Assimilated

By Bill Colburn

The doc said he had good news and not so good news - depending on my perspective. What?
Several years ago I had to endure a series of unflattering medical tests related to a health issue. The doc suspected something was awry in my head - something folks have been suggesting to me since I was a kid - and strongly suggested an MRI. I was game.

Well, the good news was that the suspected problem, the one that had initiated the need for an MRI, turned out not to exist. However, while in my head, something was discovered they hadn't anticipated. Funny how one thing often unexpectedly leads to another. Is this providence at work?

My brain scan revealed a growth on the very narrow, but quite important 'stalk' that held the pea-sized pituitary gland at the base of my brain. It seemed that this growth was or would begin to compress the passage of some very important substances, hormones to be more specific, essential to the well being of the rest of my body - and, in consequence, my mind.

Ok, doc, I spent four years as a pre-med student. I think I catch the drift of all this. So what is the prognosis?

"Well", he said, " we are going to keep a close eye on this for awhile. We aren’t going to make any interventions - yet. We'll need to take another MRI in a year. Meanwhile, we suspect that you may experience some changes over the next few months. Let‘s just see how this plays out. Don‘t worry."

"Like what kind of changes", I asked, already suspecting his embarrassing answer. "Am I going to become a girl?"

"Well, you may gradually take on more female attributes. Absence of facial hair, alterations in your voice , a new bump here, another symmetrical bump there, etc. If you look at it rightly, this can really be a fun, novel journey - especially as an Adventist pastor in a conference that doesn't hire women as preachers!"

Funny, doc. Where’d he get his medical license from any ways. Smile.

What came to my perennially twisted mind was an episode of Star Trek. I was about to be assimilated by forces beyond my control. All resistance would be futile - unless, of course, there would be some professional outside intervention. But, maybe I'd enjoy this assimilation.

So, what’s this have to do with the church? The fact is, in my opinion, that we have all been unwittingly and unimaginably assimilated, through our nature, into a way of being in this world that shows no mercy. Resistance is futile. The real issue is that we refuse to admit the obvious.

We tend to want to think we are better than others. We exalt our choice of culture, religion, politics, education, and even our race, gender, and age as the evidence that we are not like everyone else. Kind of like the Pharisees and Sadducees of biblical times. Yet all these notions - including Christianity as a religion - are merely superficialities. There are no differences in our human ‘essence‘. Our religious traditions are merely a parody of godliness. Our constructs effectively divert us from the truth, sucking us deeper into denial. We are addicted to that which has cruelly assimilated us. There is no escape.

No amount of healthy eating, working out at the gym, higher educational degrees, political correctness, immaculate pedigree, cultural niceties, or religious profession will bring release. We have all - without exception - been fully assimilated into Babylon, or as Jeremiah so pejoratively stated, we have ‘become women!’ (Jer. 50:37). Sorry ladies. Just quoting the word here.

Our help comes from the Lord, wrote the psalmist (Ps 121). God must take the initiative in our deliverance - we cannot, wrote Paul (Rom 3). We need a new birth, a new nature. We need to hear the very voice of the Father and make our confession like Peter, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God" (Mt 16). This alone, though, is not a one time deliverance. How quickly the ‘rock’ Peter was sucked back into the quicksand 'Borg' of his birth nature.

Within our natural assimilated selves we 'see' only as man sees. Like the Pharisees and Sadducees, we exalt our 'seeing' as divine right. Yet, Jesus called all that evil and adulterous. All our pretensions to glory are self-deceptions, small box thinking, mere variations of the same old Hollywood scripts. Being the depository of the oracles of God has never sufficiently nauseated the 'Borg' to spew us out. We aren’t that special.

Adventism today is again, (still?), wrestling with this reality. We've existed within our bubble of self-righteousness long enough to nauseate ourselves. We are, functionally, no different that the child of Islam, Buddhism, Catholicism, or even atheism. All that we practice and preach and traditionally cherish is being exposed for what it really has always been - meaningless, even dangerous, non-sense apart from the indwelling power of the living God. We have been deceived by our own cleverness. We remain assimilated. We need help. Divine intervention or all that we are as a community of faith is without purpose.

Only when we confess that we are an evil and adulterous generation can we begin the twelve-steps that lead to genuine serenity. Will we have the humility necessary to grasp the hand of the Almighty and allow him to push the reset button on Adventist Christianity or will we continue to trust in ourselves?

I hope

Note: This was recently published as one of Nathan Brown's final editorials as editor of Record, the Adventist church's news magazine in the South Pacific Division.

I hope . . .

I hope we do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.

I hope Christianity is real--to you.

I hope we can better seek, celebrate and create beauty in our world.

I hope we can learn to listen better--to God, to each other and to our communities.

I hope we really believe that "it is more important to be kind than it is to be right."

I hope we can focus more on faithfulness than our various measures of "success."

I hope we can admit that "we don't know"--that we don't have all the answers and that's OK.

I hope we can be less worried about control and more interested in community.

I hope we can one day recognise women as equally human, equally Christian, equally capable and equally called.

I hope we spend less time reinforcing our walls than building our centre.

I hope you're a treehugger, both literally and metaphorically.

I hope we have stopped "selling" God.

I hope our first response to disaster is to help the hurting, not pull out our prophecy charts.

I hope we can learn to be more humble, more generous, more courageous and more joyful.

I hope you watch the sunset sometimes.

I hope you don't believe everything you read in our church publications.

I hope we don't really think music is as important as some would have us believe.

I hope we can find better ways to remember and share Sabbath, and better things to do on Sabbath afternoons.

I hope you are seriously bothered by injustice, poverty and oppression--and are moved to do something about them.

I hope you rejoice you're a Christian.

I hope we aren't so busy running a church that we are forgetting to participate in the kingdom of God.

I hope you watch less TV.

I hope we can learn to address hard questions, to disagree well and to embrace those who are different.

I hope your explanation of what you believe actually sounds like "good news"--to you and to others.

I hope we can find our voice as a church and begin to speak out on things that matter in ways that our community understands.

I hope there is a stage of life between bright young thing and old hack.

I hope you're vegetarian--for so many reasons.

I hope we are a church that serves the world, not panders to the noisy few.

I hope we can lament.

I hope we still "believe in Christ, live the life."

I hope you read a good book this week.

I hope we can practise the art of apology--and the art of forgiveness.

I hope we are aware of how technology changes us and that we resist blindly pursuing the latest gadget or fad, instead seeking what is most real.

I hope we can learn from other religions, faiths and traditions, respecting their best and seeking their good.

I hope you enjoy and share some kind of art, creativity or similar passion.

I hope we can become a church that values fresh questions more than tired answers.

I hope we aren't just another brand of Church Inc.

I hope we can develop a faith that is more ordinary and everyday--and, in this way, ordinary and everyday can be redeemed.

I hope we can come up with--or borrow--better reasons why we do and believe some of the good things we do.

I hope you believe we can change the world.

I hope we maintain a sense of wonder at the hugeness, variety and miracles of life.

I hope faith, hope and love still remain.

I hope "right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant" and that it is possible to overcome evil with good.

I hope in Jesus, His life, His death and His resurrection.

I hope to see Him some day.

I hope and I pray.

I hope . . .

"Much dreaming and many words are meaningless. Therefore stand in awe of God" (Ecclesiastes 5:7, NIV).

Spiritual Survival Strategies for Adventists

By Bill Colburn

My journey in Adventism has been one that often raises the question among many of my non-Adventist friends, 'why have you remained a member, even a pastor, after the many negative experiences you have had in that church?' It has taken more than an acceptance of the Adventist paradigm - to be sure! The Serenity Prayer has been instrumental.

I remember my first brush with the underbelly of Adventism when, shortly after my baptism in 1976 at 22 years of age, I was confronted by a 'lifer' who had heard that my mom was raised in the Roman Catholic tradition. "How are we to know", he demanded, "that you are not a Jesuit spy just pretending to be one of us?" That dazed me for an extended moment, then I replied, "guess you don't", smiled and left it at that. What an odd fellow, I thought. I was wrong.

I soon began to regularly encounter a curious set of 'adjunctive (and dsyfunctional) fundamental' beliefs that had not been shared with me during my baptismal studies. I frequently got clobbered by such things as: appropriate beach apparel, interpretations of Sabbath keeping such as hiking was OK, but swimming was not, the 'law' against inter-racial marriages or marrying another Christian who wasn't an 'Adventist' Christian or even the 'right kind of Adventist Christian', the sacred hour for sabbath worship being at 11 am only, that I should always wear a suit to church because that is what I would wear to visit the president of the United States, to make gelatin wasn't an ingredient in my foods, to love 'hay stacks' and popcorn, that only Adventist truly knew God, and - well, the list goes on and on and on. These 'other 613' commandments actually formed the reality of Adventism far more than the 27 (er, 28).

Cultural Adventism stood out far more distinctly at the local church than the doctrinal Adventism I had initially imagined 'defined' membership. An early mentor shared with me one significant spiritual survival strategy that has worked: to differentiate between Adventist atheists and Adventist Christians. I had to accept that the church has always had and would always include both. He helped me to see that real Adventism was built on a love for Jesus not on a love for the Adventism folklore. Much that bills itself as Adventism is merely a finicky selection from the buffet of unbiblical 'street' Adventism. To be sure, this is not merely an issue among Adventists!

More painful encounters often and painfully kept challenging my commitment to the church. Usually these had to do with accusations of a sexual nature. It seemed strange to me, as a convert, that many Adventists spent a whole lot of time thinking about sex. Prior to my baptism, non-converts thought a lot about sex as well - but with the desire to enjoy it personally. After my baptism, church members spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about sex, but to make sure no one would ever 'get' what they couldn't have. I could only conclude, after some therapy of course, that if Adventists spent more time having sex they would be a far happier group of people to worship with on Sabbath. I've met a lot of madventists and sadventist, but only the sexually fulfilled could be truly happy Adventists. Maybe we ought to designate every Friday nights as.... Think how pleased the pastor would be to see his whole congregation genuinely smiling on Sabbath mornings rather than wearing a plastic smile while holding a dagger to meet him with at the front door after the sermon.

Some time after becoming an Adventist pastor I was called by my conference president about a complaint stating that I was having an affair. Turned out that an elderly member was riding by a large hotel in a Handi-van and happened to see me open the door for a young woman. No one said anything to me about it until the whole church knew and reported me to the conference. It was rather awkward to address my congregations sexual addiction from the pulpit, but I did. I invited them to all join me at that same hotel once each month - the only times I went there - to participate in the American Cancer Society board meetings with me. They could meet the woman I opened the door for - as she was the president of the local group. I got to keep my job.

Probably far more disturbing has been the necessity to not be fully honest. Seems strange to even express this in these terms, but it is what it is. To function 'healthfully' in the church - intentionally designed for sinners - I've got to be 'unhealthy' by pretending not to be a sinner.

One of our more insidious Adventist 'atheistic' beliefs is that pastors - and members - are supposed to be perfect. This, actually, is translated to mean: "good pastors always agree with what each member believes". To voice a different perspective is to be violently labeled as anti-Christ, demon-possessed, the devil incarnate, and the ever present 'Jesuit spy'. Church members have pejoratively labeled me in many different ways over my years. My favorite is being called a heretic. But, why is it this way? I think it is because we believe we have a 'calling' to be 'faith gate-keepers', rather than faith builders. Gate-keeping always engenders fear. Fear begets dishonesty and pretentiousness, which in turn stifles spiritual growth, which in turn creates 'christian' atheists.

Let me be fair, though. I have many wonderful, spiritually mature Adventist friends. They live above the culture of shame, guilting, and name-calling. They have a deep commitment to the Lord - keeping first things (Jesus) always the best thing, not allowing any foolishness distract them from Him. I feel for them, only in that they find little safety in sharing their love for Jesus openly within the church because of those who define love for God in narrow and angry tones.

Thankfully, maturation in the Spirit is designed to succeed in all places and at all times. So, I remain a member of this church, ceasing all efforts to change what I cannot change, making efforts to change only that which God has asked me to change (me), and continuing to pray that God grants me the wisdom to know the difference.

The Dreamer

by Andy Hanson

I dreamed that I was marching with a group of travelers under a leaden sky, through a desolate land full of mountains and hard places. We were on a narrow difficult trail leading toward the Promised Land. I didn't know where it was or how to get there, and neither did anyone else in our group except perhaps our leader. He told us that we could find the roadmap in our books, and he tried to tell us that our books were no different from his, and that he could use any of our books to find the way to the Promised Land. Again and again, he offered to teach us how to use our books to keep going in the right direction. He worried that we might get separated during bad weather, and we wouldn’t know where we were. He kept asking us, “What would you do if we got separated?” He was distressed that we weren’t interested in putting in the effort to make sure we wouldn’t get lost.

Although our leader sometimes made mistakes, he never led us very far off the right path, and he always claimed that the fault was his, not the book’s.

Our leader didn’t take very good care of his book. Because he almost always had it in his hand, rain or shine, and because he opened it every time we stopped for a rest period, the pages were curled and the book’s beautiful leather cover was ruined. Because it was rumored that our books were passports, we were doubly anxious to keep them in good condition. So we kept our books in plastic bags under our coats, and we didn't take them out for fear of damaging them.

After many trials by the elements and narrow escapes from wild animals, we arrived at the Promised Land. As we lined up to present our passports to the customs official at the gate, we rejoiced that our trip was almost over. We took our books from under our coats and removed them from their plastic bags. (I looked at my companions' books out of the corner of my eye and took a secret pride in that my cover seem to be the best preserved of a lot.) Our leader was the first to approach the customs official, and frankly, I was a little worried about him. His passport was so battered and torn that I wondered whether the official would let him through. I was happy to note that he had no trouble.

And then there was panic at the gate. I couldn't believe my eyes. The customs official was refusing the rest of us one by one. When it was my turn, I pushed my passport under the official’s nose. But he didn't even look at it. He just asked me if I got there on my own. Remembering the many crossroads and unmarked trails, I told him that I hadn’t, but I could do it if I had our leader’s guidebook. He looked through my book and told me there was no difference. When I insisted there was, he didn’t argue. He just said he couldn't admit me until I could use the book to find my way in any weather, and I had to be prepared to “go it alone” if that was required.

And one by one the rest of us were refused entry; and when the last of us was turned away, the gate and the gatekeeper vanished, and the Promised Land was only a memory.

As evening came on and the cold ate through our clothing, most of us tore the pages out of our books to start a fire while we cursed the gatekeeper. But a small group began trying to understand what our leader had discovered in the book. And in the morning, they set out, books in hand, along a trail through a swamp! We, on the other hand, took a much better road and began our search for a more qualified leader and a happier destination.