he translator is speaking as rapidly as he can, but I can see the frustration working in his jaw muscles. Finally, he raises his hand to stop the preacher in mid-sentence.

"Harald," he says in English so that I can understand the meaning of the interruption, "you've got to remember we're trying to translate here. Go a little slower."

The preacher stops and nods toward his good friend. A broad, repentant smile creases his face, and he promises to do better. "I will try to go more slowly," he vows, "but I am so excited about what I am preaching!"

Harald Giesebrecht is not the only one excited about what he is preaching this Sabbath afternoon at Oslo's Cornelius church plant. Around the central meeting room of the large Lutheran college the group is renting, more than 60 members and visitors sit in rapt attention, following each word. Even at the round café tables they lean forward, eyes intent, listening with more than their ears.

But solid biblical preaching is only part of why they come to Cornelius each week. Warm, well-chosen worship music fills the hall before and after the sermon, led by piano, guitar, and vocalists. Church life announcements are well-tailored to promote a sense of inclusion and community. Easy fellowship flows among the decorative trees and tables. A newcomer or a former Adventist could be as inconspicuous or as visible as he or she cared to be in this place.

And that is precisely the point.

"We were told by [Trans-European Division ministerial director] Peter Roennfeldt that if you make a church for former Adventists, you will reach former Adventists," says Giesebrecht, leaning forward intently in his chair after the worship service concludes. "If you make a church for young Adventists, you will reach young Adventists. And if you make a church for the unchurched, you will reach all three."

"We have tried to make a church here for the unchurched," he adds slowly. "In the process, we think we've begun meeting the needs of former members and young Adventists all around the metro region. This church is, technically, "on the way": that's that concept we're committed to. People are allowed to be in the process; they're welcome, wherever they are on the journey, to join us and move forward."

Illustrating his point, the pastor gestures toward a thirtysomething young man conversing with several members as they share in after-worship refreshments.

"He's a former Adventist, and it's been a long, long time since he's been in church. Last Sabbath he just walked in. He wanted to know, 'Can I bring my children here?' And he came again today. I was just so happy to see him!"

Giesebrecht, 33, has been part of the 5-year-old worship community since it was launched by young adults from Oslo's 125-year-old "mother" church, Betel. Only in the last year, however, has he been designated as the group's senior pastor, ordained to public ministry at a June 2004 service. A background in business, youth ministry, and editorial work has helped him cultivate the diverse talents of the core group of Adventist young adults who make up the heart of the Cornelius project, now numbering nearly 45 persons.

"We started out as young adults, students, and just recently established couples when we began Cornelius," Giesebrecht says. "Since then, we've had a lot of babies, and that's transforming the church as well. We're already discovering that we're having to work harder to reach teens than we did in the past. When we move, as we must very soon, to a more permanent home in one of the Oslo suburbs, that will change us yet again. But change isn't to be feared so long as we're faithful to the principles that brought this community together."

The group's chosen name, Cornelius, well illustrates its commitment to staying current with the work of the Holy Spirit. "Cornelius was the first pagan to become a Christian," Harald remembers with a grin, "and at first I thought, 'That's not a very nice explanation to give to unchurched people.' But then we looked more closely at the story."

"In the story found in Acts, you have an inward-looking group of Christians. The Holy Spirit really had to do some dramatic things to show this group of people that God loved everyone. We liked that story. We liked the opportunity to tell the story when people asked about the name of the church, because it just gave us a chance to say, 'Well, God loves you. He designed the church to be for anybody, and He's so sorry that the church often is inward-looking.'"

In an Adventist culture in which small, traditional congregations are the norm, the Cornelius church has sometimes been the target of criticism for its progressive worship style and unusual outreach efforts.

"Most of the criticism comes from misunderstandings," Harald notes. "Those who have actually visited one of our worship services are significantly less suspicious of what we are trying to do here. The support from the Betel congregation, which continues to pray for us and lets us use its building during the midweek, and from the union office and the conference presidents has been wonderful. Most of the members of the larger churches are very supportive. One conference president has even invited me to come and preach in several of the congregations where people have honest questions about what we're doing.

"With increased understanding of our mission, we'll also find the support that this outreach effort deserves."

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