Many organizers, few agonizers
Many players, few prayers
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Suddenly
Armageddon is trending again. Every few years the same headlines
return:
Conflict
in the Middle East.
Rumors
about rebuilding the temple in Jerusalem.
John
Haggee type of preachers with a chart and yelling in a microphone full of
confidence.
Many Christians are plugged into a familiar
script: the temple must be rebuilt, a 7-year tribulation must begin, prophetic
dominoes must fall in a very specific order, and then finally Jesus returns.
The problem is not enthusiasm about the Second
Coming. Scripture invites that hope. The problem is when speculation replaces
careful Bible study. And here is where things become complicated for the
Seventh-day Adventist Christians.
Because of this constant rush to label every
political tremor as the final signal, our mission
actually becomes harder. When people hear “Jesus is coming soon,” many no
longer hear hope. They hear noise and fear and speculations.
Some will eventually loathe the very subject of
the Second Coming - not because the promise is untrue, but because it has been
hijacked by religious-political fanatics repeating the same mantra: seven
years of tribulation, rebuilding the temple, watching the countdown.
The tragedy is that this narrative often spreads
without the hard work of exegesis - the slow, humble reading of Scripture in
its own context.
On one side are the deniers
- those who conclude that prophecy is hopelessly confusing and the Second
Coming is just symbolic poetry.
On the other side are the sensationalists
- those who turn prophecy into a theological news channel, reacting to every
headline as if it were a verse from Daniel.
Adventists cough somewhere in the
middle.
We
still believe Jesus is literally coming again.
We still believe prophecy matters.
But we also believe Scripture deserves careful study, not headline-driven
panic.
Our task is not to shout louder than everyone
else. Our task is to speak more clearly. To point
people back to the Bible itself. To open Daniel and Revelation without
speculation, without political agendas, and without the feverish need to prove
that tomorrow must be the end.
And we remind people of something surprisingly
simple: The Second Coming is not ultimately about wars, temples, or timelines.
It is about Jesus returning to finish what grace
began.
And this is not a conspiracy theory. It is the
blessed hope.
I
was standing in line at Walgreens, dressed on my way to AU, minding my pastoral
business (which at Walgreens usually means toothpaste and mints). The gentleman
next to me kept staring. Finally, he said, “You look familiar. Are you a
lawyer?”
“No.”
“A
doctor?”
I
did shake my head.
“A
professor?”
“No.”
He
paused. “I give up.”
So,
I asked him, “Why didn’t you ask if I’m a janitor? Or a cashier? Or a plumber?”
He shrugged. “Because of the way you are dressed.”
Aha. So, it still matters. Like it or not, appearance still speaks. A suit suggests degrees. A uniform suggests skill. A hard hat suggests strength. Clothing is a language, and we are all fluent in it.
But here’s the other side of the Walgreens’ interaction. A suit can also deceive. A sharp jacket can hide a dull character. A polished shoe can cover shaky integrity. History and recent headlines have shown us that a well-tailored outfit can belong to a con artist as easily as to a respected professional.
People
read signals. We present ourselves every day without saying a word. In a world
that often feels increasingly casual about everything, there’s something
refreshing about intentionality, about showing up respectfully and
purposefully. But on the other hand it doesn’t matter nearly as much as we
think because character is not stitched into fabric.
They are two equal and opposite temptations. On one side: to judge by appearance. On the other: to curate appearance so carefully that it becomes camouflage.
One side says, “Dress makes the man.” The other whispers, “Dress can fake the man.” Somewhere in the middle is the_ _ _ _ _ _ (I couldn’t find a good word, just fill in the black.)
We all wear something every day: clothes, titles, roles, expectations. Pastor. Teacher. Parent. Student. Retiree. Volunteer. Professional. They are outfits, not “infits”, not identity.
If
a suit earns respect, wonderful.
If
overalls build a house, fantastic.
If scrubs heal a patient, great.
But the real question is not what we are wearing in line at Walgreens. It’s who we are when the suit, or the overalls, or the scrubs comes off.
On a freezing January day in 1889, in Carlo Alberto Square in Turin, the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche witnessed a horse being brutally beaten by its driver. Overcome, he reportedly ran to the animal, threw his arms around its neck, wept, and collapsed. From that day forward, his mind never recovered. He spent the last decade of his life in a mental asylum.
Something in him seemed to snap under the
crushing weight of reality. All his brilliance, culture, and intellectual
firepower had not reduced the cruelty of the human heart by even a fraction.
Intelligence could diagnose the sickness - but it could not cure it.
There are days when we understand that feeling.
When headlines grow heavier by the hour.
When compassion feels rare, truth negotiable, and violence excusable.
When scandal piles upon scandal - like files stacked high, dirt accumulating
faster than it can be cleared.
We’ve heard it said, “If you pray for rain, you
have to deal with the mud.” But what do we do when it feels like the rain
itself has turned to mud? When everything looks clean from a distance, yet
stains the moment it touches you?
Here is where our story must diverge.
As Christians, we do not believe human
intelligence - however brilliant, however amplified by technology or AI - will
rescue us from evil. Culture will not evolve its way into purity. Louder
arguments and sharper analysis cannot cleanse the human soul.
Our hope is not in a system. It is in a Savior.
Jesus looked at a world just as fractured as ours
and did not collapse beneath it. He carried it. He absorbed its violence, bore
its injustice, and answered hatred with a cross. And then He rose.
Scripture promises that this muddy chapter is not
the end. One day, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes” (Revelation
21:4).
Until then, we grieve what is broken.
We refuse to grow numb.
And we cling to the One who makes all things new.
Once upon a time - not in ancient Jerusalem, but somewhere between NW
Indiana traffic and Chicago unholy wind and wicked road tolls - there lived a
modern Solomon by the name… Solomon, of course.
Surrounded by podcasts, push notifications, hot takes, AI-generated “facts,”
and relatives who “did their research,” Solomon prayed:
“Lord, I don’t need more money, more followers, or more arguments on social
media. What I really need… is wisdom.” Then the answer came in as a voice
saying:
- Since this is your heart’s desire, and you have not asked for wealth,
possessions, or honor,
nor for the downfall of your enemies,
nor even for a longer lifespan,
but for wisdom and discernment
in an age of fake news, deceptive information, artificial intelligence,
and very strong opinions with very little listening…
I am
sending you somewhere special -
Go to
the Seventh-day Adventist Church,
where Pastor Ovidiu is pastoring.
There
you will receive not only information,
but biblical clarity.
Not only opinions,
but Scripture anchored in Jesus.
Not only head knowledge,
but a faith that shapes character.
Not only arguments,
but understanding, grace, and hope.
Not only answers,
but better questions, and a community that walks with
you as you search.”
So, Solomon went and, wow, he found all the above exactly as they were told by that voice.
No
pre-requirements,
Just a curious mind, an open heart,
and a willingness to seek wisdom that begins with God.
Church
Where faith is
thoughtful,
hope is real, and
Jesus is central.
The wolf shouted into the forest: ” Hey, rabbit! Come here, I want to ask you something.”
The rabbit trembled but came close.
“Give me a cigarette,” growled the wolf.
“I don’t smoke so I don’t have any.”
“What? I don’t care if you smoke or not, you’re supposed to have a cigarette for me!” and without another word, he beat the poor rabbit.
The next day the wolf was itching for more harm: “Rabbit! Where’s my cigarette?” This time, the rabbit had thought ahead. “Here it is!” said the rabbit quickly, handing it over. The wolf grabbed it, sniffed, and then barked: “What cheap brand is this?” And he beat the rabbit again.
On the third day, the wolf wasn’t interested in cigarettes at all. He just wanted an excuse.
“Rabbit! Come here with that silly hat you wear sometimes!” The rabbit, now wiser, muttered to himself: “If I wear the hat, he’ll beat me for looking proud. If I don’t wear the hat, he’ll beat me for being careless. No matter what I do, the wolf only wants one thing: to beat me.”
- The Bible is clear that the Sabbath was never changed (Ex. 20:8–11; Mat. 24:20; Acts 13:42–44) and critics can’t prove otherwise.
- The dead are asleep, awaiting the resurrection (Eccl 9:5–6; 1 Thes. 4:16), and church critics can’t overturn Scripture.
- The church is proclaiming the second coming of Jesus visible, literal, and final, not a secret rapture (Acts 1:11; Rev. 1:7; Mat. 24:27) and church critics run out of arguments.
But the “wolf” goes after the rabbit anyway. “Your problem is this Ellen White stuff.” Now let’s be clear: Ellen White herself never claimed to replace the Bible, but “the lesser light” pointing to the Bible. And yet, the critics always come back to her. Why? Because if they can’t dismantle the Sabbath, the state of the dead, or the Sanctuary, then the only card left to play is to shout, “But Ellen White!”
Revelation 12:17 “The dragon/wolf… went to make war with the rest of her offspring, who keep the commandments of God and have the testimony of Jesus Christ.”
That’s the wolf-vs-rabbit story in prophecy. We are not called to appease the wolf or any other savage beast.
We are called to follow the Lamb.
Many organizers, few agonizers Many players, few prayers Many takers, few givers Many singers, few clingers Many fears, few tears Much fashi...
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