In his second letter, Paul reminded the members in Corinth to support their pastor. Farmers care for their working animals, so why shouldn’t a church care for its pastor? God asks Christians to bring their tithe to the church to support those in ministry. In addition, we should give offerings to spread the gospel, help take care of the church expenses, and relieve the suffering of the poor.

People usually don’t think twice about spending money on themselves and their own homes. Yet they fear that paying tithe or offerings would leave them too little to live well. However, those who have Christ in their hearts think about God first and always consider what they can do to help others. The spirit of giving is the spirit of heaven because God loved the world so much that He gave His Son to die for us. The spirit of selfishness is the spirit of Satan. He is the one who thought first about himself and caused all the original trouble in heaven.

Every act of self-sacrifice makes us more like Jesus. First, though, we need to give our hearts to Him because no amount of self-sacrifice can buy an unbeliever’s way into heaven.

“An important lesson for every minister of Christ to learn is that of adapting his labors to the condition of those whom he seeks to benefit. Tenderness, patience, decision, and firmness are alike needful; but these are to be exercised with proper discrimination. To deal wisely with different classes of minds, under varied circumstances and conditions, is a work requiring wisdom and judgment enlightened and sanctified by the Spirit of God.” –The Acts of the Apostles, 385, 386

The first seven chapters of Acts span about a year. After believers had spent ten days in prayer and in drawing close to the Lord and each other, God gave them the Holy Spirit. Then, Peter’s Acts 2 sermon led to the baptism of three thousand people. And that was just the beginning! By Acts 4, the Jerusalem congregation had increased to five thousand men (verse 4). Add the women and youth, and the total must have been fifteen thousand believers.

Acts 5 records continued growth–with “multitudes both of men and women” added to the church (verse 14, KJV). And Acts 6 says: “The number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests became obedient to the faith” (verse 7, NIV).

We don’t know how many Christians there were in Jerusalem at the end of that first year, but the 120 had become well over 15,000. That would be quite a congregation!  

The Impending Conflict is a booklet that contains the closing chapters of The Great Controversy. The opening paragraph of the first chapter, “Why Was Sin Permitted?” begins, “To many minds, the origin of sin and the reason for its existence are a source of great perplexity. They see the work of evil, with its terrible results of woe and desolation, and they question how all this can exist under the sovereignty of One who is infinite in wisdom, in power, and in love.”

This sentence from the second paragraph still gets my attention: “It is impossible to explain the origin of sin so as to give a reason for its existence.” Ellen White went on to point out, “Yet enough may be understood concerning both the origin and the final disposition of sin to make fully manifest the justice and benevolence of God in all His dealings with evil. Nothing is more plainly taught in Scripture than that God was in no wise responsible for the entrance of sin.”

I learned also that when Satan instigated the crucifixion of Christ, the entire universe clearly saw that he had become totally evil. That forever uprooted him from the affections of all. When Christ declared, “It is finished!” (John 19:30), He won the battle. And as we depend on Christ, trust in His righteousness, and obey Him out of love, we, too, become victors. 

Jesus was an earnest, constant worker. Never lived there among men another so weighted with responsibilities. Never another carried so heavy a burden of the world’s sorrow and sin. Never another toiled with such self-consuming zeal for the good of men. Yet His was a life of health. Physically as well as spiritually He was represented by the sacrificial lamb, “without blemish and without spot.” 1 Peter 1:19. In body as in soul He was an example of what God designed all humanity to be through obedience to His laws.–The Ministry of Healing, p. 51.

What the sacrificial system revealed about sin is just how horrendous it really is. Sinners, blinded by pride and selfishness, easily lose sight of the serious nature of sin. Sin means that we are out of harmony with our Creator, and the way we live our lives becomes a living lie about who He is. We have introduced pain and suffering into His otherwise perfect universe. The price for destroying happiness? For compromising God’s perfect creation? Death.

The sacrificial system provided a sobering reminder of just how serious our problem is–where we stand in relation to a perfectly just God. But then it simultaneously reminds us of how overpowering God’s mercy is. Although the price of sin could not simply be dismissed, God became a Man and took our penalty on Himself. With each sacrifice, sins were confessed. There was an admission of guilt, and then that guilt was symbolically transferred to a lamb, a bull, a goat–some clean animal. None of the countless sacrifices over the centuries, however, actually saved a single individual. “For it is not possible,” Hebrews informs us, “that the blood of bulls and goats could take away sins” (Hebrews 10:4). 

Many prayers, even though disguised in a pious cloak, are in the final analysis based on wrong motives. And if I do not get what I am asking for right away, I intensify my prayer and pray even harder. But actually, my prayers often center only around myself. They speak about what I wish to have. What I want to receive from God. Sometimes even in His name.

Prayer that is pleasing to God is focused on God. It begins with a personal communion with Him, not with my wishes and requests. It is not about following specific religious formulas or adhering to specific prayer techniques that are supposed to guarantee the fulfillment of my wishes. Prayer that pleases God has Him at the center and relates to Him. When my request, even my intercessory prayer, is not anchored in this living relationship with Him, it relates more to my wishes and my well-being than to God and His will. Without this living friendship with God, my prayer resembles more the operation of a divine prayer machine: I feed in my prayer requests at the top and take out my granted wishes at the bottom.

Prayer that pleases God frees my thinking from revolving around the “I.” It allows me to become honest with myself and with God. In the light of His love and His holiness, I begin to see myself differently. Gently I move toward the true purpose of prayer: not the fulfillment of my wishes but the relationship with the life-changing God. To pray in this way fills my life with the knowledge that He is the center of my life. My thoughts and wishes are in accordance with Him.

Adventism would find itself at a decisive turning point at the 1922 General Conference session. Some who advocated for a rigid and narrow reading of Ellen White would continue their attacks on church leadership, especially in the days and weeks leading up to this Adventist conclave. Such vicious attacks and polarization would characterize the early days of the session, as delegates remained deadlocked. Yet such militant methods would achieve a setback. Members of the nominating committee found themselves in a conundrum, unable to have enough votes to retain Daniells yet also not wanting to capitulate to attacks and pressure to have him removed. Spicer was a conservative and calming influence within church leadership who would continue the trajectory of the denomination: firmly standing for confidence in the Bible, for the work and mission of the denomination, and whose support for the prophetic gift of Ellen White was unquestioned. Yet Spicer stood for a new form of Adventist fundamentalism, one that avoided the militant kind of sniping. 

In a letter to W. C. White, Holmes rearticulated his understanding of Ellen White’s writings: “I love your mother’s writings. They are all scripture to me.”15 His stance reflected a view popularized by the historical fundamentalist movement that emphasized the inerrancy of inspired writings, with a special focus on a very literalistic manner that upheld a very rigid and narrow way of reading her writings. Such a literalistic reading effectively placed Ellen White’s writings above the Bible, and that emphasized a mechanical reading of her writings. This inerrant approach emphasized continuity and that every single word of Ellen White’s writings was divinely inspired. They downplayed the need for contextualization. In a way that mirrored the approaches of the fundamentalists to an inerrant Bible, Holmes and Washburn weaponized Ellen White’s writings by selectively choosing quotes they believed showed how church leaders had not been faithful to Ellen White’s writings. The irony was that they were, by picking and choosing the quotes they found to support their agenda in attacking church leaders, applying a militant way of reading Ellen White’s writings. This militant approach became the basis for a sniping campaign in which they hoped to remove key church leaders from office. By doing this, they believed they were really doing God’s work even if it meant what would be tantamount to a muckraking campaign. â?¦

The sniping warfare begun by Holmes and Washburn would be picked up by still yet others setting the stage for the 1922 General Conference, but first, before turning to this pivotal event in our Adventist past, we must look at how Ellen White’s writings began to go through a “canonization” process, which is particularly noticeable in the decade after her death. 

In a world dominated by fear and a culture in which conspiracy theories spread like a virus online and through social media–a culture in which even some preachers trade on sensationalism and fear–this seems to be a voice we need to hear again: Do not “think like everyone else does.” Fear is not a feature of our faith; rather, our faith must always be larger than our fears. When conspiracy thinking panders to our pre-existing fears and prejudices, we need to be particularly discerning.

Fear is a powerful motivation, but it usually dissipates quickly, so it needs to be constantly stoked and heightened by those who want to use it. However, fear is not a good motivator and does not bring out our best. Fear does not make us more loving, joyful, peaceful, peacemaking, patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, or self-controlled (see Galatians 5:22, 23). So, do not think like everyone else does. Do not waste time and energy on supposed conspiracies. Do not fear what other people fear.

Instead, “make the Lord of Heaven’s Armies holy in your life. He is the one you should fear. . . . He will keep you safe” (Isaiah 8:13, 14, NLT).

As Ahaz looked for backup, Isaiah came to him with a message of comfort delivered on the instructions of God. “Be careful” with whom you seek alliances. “Keep calm” rather than being panicked into unwise decisions. And ultimately, “Don’t be afraid.” This was a call for Ahaz to trust God more than he feared his attackers. God concluded His appeal to Ahaz by saying, “If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all” (Isaiah 7:9).

But Ahaz ignored the warning. He took silver and gold from the temple to pay Tigleth-pileser, king of Assyria, to protect Israel. The Assyrian king attacked Damascus, the capital of Aram, and killed their king (see 2 Kings 16:7–9). In the short term, the plan seemed to have worked. But Ahaz traveled to Damascus and was drawn into the pagan worship he witnessed there (see 2 Kings 16:10–20), and Judah continued to pay tribute to Assyria throughout the remainder of Ahaz’s reign and beyond.

During the reign of Ahaz, the faithfulness and independence of the nation were compromised because of his failure of faith and courage, despite the warning and the reassurance that God offered to the young king through Isaiah. 

It is impossible to explain the origin of sin so as to give a reason for its existence. Yet enough may be understood concerning both the origin and the final disposition of sin to make fully manifest the justice and benevolence of God in all His dealings with evil. Nothing is more plainly taught in Scripture than that God was in no wise responsible for the entrance of sin; that there was no arbitrary withdrawal of divine grace, no deficiency in the divine government, that gave occasion for the uprising of rebellion. Sin is an intruder, for whose presence no reason can be given. It is mysterious, unaccountable; to excuse it is to defend it. Could excuse for it be found, or cause be shown for its existence, it would cease to be sin. Our only definition of sin is that given in the word of God; it is “the transgression of the law;” it is the outworking of a principle at war with the great law of love which is the foundation of the divine government.–The Great Controversy, p. 492. 

Our generation has discovered what the ancient Greeks knew. Their tragedies portrayed a human race that is helpless to stop the inevitable. The heroes of these plays were doomed; they often failed because of their own flaws.

God has allowed this discovery. He already warned us before we took to the path of rebellion. Now that we have chosen it, He is allowing us to see–for ourselves–that He was right. And in the end, an interesting thing happens. Prior to the establishment of Christ’s kingdom, the world we have built begins to collapse with astonishing rapidity. “And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars,” Jesus warned us. “See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. And there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places. All these are the beginning of sorrows” (Matthew 24:6–8).

The world we built must fall apart, or we might never learn the real consequences of sin. Sometimes, the only way a child learns not to touch the hot stove . . . is to touch the hot stove.

In the midst of the chaos, God has always had a covenant people–a remnant, if you will. In Daniel’s day, that remnant, even while in exile, was composed of the covenant children of Abraham. In the vision of the seaside beasts, we find a heavenly perspective on the world we have built. The Israelites, appropriately, imagined themselves to be an island of God’s grace in the middle of a Gentile sea. Each successive empire, from Babylon to Rome, arose from the sea because of warfare (the winds of strife whipping up the water) and came up on the land where Daniel was standing. These were the governments of man, bearing sway on God’s people. They continue until the human race has had enough–until we have learned our lesson and come to the point where we cannot imagine rebelling again–and then the judgment sits and Christ is awarded His kingdom.

It is at that point that the beloved bride is brought back to life, and she joins her once-heartbroken Prince in the Garden.