hen I hear an account of a person with remarkably bizarre habits, I often smile, shake my head in amazement, and say, "It takes all types!" This is also the approach I take when I meet unusual Adventists. It helps me accept and love them.

Some people take an "exclusivist" view of Adventism. "My interpretation of this text is traditional and correct, so if you don't agree, you should have the integrity to leave the church. There's room for you in the churches of Babylon."

Some people take an "inclusivist" view of Adventism. "I disagree with this fellow, but if I force him out, how will I be able to help him see the light?" Most Adventist Church leaders I know take this view. They are wise enough and have enough experience to know that purging the church leads to hard feelings all around. This doesn't mean they accept every perversion of Adventism, but some they fight in more subtle ways, such as persuasion, refusing to respond, or waiting for a troublemaker to retire or die.

Some people see Adventism as a burrow: it's warm, safe, and cozy. They can hide there from the dangers of the world. It provides an answer for every question (so long as they don't question the answer too closely). Hawks can't get into a burrow. Of course, snakes can, and a burrow is not the place to be when a flood comes, though it provides good shelter during a blizzard. Burrowers will fight whatever tries to expose their nest to the light.

Some people see Adventism as a springboard: they use it to bounce higher and higher. Adventist beliefs are not for protection, but starting points for developing something even better, truer, more satisfying, more biblical. Maybe they bounce into church on Sabbath and are in the air the rest of the week. If they spring a little too far to the left or the right, of course, they won't land in the church but will hit the deep end with a splash. Springers will also splash if church members or pastors pull their springboard out from under them.

Some people see Adventism as an upward path: their role is to keep walking. In some cases this means increasing in wisdom and godliness. In others this means gradually turning away from what separates them from God. Sometimes this means relying less on the Bible and more on prophetic guidance, however this may be interpreted.

Some see Adventism as a hospital for sinners. Others see Adventism as a gated community from which the unclean should be excluded. Some see it as a prison that would be far more bearable with a few more windows and without walls--minimum security rather than high security.

Some see Adventism as a historical landmark: a complete work, an architectural triumph beyond improvement. They want to restore what leaks or rots, maintain what is sound, polish and preserve. They want no "improvements," no modern plumbing or newfangled kitchens. For them, the church is precious not only because of its design but because of its age and historical importance. They want it to look just the same as it looked when various important things happened in it.

Others see Adventism as an unfinished building or a house that needs remodeling because it is no longer completely functional. They believe it would be more functional, satisfying, and accessible with a new bathroom and kitchen, a family room tacked on the back, more storage space for the threadbare furniture and books no longer read, a deck with a hot tub. The "tradition" argument doesn't move them. Of course, the history of remodeling includes many examples of covering over or ripping out what is beautiful and worth preserving.

It's amazing that people with such varied perspectives can worship together. Nevertheless, this is God's church, and we do well to believe that God loves and uses all of us. Some of us may not like to admit that "it takes all types," but in a way it does.

_________________________
Ed Christian teaches English and biblical literature at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania. His e-mail is: christia@kutztown.edu.