EDIT ORIAL
some of whom were the offspring of families they’d known in Grandpa’s and Grandma’s time. And, of course, memories. But it needed more than a bit of spit and polish: the plumbing,
the electrical system, layers of lead paint, leaky basement walls, asbestos, and overgrown landscaping would have made it not just impractical to live in, but unsafe. By the time they’d finished remodeling the homestead, much
of the house, like the ship of Teseus,2 had been replaced. Rooms had been added at the back, and some had been taken away by removing walls to make new spaces. Te kitchen was now modern and spacious. Te house had air conditioning, good lighting, and Wi-Fi. Te walls and attic were insulated. A new roof stopped leaks. Some once-precious things were gone, though. One of the
beautiful old trees, deemed in danger of falling against the house, had been removed. Te familiar old wallpaper had been stripped away, replaced by a soſter color scheme. Te wavy- glassed wooden-framed windows that rattled when the wind blew had given way to snug, new double-panes. But it was the same house! It had the homey feeling that
Grandpa and Grandma and years of family history had instilled in it. Grandpa and Grandma, who had moved to a smaller place without stairs or a yard to take care of, were delighted when they saw what their descendants had done to the old place. Tey’d changed it, but those changes had given it a new life.
A Remodeled Church A few years ago, for one of the annual General Conference (GC) Executive Committee meetings, GC President Ted Wilson orchestrated a cosplay: all attendees were to grow beards and wear Victorian costumery. It might have been just a bit of fun, had it not been meant to send a message: we should aspire to be the church that existed 150 years ago. Living in Ellen White’s church isn’t working very well, though.
Not only is so much of the original structure tattered—for example, our focus on urgency to present Jesus’ second coming for no less than four generations, or an emphasis on persecutory prequels—but it is also dangerous. To be blunt: while Ellen White alerted us to think about science, health, family, and eschatology, we now know that she was wrong about many things. Unlike my friends’ grandparents, our church gerontocracy
fights against remodeling. Some pastors attempt it at the local level,3 but young people continue to exit at an unprecedented pace. Our wizards in Silver Spring peep and mutter about that, but mostly they blame us. Tey say that we must restore the old
4 AD VENTIS T T OD A Y
electrics and lead paint and plumbing, because if they were good enough for Ellen White, they’re good enough for us. We keep the old, single-pane windows and take our chances with the tree about to topple on the roof. Yes, the house is cold and draſty, but that’s how God wants it—and don’t you try to warm it up! Yet, no one is actually committed to that 19th-century vision
anymore. Many say they are, but their actions speak louder than their words. If the leaders at the General Conference—and in the many offices all the way down to the local pastor—really thought Jesus was coming next year, as they keep saying, they wouldn’t have tax-deferred annuities or retirement houses in the North Carolina mountains. Te General Conference office would be a few portable units on blocks on a weedy lot along a gravel road. If they sincerely believed in Te Ministry of Healing, none of them would ever go to hospital. Instead, they work out of beautiful offices, live in nice houses, drive nice cars, and have excellent medical insurance and retirement plans. Yet, it is important that everyone pretend to “believe”—even the hurtful things, and maybe especially the hurtful things— because the most dedicated, most generous believers respond enthusiastically to hearing about Roman Catholic persecution and Ellen White’s magical health nostrums. I don’t see the need for us to live in a log cabin (or even
pretend that we do). We can upgrade to a modern faith without sacrificing the best values of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.
What Will It Look Like? Once the church is remodeled, what will remain? What follows isn’t an exhaustive list, but merely a place for us to start a conversation. Te Adventist identity is at the same time the most precious
and most problematic thing about us. I love the family of Adventists. When a set of people with common beliefs and practices comes together, when they educate together and eat together and worship together and share common rituals, we are a family. Some years ago, I visited Kolkata, India. I was a bit in awe
about even being there—nearly as far from my childhood home in North Dakota as one can get! Yet, in the English-speaking church there, I felt at home. Te Sabbath School lesson was the same. Te worship was similar enough. Fellowship dinner offered different foods but the same warm fellowship. I didn’t know anyone there, but I met people in the Kolkata church who knew people I knew! It was a beautiful experience. As it turns out, I love being an Adventist more than I love the reasons I was given for being an Adventist. Te Adventist
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