A Church That Heals

IN 1900 you could tell a Seventh-day Adventist by the peanut butter on his breath.

Concocted in the 1890's by an Adventist physician, Dr. John Harvey Kellogg, peanut butter quickly gained wide national acceptance and lost its denominational connotations. But others of Dr. Kellogg's ideas remained to identify loyal Adventists. Vegetarianism. Abstinence from alcohol, tobacco, tea, and coffee. Simple clothing, free from hoops and bustles and flowing trains. Water treatments for contagious diseases. In short, the system that Dr. Kellogg dubbed "biologic living."

In Battle Creek, Michigan, the Adventists had one grand and glorious institution that promoted what were then considered to be quite radical ideas of good health. It was originally named the Western Health Reform Institute, but Kellogg renamed it the Medical and Surgical Sanitarium in 1876 when he, at the age of 24, became its director. In two years the number of patients at the sanitarium almost tripled; its profit more than tripled; and donations to the poor increased almost 1,000 percent.

By the early twentieth century Kellogg's sanitarium had established a reputation that attracted statesmen, scholars, entertainers, and financial barons. William Jennings Bryan, Will Durant, Eddie Cantor, Alfred DuPont, John D. Rockefeller, Jr. all shared a firsthand acquaintance with the Battle Creek Sanitarium. William Howard Taft registered as patient number 100,000 for a complete physical examination.

More Than Peanut Butter

"Biologic living" became famous, but its relationship to the real message of Seventh-day Adventism was but little known. The Adventist Church was built on more than peanut butter.

In the 1840's and 1850's Adventists proclaimed that Jesus was coming soon. "His coming is near, even at the doors," they cried. "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." Through long days and nights of intensive study, aided by the Holy Spirit, these pioneer Adventists came to understand the importance of complete righteousness before God. They earnestly sought to rid their lives of sin and to follow all of God's requirements. They diligently studied to show themselves approved unto God, rightly dividing the word of truth (see 2 Timothy 2:15).

By 1863, when the Seventh-day Adventist Church was formally organized, many of its leaders were broken in health. The years of arduous work and study and the long hours had put too much strain on their weak constitutions.

At this time Ellen White, wife of one of the church's founders, James White, began to write messages stressing the importance of good health to the struggling young church. The gospel message, she emphasized, includes more than wholeness of spirit and mind. It includes wholeness of body as well. Mrs. White encouraged the church leaders to build health institutions where the distinctively Adventist message could be taught.

Most Adventists soon saw the wisdom of Mrs. White's practical advice. When they paid attention to diet, exercise, and rest, their minds were clear to study the Word. Their bodies were strong to preach what they learned. And when they applied natural methods of treating disease physical therapy rather than opium, calomel, arsenic, and strychnine their mortality rate plummeted. Many saw the wisdom in Mrs. White's repeated statements that "it [true education] is the harmonious development of the physical, the mental, and the spiritual powers" (Education, p. 13). They saw the need to follow the example of the Master Healer in restoring bodies as well as souls.

A few thousand Adventists could tell their neighbors that Jesus would soon appear in the clouds of heaven. They could hold evangelistic meetings to explain Bible prophecies and to uphold the eternal law of God. They could even open primary schools for their children to instruct them in God's Book from their earliest years. But how could a few thousand Adventists open a medical institution?

Faith began to operate. Believing that God had instructed them to proclaim the healing of the body along with the healing of the soul, a few brave Adventists opened the Western Health Reform Institute in 1866, with "two doctors, two bath attendants, one nurse, three or four helpers, one patient, any amount of inconveniences, and a great deal of faith in the future of the institution and the principles on which it was founded."

As could be expected, the Institute was in real financial trouble within two years. But to the surprise of many, it weathered the storm, and within a decade it was keeping within its budget. By the turn of the century it had sister institutions in California, Nebraska, Colorado, Massachusetts, Oregon, Iowa, Ohio, and Washington. It had added a school of nursing and a fully accredited four-year school of medicine. Books and pamphlets on healthful living poured out of the Review and Herald press in Battle Creek. Kellogg's magazine Good Health was circulated by the millions of copies. A young church was learning that God rewards those who move forward in faith.

It was time, in 1902, to embark on a new adventure.

In 1874 only about five hundred Adventists lived in the whole State of California. In 1902 more than a thou sand lived in southern California alone. The growth rate may have been encouraging, but many southern California Adventists were not the least bit encouraged by Ellen White's newest idea.

On September 5 she wrote to A. G. Daniells, president of the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventists: "Brother Daniells, constantly the Lord is keeping southern California before me as a place where we must establish medical institutions."

The brethren were flabbergasted. They had just voted a no-debt policy. The times did not seem right for any new institutions, let alone several in southern California. Mrs. White assured them that "the Lord ... is preparing the way for our people to obtain possession, at little cost, of properties on which there are buildings that can be utilized in our work." The brethren weren't so confident.

Their faltering faith was strengthened that same year when they were able to purchase a school in the San Fernando Valley. Valued at $40,000, the property with buildings sold for only $10,000.

Paradise Valley

As soon as the San Fernando property was secure, Mrs. White and other church leaders went to San Diego. In the suburb of Paradise Valley they found a well-landscaped 20 acres with a three-story sanitarium already on it. Formerly valued at $25,000, the property was on the market for only $12,000. To debt-ridden California Adventists struggling to operate in the black, the price was not right.

Two years later the price dropped. The Adventists bought the Paradise Valley Sanitarium for only $4,000, and just in the nick of time. Even while the papers were being signed to close the deal, a letter was en route from New York to the owners offering $6,000 for the property.

The same year, 1904, the church bought the Glendale Hotel. Valued at $50,000, it sold for only $12,000. The Adventists went right to work to turn it into a sanitarium.

Within two years the southern California Adventists had purchased one school and two sanitariums. Now, perhaps, they could pay off their debts and try to put a little money in the bank. They hadn't counted on Mrs. White's vision for the Adventist medical work.

"We need more than two sanitariums in southern California," she insisted. "We also need a training school for medical workers. It's not Paradise Valley, and it's not Glendale. We'll find it if we keep looking."

Loma Linda

They found what they needed in Loma Linda. Seventy-six acres of land, eighteen planted in fruit trees and fifteen in alfalfa. The rest of the property landscaped in lawns, drives, and walks. A main building with 64 rooms. Four four-room cottages. A large recreation hall. The steam-heated, electrically lighted buildings in perfect condition. Livestock, farm equipment, an abundance of water. Asking price on the $150,000 investment: $110,000. The Adventists sighed and turned to other business.

But Ellen White didn't. She continued to investigate the property and soon discovered that the sale price had been reduced to $85,000. Still too high. But when the Adventists made their third inquiry, they discovered that the financially burdened stockholders had ordered the place sold for $40,000. The Adventists bought it.

Now, it may be impressive to read about a church that values physical and mental health along with spiritual health. It may be fascinating to learn of institution after institution bought for a fraction of its original price. But it wouldn't be too surprising to learn that the church was unable to meet payments, would it?

Many Adventists feared just that possibility. The General Conference--in Washington, D.C.--frowned on the California purchases. Many California church members gloomily predicted bankruptcy and disgrace. But money started to come in.

Some members borrowed large sums on their personal accounts to pay off the church's debts. Some offered to mortgage their homes. Completely unexpected gifts came through the mails. This is not to say that the Adventist leaders were free from fear.

To the contrary, they were sick with worry as the calendar showed payment due dates creeping closer and closer. Through the generosity of church members, $5,000 had been put down on the Loma Linda property. Any subsequent default would cause the church members to lose both the property and the money already invested in it. Now the second $5,000 was due, and no money was in sight. Every southern California Adventist had already given as much as he could. Northern Californians refused to help on the grounds that church leaders had counseled against the purchase in the first place.

Now it was the morning of the day when the second payment was due. Leaders assembled in committee. Those who had initially favored the purchase tried to defend their position while the more reluctant blamed them for the impending disaster. Someone suggested that the morning mail might bring relief.

In a few minutes the postman climbed the stairs and delivered the mail. One letter was from an Adventist lady in Atlantic City. Mrs. White had written her about the needs in California, and the lady had felt impressed to give a donation. The amount of her check: $5,000.

Not every payment was supplied by providential checks. Church members continued to empty their pockets. But in the end southern California owned three sanitariums and a medical school debt free.

Around the World

Almost every part of the world has an Adventist medical center today. From Addis Ababa to Wahroonga, Adventists carry their message of God's power to heal body, mind, and spirit. Every hospital has its own history. Some are built on faithful sacrifice; some on unexpected generosity. The hospital in Denver, Colorado, belongs to the second group.

A Denver banker, Henry M. Porter, liked to winter in southern California. While staying with his daughter in Pasadena, he caught a bad cold. She suggested that he try a hydrotherapy treatment at the nearby Glendale Sanitarium.

The banker's symptoms were so relieved that he fell asleep on the treatment table. Awakening, he offered the therapist a dollar tip. "No, sir," said the boy. "I'm paid by the hospital, and I couldn't accept further payment." The banker filed away the incident in his mind.

A few years later Porter and his wife were vacationing at the Hotel del Coronado near San Diego when he came down with another cold. He asked around until he discovered the existence of Paradise Valley Sanitarium. He immediately checked in.

The hydrotherapy treatments relaxed him, his cold improved, and he was well impressed with the courteous care the nurses gave to all the patients. He paid his bill and returned to Denver. Within a week the sanitarium accountants discovered they had overcharged Porter, so they mailed him a refund check for the balance--45 cents.

The good care and the honesty of both Adventist sanitariums made a lasting impression on Henry Porter. Two months after his discharge from Paradise Valley he wrote to the credit manager: "Can you give me the address of the general manager of your various corporations, as I would like to correspond with him in regard to establishing a like institution in Denver."

And so in 1928 the Porter Memorial Hospital was born. Located on 40 acres in south Denver, which were part of the original Porter estate, the hospital to day serves the area with 285 beds.

The Adventist medical work grew. In 1916 the women of the church raised the money to build the White Memorial Medical Center, which now has 305 beds in downtown Los Angeles. The Loma Linda medical training school soon became a first-rate school of medicine, adding a school of dentistry in 1953. Food factories were established around the world to produce protein foods of vegetable origin.

Today health publications such as Life and Health and Listen circulate widely. Home nutrition instructors licensed by the General Conference hold cooking schools emphasizing meatless cookery. Five-Day Plans to Stop Smoking are conducted in churches, schools, and even subway trains to help people overcome the smoking habit. A new Wa-Rite weight control program has undergone its first field tests.

Adventists Are Healthy

The October 10, 1966, issue of the Journal of the American Medical Association reported research done by Drs. F. R. Lemon and R. T. Walden showing the low incidence of respiratory disease among Seventh-day Adventists. Other research by the same two doctors confirms that death rates from cancer and heart disease are lower among Adventists than among the population at large.

Currently the National Cancer Institute and the Loma Linda University School of Health are conducting a joint study "to determine which components of the Adventist life-style may account for their lower risk of developing cancer, heart disease, and other serious illnesses."

Adventists ought to be healthy! We have spent more than a century preaching redemption of the body, mind, and spirit. But if we are still known only for our interest in health, our message has been incomplete.

Before Jesus healed the paralytic, He said, "Your sins are forgiven" (Mark 2:5, R.S.V.). With Jesus, spiritual and physical healing went hand in hand. The Seventh-day Adventist Church, like its Leader, believes in restoring the whole man. "Beloved, I wish above all things that you mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth" (3 John 2).

Anything less than this is not enough.