Tag: Seventh-day Adventist

  • The God Talk Club Defines Cult – II

    [Continued from The God Talk Club Defines Cult – I]

    “I think if I was setting out on a journey of any kind I’d want to know precisely where I’m going,” said Bob.

    “I agree!” said Jerry.  “That’s why orthodoxy is so important.”

    “But you really can’t agree on what’s ‘orthodox’, can you?”

    “I think that the vast majority of Christians for the last 2,000 years have been able to define what orthodoxy is.  The Bible is God’s Word, the trinity, the virgin birth, the resurrection, salvation by faith, and so forth.”

    “But, …” Mandy said and then paused.  Then she resumed.  “I’m just wondering if you regard me as an ‘orthodox’ Christian by your definition.”

    “Well, so far as I know, you are.  I have some problems with the way you understand righteousness by faith, and I think your view of scripture is a bit weak, but it generally falls within the boundaries of orthodoxy.”

    “But you just mentioned the virgin birth.  I consider the virgin birth metaphorical rather than a genuine, physical miracle.  I suspect it was an explanation for the questions about Jesus’ ancestry while at the same time explaining his evident divinity.”

    Jerry had his mouth open, but Bob cut in, “Evident divinity?”

    “Yes,” said Mandy.  “I think the best explanation for the way people responded to Jesus was that he exhibited that divine authority to those who were perceptive, even when he might not have looked like much to physical sight.”

    “Oh,” said Bob.

    “But aren’t you calling the gospel writers liars?” asked Jerry.

    “I don’t think so.  I think they used the best explanations they had.  Mark and John were happy with the baptism, but others wanted more.  But that’s not really why I brought the topic up.  I don’t accept the virgin birth as a physical, historical realty.  Am I now a cultist?”

    Jerry was stunned for a minute.  First, he wanted to convince Bob that there was one way of salvation, and one Christianity which he needed to accept or reject.  Now one of the Christians in the group was denying what he felt was essential.  Was it a moment to de-emphasize the differences, or did he need to stand up and be counted?  He really wished Mandy had not brought the topic up.

    Of course, the decision wasn’t really all that difficult.  Jerry couldn’t really pretend very well in any case, and he didn’t think it would be right.  “On that point you’re not orthodox,” he said slowly.  “And I do consider it an essential point.  I’m not trying to judge your salvation, but you’re denying what I consider an essential pillar of Christianity, and in effect you’re calling God a liar.”

    “Calling God a liar?” asked Bob and Mac together.

    “Yes,” said Mandy before Jerry could reply.  “With Jerry’s view of Biblical inspiration he could hardly say otherwise.  I’ve said that certain Bible writers claimed something happened, but it didn’t.  I see the Bible as people’s experience with God.  Jerry sees it as God’s infallible, inerrant Word.”

    “But doesn’t it make you angry that he calls you unorthodox?  Isn’t that a bad thing amongst Christians?” asked Bob.

    “I’m sure some people get angry about such things, but I know what Jerry believes, and I know I disagree, so I would be more disturbed if he pretended he believed something he didn’t.  But Jerry,” she said, turning back to him, “I’m wondering whether you really regard me as a sister in Christ or not.  Am I a cultist?”

    “As far as I know,” Jerry responded slowly again, “you have accepted Jesus Christ as your savior and depend on him for your salvation.  Your beliefs, especially your comments on the virgin birth and by implication about scripture, are wrong and extremely dangerous.  As to whether you’re a cultist or not, I can only hope that your beliefs are not the norm in your church.  I know you claim to accept the creed–‘born of the virgin Mary’–and I hope your church really does and thus I can call it orthodox.”

    “So it’s possible that any Christian denomination might not be ‘orthodox’ then, and not just the Latter Day Saints,” said Mandy.

    “I think Christianity is defined by the historical doctrines that have been held universally by the church.”  Jerry’s voice was now very firm.

    “So what about Justine’s church?” asked Mandy.  “I know you and she disagree on a number of doctrinal points.  They do all that tongue-speaking stuff, which you don’t.  You don’t think women should be pastors and she is.”

    “I’m quite certain that Justine is completely orthodox.  We can debate more minor issues.  You believe in the virgin birth, don’t you?” Jerry addressed the last to Justine.

    “Yes I do.”  Justine had been quiet.  It had been a revelation to her that Mandy, who often defended her on other issues, quite casually denied what to her was unquestioned Christian doctrine.

    Mac wasn’t done yet.  “In that case you probably wouldn’t have trouble with Seventh-day Adventists either, would you?”

    “Well, I have some of the same problems with Adventists that I have with Mandy regarding salvation by faith.  They seem to be depending on their works.  They also seem to think they have an exclusive inside track.  So I have my doubts about them, but regarding the major doctrines in the Christian creeds, I think they’re orthodox.”

    “But you think some of their doctrines are dangerous as well,” said Bob.

    “Yes.”

    “This still just illustrates my point.  If I wanted to be a Christian, I’d have to figure out which one of your many groups, if any, has it right, and join that one.  I think that’s terribly confusing.  You don’t even agree on how one determines just what is right.  Mandy thinks it’s largely individual.  Ellen has modern, or sort of modern revelation.  You and Justine thinks it all comes from the Bible.  Oh, I forgot.  Justine also thinks there can be modern prophets who might give a message directly from God right in her church.”

    “It would have to agree with the Bible,” said Justine.

    Jerry nodded.

    “Well, all this leaves me thinking ‘Christianities’ not ‘Christianity’.”  I think you all ought to get your act together before you start converting other people!”

    “Do all atheists agree?” asked Jerry.

    “Point,” said Bob.  “But then I’m not trying to convert you to my religion.”

    “Really!” exclaimed Jerry, and everyone laughed.

    With that the group started break up.

  • My One Sports Moment

    This story is actually true. Well, at least it’s based on true events that happened to me. I’m probably dramatizing it a bit. Maybe more than a bit.

    You see, when I say I can’t play _____ (fill in the sport), I really mean it. I don’t think I’m an incredibly clumsy person, though I’m not particularly talented either.

    The problem is that most people have played at least a little bit of a variety of sports. People assume that when one says one doesn’t play baseball, for example, that one is very bad at it; not that one doesn’t play at all.

    For me, however, when I say I don’t play, I mean I really don’t. I dabbled in ping-pong, and played volleyball a few times. While I was in Guyana as a teenager, I did get hold of a cricket bat a couple of times. My Guyanese friends assumed I was so bad at it because I was used to baseball. But no, I hadn’t played baseball.

    The reason for this state of affairs was that my parents didn’t approve of competitive sports. I grew up on the fringes of the Seventh-day Adventist church, in what were known as “self-supporting” organizations. There we had very little to do with the ordinary culture around us.

    So fast forward a few years and I’m in the Air Force, taking technical training in San Angelo, Texas at Goodfellow Air Force Base. We had a half day for recreation, and what better way to occupy the afternoon than with a softball game. I even forget how we chose the teams.

    The folks on my team wondered what I played.

    “I don’t play softball,” I said.

    “Oh, but what do you do best?”

    “Nothing. I don’t play softball.”

    “This is just an informal game. It doesn’t matter if you’re any good or not.”

    “But I don’t play.”

    They stared at me blankly.

    “I don’t even know how to hold the bat.”

    “Oh!” Horror and comprehension dawned at once. How could an American young man grow to his 20s and not play softball. I chose the “I grew up overseas” explanation rather than “I grew up in an environment where softball was not religiously acceptable.”

    So one of the players takes me to the plate and shows me how to hold the bat, and generally explains the game. The other team just knew that I would be an easy out.

    I come up to bat and the pitcher does his thing. I watched one. I missed one.

    Then suddenly the ball was coming toward me and I was swinging the bat. The odds were ten thousand to one, or perhaps a hundred thousand to one, but the laws of probability were writhing in agony somewhere in the outfield. The barrel of the bat connected squarely with the ball and it disappeared over the fence, or at least past the arbitrary line we had designated as the fence.

    It was a solo home run. No, really!

    The other team was sure they’d been had, but then a few more innings went by and I demonstrated clearly that I truly did not know what I was doing. The laws of probability were back in force.

    But at least I had one moment.