Dr. Snow could preach a great sermon on the Second Coming. I remember one that had me glued to my seat, in rapt awe at his eloquence in describing what would be the most cataclysmic event ever to shake Planet Earth. I trembled in fear at the thought of failing to measure up in that great day. The sermon drove me to my knees.
But Dr. Snow apparently didn’t know Jesus. One by one, church members encountered his unchristlike actions and attitudes, leaving them bewildered and hurt. In the pulpit, he seemed aglow with the Spirit of God, but in real life, not so much. Ultimately he linked arms with a much younger woman and walked away from his wife and, in truth, his Savior—although he wouldn’t have admitted as much. A wave of shock rumbled through the church community. How could someone so eloquent on behalf of the Advent message fall so low? Was it the intensity of the temptation? mental illness? midlife crisis?
Dr. Snow had been raised in the faith and knew its tenets and teachings better than he knew his address, but his actions betrayed a lack of relationship with its Jesus. Intellectually convinced of truth, his heart remained cold as a stone. Uncrucified pride pushed him into high achievements and organizational prominence, but this only further split his inward and outward selves. In his adulterous affair he clearly found something more desirable than position and status, and like a barracuda, he swallowed the flashing lure. Dr. Snow didn’t fall into sin—he crawled into it.
How it is possible to be a Seventh-day Adventist and yet have no relationship with Jesus? As a young convert having come out of ungodliness, I thought all professors of the Adventist faith held angel-like status. This “halo effect” ebbed away as I encountered Dr. Snow and others who, although well versed in religion, had not been born again. As I grew in wisdom, I realized that religious hypocrisy was alive and well in my newfound church.
You Must Be Born Again
It’s no accident that Jesus first spoke these words to a religious leader. Rabbi Nicodemus held a high position of trust in the Jewish nation when he first got wind of the mysterious new teacher, Jesus of Nazareth. He saw healings, heard the cries of joy, and even watched as this young radical drove the moneychangers out of the temple. Having read and matched the prophecies to this man, and having seen the Spirit of God move through Him, Nicodemus felt strangely attracted. Because an open discussion would raise too many eyebrows, he sought Jesus out under the cover of night. It was in this private conference in the dark that Jesus said, “You must be born again” (John 3:7).
To introduce the work of the Spirit on the heart, Jesus spoke of the untraceability of wind. You see its effect but can’t tell exactly from whence it comes, He mused. Then, as a home thrust, needing to make plain the truth of justification by faith, He reminded the learned Jew of a well-known Bible story: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted up” (verse 14). Ultimately the born-again experience, carried along by the wind of the Spirit, comes not from anything the human agent can summon up, but from the saving act of God in becoming sin for the human race. Just as by beholding the lifted-up serpent, the children of Israel could be healed of its fatal bite, the children of God may look to the Sin-bearer to be saved from sin.
Removing the truths of the gospel from Adventism renders it toxic.
Some who know the truths of Adventism have never heard such a message. But the mighty river of the cross is what gives life to all the tributary truths we teach. Most Adventists would claim to believe in righteousness by faith, but many by emphasis preach legalism. If, for example, a child raised in the church defines it based on its rules, chances are that child was never effectively introduced to Jesus and discipled as His follower. Adventism without the gospel is like bones without flesh—scary.
In fact, removing the truths of the gospel from Adventism renders it toxic. Or, to bring it into the realm of human psychology, who would want to meet a holy Jesus face-to-face if not secure in His love and righteousness? Adventism has historically used salvational insecurity to motivate, but this has backfired terribly in producing a fearful constituency. Because our message is so potentially damaging, we must always preach all aspects of it with Christ and Him crucified at the center.
If you’re the Nicodemus type, aware of all the rules, regulations, and doctrines but not quite secure in the love and righteousness of Jesus, your next step is quite simple. Come to know Him and His gospel. Take a break from eschatology, doctrinal debates, reforms, and controversies about secondary issues. Get a copy of the book Steps to Christ and read it cover to cover. Determine, like Paul, “not to know anything . . . except Jesus Christ and Him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2), bearing in mind this very good news:
“The light shining from the cross reveals the love of God. His love is drawing us to Himself. If we do not resist this drawing, we shall be led to the foot of the cross in repentance for the sins that have crucified the Saviour. Then the Spirit of God through faith produces a new life in the soul. The thoughts and desires are brought into obedience to the will of Christ. The heart, the mind, are created anew in the image of Him who works in us to subdue all things to Himself. Then the law of God is written in the mind and heart, and we can say with Christ, ‘I delight to do thy will, O my God’ (Ps. 40:8, KJV).”[*]
One More Story
In my travels I met a young man I’ll call Carl. He’d grown up down the road from an Adventist church. As a college student he became addicted to drugs and sought therapy. The therapist told him to think about something other than drugs 24/7. He decided to study history, and as he journeyed through YouTube video presentations he stumbled upon an Adventist preacher who recommended The Great Controversy. Obtaining a copy, he read it hungrily, sensing the truth of its message. Upon arriving home after college, he noticed the Adventist church and decided to attend one Sabbath. Based on his fluency in prophecy, the members thought him an Adventist and urged him to “transfer his membership” to the church. What membership, he asked?
Ultimately Carl pursued baptism along with an attractive young congregant, whom he married. As the two of them effervescently shared this story, I thought, How great. Our message draws seekers from all directions. But Carl’s addendum to the story drove home the point I’m trying to make here. I’ll recall his words the best I can:
“I was going along as an Adventist, becoming more and more versed in the doctrines and the writings of Ellen White, showing potential for being a pastor. It was exciting, heady stuff. But one day I saw a statement in the book Gospel Workers. It said that if a gospel minister doesn’t love people, he’s not converted. I knew in that moment that I needed to be born again.”
And the good news is that Carl was born again, becoming a loving and lovable, deeply converted Seventh-day Adventist. Like Carl, the full authentication of your Christ-centered Adventist experience will come. God’s Spirit is gusting upon you right now, drawing you like the serpent on the pole to Himself. Don’t resist, and you will be led to the foot of the cross, which just happens to be the best place on earth.
[*] Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1898, 1940), p. 176.
