Confessions of a Recovering Rule-Follower

Paul's story and my story, and how Jesus saved me from my spiritual resume

Photo by Pixabay: https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-marking-check-on-opened-book-416322/

(A five-minute read.)

Last summer, I preached a sermon for a bunch of young adults on Philippians 3:2-11. It was actually very impactful on my own mind and soul. I realized that Paul’s story there—where he reflects on his impressive religious credentials, only to recognize they actually got in the way of genuine faith—mirrors my own.

Last week, in my journey through Philippians for my morning meditations, I came across the passage again and sat with it for a little bit. I realized once again just how much Paul’s experience and my experience have so much in common.

So I thought I’d do something a little different and rewrite Paul’s contemplations in my own words, reflecting my unique journey.

Some may find this exercise interesting. Others may find it weird and hard to relate to.

Similarly, some may find it easy to connect with the unique “Adventist” take of the passage. Others may be confused.

One word of explanation for the latter group: Seventh-day Adventism, like a number of other Christian traditions, has historically had a very high view of its identity and calling, believing it has a unique and special mission to the world—especially in the light of the belief that we’re living in the “last days.”

In fact, though it’s not necessarily “official” teaching, Adventists have historically identified the denomination as the “remnant” church that the book of Revelation seemingly points to as existing in the “end times.”

This is a whole other topic, which deserves its own reflections, but I explain all this to provide some context to what you’re about to read. I’m not here discussing whether I affirm or deny the idea.

The point is, many Adventists would very much see Adventism as the eschatological parallel to Judaism in Paul’s day, believing that just as Israel had a special mission around the time of Christ’s first advent, so, too, Adventism has a special mission around the time of Christ’s second advent.

And that idea presents all sorts of spiritual, theological, and psychological dynamics.

Now, without further delay, here’s my version of Philippians 3:2-11 (my “paraphrase” is based on a mixture of the New King James Version, The Message, the original Greek, and my—hopefully—“sanctified imagination”).

Be on the lookout—stay awake—for barking dogs, those religious busybodies, who are trying to impose their suffocating, freedom-denying religion on you. The real Adventists are those who’ve stepped into the freedom of worshiping and following God in the Spirit, who rejoice in Christ Jesus, and who don’t base their security on, or have confidence in, religious performance, legalistically following the Testimonies, or because they are members of “the remnant church.”

Because here’s the deal: if anyone else thinks they have reason to find their security in their performance, or if anyone else has confidence because they belong to the right religious group, I have them all beat. My credentials are impeccable.

I was born into a Seventh-day Adventist family, the son of a pastor. I was baptized when I was eight years old. I went to Adventist schools my whole life—all the way from first grade to graduate school. I’ve even mastered divinity.

When it comes to following the rules, flawless. Vegetarian my whole life. Never smoked. Never sipped an ounce of alcohol (and called out those who did). Never went out to eat on Sabbath. A huge fan of “the Spirit of Prophecy.” Protected the church’s doctrine, warning against false teaching, preaching about the 28s frequently.

Truly, an Adventist of the Adventists.

But here’s the thing: all these supposed “advantages” I had I’ve realized were disadvantages. In fact, they’re trash. Why? Because of Christ. They prevented me from stepping into the joy and freedom of knowing Jesus.

So I’ve thrown all this stuff out as a basis for security so I can actually know Jesus, love him, live in his freedom.

That’s right! Yes, I’ve gotten to the place where I’ve realized that all those things which I thought were so important to me were actually distracting me from the thing that’s most important: Jesus.

Most people thought my Adventist pedigree and rule-following were on the positive side of the ledger. But because they gave me a false sense of security, convincing me that I was truly living a God-centered and God-honoring life (when I really wasn’t), I’ve now realized they were on the negative side of the ledger.

Indeed, compared to the glorious joy of knowing Jesus as my friend, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—garbage. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I don’t want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I can get the robust kind that comes from trusting Jesus—God’s righteousness.

I’ve given up all that inferior stuff so I can know Jesus personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself. And if there is any way to get in on the resurrection from the dead, I want to do it.

A few closing reflections:

First, it’s almost impossible to describe, but it’s truly unbelievable how different it is to go “all in” on Jesus compared to basing your security on following the rules, believing the right things, and belonging to the right religious group.

I realize it doesn’t have to be a false dichotomy—though Paul didn’t seem to worry about that accusation—but there is such freedom, joy, spaciousness (as Fleming Rutledge would describe it) in connection to Christ.

Second, I think, 15 years ago, I would have definitely claimed that I knew Jesus—that my security and salvation and identity were based on connection to him. But I didn’t and it wasn’t.

Lastly, be warned: going “all in” on Jesus is scary. It feels disorienting. It feels like a “slippery slope.” It feels like the gateway to anarchy and lawlessness and becoming an atheist—or worse, a Roman Catholic.

But fear not: true connection to Jesus ultimately leads to joy, love, peace, compassion, freedom—the fruit of the Spirit.

Not that I’ve arrived (as Paul also says in the very next verse), nor that I never get scared anymore—or never sin.

But I’m at least on the journey, and it’s glorious and beautiful (what Paul, elsewhere, I do believe, calls “from glory to glory”).

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Shawn is a pastor and church planter in Portland, Maine, whose life, ministry, and writing focus on incarnational and embodied expressions of faith. The author of four books and a columnist for Adventist Review, he is also a DPhil (PhD) candidate at the University of Oxford, focusing on nineteenth-century American Christianity. You can follow him on Instagram, and listen to his podcast Mission Lab.