The Holy Family

(This is an excerpt from my book published by the Review and Herald Publishing Association, Adventist Spirituality for Thinkers and Seekers: The Faith I Highly Recommend.)

So you are no longer foreigners and aliens but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household. Ephesians 2:19


I was twenty-two years old, headed from Memphis to Pacific Union College as a transfer student for my senior year. I had never been to the school and didn’t know a soul. I got off the plane in Oakland and waded into the sea of unknown faces in the terminal, looking for Uncle Ellsworth. I had met him only once before, when I was six years old, so I didn’t have the slightest idea what he looked like. But a tall man with a mane of white hair and a kindly face approached and greeted me tentatively. “John?”
Within seconds, I went from being a stranger lost in a crowded airport to a long-lost son coming home. Uncle Ellsworth and Aunt Bernice embraced me with warm affection. My cousin Jeanine proved a wonderful friend, offering sage “sister’s advice” regarding girls and dating. Aunt Bernice’s spaghetti on Friday night was the highlight of my weeks. Here in this new place among new people, I found myself at home because I was family.
Americans celebrate the individual. Our national stories honor individuals who have risen above their family of origin and through hard work and initiative have achieved individual greatness. Most of us know nothing of Ben Franklin’s family, or George Washington’s, for that matter. We are suspicious of political dynasties like the Kennedys or Bushes. We wonder if the younger members of the families have gotten into office because of family connections. And there is no compliment intended in the question. Some protest affirmative action because they believe it devalues individual achievement.
But in reality, personal identity is not created ex nihilo by individuals. It is given by family (either literal or figurative). Individuals make real choices and shape themselves through choices that become habits and character. But all of this activity of the will is at most a mere remodeling of identities given us by our families. Identity is a gift more than an achievement. This perspective is pervasive all through the Bible.
In the beginning, humanity’s identity was the gift of creation–we are created in the image of God. The story of the Jews celebrates the status they enjoyed as descendants of Abraham. The Bible highlights privileges that were theirs as members of the nation God had chosen quite apart from the character or characteristics of the individual (or even of the community at any one point in time, Deuteronomy 7:7). In the New Testament believers are not pictured as “saved individuals,” but as beloved members of the Holy Family, the household of God.
When the Old Testament affirms God’s regard for non-Jewish people, it does so by picturing them as honorary members of the Jewish community. Consider the stories of Rahab, Ruth, and Naaman (Matthew 1; 2 Kings 5) and the inclusive language of Psalm 87:

The Lord loves the gates of Zion . . .
And he has made her his home.
He says, ‘I will make her my home.
I will count Egypt and Babylon among my friends;
Philistine, Tyrian and Nubian will be there;
and Zion shall be called a mother
in whom men of every race are born.’
The Lord will write against each in the roll of the nations:
‘This one was born in her.’ From Psalm 87, NEB

Notice that Babylonians and Philistines, traditional enemies of the Jews, who receive the favor of the Lord are not honored as the noblest citizens of their respective lands. Instead they are received as honorary citizens of Jerusalem. They are reckoned as members of the earthly community which receives God’s favor.
This theme echoes through the New Testament as well. The story is told of an encounter between Jesus and Zacchaeus, a tax collector in the city of Jericho. In that society, tax collectors had social standing of drug dealers in our society–envied for their wealth, despised for their wickedness. Because they worked with the Roman occupation forces, they were seen as traitorous collaborators and regarded as hopelessly corrupt.
Jesus invited himself to Zacchaeus’ house. At dinner, Zacchaeus announces he is giving away half his money to the poor and that he will repay anyone he has cheated four times what he stole. Jesus responds to this evidence of transformation by announcing,

Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost. Luke 19:9-10

Notice, Jesus describes Zacchaeus’ new status not in terms of his individual, personal connection with God, but in terms of his restoration to citizenship in the community of Abraham (a figure of speech for the people of God).
The Bible says very little about “me and God.” It’s emphasis is “we and God.” Salvation is not something that I achieve through the pursuit of personal holiness, it is the gift of inclusion in the holy community. The blessings enjoyed by a follower of Jesus are gifts to the new holy nation of the church. They are not given to holy individuals–except as those individuals are incorporated into the people of God.
The Book of Revelation brings this emphasis on community to a climax. In chapter three Jesus is pictured knocking at the door seeking to enjoy dinner with individuals (I will go in and eat with him and he with me). But more frequently the focus is on the people of God, gathered from “every tribe, nation, kindred people” whom Jesus has anointed as priests (Revelation 1). They form a heavenly chorus and “follow the Lamb wherever he goes.” They sit on thrones with their compatriots, judging and reigning forever (Revelation 5, 7, 20, 22). Salvation is enjoyed by the host of God’s people in corporate worship and reigning, not by individuals in private, one-on-one interaction with God.
The theme song of heaven is not “I Come to the Garden Alone” but “Shall We Gather at the River.”

This communal source of identity is celebrated in the central practices of the Christian church–baptism, communion, Sabbath-keeping. It is associated with most of the classic explications of the meaning of the crucifixion of Jesus. It has profound implications for our understanding of the church and is inseparable from our doctrine of God.
Historically, Adventists have seen ourselves as uniquely called to serve as God’s church at the end of time. This belief can be distorted into a cause for spiritual pride, but properly understood it highlights the essential role of community in the work of God. God is not looking for spiritual Lone Rangers to show up here and there and perform heroic deeds for the kingdom of heaven. Rather God is looking for people who are willing to participate in building a holy community, a society known for its faith, hope and love. The proper meaning of “church” is that spiritual life is something we build together. It is not something we achieve alone.
To those who are vividly aware of their inadequacies or failings, God offers the gift of membership in his household. You do not have to earn your place or prove your merit or fight your way in. To people who see themselves as foreigners and strangers, God gives the assurance that he has set a place for them at the family table. To those who hesitate to associate with the riffraff Jesus sometimes attracts, the reality of church offers a strong check on pride.
We readily recognize certain kinds of human ability as gifts–things like musical ability or high IQ. We have a harder time recognizing personal drive, motivation, moral and spiritual sensitivity as gifts. But God, in calling us to his table, reminds us that none of us arrived here by spontaneous generation. We were birthed and re-birthed. And all of our abilities were gifts before they became achievements. And all of our failings were first weaknesses and wounds that came to us apart from our will.
One of the crucial functions of the church is to actively welcome others into full participation in the life of the Holy Family. As the family of Jesus, the church is obliged to seek and save the lost. These “lost ones” may be crushed with feelings of inadequacy or swollen with self confidence, but they equally need the accountability and affirmation that comes from participation in the earthly family of God.
Our most precious identity is the one that is given to us irrespective of our accomplishment or demerit. The greatest benefits we receive come because of the resources of the family, not because of our own personal achievements. When we step off the plane, we are greeted by Uncle Ellsworth and taken home because we are family. And we will be welcomed into heaven because we are members of the household of God.