While as a Christian historian I frequently interact with people who are wrestling with their evangelical identity, I personally grew up in a more sectarian context–the Seventh-day Adventist church. Last week I spent a few days at a church conference exploring the issue of Adventist identity. The theme was “Authentic Adventism” and several of us explored elements that we considered to be core to that identity. But the core concern was articulated by a young university student who asked: “If Jesus is the center of Christianity, why have a specifically Adventist denomination?” She was someone who had enjoyed worshipping with nearby a Hillsong congregation and felt attracted to the idea of non-denominational identities.
It is true that there are (and even more were in the past) streams within Christianity that believe they are the only true version of Christianity. This is not my argument, however, and my Adventist denomination does not subscribe officially to that view (tho there may be some particular Adventists who do). I also don’t think one must have a particular denominational identity in order to be a Christian.
But there isn’t any generic Jesus religion. We all start somewhere. Every time Christianity expanded it took on difference and that difference got organized and became a particular flavor with different emphases. Whatever books you’re reading or sermons you’re listening to or songs you’re singing, they don’t come out of nowhere. The people who lead non-denominational congregations all have theological training that reflects specific commitments within the Christian faith. It has ever been thus. Even C.S. Lewis and other authors who wanted a “mere” Christianity themselves actually articulate priorities that are based on their own context. There may be something like “big picture” Christianity, but as soon as it is practiced it takes on a particular flavor.
And while I think we should feel free to leave or join our Christian expressions as we want without any sense of guilt, I also want to defend the notion of sticking with a particular, very flawed, community of people. And this comes, for me, out of the story in John 10: the sheep in the sheepfold that know their Shepherd’s voice, while the Shepherd says he has sheep not of that flock.
There’s a seduction to the idea of being spiritual but not religious, or to saying we don’t like organized religion. It’s the desire to be pure, the desire to not have other people who are messed up ruining our experience. It’s the desire to avoid pain, which is really understandable. Maybe we like God, we just don’t like the people of God. But this story says God’s sheep know who Jesus is and Jesus knows them. And there’s the assumption they will be gathered around that relationship. Whatever we call that gathering, it requires organization. It takes consistency to have spaces where people are quiet and listen to the voice of God.
Seven years ago I read one of the most significant books of my churchy life: The Spiritual Child. Psychologist Lisa Miller argues that family-based spiritual practices are vital for a healthy childhood and adolescence. She’s not a Christian (her spirituality is within Judaism), but she posits that too many people are worried that if they emphasize a particular faith for their children, they won’t be giving them freedom to choose for themselves. They don’t want to go out on a limb and present a specific practice to their kids because they might be wrong or coercive. According to Miller, these are the same parents who spend massive time and money on tutoring, lessons, good meals, enriching experiences for their kids of all kinds, but they are missing one of the most verified elements to promote health—practicing faith traditions in community.
While individual spiritual practices have their place, Miller argues that it is the gathering together over time with others doing similar, sometimes ancient rituals, rooting oneself in the beliefs and practices of those who have gone before, that allows young people to move beyond their own self-doubt and internal monologues to latch on to a bigger story. I have heard one Christian writer quoted this way: “Saying you’re going to teach your children to be spiritual but not religious is like saying you’re going to raise them to be lingual, but not give them a particular language.” The “religious nones” will continue to be a major element in Christian identity, but denominations are an important expression of particularity in Christian tradition.
As soon as we start sharing resources, asking someone to get out the spreadsheets, voting on mission statements, having membership ceremonies (such as confirmations or baptisms), putting people in charge of branding or communication, passing along institutions to future generations–we have something that starts looking like a denomination. When we train people to do spiritual leadership with the priorities of that organization or emphasize specific elements of the Good News or articulate our beliefs in words that we pass along to others, we are getting something like denominational identities.
My Seventh-day Adventist church has a particular identity. It is within the larger Christian tradition, but it has its own rituals and vocabulary, and priorities. Being authentically Adventist means knowing what we’re good at and what we are not: trying for the best version of ourselves. When we have an identity, we are definitely saying there are priorities we make about who we spend time with, what projects we work on, and which ideals we are lifting up at any specific time. That kind of particularity results sometimes in structures that look like denominations.
Bob Smietana’s most recent book Reorganized Religion helps lay out the case for the role played by institutions of faith. He amasses the sociological evidence for the ways people who come together in churches are able to engage in charitable work, mobilize for assistance, and communicate to diverse audiences in a way few other organizations can. This is because of the face-to-face connections we have rather than relying on algorithms which primarily divide us and put us in echo chambers, stymying our ability to actually “do” things for good in the world. People are trying to find organizations that replace the church to accomplish these sociological goals, but without the intrinsic spiritual commitments and motivations that collective worship and religious priorities provide, it is hard to sustain such regular coming together.
When we have diverse denominations, we might also be (according to Smietana’s research), less susceptible to leadership by charisma. It’s possible that the challenges with leadership (corruption, abuse, etc) that have come out of nondenominational megachurches could be limited if we have structures with accountability to institutions beyond the local church.
Being part of a smaller Christian tradition means that we hear the voice of the Shepherd in John 10 in a particular vocabulary and accent. (I have heard it said that in families with multiple siblings, none of the siblings have the same parents—they all hear their parents differently and it’s possible the parents actually do speak differently to each of them.) Adventists have their own stream of Christian emphasis, as do other Christian traditions, and when we tune into that we can have something to offer our siblings in the faith. And when we unapologetically invest in that, we can sometimes escape “GroupThink” within broader Christianity in the United States.
Adventists offer a focus on the breaking in of the New Heaven and New Earth to interrupt our current world. We emphasize the wholistic gospel and commit massive resources to treating bodily issues and health alongside the spiritual commitments of doctrine because we believe in the unity of body and soul. We have a long heritage of advocating for separation of church and state and standing against Christian nationalism. We promote Sabbath rest and the anti-capitalism/materialism of that practice. These have traditionally separated us out from many of our fellow Protestants and they are our gift to our fellow Christian believers.
It’s not hostile to know who we are and what community is ours. We are sheep with a shepherd and while that shepherd has other sheep that aren’t of THIS fold, that doesn’t make this one any less precious. While Seventh-day Adventists may have had a tendency to be isolated and sectarian in the past, today we (like many other denominations) may be too embarrassed of our particularity to benefit from it. We need to find a way to allow our diversity of Christian expression to bless the larger church rather than attempting to blend into some bland and generic version of the flock.
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