As conservative Christians, we believe that the Bible, though written by many people over many centuries, was all inspired by the same God. Thus we expect it to present a unified message. The challenge is that, at times, there seem to be discordant texts.

Correctly, I believe, we look for the general consensus of all texts addressing a particular topic. If a small number of texts seem to point in a different direction, we choose to follow the majority. Having said that, let me suggest a different way of looking at things. Is it possible that some of the greatest spiritual insights come from the non-mainstream statements of scripture? Here’s my thinking.

When God inspired Moses to write (we’re assuming he was the first writer of scripture), Moses described as best he could to his intended audience what God had placed on his heart. And the people accepted what he said as a message from God.

Years pass, and someone else is moved by God to share a message. The new prophet describes as best he can to his intended audience what God has placed on his heart. But this new writer has one additional challenge: His message needs to comport with what Moses said, or he won’t be taken seriously. Moses is the standard of orthodoxy. So the new writer inevitably borrows a lot of both substance and style from Moses.

And so the cycle continues. Writer after writer presents a new and expanded message, but each also ensures that his message comports well with the past so it will be received as part of what I call "the prophetic lineage." No new writer ventures far from the tracks laid down by his predecessors. Yet God is seeking to portray new truths, to expand our understanding. Not just to ensure that tradition is appropriately maintained.

As a point for consideration, I’m going to muse out loud: Is it possible that some of the seemingly out-of-sync passages of scripture offer some of the greatest spiritual insights? It works like this: The writer is awe-struck by what God has revealed to him. So he writes it. The bulk of what he says go down familiar tracks, using familiar words, familiar emphases, familiar imagery.

But suddenly, in his exuberance, he gives insight into the true magnitude of what God has revealed to him. He lets himself go totally and lets us see a little more clearly what it is he’s actually seeing and hearing.

Certainly, we can’t build a structure of systematic theology based on such passages. But if we have in the back of our minds the possibility that "aberrant" texts may have special meaning, we may look at them a lot more seriously, rather than just sweeping them under the carpet, trying to ignore that they exist.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

The day after the amazing emergency landing of a US Airways jet in the Hudson River, I was listening to a news conference when someone mentioned the great job done by "our girls," referring to the flight attendants.

"Oops!" I said out loud. "Someone’s going to be in big trouble."

I’d suggest that today’s political correctness is, in too many cases, a good idea run amok—as so often happens when we seek to remedy the inequities of the past. In some cases, the cure can be as bad as the disease.

Now don’t get me wrong. I understand why certain groups get sick of the way they’ve been stereotyped. If I were a woman in a managerial/corporate-executive role, I’d find it offensive should my male colleagues call me a "girl" and act as if I’m the one who should always fetch the coffee.

And I wouldn’t like it if most of the corporate decisions were actually made after-hours at some smoke-filled bar where the only way to have any input is to put up with a daily dose of male crudity. So I take my hat off to any woman who says she won’t take it.

But when a 65-year-old man happens to slip and innocently calls a 30-year-old woman a "girl," I likewise don’t think it’s a capital crime. True political correctness, it seems to me, should cut two directions.

Let’s take another example: In the South, the label "boy" was once used rather consistently for any black male of any age. It was commonplace for any white person—even mere children—to make demands of black males, addressing them with that demeaning title. Needless to say, such treatment stung.

Thanks to the advent of political correctness and a wide range of other social changes, the practice is disappearing. But the sensitivities it engendered are still buried deeply in some (and maybe even in many). So here’s the dilemma.

You see, I’ve never used the term "boy" to demean blacks. But I have used the term for all males in certain contexts. Especially when I’m talking about someone who’s unusually big or strong. "Now that’s a big boy!" I’ll say. And there’s no problem—unless I’m talking about a big black man in front of black people when I use that term. In that case, for some of my hearers, old wounds from having been so demeaned by white people in the past may be ripped open—even though I meant nothing derogatory by my comment.

And here’s where true political correctness comes into play. I would hope that those with particular sensitivities who hear my comment would take into consideration my overall behavior. What’s my normal pattern? Do I consistently make racist comments or behave in a racist manner? If not, please give me the benefit of the doubt.
But simply asking others to be tolerant of my word choice lets me off the hook too easily.

If I know that certain otherwise-innocuous terms are offensive because of their historic connotations, it seems reasonable that I should try, as an act of Christian courtesy, to avoid their use—simply because I don’t want to risk hurting or alienating any fellow human.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Re-Mixing Some Metaphors

Traditionally, Seventh-day Adventists have handed potential converts an already-assembled package of religious belief. Those seeking spiritual truth can accept our entire belief package, or they can reject it. But we make little provision for them to sort through our beliefs and take only those parts that ring true for them.

We consider our outreach successful when others join our denomination. But it’s basically all or nothing. If they accept only one or two or three of our beliefs, we consider our outreach a failure. But maybe we need to re-assess our criteria for success.

Instead of presenting our beliefs as a pre-bundled, indivisible, cookie-cutter-style package that must be accepted in total, should we perhaps think more in terms of a smorgasbord in which we spread out all of our beliefs for individual consideration and "taste-testing"?

If those seeking spiritual truth find one or two or three of the beliefs from our spiritual buffet to be satisfying, then we should rejoice that their lives are being enriched by those one or two or three new spiritual insights.

If, for example, our Adventist teaching on what happens at death brings comfort to others, then we should be gratified to see that belief incorporated into their personal package of faith––even if they don’t happen to buy our seventh-day Sabbath teaching or a lot of other Adventist doctrines.

Or if they respond favorably to our teaching that the rejecters of God’s grace will be destroyed rather than tortured eternally, we should rejoice that they’ve accepted such an important spiritual truth. Their picture of God’s character will have improved greatly.

And who knows? Maybe as seekers of spiritual truth continue to pick through our buffet, they may find other teachings that, although not initially attractive, become more attractive with the passage of time and greater exposure.

Maybe it’s time we drop our all-or-nothing model and seek instead to enrich the spiritual life of others to whatever degree we can rather than expect them to accept everything we offer.

Now let me throw in another metaphor.

When I was a boy on the farm, we often set up temporary electric cattle fences to keep cows in a particular area. The way I’d test the fence to see if the electric current was running through it properly was to touch the wire with a long weed. The weed had just enough moisture in it to conduct some electricity. But not enough to allow me to be badly shocked.

Ensuring that the weed I was holding was touching the fence, I’d slide my hand closer and closer to the wire. As my hand moved closer, the amount of electricity reaching it through the weed would increase. When my hand reached the fence, I got the full jolt.

The incremental acceptance of spiritual truths works somewhat the same way. The clearer the understanding of spiritual truth, the greater the blessing that flows into the life. So as Adventists, our hearts should be gladdened when others experience any increment of improvement in their spiritual understandings. Their lives will be just that much better.

At least that’s how I see it.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Another Look at the Smorgasbord Approach

Last week I suggested that perhaps we as Adventists should rethink our outreach. Our goal has traditionally been to have everyone join our denomination. But maybe we should also consider the original intent of our church’s pioneers, which was to be a "movement"—a sort of spiritual yeast that would permeate both the Christian and non-Christian world with a new spiritual insights.
Instead of providing a pre-bundled, no-choices-to-be-made package of belief that must be accepted or rejected holus bolus, maybe we should think more in terms of a buffet that we spread out before those who might be interested, allowing them to "taste-test" and select what they find soul-satisfying.
Today I’d like to suggest another slight departure from the norm. I’d suggest that we should be perpetual learners as well as teachers.
There’s a considerable degree of arrogance when I invite someone to examine my buffet of belief but am unwilling to examine theirs. On the other hand, few things so open the door for me to share my perspectives as to seriously listen to the perspectives of others.
For example, if I say to my church-going neighbor, I’d like to visit your church with you sometime—and then do so—my neighbor is dramatically more likely to visit my church when I extend the invitation.
Further, it’s the rare church visit from which I won’t come away saying, "Wow! I really liked how they did . . ." I’m almost guaranteed to find something—and maybe a lot—about which I can sincerely express appreciation.
In talking to the unchurched, do I just seek to share my views? Or do I ask about theirs? What I have to say will be received far more readily if I’ve listened to what they say.
As Christians who’ve been called to witness for Christ, we too often act as if we’re smart and our listeners are stupid. As if we have the answers and they live in darkness. As if we’re the spiritual teachers and they should be content to be our pupils.
We too often fail to appreciate how much can be learned from even the most unlikely sources. But more important, we too often fail to grasp that the best way to get a listening ear is to be a listening ear. And the best way to get people to ask us questions is to ask them questions.
There’s an old saying that goes something like: "Every person is my superior in some way, and in that way I can learn from him." I believe it’s true.
While I may disagree with many aspects of what Roman Catholics, Mormons, Buddhists or agnostics teach, there’s also much I can learn from them. And the best way to share what I think they can learn from me is to show interest in learning what I can from them. Remember, the scriptures invite us to "prove all things" and then "hold fast that which is good."
Really engaging people is amazingly easy and highly effective once we get the hang of it. And whether we happen to be the speaker, the listener or some of each in any given exchange, we both can go away blessed.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor