Fine Prints: June, 2007

Ready or Not? June 2

If Women Had Written the Bible. . . June 9

Morality Trumps Religion Too June 16

Adventure 237AKN--1 June 23

Adventure 237AKN--2 June 30

Ready or Not?

Seventh-day Adventists believe strongly in the soon return of Jesus. So strongly, in fact, that our denomination’s founders put the second-advent doctrine into the very name of our denomination. That’s why we call ourselves "Adventists."

But, as a whole, Seventh-day Adventists—especially the young—don’t look forward with eager anticipation to the second advent. And I would suggest that a major reason is that we don’t feel "ready."

Adventists talk a lot about "being ready" and "getting ready" for the coming of Jesus. But what does readiness entail?

Does it mean being perfect? Not if I understand my Bible correctly. We read in 1 John 1:8 (NIV): "If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us."

Those are strong words—"deceive ourselves" . . . "the truth is not in us." And the text says nothing about any future point when those words won’t apply. It doesn’t say, "But before Jesus comes there’s going to be a group of people who will have it together so totally that they’ll be able to say they’re without sin."

Just in case the foregoing words aren’t strong enough, however, God, through the writer John, repeats and rephrases the statement a couple of verses later (1 John 1:10, NIV): "If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives."

Some might argue that John is here talking about claiming to have never, ever, ever sinned. But that it wouldn’t be inappropriate to claim that we haven’t sinned in, let’s say, the past 24 hours or the past two years; that would be acceptable. The problem comes only if we claim to have been perfect from square one.

That’s not how I read the text, however—especially when I couple it with 1 John 1:8. There we have the present continuous—"If we claim to be without sin . . ."

But, in a sense, I digress. My point about our fear of the second coming revolves around our use of the word "ready," which inevitably conjures up images of the need for, if not perfection, at least a substantially improved level of performance.

And we’re not sure we’re there yet. If perfect performance is the goal, we can be quite certain that we’re not ready. And since we don’t want to find ourselves on the outside where all the weeping and gnashing of teeth is going on, we hope deep down inside that Jesus will just stay away. At least for now.

I suggest that there are better questions than Am I ready? Ask instead, Is Jesus my Friend? Is Jesus my Savior and Lord? If we can say Yes to those questions, then how could we possibly be any more ready?

Remember the thief on the cross? On the scale of behavioral improvement he hadn’t made much progress. But he had, to quote Jesus’ own words (used elsewhere), "crossed over from death to life" (John 5:24, NIV). He was so ready for the second coming that Jesus could promise him that it was as good as done (Luke 23: 42, 43).

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

If Women Had Written the Bible

The other day Leonie tried on some clothing she’d just bought, inviting my appraisal. I said she looked "fine."

It wasn’t the right answer—especially since I’d continued glancing at the newspaper while replying.

"Good," "fine" and "OK" don’t cut it with Leonie at the best of clothes-modeling times. But when my head is in a newspaper, such terms seem to irritate her even more. Go figure. Anyway, she shared her feelings with me. The tone of her voice and the set of her jaw suggested that she believed what she was saying.

"Wait just a minute," I said in response to her suggestion that a more definitive word than "fine" might be in order—not to mention a lot less attention directed toward the newspaper. "Even God, when He’d finished creating each aspect of the world, just said it was ‘good.’ He didn’t say it was ‘fantastic,’ ‘mind-boggling’ or ‘out-of-this-world’—which, you’ll have to admit, would have been an unusual expression to use right at that moment! He just said it was ‘good.’"

"What would you expect Him to say?" she shot back. "God is a man. And the Bible was written by men. No women at all. Of course He’d just say His creation was ‘good.’ He didn’t even provide any detail about how He did it, and the obstacles and hassles He encountered in the process."

I had to admit—not to her, of course; I mean in the silent recesses of my mind—that she had a point. Maybe the Bible would be different if it had been written by women.

For starters, it would be longer. I’ve read that, on average, women speak five times as many words in a day as men. I’ve also read that they speak three times as many—but I choose to believe the higher number.

I’m sure that a woman-written Bible would have included a lot more detail, especially about human feelings. For example, can you imagine a female telling the following story without some comment concerning what the girls thought about this unique approach to wife acquisition?

"So they instructed the Benjamites, saying, ‘Go and hide in the vineyards and watch. When the girls of Shiloh come out to join in the dancing, then rush from the vineyards and each of you seize a wife . . . .’ So that is what the Benjamites did. While the girls were dancing, each man caught one and carried her off to be his wife." (Judges 21: 20, 21, 23, NIV).

Can you imagine a female writer not telling us something of what was going on in the heart of the woman who was forgiven by Jesus after being caught in adultery (John 8:1-11)? Or about the feelings and emotions experienced by Mary in her mothering of Jesus?

I don’t know why God chose an all-male writing staff for the Bible project. I really don’t believe He’s a chauvinist. So maybe He thought it would just work better, granted the culture of the day.

Or maybe He’d observed how nearly impossible it seems for a woman to ever get a man’s full attention.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Morality Trumps Religion Too

On May 31, the Orlando Sentinel published an article I’d written reacting to a survey reporting that 60 percent of U.S. Muslims between 18 and 29 years of age considered themselves Muslim first and American second. I stated:

"I would suggest that in an ideal world, 100 percent of the citizenry would place their sense of moral/spiritual obligation ahead of their sense of nationalistic obligation. And I’m not talking just about Christians. I’m talking about Buddhists, Hindus, Jews, Muslims.

"I’m not even talking solely about religions. I’m talking about any moral ideology that governs our individual lives and by which we as individuals evaluate the morality of our national culture and the actions of our government. So atheistic morality is included in this list of value definers."

Responding to my article, one reader commented on the Sentinel website: "In reading Coffin’s editorial, it seems to me that he is saying two things. First: it’s absurd to whip up fear about Muslim Americans being Muslim first, American second, when so many religious folk in America define themselves that way. How many Christians do you know who will say that their identity as Americans surpasses their identity as Christians? Who’s more important: Jesus or the President?

"Second: we must all define and live by our morality. When morality and citizenship conflict, morality should triumph. This attitude has a long and rich history, from the Founding Fathers and the American Revolution, to the abolitionists and suffragettes of the nineteenth century, to the leaders of the civil-rights movement of the twentieth century. All civil disobedience is a way of saying ‘My morality trumps the nation’s policy.’ That is what changes policy. That is how our country grows and improves."

Which leads me to another point: Although religion is a major definer of morality for most of us, I would suggest that morality must have a prior claim even over religion.

Obviously, as a Christian, I believe that my faith is God-ordained and God-directed. But I also recognize a substantial human element in how it’s defined, articulated and administered.

Should a conflict arise between my concept of morality and my religion, my concept of morality must have prior claim. For example, I believe that Martin Luther was justified in refusing to accept certain Roman Catholic dogmas and edicts. He let his conscientious convictions supersede his loyalty to his church.

The idea of having one’s Muslim identity supersede one’s American identity shouldn’t surprise us. Most Christians have the same priority. But calling for morality to trump religion is more controversial––even though we laud numerous past examples of it.

At a casual glance, the thought of subjecting religion itself to any form of external moral scrutiny probably raises questions for people of all faiths––and is totally foreign to radical fundamentalists.

Islam has the disadvantage of not having had its religious presuppositions and mores tempered by external forces as Christian and Jewish thought have experienced. Fundamentalist Muslims are more likely to take the words of their holy book exactly as written. Christians and Jews have a longer history of re-interpreting the Bible’s commands in light of subsequent social changes and new considerations from both the spiritual and secular marketplace of ideas.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Adventure 237AKN--1 

In the autumn of 1972, I began what to that point was the second greatest adventure of my life: studying at Newbold College in England. (The first had been going to Mexico as a student missionary.)

Living right next door to me in the dorm was a fellow American named Danny Jeffus. (Yes, the same Dan Jeffus who’s a member of Markham Woods Church. Who’s the husband of Rhonda. Who’s the father of Sam.)

Anyway, Dan and I became good friends. And we became even better friends after we joined forces with Alan Fine, a Jewish student who happened to be at Newbold that year. Our three-party syndicate bought a 1957 Morris Minor 1000, registration 237AKN. It cost US$25. Split three ways, we thought we could afford it.

Obviously, one doesn’t get a limousine for $25. The car definitely had its shortfalls. For one thing, both its body and frame were rusting out badly. But as new holes appeared, we simply stuffed them full of wadded newspaper and plastered over them with body putty. The car had a certain patchwork-quilt quality about it.

Granted the vehicle’s general esthetic inadequacies, we weren’t overly concerned about pampering it. So when we needed to work underneath it, we simply threw down a few old tires for padding and got four or five fellows to help us roll it onto its side. It’s a lot easier to do mechanical work in front of you rather than above your head.

The car’s most disconcerting characteristic was its lethargy when responding to pressure on the brake pedal—which gave a whole new meaning to the expression "defensive driving." We had to plan our stops well in advance. Woebetide the unsuspecting motorist who decided to stop suddenly while in our path. Which is what happened one afternoon when Dan, two other students and I were traveling in North Wales.

Dan was driving at a snail’s pace through a little Welsh village when a driver pulled out in front of us and proceeded to stop suddenly. We stopped too—only our cessation of forward movement came a moment after the impact—which was really little more than a tap on the bumper of the vehicle ahead of us. It put the tiniest dimple of a dent into the other driver’s car. But our trusty Morris Minor sustained a substantially greater insult, to borrow a medical term.

You see, a car’s engine is attached to the car’s frame with rubberized connectors called motor mounts. If the engine were anchored solidly to the frame, the vibration would create major problems. So motor mounts function as shock absorbers, keeping the engine firmly attached while allowing limited movement.

That’s the theory, at least. In our case, the well-worn motor mounts were more like weak bungee cords. So upon impact, they let our engine spring forward. Which would have been no problem had it stopped before the fan got to the radiator.

And speaking of stopping, that’s what I’m going to have to do right now, because I’m out of space. It hurts me to do this, but I’m going to have to ask you to tune in next week if you want the punchline and the moral.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Adventure 237AKN--2 

Last week I had intended to tell about the lessons learned from a 1957 Morris Minor 1000, registration 237AKN. Three students—Dan Jeffus, Alan Fine and I—had bought the car for $25 while studying at Newbold College in England, back in 1972. Even at $25, I’m not sure we got a bargain.

I left the story with Dan having ever-so-gently rear-ended a car that stopped suddenly in front of us. The innocent vehicle sustained nothing more than an almost-invisible dimple in its bumper. And the driver readily accepted our offer of a few pounds sterling for his inconvenience.

The guilty vehicle was a different matter. In strict monetary terms, our car was totaled. Any appraiser would have placed the damages at more than $25. The road was awash with radiator fluid.

We discovered a gash in the radiator about four inches long and a quarter of an inch wide. If we could get back to where we were staying, we reasoned, we could figure out how to do the repairs. But 10 miles was a long way to go with a radiator that leaked like a sieve?

Then someone had a flash of brilliance—chewing gum! Why couldn’t we fill the gap with chewing gum?