O, WHAT DO YOU THINK?" IT WAS A loaded question, meaning much more than what floated at face value. It hung like a swarm of mosquitoes in the thick south Florida heat as we walked through the parking lot under a sliver of moon. The psychiatric ward was deep in the marshy flats of southwest Dade County, away from the lights of the city, and Jacqueline and I were the only people wading through the yellow pools of light that poured like syrup from the lamps above.

I thought about Jordan, lying in the hospital bed behind me, her wrists bearing scars of gnarled bandages that contrasted the Ativan-induced peace tugging at her eyelids. She was young, intelligent, beautiful, and incredibly hip. Not the kind of person you would think was nursing this kind of pain inside. Still, there she lay--the low hum of the TV the only thing allowed to keep her company at this late hour.

Jacqueline and I walked the last few paces to the car and paused, facing each other across its white roof. I didn't know it then, but this would be a defining moment in my life.

"What do I think?" I finally repeated slowly into the darkness behind the lights. I was tired. More than that--I was drained. Jordan, Jacqueline, and I worked together. We shared many interests and had become close. She was also the third person in my circle of friends to try to kill themselves that year. Carlos had tried at the beginning of the summer, and two weeks ago Trevor had succeeded.

Out past the lights, in the immense darkness of the Everglades, a summer storm rolled east toward Miami. Bolts of lightning illuminated its billowing clouds, but it was too distant for us to hear. I looked back at Jacqueline, her eyes were wide as she bit her lip, hoping that I would say something to ease the tension. "I don't know what to think," I said, "but something has to change."

Adventist and Angry
I had been Adventist from birth, but only recently had I met God. I finally let Him into my life about 3:00 one morning after several days without sleep because of a lack of alcohol (but that's another story). Since then I'd been slowly but increasingly filled with a peace and joy that truly surpasses understanding. But now I once again felt the acidic murmur of anger rippling inside me. My friends were in pain and dying horrible deaths for no good reason.

That night I made the distinction between the church and God for the first time. How was it that throughout my entire life the church had failed to give me anything other than a code of behavior? How could I for 23 years be part of an organization committed to spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ and come away with only nutrition tips? And I wasn't the only one. The vast majority of my friends (many to this day) believed that being a good Adventist amounted to weekly church attendance, renunciation of jewelry, and the acceptance of haystacks (i.e., taco salad) as the staple of a balanced diet.

The focus on standards rather than Jesus had proven destructive to my spiritual life. All the knowledge I gained was very useful in church life--winning at Bible games, teaching Sabbath school, etc.--but without Jesus it was useless in the real world. I compartmentalized my life, "spirituality" was for church, and Jesus had no part outside of that. This duplicity allowed me to function freely and as a native in and out of Adventist circles, but the two were not to mix. Sometime soon after graduating academy, I decided to quit the charade. I left the church.

So after almost five years I came back to the church. But I was angry, nonetheless--so incredibly angry. At first, it was this anger that propelled everything I did. I started to scrutinize my life to try to understand where things had gone so wrong. I think that none of my friends, myself, and maybe even some of my teachers, elders, and counselors ever questioned our experience because we were convinced, as I remain today, that the Adventist message is nothing short of truth. But with the emphasis of my spiritual training on truth, it became the central part of my religious experience.

This "head" knowledge cannot ever replace knowing Jesus personally, however, just like memorizing a Ferrari owner's manual doesn't come close to sitting in the seat, shifting into first, hitting the gas, and popping the clutch.

The Spirit's Prompting
Even so I felt the Lord's voice in my heart telling me that I should prepare to do His work. That scared the lint off of me. I understand now why I felt that way then. Although I believed in the Adventist Church as the true remnant church, I knew intuitively that there was something amiss in what I understood to be my relationship with God. This burdened me with guilt, for, although I felt God's call to do His work, I knew that I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring people into the same experience in which I found myself, a facade in which I didn't even care about myself, only what others thought of me. I don't have to tell you that I wasn't alone. Think about it; we all know a few "backsliders." In fact, some estimate that there are more ex-Adventists in North America than current ones.

Still, God kept nagging at me, and in my newfound relationship with Him, I couldn't ignore His voice. After several truly miraculous events, which included a very awkward and dark meeting with Florida Conference officials and mistaking José Rojas for a mariachi at a Mexican restaurant, I ended up as an angry intern at the North American Division (NAD) Youth Ministries Department.

So, Who Is the Church?
Just a few months into my tenure at the NAD, I attended a meeting of Gen Xers who were also very angry with the church for much the same reasons I was. They started telling horror stories of how they had been mistreated by the organization that was supposed to nurture them. I felt their pain, and joined in the denunciation with vivid tales of my own. Our voices swelled to a fevered pitch when suddenly one of them turned to me and said, "So what are you going to do about it?" I'd hardly gotten out a bewildered "huh?" when the rest of the group turned on me--and on Celeste Ryan, fellow Xer and my boss at the time.

I was shocked! Why were they yelling at me? Didn't they know I was one of them? Didn't they understand that I was angry too? I tried to explain that I agreed with them, but they would not listen. To them, my $600 a month stipend meant I was the church, and hence responsible for their pain.

That meeting left me in deep confusion. How could I be the church? What did that mean for me? I prayed ardently for answers that night, and in the morning everything was clear: my anger was no longer serving a purpose. Simply put, God wanted me to get over it. If I didn't have solutions, then I didn't have the right to criticize the church. Moreover, if I didn't search for solutions, then I was just as bad as all the people I had blamed for my pain. That day my life purpose changed. Until then, still feeling that I was inadequate for ministry, I planned on using my time at the NAD as a stepping-stone to other ventures. I was going to leave there to find my fortune at the end of the year, but now I knew that this was what I needed to do for the rest of my life--one way or another.

It was seven years ago that I left all that I knew in south Florida to come to the North American Division. First as a wide-eyed intern (I remember marveling at the size of the copy machine), and then as young adult initiatives coordinator, I have come to understand many of the critical issues at play from a unique point of view. I know firsthand the displacement and loneliness of young people frustrated by a church that is no longer relevant to them. I also know the frustration of a mammoth organization that has feared alienating its constituency through change, but is starting to understand it cannot survive unless it does.

As such, Adventism is at a tipping point, edging closer and closer to a watershed moment, as is the rest of the world. And it is at this point that the world needs us more than at any other time in history. While the world would benefit from learning our values and health standards, we need to give them (and ourselves) more. We need to stop producing "haystack Adventists" and start nurturing real Christians--the question is, how?

True Disciples

Be a Part of the Solution--Become a Disciple Seven Signs with José Rojas is a comprehensive evangelism experience designed to bring people closer to Jesus and prepare them for a lifelong walk with Him. Not your typical one-time reaping effort, Seven Signs is a three-year initiative that will promote discipleship, service, and evangelism in the Adventist Church. For all church members, especially young adults, the plan is simple: inspire, empower, and deploy. José Rojas launched this initiative during April 2-9 (in English and Spanish). There will be another uplink in 2006. Until then, use the Seven Signs programming as an inspirational/educational tool to kick off a discipleship ministry at your church. Visit www.sevensigns.net for more information, and to learn how to view a rebroadcast of the launch.

That is something that we, as members, need to ask ourselves. We are often so proud to be the remnant church that we forget the responsibility this wonderful assignation carries. It was Jesus' prayer in John 17 that we become true disciples, gloriously united in Him, caring for one another's every need, and serving as an example to the world.