WILLIAM G. JOHNSSON

n the Old Testament we hear Israel’s complaint during a time of hardship: “The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge” (Jer. 31:29, NIV)—we’re suffering because of others’ mistakes. That idea is alive and well in society today—and in the Adventist Church.

I get a lot of mail, and fairly frequently it brings a gut-wrenching account with an explicit or implied “if only.” Like the following cases:

• A mother, weeping over her wayward son, tells how a church school dealt strictly with him years ago, and he either quit or was thrown out. And that was the end of the boy’s connection with the church, also.
  If only the school had handled the matter differently . . .
  
• A former member unloads with a detailed description of the coldness of the church they used to attend, or the hypocrisy of the people, or the shenanigans of the elder.
  If only the church had been the model of caring and Christian kindness it was supposed to be . . .
  
• A parent or grandparent shares their pain and feelings of guilt because of a dear one who has messed up their life and/or abandoned the faith that is so precious to the parent or grandparent.
  If only I/we had done things differently as the child was growing up . . .

These letters are hard to read and harder to answer. I try to listen and to give a pastoral word, but it isn’t my place to don the role of ombudsman. But as I reflect on these letters and on many, many conversations over the years with hurting members or former members, four perspectives emerge sharply.

1. Influence is a powerful element for good or for ill. “None of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone” (Rom. 14:7, NIV).* The home, the congregation, the school, the workplace—the people with whom we rub shoulders affect the course of our lives, and we theirs.

2. Influence is never all that it might be for uplifting others. Our homes are flawed: even with the best intentions we mess up. Our schools mess up. Congregations mess up. We mess up in the organized work of the church: corruption and injustice creep in.

These are facts, and taken alone, they could lead us to the “sour grapes” conclusion. It’s my mother’s fault that I’m like this. Or my dad’s. Or that school principal’s. Or that pastor’s. They made me they way I am. They made me do it.

But there’s another perspective, often overlooked in this age of “passing the buck.”

3. Ultimately we are responsible for our own actions. The deck may be stacked against us, but we decide. Don’t blame anyone else. The deck may be stacked in our favor, but we make the choice. Put the responsibility right where it belongs—on us.

I’m sick of the whining approach in our society that would make someone or something else responsible for our actions. Whenever I hear it, I want to say: Oh, just grow up!

I’m weary of the self-flagellation in which too many Adventists indulge, and which would pull me into its orbit. Whenever I encounter it I want to shout out: Yes, the church makes mistakes; and the school; and we as parents and grandparents. But the Lord says: “Everyone will die for his own sin; whoever eats sour grapes—his own teeth will be set on edge” (Jer. 31:30, NIV).

4. So I suggest a fourth perspective—instead of sour grapes, tough love.

“Tough love” has been used to describe a parenting philosophy; what would it mean for Seventh-day Adventist Christians? A love for Christ and His church that is uncompromising in its determination, a love that is capable of enduring strain, hardship, and disappointment.

Like the love of my friend Jack (not his real name).  A church administrator, he found himself the target of character assassination and a shameful campaign to get him removed from office. And it succeeded.

But what did he do? “I’m not going to let them take this church away from me,” he said. And he didn’t. He didn’t quit the ministry, didn’t quit the church. He stuck it out; and the wheel turned, and he was called to a higher level of administration.

That’s tough love. That’s love taking responsibility. That’s the love Jesus had for the church—for us. And as we love Him, He gives it to us.

*This application of the text is true to Paul’s overall meaning in Romans 14, although not to the immediate context.

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William G. Johnsson is editor of the Adventist Review.