ey, Chris!" Brad Forbes stuck his thick hand out and grinned. "I heard something interesting about you the other day."

Yolanda and I were in the fellowship hall of College View Seventh-day Adventist Church here in Lincoln, Nebraska. We had just lovingly washed each other's feet in Communion and were readying to enter the sanctuary.

Grabbing Brad's hand, I said profoundly, "Oh, yeah?"

"Yep, I was at the General Conference building for some meetings, and I heard you were no longer in the church." We stopped pumping hands, but Brad continued grinning. "I said to the person, 'Now, that's most interesting, because I sat in his Sabbath school class last week. Huh! Odd that he never mentioned it to us.'"

Yolanda smiled. "And what did the person say then?" she asked.

"He said that was just what he had heard. Didn't know much more about it."

"Wow," I replied. "News travels fast at headquarters, doesn't it? I mean, I didn't even know about this. I'll have to start catching up on the latest."

Trying to track down the source of the rumor, I later called the person who had talked to Brad. Sure enough, the man didn't know much. Couldn't even remember where he had heard "it."

"Oh well," he concluded jovially. "Glad you're still with us!"

How did this rumor get started? I believe I know the true source. It had started two months earlier when I had been asked to write an article for an Adventist magazine. Politely declining, I had offered as my primary reason for turning down the assignment: "I'm trying to write more for non-Adventists."

A dead giveaway. Plainly, my comment was a euphemism for "Goodbye, church! Arrivederci. Adios." What else could it mean? (A moment of silence here as we ponder the preceding question.) All of Jesus' words to others can be condensed to two commands.

1. "Come."
2. "Go."

Years ago I entered the Seventh-day Adventist Church intent on staying in and getting out. The church has spent far too much time talking to itself. As we all know, those who spend too much time talking to themselves become institutionalized.

So I'm staying and going. I'm staying with the church. And, as with all who leave their comfort zones for the Master, I'm going to dialogue with the world.

Exhilarating possibilities glisten and stretch over the horizon—fresh avenues to share the love of God with believing unbelievers. Who knows? If you press your ear to the dewy ground or lift your head high, you might hear of possibilities yourself. You might also see my byline in surprising places, talking (again) about the marvelous God we love with all our soul, strength, and mind.

Although I still plan to write for the church, this is my final Leaving the Comfort Zone. After 60 columns I'm voluntarily stepping out—not for lack of passion or ideas; I have plenty more I'd like to say on sundry topics, particularly:

When we can know we're drenched with latter rain.

I appreciate so much the Review editors' providing me this opportunity over these five years. Steve Chavez especially has been an encourager and a supportive friend. And Bill Johnsson has worked wonders in promoting openness and restructuring—glasnost and perestroika—during the past two decades.

To those of you who have said kind words to me about the column, thank you. I've heard from you especially as I've traveled to various regions. It's good to know that kindred spirits come in all colors and ages.

New winds blow. The breath of God's Spirit whips around the blue planet—if we can but pause to breathe it in.

Moreover, I feel raindrops.

Enjoy the journey. Go with God.

_________________________
Chris Blake still teaches English and communication at Union College in Lincoln, Nebraska.