BY DENNIS SELLERS
'M AN ADVENTIST MINISTER WHO LEFT THE church 23 years ago.
This is my story: Why I left, and why I'm back.
Raised in an Adventist home in Boise, Idaho, I felt called
to the ministry quite young. As a child, sitting in the pews and watching the
preacher, I knew in my heart that this was what I wanted to do.
I graduated from Gem State Academy in 1966, and then went to
Walla Walla College, where I finished four years later with a Bachelor of Arts
in Theology. Though utterly sure of my calling, I was caught by my Greek teacher
playing tennis during the Week of Prayer the year I graduated. She told me,
right there on the court, and in no uncertain terms, that God had not called
me to the ministry. But I knew better. I got calls that year from about a half
dozen conferences.
I pastored in New England for about three years. I enjoyed every
minute. I especially loved working with people, going to their homes, praying
with them, pointing them to the hope we have in Jesus. Then I got into evangelism,
where I worked for six years in the Colorado and Upper Columbia conferences.
All my life I had wanted to be a Seventh-day Adventist minister, preaching the
three angels' messages; and now I was doing it. They were, for the most part,
happy years.
Something Brewing
But storm clouds were brewing. The 1970s was a time of theological ferment in
the church. I had been exposed to the teachings of Robert Brinsmead and his
so-called "awakening message," which centered around the concept of
perfectionism and the "final generation." We focused on the idea that
God would have a sinless generation of people who would stand in the time of
trouble without a mediator. Perfectionism and sinless living became the focal
point for a lot of members, including myself.
Eventually, though, I discovered, as did others, the great truth
of justification by faith alone, through the substitutionary death of Jesus.
There is no better news to fallen, sinful humanity than the news of God's redemptive
work in Jesus Christ; that we are saved by a righteousness outside ourselves.
To know that Christians are saved and entitled to heaven by Christ's becoming
their substitute and living a perfect life of obedience on their behalf was
the greatest news I'd ever heard. The church needed to rediscover this truth,
I reasoned.
Unfortunately, many of my colleagues didn't stop there. We twisted
the meaning of the gospel until it became one of the reasons for throwing out
the Sabbath, the pre-Advent judgment, and Ellen White's ministry. Anything that
didn't fit within our view of what the New Covenant gospel meant was swept away.
Eventually, that meant Adventism too.
I'll never forget the day in 1982 when, after a long and tense
meeting with the local conference officials, I left not only the ministry I
had been called to but also the church I had loved since childhood.
My Wandering
After I left the church and renounced my calling, I ended up doing something
I never dreamed of doing: selling insurance. I hated it. This wasn't my calling;
being an Adventist minister was.
Five years after leaving the ministry, I developed deep anger
toward the church. After I left not one individual--pastor, administrator, or
lay member--ever approached me about returning. No one from the church showed
any interest in me as a person. Was I not a soul to be nurtured for the kingdom
of heaven? Was I so lacking in spiritual value that no one saw in me one who
was worth saving for God's kingdom? Apparently not, for in 22 years of wandering,
no one called or knocked on my door.
The frustration of not having fulfilled my calling was overwhelming.
I remember listening to radio sermons by Charles Stanley, Bob Moorehead, Ron
Mehl, Alistair Begg, John MacArthur, and others about spiritual healing, God's
love to sinners, and His willingness to forgive and accept. Many times while
listening to sermons in the car, I pulled to the side of the road and wept uncontrollably.
The burning desire to serve God and His people never left me. And yet, as the
years passed, I felt I could not return to Adventism. After all, no one there
cared. I believe now that if someone had come to work with me, I could have
been won back much earlier.
An Internet Resource
If you know someone who needs to reconnect with the Adventist
Church, or if you want to reach out to former Adventists, visit the Web site
www.reconnectnow.org. The site, a ministry of the Voice of Prophecy radio ministry,
contains links and resources for reconnecting with former members.
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In 1990 my wife, Leslie, and I decided to visit an Adventist
church in Washington. As we were about to go into the service, we met Natasha*
on the church steps. I didn't know her, but she knew me. She called me an apostate,
told me that I was going to hell, that I had the mark of the beast, and that
God was going to destroy me. This was my first contact with Adventism in nine
years.
Leslie and I then moved to Montana in 1991. We lived less than
a mile from an Adventist church, and one Sabbath we visited. During the service
someone recognized my name in the guest registry as a former Seventh-day Adventist
minister. It was one potluck Sabbath I'll never forget. As the guests, we were
the first to go through the line. When we sat down to our table, no one joined
us. Leslie and I ate our meal by ourselves. Never did we feel so unwanted or
unwelcome; never did we get a call or visit, not even from the pastor.
Needless to say, we were deeply hurt. People want to be loved
and accepted in spite of what they believe doctrinally. One only need look at
Jesus Christ and His infinite love for a model of how He accepted the ungodly.
Time of Trouble
In 1998, after years of frustration in the insurance industry, I found a niche
in sales, which I loved. I began a seminar-lecture-workshop business doing estate
planning. This proved to be extremely successful. I worked the seminars six
months a year, made a nice salary, and spent the rest of the year in semiretirement.
I was going to do this until I retired; I had it all worked out.
But then disaster struck. Having become comfortable, having
achieved goals I could live with, having positioned myself and my business where
it could basically take care of me for the remainder of my life, I lost it all.
Through a series of unfortunate events and false charges, I lost my license
to do business, and my career came to a screeching halt. When my license was
revoked in 2002, this ordeal became one of the most heart-wrenching experiences
I'd ever encountered. For the second time my life fell apart before me.
You've heard the story of the man who sold his prize mule, guaranteeing
that it was an obedient and cooperative animal. The buyer returned the mule,
stating, "You said this was a cooperative mule, but I can't get it to do
anything."
The seller said, "No problem." He picked up a two-by-four
and hit the mule over the head. "First," he said, "you have to
get its attention."
Sometimes God has to allow something to happen to get our attention.
In my case He used a lot of pain to bring my thoughts back to Him. The loss
of a successful business was devastating. I had never faced so difficult a challenge.
Damascus Road
It was then, at my life's lowest valley, that I walked into the Adventist Book
Center in Spokane, Washington, in April 2004. My intent was to browse and leave,
something I did once every few years. Just browse and leave.
I hadn't been in an Adventist bookstore for about five years,
and the first thing I noticed was a book called Graffiti in the Holy of Holies.
The author, Clifford Goldstein, was unknown to me. For some reason I purchased
the book and drove 120 miles back home to Lewiston, Idaho.
That night my life was changed. That book became my own Damascus road experience.
In Goldstein's book were answers to the questions that--had I been given years
ago--would have kept me from leaving both the ministry and the church. For the
first time ever I could see how the gospel, far from contradicting Adventism,
was given its fullest expression through the teachings of the church. I had
to go up to my home office to read and reread the book because I didn't want
my wife to see me sobbing like a baby.
Graffiti in the Holy of Holies was the most commonsense
approach to the pre-Advent judgment I had ever seen. I couldn't believe it.
For more than 20 years I had wandered in the wilderness. And here, in this
book, were all the answers I was seeking! I read the whole book that night
and reread it on Friday. I'll never forget feeling the warmth of God's Spirit
upon me and the change of attitude that accompanied the reading of that book.
That night I gave my heart to Christ and determined to return to the Adventist
Church.
On Monday I drove back to the Adventist Book Center and bought
every book this Goldstein guy had written. The one I badly needed, The Remnant,
is a book every member and former member needs to read; it should be required
reading for every new Adventist believer. The book had a message that I, the
hard-hearted, angry, backslidden preacher, needed to hear.
Questions for Reflection
1. When have you felt estranged from the church and
its members? What was the end result?
2. If you could change one thing about your local church to make it more
fully represent Christ's character, what would it be?
3. Have you ever approached a former clergy member in an attempt to effect
a reconciliation? If so, what happened? If not, why not?
4. Identify three former members who live in your community. For each
person, list a three-step strategy to let them know that you want them to return.
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When I went to the counter with Goldstein's books, the clerk
said, "By the way, Mr. Goldstein is going to be in Spokane this coming
Sabbath, and he's going to be holding four meetings."
The next Sabbath Leslie and I went to that church in Spokane.
There were no Natashas to greet us at the door, and we did not sit by ourselves
at the fellowship meal. Goldstein's four sermons were just what I needed, too.
If someone had told Goldstein that a backslidden minister on his way back to
the church would be at his meetings, I don't think he could have picked four
sermons better suited for me.
When I spoke personally with Cliff, he told me that his trip
had been planned more than a year and a half in advance--and yet a little more
than a week earlier I had walked into the Adventist Book Center and bought his
books.
"The Lord is talking to you, Dennis," Cliff said to
me that weekend. "You better listen."
The Prodigal Returns
I did listen, and I'm back. At my request, on May 8, 2004, Clifford Goldstein
rebaptized me into Jesus Christ, and it is my decision to live out my life of
salvation in Jesus in the context of the teachings of the Seventh-day Adventist
Church.
It was a long and painful road home. As I look over the past,
I'm convinced that as a church, however correct our doctrines, we need to live
out the compassion and mercy that Jesus embodied. So many who leave us, I believe,
would not leave, or would be so much more apt to return, were we to better represent
the love of Christ. I know, because I have experienced for myself firsthand
what happens when that love is missing. Though I'm not judging those who treated
me poorly, and I forgive everyone, even Natasha, I wish we could all learn to
love as Christ loved.
I don't know yet what the Lord has planned for me. I know, though,
that the same God who didn't abandon me--even after all those years--and who
providentially brought Clifford Goldstein into my life isn't through with me
yet.
"O give thanks unto the God of heaven: for his mercy endureth
for ever" (Ps. 136:26).
_________________________
*Not her real name.
_________________________
Dennis Sellers writes from Lewiston, Idaho.
