In the fall of 1970 I arrived on the campus of Andrews University as a Lutheran minister, with ten years of pastoral experience. I came with a critical spirit sharply honed by distressing professional and personal crises. I came to discover the heresies of Adventism, particularly and with extreme caution, diligence, and skepticism. The most immediate and pressing question I faced was: Does the gospel, the good news of salvation in Christ, expressed in the theological formula of justification by grace through faith, exist in the Seventh-day Adventist Church? Second, if it does, has that message resulted in a born-again experience and a living testimony for Christ in the lives of Adventist believers? The answer, I discovered, was a clear and resounding Yes to both questions!
The Biblical truth of salvation by grace through faith in Christ was central in classroom teaching and course content in the theological Seminary. It was evident in the personal lives of the professors, many of whom were the finest examples of Christlikeness I had seen. I heard it time and time again from the pulpit of the Seminary chapel. It was manifest in the students' lives and conversation. I discovered it to be the central theme in the writings of Ellen G. White. And it permeated the pages of the Church Hymnal so loved and widely used by Adventist believers around the world. Because Christ lived in the Adventist Church, and because His gospel was the fundamental message preached and believed by Seventh-day Adventists, it was possible for me to take a serious look at the doctrines of the Sabbath, the heavenly ministry of Christ, and His second advent. It also made possible my eventual decision to become a Seventh-day Adventist believer and minister.
That was in 1971. Now, ten years later, I am hearing strange sounds. I am hearing that the gospel has only recently been discovered in the Adventist Church, that it is just now being taught and proclaimed, and that a reformation is just now beginning among us as a result of this "discovery" and proclamation. What, I ask myself, was it that I found in Adventism ten years ago if the gospel has not been known by Adventists until 1981?
The Christian church has always had a problem finding and maintaining the proper balance and relationship between God's law and gospel, grace and works, justification and sanctification. There are legalists in every Christian denomination, and Seventh-day Adventism has its share. There were legalists in the congregations I served as a Lutheran minister, in spite of the fact that the doctrine of justification by grace through faith has been the major emphasis in Lutheranism. This indicates that to emphasize justification does not eliminate legalism from the church's life. The absence of an emphasis on sanctification also produces legalists, for whom faith has become a work of merit. It is the proper balance between justification and sanctification, faith and works, gospel and law, that produces Spirit-filled believers whose lives reveal the fruits of the Spirit.
The fulcrum of Seventh-day Adventist theology is Revelation 14:12, wherein the people of God are identified as those who maintain a balanced understanding between faith in Christ and obedience to God's law. The maintenance of such a balance requires vigilance, careful atten tion, and patience. It is part of the exercise of the saintliness of God's people to maintain such a balance. This balance is not only essential to Christian spirituality and authentic Christian experience, but it is vitally important to the ultimate success of Christian missions and above all to the success of Seventh-day Adventist missions.
There are always persons in every Christian denomination who will misunderstand and/or misappropriate the gospel. Many insist on turning gospel into law or law into gospel, grace into works or works into grace. But that is not because the gospel is not taught. It is because fallen man, even religious man, finds it difficult to accept salvation on God's terms alone. The problem is not, therefore, with our message, our theology, but with the one who hears it. How do you hear? How do you read? If one is determined to disbelieve, or to change gospel into law, no amount of evidence or persuasion will convince him otherwise. If one who reads the works of Ellen White cannot find the gospel there, it is not because it is not there. As she herself wrote: "Those who really desire to know the truth will find sufficient evidence for belief."—Testimonies, vol. 5, p. 672. It is also true, of course, that those who refuse to believe will find sufficient evidence for their unbelief.
A good general will never fight the wrong battle at the wrong time in the wrong place. That is a formula for defeat. But that is what we are doing right now as a denomination. We are fighting the wrong battle. Our problem is not so much theological as it is methodological. Yes, we do have a problem. But it is not with the basic theological truth and reliability of our message. Our problem is with the way that message is often communicated. It is a matter of semantics, the choice of words, and the personal perception of that mes sage by teacher and/or preacher. To illustrate, let me tell you about a sermon I heard one Sabbath morning.
The preacher announced his theme as "Growing in Grace." His text was 2 Peter 3:18: "But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." "I am going to talk about growing in grace," he began, "because we believe in righteousness by faith and not by works."
Wonderful! I thought, and settled back expectantly. But my expectations were dashed to bits by a misplaced emphasis. The preacher proceeded to tell me four things I must do in order to grow in grace, as though grace were the goal rather than the environment in which growth takes place. I must read the Bible daily, pray regularly, worship faithfully, and witness eagerly.
Of course all four of these spiritual exercises are very important in the believer's life. Indeed, it is not possible to maintain the Christian faith without them. The need and desire to exercise them are also gifts of God's grace. But the way they were used by the preacher effectively transformed gospel into law, grace into works. There was no relation ship at all between the preacher's opening statement of what he believed and his method of communicating that belief. He did not say what he said he would say. Only misunderstanding and distortion can result from such communication.
The Biblical phrase "grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord" offers the clue as to the direction that sermon should have taken in order for it to be true to the text and an accurate expression of the preacher's stated belief. It also suggests the perfect analogy for what the text actually says. The preacher should have spoken first about the need for spiritual growth, with apt illustrations from life and nature. Then he should have devoted the major part of the sermon to discussing the Biblical truth that if there is to be any spiritual growth at all, it must take place in the "soil" of God's grace. Growth is possible only in grace. Growth takes place in grace. That's what the text says. That's all the text says. Grace is the soil in which the Christian life germinates and grows to fruition and productivity. Grace is not the goal one arrives at by certain exercises; it is rather the necessary environment for spiritual growth. When one is in that kind of environment, growth is a natural process, rather than something forced. The sermonic emphasis should have been on what God has done, and is doing, to make such growth possible, rather than on what the believer must do to grow. Such an emphasis would have constituted good news. Instead of the bread of life, the worshipers received a stone.
Yet even though the preacher misunderstood, misinterpreted, and misapplied the text, I did not fault the entire church and its theological history. I did not call into question the reliability of Ellen White or the authenticity of her spiritual gift. Nor did I begin to think the pioneers were wrong. I was not tempted to think such thoughts, because my previous study and investigation had convinced me that our message is indeed reliable and theologically sound. I did think there was some thing wrong with the preacher's perception and homiletical method, however.
Even the theological formula "righteousness by faith" is understood and communicated in different ways. When asked to interpret and articulate the meaning of that formula, one person may say, "I accept by faith the righteousness of Christ imputed to me," and another person may say, "I believe that if I do right I will be accounted righteous." The reason for the difference does not lie with the fundamental truth of righteousness by faith, but with the manner in which it is understood, expressed, and communicated. Just because a person explains it in the latter fashion should not lead us to doubt the truth or accuracy of "righteousness by faith."
The problem is not that we have not had the truth. But we have not always told the truth about the truth. It's one thing to know the truth, to have the truth; it's another thing to tell the truth about the truth. The public proclamation of the gospel is a serious business in which every word is fraught with potential for great danger or great good. For what takes place depends not only upon what the preacher says but also upon what actually happens in the inner being of the listener. Our words do things to people. If the preacher does not say what he intends to say, his homiletical method needs careful scrutiny and adjustment.
He must ask two very important questions in the preparation process: What do I want my listeners to know? What do I want to happen to them as they listen? He may be successful in the former and fail miserably in the latter. That is to say, he may present the right information but get a response he did not want or anticipate because he presented the right information in the wrong way, a response that leads the listener to question the validity of the information he has been given or to draw an erroneous conclusion.
As preachers and teachers, we must examine not only what we say but the way we say it, the choice of language, the structure of sentences, the nuances of meaning implied by voice and gesture and expression. Another incident will serve to illustrate.
Some years ago I was appointed to lead in the benediction at the close of worship and sat through the service observing the congregation from an excellent vantage point on the platform. The guest preacher was a man of considerable stature in the faith. His theme was one of vast importance for the Adventist believer. He spoke of the need for the infilling of the Holy Spirit for the completion of the task God has assigned to the Seventh-day Adventist Church. The information he presented was in itself sound and theologically true. The problem was with the way in which he presented his material. Instead of the sermon giving hope and assurance and moving the people to faith, it led instead to depression, defeat, and hopelessness. The theme of his sermon could be reduced to this proposition: Because the church is not filled with the Holy Spirit, the work will never be finished. There was certainly no hope or power for good in that sermon! No good news! I watched a lady in the second pew literally driven into her seat by every heavy blow from the preacher, her face a gradual study in despair and defeat. The preacher finished with great fervor, believing in what he was saying and doing, but having no idea of the consequences of his words and forms of expression. Instead of hope and victory, he had managed to bring that congregation hopelessness and defeat. They were in a worse predicament after he finished than before he began. And he did it with words, with the truth. But he failed to tell the truth about the truth.
The current suggestion that the theological validity of our message is to be doubted because we have managed to produce some legalists among us is to fight the wrong battle. The battle is not one of theological validity, but one of understanding and communication. Justification by grace through faith has been my spiritual "bread and butter" for more than thirty years, both as a Lutheran and as a Seventh-day Adventist. It is the fundamental message of Protestant Christianity. And set in the context of an eschatological perspective of history and theology, it is the fundamental message of the Seventh-day Adventist Church. I could never have joined this church if that were not so.
The gospel must always be a new thing. It is wonderful when it is personally discovered by the new convert, the young minister, and even the young theologian. Periodic spiritual revival must come to us all. But with such a personal rebirth should come also an appreciation for the history and traditions that formed the context in which the gospel was kept alive and transmitted from one generation to the next. The excitement that is generated by the gospel must be tempered by the stability of an appreciative historical perspective. It is cause for rejoicing when the good news becomes experiential and vital. It is cause for sadness when the church suffers casualties in the ranks of either laymen or ministers in a battle that should not be fought.
Instead of arguing about righteousness by faith, let us preach and teach it. Let us tell the truth about the truth. But in the telling, let us be faithful not only to the truth but also to our denominational history, which we believe is also a gift of grace from God. Fight we must for truth and right. But let us fight the right fight. Together!
