JACKIE ORDELHEIDE SMITH
hile reading the newspaper one Sunday morning, I was drawn
to an article about a recent massacre in Burundi. Some rebel Hutus attacked
a U.N. refugee camp with machetes and automatic weapons, "shooting and
hacking to death at least 180 men, women, and children. . . . Their charred
remains lay among the cooking utensils and the smoldering remnants of their
former homes. . . . The attack . . . resembled the killing during the 1994 genocide
in Burundi's neighbor Rwanda."*
The article didn't take up more than 20 column inches in the
paper, but compelled me to step inside the story and imagine how I might react:
Why is this happening to me? How can I live without my family? Whom can I
turn to?
I had no more finished the story before I was jerked back to
twenty-first-century America: "Cell phones that are cool and stylish.
Buy one and get a second free." "Video mail . . . Free for 60 days
. . . Fun, easy to use, and free!" "Fashion Hits! Big summer clearance
blowout! Up to 75 percent off." The contrast of the two worlds was
sickening.
As I tried to find a correlation between the Burundi massacre
and the need for video mail, I wondered how many survivors of this genocide
might be concerned about getting a more stylish cell phone. (Given that they
even have phone service in the refugee camp.) Or how many of them are relieved
that video mail now exists? Or that the season's fashions are finally 75 percent
off?
Such nonsense is preposterous to consider if one's very survival
is at risk. Yet it seems that in our society, where daily survival is not an
issue, concerns that at first seemed preposterous are the same concerns that
rule our lives and our finances.
How do we as Christians, and particularly Seventh-day Adventists
living in the last days, find a balance to the two worlds? How do we stay focused
on lasting eternal matters in a shallow, materialistic society?
Apart from the first and obvious solution of spending time
in daily Bible study and prayer, a second and not-so-obvious solution is to
stay connected to the world church through the pages of the Adventist Review.
Every week as I read the features, stories, and articles, I am brought back
to "center" as I learn about the needs of believers in Zambia, or
the shortage of churches in India, or the financial limitations in Russia. I
am challenged to refocus my priorities as I am reminded of the dedication and
sacrifice of early Adventist pioneers. I'm humbled by the examples of service,
faith, and obedience that come through the stories. The cares that I hold as
dear are melted away in light of articles on the Second Coming, salvation, and
everlasting life, and I'm forced to face my involvement (or lack thereof) with
these truths in the here and now. Sometimes I don't measure up, but always I
am buoyed up by the stories of hope, healing, and answered prayer. And yes,
at times, I am even brought to tears.
Do I read every word of the Review? No. Just like I
don't read every word of the newspaper, and even go some weeks without reading
it.
Do I always agree with everything? No. Sometimes I disagree
with an article or columnist, or think an editorial has missed the mark.
Do I read the Review each Sabbath? No. In fact I refrain from
it! Because, unlike you, for me to read the Review on Sabbath is to remind
me of the "six days that I labor and do all my work."
Having admitted all that, do I still have a job? I'll know
for sure Monday morning. (Chances are the editors agree with me!)
Am I richer for reading the Review? Of course, and I
think you would be too.
For less than the cost of a year of cable TV, a pair of tickets
to the Ice Capades, or a dinner for four at the Olive Garden, you can bring
news and inspiration into your home every week.
What are your priorities?
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*The Sun, Aug. 15, 2004, p. 15A.
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Jackie Ordelheide Smith is the marketing director for the Adventist
Review.
