THE NEXT ADVENTISM
Better Invitations BY JESSE CHURCHILL
It is a combination that intrigues me. I have met a few pastors
from this world and learned a lot from them. As I step through the door, my mind is in an anxious
overdrive: taking in all of the sights and sounds of a new place; trying to orient myself; attempting to seem cool, collected, and mature while internally feeling anything but. I walk through another door, into the concrete-floored lobby, and off to my right I see something my little lifelong-Adventist mind cannot comprehend. Beer on tap. In church? At a church planters’ conference?
Where all of the go-into-all-the-world-on-fire-for-Jesus pastors are meeting? I sit at a table. My chronically late friend isn’t there yet, so I’m
talking with a pastor who just joined the pastoral staff at a church in Las Vegas. His previous job had been scuba diving to maintain the aquariums and tanks in various casinos around the city. Jesus got ahold of him, and now he’s the executive pastor at a 1,000- plus member church. He’s got a beer in front of him. Te world I grew up in didn’t provide context for any of this.
Alcohol was supposed to result in bad decisions. Alcohol existed in nightclubs and bars, where sexuality, drugs, and fights were the defining characteristics. Once the worship music starts, the room fills with passionate
voices worshipping Jesus. Soberly. With beers on the table. I’m singing with them, but my mind is wrestling with a thought that won’t go away. “Maybe I’m wrong about a lot.”
The cloudy Seattle morning feels like a gray blanket over my head as I walk down the sidewalk toward a blocky, low- ceiling building sitting on a corner. It’s a church. Not one I’m used to. I grew up around suburban churches that had a large parking lot, green grass, and some landscaping. Surrounding this building are concrete streets and tall buildings. I’m feeling the chill of the morning, heightened by excitement
in anticipation of the networking and the learning I’m about to do at this conference I’m attending with a friend. It’s run by a church-planting network called Acts 29. Churches in this network tend to have an interesting blend of
conservative theology and progressive practice. Teir website’s About Us pages show headshots of smiling men in leadership positions. Teir What We Believe pages include clear stances on an eternal hell and belief in traditional marriage. Yet, on a Sunday you’ll hear grungy modern arrangements of hymns and worship songs backed by an LED screen lit with culturally relevant graphic design.
Not an Issue Te low ceiling looms overhead, and the lights dim as the next song begins. I’m standing, rehearsing the welcome I’m about to do on stage. In the eight years since the church planting conference, I’ve moved to Southern California to work at a large Adventist church. Now I pastor its modern worship community and the 700 people who attend. As the song enters its first low chorus, I notice a woman on the
stage. She’s worshipping, eyes closed and in her own private space with God. In previous church contexts, her outfit would have been why I noticed her—not because I cared then, but because what she was wearing would have resulted in a church member expressing ardent disapproval to me. In some cases, someone would have found an old, oversized shirt and insisted that she put it on before going up front again. I’m realizing that at this church, what she’s wearing is not an
issue. I laugh ironically, under my breath. In an attempt to make churches “safer” for tempted men, congregations became deeply
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