The Remnant's Vision: Getting Foggy?

Just who are we, really? Following are six pairs of descriptions, with some observations about each one, that may illustrate the tension in the SDA Church over our identity. The way in which we view ourselves will determine how, and even whether, we fulfill our mission.

The Remnant, by traditional definition, are the remaining ones, those left over, those called out of Babylon. They are a small but cherished group that are the apple of God's eye and the focus of the dragon's ire.

The Remnant of the end time is characterized by those who "keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ" (Rev. 12:17), and finds its modern fulfillment in the Seventh-day Adventist Church. We have drawn this concept largely from three Bible chapters: Revelation 12, the history of the Christian church; chapter 14, the three angels' messages which describe the Remnant's mission; and chapter 18, which gives more details concerning Remnant's source.1 The Remnant is distinctive.2 But we are getting uneasy with this differentiation.

It is fine to define who we are, but to remember who Babylon is has become uncomfortable to us today. Early Adventists were rather frank about Babylon being anything connected to Romishness or to what they called Apostate Protestantism. Babylon was the system of false teachings that Satan instituted. But today we dread speaking of this. And in educated circles we don't.

But can we really speak of a remnant without the concept of Babylon? Being so specific makes the task of mission fearful. The terms Babylon and Remnant imply that persons have to be called out. But does one really have to be a part of the remnant in order to be saved? Is it just one way or the only way? It is really much more comfortable to be tactful to Babylon and just leave them there. So we listen to them, and try to win them by their own methods.

Meanwhile Babylon infiltrates us. Because we study with them, read their books, use their methods, and watch their movies, as we behold, we become changed. So we have Babylonish threads running through our midst. For years most Seventh-day Adventists read only SDA books—E. G. White books or other books from our own publishers. Adventist Book Centers carried only SDA books. But all that has changed; now there are more "outside" books than "inside" books on our shelves. Consequently theology and practice have altered us.

Of course, there are many good people "out there." And some of them are saying very important things, some of which we should have boldly stated long before they did. It's not wrong to read or listen to these good people. But who is our authority? When we no longer look within the Remnant for authority, but quote and use certain others as authorities, it is difficult in the next breath to call them a part of Babylon. So our concept of Babylon becomes blurred. And so does our distinctiveness.

This "outside," too, has had a tremendous impact on the pastorate. "Church growth" and "spiritual gifts" models have largely been imported from Fuller or from charismatic leaders. Our pastors are trained in leadership techniques borrowed from hither and yon. Theological professors are trained at Princeton, Heidelberg, Free University, Boston University, Loyola, Fuller, Harvard, and Yale (though not Dallas Theological). They come home bearing rare and wonderful twists to our standard fare. There is talk of "inbreeding" when graduates of Adventist institutions teach in our own theological institutions.

Some of the very methods of Bible interpretation now in use undermine the Remnant's pillars, while the psychological dogma we face in many Christian books undermines our methods and lifestyle. We have embraced ecumenism in practice, if not in theory. And the question of loyalties arises.

We must remember who we are, or we have no reason to be.

But, oh dear. How embarrassing specific definitions of Babylon become. It's fine to say we are the Remnant, but who really wants to define Babylon? Ecumenism has possessed us to the extent that we are too polite.

Existentialism would have us believe that each one in his own world experiencing his own set of circumstances can set up his own norms that are truth to him. That means that if I am not in someone else's moccasins, I had best keep still.

Running parallel to this are the concepts of Rogerian love, values clarification, and their many corollaries and variants. If I truly want to be loving, they say, I will listen—really listen and not advise in any way. Only the individual is capable of knowing and figuring out what is best for himself because way down deep inside, his innate humanity knows what is best. By just being able to talk it out, truth, or "aha"s, or inner convictions will come that will be "right." So the Remnant becomes skilled in parroting, pacing, I-messages, and neural linguistics in order to communicate.

But if everyone has an element of truth, or walks in truth of their own making, and that is sufficient for salvation, why bother them with our particular brand of truth? If our truth is not essential to salvation, why give them more to worry about?

For many today, truth is no longer something in black and white, but has become something relative that each one needs to figure out for himself. But whence the prophetic voice that cries in the wilderness, "Prepare ye the way of the Lord!"?

Real love has no fear. It risks telling one that there is a dangerous cliff precariously near and extends a rope. It does not just throw out mysterious hints about danger and ultimately allow the other person to experience its jagged edge. Love cares enough about the other person to risk misunderstanding. But such real soul-love is getting rare.

And soul-love comes by realizing that those still in Babylon must hear the unique Remnant message in order to be saved. It cannot be duplicated by any other group or philosophy or psychology, and unless I open my mouth now, today, it is very possible that my neighbor here may not be my neighbor on yonder shore.

The Adventist concept of Remnant is based on the picture painted in Revelation 12:17 of those on whom Satan most focuses His wrath in the end-time. "The dragon was wroth with the woman, and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, who keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus" (Rev 12:17). Here are a people who stand for the law of God and take Him at His Word. A people who dare to practice exactly what God says, and take His Word literally.

That is, if God says it, we believe it, even if it doesn't fit with today's culture. And not only do we mentally acknowledge His Word, but we plead the Holy Spirit to live out His Word in us. The essence of the new covenant is having God plant His law in us so that we do exactly as He says, not because we have to but because we love to. We love to live by every word proceeding from the mouth of God. We are hungry and thirsty for Him and our answer to His every request is "yes".

But sin's core is the ever-present self that objects to what God asks, trying to explain it away, often by claiming that the Scripture requirement is "culturally-conditioned"—necessary for that culture, but not applicable to ours. Self repeatedly tries to assert its own rights and reasons.

Rights, in that self says that if we follow Jesus' way of the cross, all our needs must certainly have to be fended for. We forget Jesus' difficult lesson on self-esteem was to kneel before his self-important friends, take their dirty feet into his own gentle hands, and carefully wash even the feet of the one who was about to kiss him. In practical terms, to die this death to the self within is the message of the cross, and while dying to still say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." To die kindly, even submissively.

Self asserts its reasons—we can always find a million reasons why we feel we are correct. Submitting ourselves to higher authority is not comfortable. We innately want to run it by our gray matter and question, and protest.

The Sabbath of the fourth commandment that Jesus gave our race at Creation was a rest. A rest from the weekly labors that preoccupy our secular lives, and ultimately a symbol of the rest that He extends so we can rest from our own works. Not that the works are left behind, to become totally unimportant, but that they are carried by our Heavenly Teammate whose ready Sabbath invitation is "Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Mt 11:28-30).

So Sabbath is symbol of this rest from one's own priorities, and a taking on of His. It is the essence of the new covenant urged through Scriptural history. For that reason it will be a focus not only of knowledge but of experience in the days ahead.

But keeping God's commandments in full is also a symbol of literalism. We recognize that God asked something very special when He asked us to keep sacred the seventh day, that we cannot second-guess God for His reasons and superimpose onto His Word our culture and what we think is or isn't possible.

As Remnant we keep the commandments of God because we trust the God who gave them. We need not worm our way out of what He specifically says. And in fact, whatever the Bible says, we are willing to take seriously. Sabbath becomes symbol of our willingness to take God at His word, to adjust our thinking to His explicit counsel and not His counsel to our own circumstances. This is true Remnant thinking.

Part of the definition of the Remnant Church in prophecy is in Revelation 12:17: "And the dragon was wroth with the woman, and went to make war with the remnant of her seed, which keep the commandments of God, and have the testimony of Jesus Christ." Revelation 19:10 further defines this "testimony of Jesus": "for the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy."

In the Remnant Church this gift has been manifested in the writings of Mrs. Ellen G. White. But here is a most difficult problem. Although Mrs. White and her writings have had significant impact on the inception and expansion of the church, there have always been those who have felt uncomfortable about this gift. And more so now.

Basic to the question is precisely what her gift is for. Is it merely to encourage spirituality among the members (pastoral)? Did God actually reveal "truth" to her (propositional)? Or are her writings merely expressions of her times (cultural)? What kind of authority do the writings carry? What relation do her writings have to the Bible?

The nature of our answers to such questions determines our church unity and our very concept of Remnant. When individuals say that she wrote wonderful things about Jesus but was no historian, or no nutritionist, or no geologist, even no theologian, what they often mean is that she was really not inspired of God and therefore her writings are not authoritative. In what way, then, could they be an expression of the Spirit of prophecy, one of the marks of the Remnant?

Ferment on the role of the Spirit of prophecy, as well as other controversies, has the effect of making the Remnant uncertain where they are going, ashamed of where they have come from, and all too cautious about passing on what they have to other fellow travelers.

God's plan from Israel's beginning was to have a peculiar, special people, "a holy nation" (Ex 19:5,6). When Israel rejected the Messiah and His witnesses, and as a nation were "cut off" in A.D. 34, the New Testament Church became His "holy nation," set on a hill, built on the cornerstone, Jesus Christ (1 Pet 2:6-9, Eph 2:20).

Such holiness involves being special, set apart, separate, but also implies righteousness, even in face of impossible circumstances. Peter goes on in the same chapter to encourage careful living "For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that we should follow His steps: who did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth: Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously: Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed" (1 Pet 2:21-24).

Holy living, the worthy object our forebears cherished, has fallen into disrepute because of the terms "perfection" and "legalism." Such terms have become smokescreens in the discussions concerning lifestyle within the church. Disputes on sanctification at times conclude with this bottom line: while it is ultimately good to experience Christian growth, it is in fact impossible to mature. And if one matures too much, one is probably being legalistic.

After all, our church is not so much for saints as it is a hospital for the sick who are in need of healing. So, come as you are. And keep coming. God will never give up on you even if you give up on God.

Most certainly we are to come as we are. But we need not stay as we are. There is forgiveness and victory in Christ. Without both aspects Christianity becomes a sham. Thus we say that Satan is really stronger than Christ and that there is really no use being a Christian because it is like trying to climb a greasy slide. Might as well save yourself the trouble.

A "hospitalish" church is no winning enterprise! Intelligent visitors don't want to become part of a sinking ship no matter how fine her Captain is. How often church members wonder which Adventist church they can be proud to take their on-fire, Christ-loving friends to. Sadly, such congregations that inspire "those in Babylon" with a deep conviction that this is the "true church" are few and far between.

New members typically join because of doctrinal soundness, not because they see something they love in Christ's body that they are drawn to. And then, expecting to find some spiritual enthusiasm within the church, they are sadly disappointed to find the flock quite happy with their settled situation. "You'll cool down and be like us," the old members say, or "All new converts are a bit fanatical at first. Given time, you'll be just fine."

Oh yes, we are to come as we are, but there is an Advocate with the Father and there is power to change. Just when will we indeed become that holy people? Why not now?

Because of all these and many other issues we have an active back door—a large number of apostasies from our church. Jesus' parable of the sower explains some of what we see and might expect: Satan's power over individuals, the end result of bringing in "rice Christians," disillusionment, cares and business of this life that absorb a person's priorities—all are explanations for why persons leave the church.

To some the Seventh-day Adventist Church's standards become unbearable. Rather than live one way and profess another, they sever connections. Others don't bother severing. They stay on and live in direct opposition to the church's standards. Their very lifestyles become a blatant challenge to the church, because they profess a beautiful relationship to Jesus but don't live out what He says.

Reformers stand in many camps. Some feel that the SDA Church itself is Babylon—that is, that a remnant needs to come out of her as an only hope. Some decry the corruption and politics. Some wish to get back to the "blueprint," while others feel that traditional Adventism is so bankrupt that we need to progress on to better theology, or a more loving picture of God, or to strip ourselves of the standards that drive away the young people, or to bring more nationals, or women, or blacks into leadership.

The church stretches and heaves and rolls with the winds of strife. Politics says that whoever is strongest will win, so we fight for power. Economics says that those with money will go forward, so we struggle for means. Theology says that those who are "right" will carry the church, so we do battle over the Bible. And the back door swings, and the world dies while we try to figure out just who we are, why we are here, and where we are going. We are immobilized.

Oh, not entirely. Parts of the world are prospering as enthusiastic members join daily. Even in North America some groups (i.e. Hispanics, Koreans, Blacks) prosper. But those that enjoy such vibrant church health know who they are and hang on tightly to that One who has promised to carry them through.

And Jesus, where are You in all this? Does this struggle delight You? Do You sometimes despair of us as You did of Your people Israel?

In a painting, three black-clad figures face the cracked, creviced Wailing Wall. Two of the people have black-rimmed hats, the other a white headdress. One of them, hoary-haired and full-bearded, sits heavily on an old crate. He is bent over from years of waiting. Unseen to the three, but central, superimposed over the wall, is their Messiah. His expression is nigh despondent, tears of anguish stream down his face. His hand gently rests on the old man. The three individuals look for a Messiah to restore their Wall, their dreams.

And Messiah still waits for a people who will be the "repairer of the breach, the restorer of paths to dwell in" (Isa 58:11-12). No use wailing over the breaches by sniping at other workmen.