was God because he could do miracles, but it was Adventism that helped me understand that Jesus showed his deity the most clearly when he died a torturous death on a cross for me. Likewise, my Baptist and charismatic family members talked a lot about Jesus’ resurrection, but mostly as an absentee landlord: Jesus had to go away and now we’re here while he is, well, somewhere else. Adventism introduced me to a different way of thinking about his resurrection: Jesus rose again and ascended into heaven so he could prepare a place for us, which is why he is coming back very soon. While my various Christian family members lived with the impression that Jesus had abandoned them, Adventism invited me to wait for Jesus while he was making sure we would never be parted again! At times when my home life became chaotic with family drama and dysfunction, the Jesus that Seventh-day Adventism introduced me to took away my anger and replaced it with his peace.
The second pillar Adventism provide me was a sense of meaning and purpose. Ever since I was a child, I’ve always felt that life had to have a meaning and purpose. My father’s evolutionary approach to life and my mother’s creationist beliefs often left me wondering what reality and the truth were, but I was always convinced that life had to have a meaning and purpose. I just wasn’t sure what its meaning and purpose were supposed to be. Adventism gave me a meaning and purpose I had only encountered in my dreams when I longed for an undefinable “something more.”
My first exposure to meaning was in the concept of the remnant, which simply meant that I mattered to Jesus. The remnant was not a group of spiritually elite people, but rather a group of people who are deeply loved by Jesus and are moved to love Jesus back. Similarly, the idea of discipleship was revolutionary for my sense of purpose. My Christian friends in other denominations worshiped Jesus, but they often acted like Jesus wasn’t alive. Adventism not only told me continuously that Jesus was alive but also invited me to apprentice under a living Savior: to sense his presence with me, to pour over his commands and teachings in the Gospels, to consider myself just as much a student of Jesus today as his original disciples were two thousand years ago. Within this framework, I felt beloved by Jesus every day. I could share Jesus with others because I knew Jesus was with me. And I could look forward to his second coming with excitement, because Jesus was my best friend! At a time when I so desperately needed confidence and self-worth, Adventism pointed me to the Jesus who freely gave them.
The final pillar Adventism secured for me was a radical and heart-transforming conversion to Jesus, his way, and his priorities. Adventism first introduced me to Jesus, for which I’ll be forever grateful. But I eventually lost sight of Jesus while being an Adventist. Over time, I experienced what a lot of Adventists do: I felt my Adventism was more important than being a Christian. Whether my problem was that I became legalistic, viewed myself as a Pharisee, lost my first love for Jesus, didn’t fully embrace the 1888 message of righteousness by faith, or some other spiritual ailment, what was true was that I succumbed to the temptation to consider my version of Adventism to be God. The irony of Adventism, however, is that it contains the seeds of its own transformation.
Whenever I tried to make Adventism about the law, the sanctuary, the Sabbath, spiritual gifts, or anything else that was good but was not Jesus, Adventism spoke to my heart about Jesus’ goodness. Alternatively, whenever I tried to make Adventism about the church, evangelism, baptism, our remnant mission, or any other Adventist identity factor that was good but was not Jesus, Adventism gently pointed me to a compassionate Savior. Adventism told me a story about a God of love: that God is a just and merciful deity, who loves me and wants good things for me; that God desires obedience, loyalty, and trust from his best friends, but that this same God gives his best friends the gift of obedience out of his tenderness and kindness to them; that God constantly puts his reputation on the line and exposes himself to the harshest criticism and ridicule by human and supernatural agencies alike in his endeavors to save us, simply because he cares more about our wellbeing than maintaining his status as unquestionable; that the God who is the King of the universe chose to answer satanic charges against his character by wrapping himself in littleness and lowliness as a human baby, grow up as a poverty-stricken Jewish peasant in a backwater province of the first century Roman Empire, die on a cross as the crucified God for us, and give us immortality by his resurrection from death as a glorified man—and this God is our best friend!
Such an Adventism is shockingly and beautifully alarming, because it melts even the coldest heart and softens even the most trenchant resistance. This kind of Adventism continually reintroduced me to Jesus as the one who can heal my wounded soul, carry all of my sorrows, and assuage all of my fears, because he knows what it’s like to go through the darkest of nights and experience the utmost loss and terror. The Jesus of Adventism is entirely compassionate, gentle, and strong, because he’s aware of our pain and hurt, and able to give us the joy and peace we’ve always hoped for but were never sure we would receive. Encountering the Jesus of Adventism and spending time with him has perpetually helped me love and accept myself, as well as love and accept others, because the Jesus of Adventism loves to share his compassion and grace with everyone.
There is much to celebrate about Seventh-day Adventism. Adventism is more robust than we could possibly imagine. It is more stable than many other Christian denominations I know, primarily because it hooks us up with Jesus, the one who is stability itself. Likewise, Adventists often struggle with emotional and spiritual health, but Adventism has always served as a source of emotional strength and health because it speaks to us of a God who loves us in our brokenness and is making all things new.
While Adventism has often been taken over and used for unkind, uncharitable, and un-Adventist purposes, Adventism itself possesses the breadth and security to allow for different flavors, experiences, and expressions among Adventist Christians, as well as the dynamism and vitality to eventually overcome and conquer any attempts to domesticate it.
Adventism always gets us back to the one necessary thing: Jesus and his love for us. I think this experiment called Adventism is from God, and for that I am most grateful.
Nathaniel Gamble is the RMC Public Affairs and Religious Liberty director and pastors four churches in Colorado. He is currently finishing his PhD from Calvin Theological Seminary and is married to Alexandria. Contact him at: [email protected]