My friends mom is what I like to call a Super Adventist. I mean she breathes the faith and eats the yeast flakes. One day I interviewed her on why she was an Adventist. From my understanding she had tried a couple religions before she landed on ours.
As I sat across from Jennifer, listening to her speak bout her faith I wondered if my face ever glowed like hers when talking about my religion. She loved it. Everything about it. Adventism was in her, through and through, and I wondered why the stuff that bothered me about Adventism didn’t seem to bother her at all. It was as if she had passed through some trial and error process and was now grazing in the holy land of contentment. And as she spoke I thought, gosh, I want that contentment.
Adventism has always seemed to be a hard core religion. You have to admit, it’s got a pretty tough shell of culture and tradition. We’ve got the eating and health message to abide by. Our whole weekend is restricted by our holy day (which has a list of rules all its own). Our entire lives must be devoted to the pursuit of none-Christian souls to add to our flock. And, to say the least, we have our own lingo (haystacks, the great controversy. We say things like, “Come lay your hearts at the alter.” Or, “God feeds my heart on his bread and water.” We honestly and truly believe that Jesus didn’t drink wine. Instead he made a room full of party animals satisfied off of some darn good grape juice. *sigh… the list could go on). It’s not that I hate these things. I can take them all in stride. I just wish that Adventism could somehow be mine. My very own just like it is Jennifer’s very own.
