The summer after I graduated from Andrews University with my bachelor’s degree in theology, I had to assist with a “Field School of Evangelism” in Kalamazoo, Michigan, to complete my program requirements. This was a requirement for all students to graduate, but I somehow pushed it off until after my last year.
It was a very interesting and enlightening experience, but one episode in particular stands out in my memory. We were each assigned a table for the meetings, where we’d sit with the same attendees night after night. I became very friendly with one older lady who faithfully attended, and we had many interesting conversations about the content of the presentations.
She liked much of what she was learning, despite coming from a Lutheran background—and that was where the rub lay. Every time a new idea came up, she would go home each night and look up what Martin Luther had to say about the concept. And she’d return the next day and tell us whether Luther agreed with it or not. And usually—though not always—if Luther agreed with it, she’d agree with it (interestingly, she reported to me one day that Luther agreed with the Adventist understanding on the “state of the dead,” but she still couldn’t bring herself to accept it).
The influence of theologians
There are many different points I could make about the whole experience, but I think it was the first time I really came to understand just how much Christians are shaped by and take their cues from various theological thinkers or systems. This is why we have people who call themselves “Lutherans” or “Calvinists” or “Wesleyans.” For many different reasons, they’ve largely adopted a way of understanding the Christian message through the lens of their favorite theologian (or theologians).
It would be easy to suppose that they are guilty—in ways we Adventists are not—of elevating these various theological fountainheads as the source of their doctrine over and above the Bible. But I think it’s a bit unfair to make that blanket claim—both because it ignores the ways many people in these various “camps” take the claims of Scripture seriously, trying to make sure they judge even Luther, Calvin, or Wesley against the Bible, and it perhaps overlooks the ways that we, too, have been shaped to significant degrees by voices outside of the Bible.
And to that latter point, this is actually a twisting and winding way of coming to my main point, which is simply this: I candidly admit that I’ve been shaped to significant degrees by one Christian writer in particular as well. Her name is Ellen White.
I’m not talking about Ellen White as a “prophet” or a “messenger.” Leaving that question aside for the purposes of these reflections, I’m speaking of her in this context simply as a “theologian.” And I would have to say that, at the core, my theology is largely “Whitean.” My views of God, my understanding of Scripture, bear so much resemblance to what I read in Ellen White—or, at the very least, to my perception of what I read in Ellen White.
What I’ve discovered in her writings and in her theological reflections is more beautiful and centered on love than just about any other Christian writer I’ve ever come across.
A concerning admission?
Such an admission may sound scary to two types of people.
First, to the non-Adventist Christian who might conclude that I’m a member of a “cult” because I attribute so much of my theology to a source outside of the Bible: I like to think that I am no more devoted to the theology of Ellen White than my “Field School” friend was devoted to the theology of Martin Luther. I’ve also encountered a fair number of Calvinists, as just one other example, who have difficulty accepting anything unless they can find it in Calvin.
I hope I don’t do this with Ellen White, who always pointed people back to the Bible, but I also hope I’m at least afforded the privilege of seeing what she had to say about a particular topic and allowing her to be a “dialogue partner” in the quest to make sense of God and the Bible.
Second, to the Adventist Christian who may feel very “triggered” by any hint of ascribing some sort of theological influence to Ellen White—perhaps because you’ve been “beaten over the head” with a very rigid and legalistic version of her counsel: I get it. I totally get it. I candidly admit that her writings have at times been used in ways that tear people down rather than build them up. She’s been a source of guilt and shame rather than a source of blessing and encouragement. And with over 100,000 pages of her material available to us at our fingertips, we can pretty much make her “say” whatever it is we want her to “say.”
What I’ve discovered in her writings and in her theological reflections, however, is more beautiful and centered on love than just about any other Christian writer I’ve ever come across. To be sure, there is plenty of material of a personal nature that can be quite direct and challenging. But, at the very least, all that needs to be considered against the backdrop of her larger theological vision—and applied in the most gentle and Christlike way.
A theologian of God’s love
Indeed, when we take a step back and look at her grand theological vision, I believe few theological thinkers—especially in her nineteenth-century context—rival the degree to which she focused on and expounded upon the love of God as revealed in Christ.
Take, for example, some of the opening paragraphs of her book, Patriarchs and Prophets, which is the first book in her “Conflict of the Ages” series. Notice the very first sentences of this book, in a chapter entitled “Why Was Sin Permitted?”
“‘God is love.’ 1 John 4:16. His nature, His law, is love. It ever has been; it ever will be.”
Similarly, in the next paragraph, she continues:
“Every manifestation of creative power is an expression of infinite love. The sovereignty of God involves fullness of blessing to all created beings.”
Then, two paragraphs later:
“The history of the great conflict between good and evil, from the time it first began in heaven to the final overthrow of rebellion and the total eradication of sin, is also a demonstration of God’s unchanging love.”
Again, on the next page:
“The law of love being the foundation of the government of God, the happiness of all intelligent beings depends upon their perfect accord with its great principals of righteousness. God desires from all His creatures the service of love—service that springs from an appreciation of His character. He takes no pleasure in a forced obedience; and to all He grants freedom of will, that may render Him voluntary service.”[i]
On and on it goes. Her “Conflict” series continuously develops these themes, placing all her theological reflections within the context of God’s character of self-emptying, self-sacrificing love.
Elsewhere in the series, in The Desire of Ages, she shares what I think is one of the most profound and unique statements ever written. Speaking of the consequences of humanity’s initial fall, she explains:
“The earth was dark through misapprehension of God. That the gloomy shadows might be lightened, that the world might be brought back to God, Satan’s deceptive power was to be broken. This could not be done by force. The exercise of force is contrary to the principles of God’s government; He desires only the service of love; and love cannot be commanded; it cannot be won by force or authority. Only by love is love awakened.”[ii]
These are just a few of many examples that I could point to throughout her writings that present God’s love as the fulcrum of her entire theological system. And lest there’s any doubt as to her focus, not only does she start the “Conflict” series with the words “God is love” in Patriarchs and Prophets, she also ends the whole series with those three words in The Great Controversy.
As a scholar of nineteenth-century American Christianity, I can honestly say, with little reservation, that her theological reflections were largely unique in this regard. And as a pastor in twenty-first-century Christian America, I can also say I’ve come across very few contemporary theological thinkers—except those who themselves have built upon Ellen White’s theological foundation—who have developed such love-centered themes to the extent she did.
Again, I freely admit that her writings can be used in ways that contradict love. I also acknowledge that not every sentence or paragraph she wrote, if taken in isolation, feels like it’s solely an exposition of God’s love. But notwithstanding those caveats, I remain infinitely grateful for how Ellen White, as a theologian, has shaped and influenced my theology.
And to whatever degree you hear me talk about the love of God, you can largely thank the influence of Ellen White—the theologian—for that.
[i] Ellen G. White, Patriarchs and Prophets (Washington, D.C.: Review and Herald Pub. Assn., 1890), 34.
[ii] Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages (Mountain View, CA: Pacific Press Pub. Assn., 1898), 22.