Barry

Funerals are strange, eerie rituals. I just got back from one in Michigan for my friend and former co-worker Barry.

Naturally, the death of someone we care about brings on thoughts of what should have been said when the person was still alive. We also think about the times we had together and the times we should have had together. (Ironically, a few weeks ago, I had made plans with Barry to visit him and his wife on the very weekend his funeral would take place. Instead of reminiscing with him, this weekend was spent reminiscing about him.)

For me, remembering Barry, it was having a great time working with him, having lunch together, and even hitting the ski slopes. Mostly, we had a great deal of mutual respect for each other's work. (I never felt better about my work than when he would praise my efforts.) I also remember having a good time playing devil’s advocate and stirring up his more conservative spirit. :)

Funerals are meant for sharing these sorts of thoughts. Indeed, many people stood during Barry's service to give short but very meaningful recollections on the man we were there to remember. I really didn’t know what to say, and I’m not a very good speaker anyway. I didn’t say anything.

But one thing I wish I had shared is that I think the most important thing to remember about my friend is not about my relationship to him.

Rather, what I think is most significant about his life is his relationship to the thousands of people who will never know his name. You see, during his lifetime, Barry was a publishing director for several non-profit Christian publishing ministries. That’s where I met him, and that was what he was doing up to the week or two before he died.

As a publishing director, Barry brought together authors, editors, graphic artists, layout artists, and printers to create books and other literature that touched (and still touches) hearts and, yes, even made some money. That’s what Barry was clearly called to do in his short life. And he was incredibly successful at doing it. He was the conductor of a symphony of books, responsible for putting together, publishing, and selling or giving away thousands of Christian books that are in the hands of people right now all over the world.

Of course, a book is most widely known by its author. If you happen to judge a book by its cover, a book can also be known by its graphic artist. If you judge a book by its clarity or its mistakes, you might get to know a book by its editor. You can even get to know a book by the press firm that printed it.

But even though they are entirely crucial to the process, you will never know a book by its publishing director. Their name is never mentioned in the credits. And that’s unfortunate, especially in this case, because without Barry, some people wouldn’t have that certain book that has answered their doubts, or strengthened their faith, or given them hope for the future. Barry’s career was putting together books that are springboards for the Holy Spirit to call seekers and backsliders to the fold.

If you want to know the kind of impact Barry had on individuals, all you need to do is stop by an Adventist Book Center and look around. Chances are, one of his books is sitting on a shelf, waiting to be purchased, read, and then shared with another.

As tragic as Barry’s death is … and considering the mistakes he made in his short life, he did two very important things right. First, he loved his wife. Second, he did what God called him to do, fulfilling his mission up to the very end.

It is, I suppose, too late to pray for a change in Barry's life. But we can honor his life's legacy by praying for the thousands of souls who are reading and will be reading his books -- who will experience a change in their lives because Barry cared about the literature work.

And finally, let's remember that God will be using Barry’s work to save souls until the very last possible moment. Don't lose heart. God can turn even the worst of circumstances into something good.

I Used to Hate “Amazing Grace”

It’s the joy of human psychology … and the extra ridiculousness of mine.

The first time I remember hearing the song “Amazing Grace,” I was watching a bunch of members of the KKK singing it around a burning cross. (If you must know, it was in the movie Betrayed with Tom Beranger and Debra Winger ... so it wasn’t a real event. I guess this is a testament to the power and influence of film.)

Anyway, I came to associate the song with racists! So I never liked to listen to it … and that was exacerbated when I figured that Christianity could not be true because the Bible lied about God being love. I figured that if He had any grace, He’d act differently – you know, cause I would be super great as a god.

Then I became a Christian. I still disliked the song for a very long time. But one time, I decided to listen to it carefully. Then I heard the story behind the song. And then I started to like it … and now I even get a little bit emotional when I hear it. One of my favorite versions is by Ginny Owens and Jim Brickman. By the way, I would say that the film Amazing Grace, about the fight to end the slave trade in England, is kind of the perfect antidote to watching Betrayed.

So I guess I have learned that bias can come from all sorts of weird and unexpected places. And I think a lot of those are ultimately irrational, even though we like to think of them as logical and well thought out.

Now, this particularly silliness of this bias was always apparent to me. But let me tell you, it’s crazy what I have learned about myself when I have been willing to humble myself and ask God to help me search my heart.

What’s in the name?

This blog, 1GSDA — that’s “First-Generation Seventh-day Adventist” — marks my tenth year as an SDA. (Holy cow!)

That's quite extraordinary to me since, in the past, my viewpoints have tended to change frequently as new information, always abundant, whether true or false, pours in and messes with my overall worldview.

Indeed, my mind, given time, has repeatedly shown that it will eventually change no matter how hard I try to hold on to a certain set of beliefs — whether political, religious (or antireligious), social ... whatever.

"So what’s with this decade-old belief stuff, man?"

In this case, I would say that the SDA church has held my loyalty because it is the best available expression of Bible Christianity that I've come across. This isn't to say that I believe it is a perfect church, which it logically cannot be ... or even just the “right” church. Even further, I'll be bold and say that I have yet to give its extra-biblical doctrines my uttermost assent.

My loyalty to this or any church can only go so far; it will only last as I continue to believe it has truth. I will jump ship. I’ve taken the plunge before. I can try to swim to shore or another boat — or just drown. Whatever, dude!

But if I learned that the Seventh-day Adventist Church is a false expression of the faith, it would be hard for me to accept that any other form of Christianity could be called the true expression of the faith. Why? Because no other Christian belief system can refute it. There isn’t even a close second … (I’m not so dogmatic actually, but this idea serves my purpose.)

So here’s the point:

Even as I totter on with that dogmatic position, all these ten years in this church, I still consider myself an outsider looking in. Whenever I think of my relationship to the church, I never think “my church.” It is always “that church.” I would think that after a decade of tithing, I would be all right with saying that the SDA church is “my church.” But I am apparently not okay with saying that.

This isn't because I am some sort of individualist or part-time anarchist who balks at the idea of joining groups. Rather, my reluctance primarily stems from an enormous amount of skepticism about everything under the sun. I’ll write more about this primary cause in another post.

For now, I want to consider a secondary cause: the cause that inspired the name of this infant blog.

As to my reluctance of going all in with the church, perhaps the most significant secondary cause is the existence of SDA “fundies” and “generationalists.” It didn’t take long for this noob to see that Seventh-day Adventism can lead to Pharisaical ideology and a special brand of religious arrogance. I might have thrown myself into the church a little deeper had I not heard that there were such things as “third-generation Adventists" and that these folks refer to Ellen White with the archaic “Sister White.”

Who are these people? Why do they chart the lineage of their faith as if they were supplementing the Gospel of Matthew? What kind of person calls Ellen White “Sister White” in this day? I admit it; it was a little frightening. It’s as if they actually say with some pride, “I AM a Seventh-day Adventist!”

Now the first time I heard the phrase “Seventh-day Adventist,” it came with, “Don’t listen to these people. It’s a cult.” These fundy generationalists don’t help assuage that kind of tension in a skeptic. Not one bit. Thus, I’m only willing to go as deep into this church as these people are willing to go into open water on the Sabbath — that is to say, only about up to my ankles.

Yet don’t be tricked. I’m a die-hard Adventist. Don’t take me to task about the Sabbath, the state of the dead, the millennium, the health message, or the truth about hell-fire. As weird as “you people” can be, “your beliefs” make the most biblical sense. And most important, these truths helped to transform my understanding of who God is, which in turn allowed me to open my heart to Jesus Christ. I was given this access to God by walking through the door of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

Why SDA? Because “that church” deserves my respect, and I gladly stand by it.

So why 1G? Because I don’t want to be a part of the cult of arrogance and the Pharisaical spirit abundantly found and matured in the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

Fo'reelz, I believe we are all 1GSDAs. We are all first-generation Christians. No matter who our parents are … where we come from … or how we find ourselves in this church … we are each in the first generation of believers. I’m happy with that. If there is any group that I might dive into, that's the one.

And that’s what I hope this blog represents. If you are of the same mind, maybe this blog can be your voice just as it is my voice. I hope you will join me, discuss with me, point out what you like and don’t like about what I write … and at times just have some fun with each other.

Ultimately, I hope that we can help each other transform into the next generation of believers, whatever that might be.