Our confession of His faithfulness is Heaven’s chosen agency for revealing Christ to the world. We are to acknowledge His grace as made known through the holy men of old; but that which will be most effectual is the testimony of our own experience.”*
“Did you know the first day is not a sacred day?” The question, though unsettling to one who worshipped on Sunday, came from within a broader conversation gift-wrapped in the calming voice of a friend. The soft-spoken delivery disarmed my usual instinct to retort at what seemed like an insult, and so I settled (at least for now) on a simple “Oh, yeah?”
I didn’t know much about Seventh-day Adventists. I’d attended public high school with some, but all I vaguely remembered was a rumor that they attended church on Saturday. Now recently discharged from the military and attending college in Colorado, I’d befriended an Adventist and had the opportunity to confirm or dispel the rumor of Saturday worship that I remembered from my childhood. Whenever I was present at sundown on a Friday, I’d receive an invitation to join the family for something they called “Opening the Sabbath.” Occasionally I would accept, but only as an observer, somewhat skeptical of the ritual—and yet it left an ever-so-slight impression on me. I recall the song “Holy day, Jehovah’s rest, of Creation’s week the best . . .” or something like that.
Over time and after mostly aloof observations, I became more accepting of the religion. Now with a human face attached, the strangeness had diminished. So, I reasoned, everybody has their own way of worshipping God. Yet that unanswered question still lingered in my mind: “Did you know the first day is not a sacred day?”
Searching
It had been a couple of years since I had first heard the question, and my defusing response had been “Oh, yeah?” Now I needed to look further into the matter through my own investigation, and I knew just where to start: the college library. Since just about everyone I knew thought Sunday was sacred, I figured I’d begin my research by looking into why the Adventists think otherwise.
The year was 1981. No Google. No laptops. No iPads. Just the good old library card catalog and the cutting-edge technology called microfiche. After perusing several secular books from the shelves, I encountered the terms “Great Disappointment” and “Millerite movement.” The next time I saw my friend I queried, “I looked up Adventists at the library. Are you familiar with the Millerites?”
God used His manservant to bring me out of darkness into His marvelous light.
Sensing that I was on a spiritual search, my friend responded, “If you want to know more about Adventists, a Bible study would help. Would you like for me to set one up for you?”
“Yes! That will be OK.” I’d never had a Bible study.
A few days later there was a knock at my apartment door. I opened it to a pleasant-looking gentleman. He was Caucasian. “Hello. I’m Pastor Sidney English of the Colorado Springs Seventh-day Adventist Church, and I received a call that James would like to receive Bible studies.”
“Yes, I’m James. Please come in, and thanks for coming.”
At that time I was a Black American of the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, and this was my first sit-down with a White pastor. Since my friend had contacted him for me, I wanted to see what he had to say. He spoke with confidence and expounded upon each topic in the study guides with authority, using only the Bible as a reference. Day after day he answered my questions and shared even more Bible truths. God used His manservant to bring me out of darkness into His marvelous light. I looked forward to each study: salvation, the second coming of Jesus, God’s law, health, and the Sabbath—they were such eye-openers. By the time I completed the series of Bible studies and the question “Would you like to join God’s remnant church through baptism?” came, I was eager to reply, “Oh, yes!” I loved Jesus and desired to live my life in obedience to Him.
One snowy Sabbath I stood before the congregation to affirm the baptismal vows with other candidates. It was apparent that I was journeying a long way from the AME Church of my birth. When God sent truth to my apartment, I wasn’t concerned with the skin color of the messenger, but, being a child of the Jim Crow era South, I do admit to experiencing a little rejection anxiety. I had much to learn about my newfound faith, and I had confidence in the One who had led me to it.
Serving
Having completed my degree, I returned home to the Atlanta area for further studies. The Lord led me to a small congregation, not far from the Atlanta Airport, where I could develop my God-given spiritual gifts. Over the years, as I was ready to receive them, I was offered varying church office opportunities until I was eventually voted head elder. Elder certification and even a few theology semesters in the Southwestern Adventist University Distance Learning Program were very helpful in my spiritual development.
Ultimately, I had the opportunity to serve as the National Service Organization director for the conference beginning in 2001, a mere three months before the deadly attacks of September 11. I held the position for more than 21 years, through two conference presidents, preaching the gospel, and counseling young people throughout Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina, stepping down only after the U.S. government declared an official end to the Global War on Terror (GWOT) in 2022.
I am both indebted to my friend for asking a profound question and making a vital call, and appreciative of the pastor who showed no interest in the color of the package but in the value of its content, a soul for whom Christ gave His life.
“Did you know the first day is not a sacred day?”
“Oh, yeah?” For me it took two years for that spark to become a flame, but I thank God for His loving patience. Now I rejoice to sing that song I heard so long ago as I “open the Sabbath.” “Holy Day, Jehovah’s rest, of Creation’s week the best!”
* Ellen G. White, The Ministry of Healing (Mountain View, Calif.: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1905), p. 100.
