I missed out on cheeseburgers, but I found the feast!

AERIN TOUSSAINT

About seven years ago, my family left the Seventh-day Adventist Church. Looking back, it is amazing to remember the proud feeling I had when I could tell someone that I was a Seventh-day Adventist. 

I was born Adventist. My parents were very involved in our church, from the tech team to children’s ministry. This involvement, of course, made me very involved as well. From a young age I was playing the piano for church, doing special music, helping present Mission Focus, serving as a junior deaconess, volunteering at the Amazing Facts Crusade. I eagerly soaked up all of the material and knew all of the facts and could quote all of the prophecies and dates. I remember crying because I thought that my best friend, who was a non-denominational Christian, wouldn’t go to heaven because she attended church on Sunday and didn’t know the “Truth”.

At eleven years of age I was arguably a more devout Adventist than many in the church. I remember clearly the day I obeyed the altar call and went up to the front in our church sanctuary. I had felt enormous guilt at not following the call I felt pressing on my heart as I stayed hunkered down between my parents. Once I went forward, I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness because I knew that I would have a better chance of going to heaven now that I would soon be baptized into the Adventist church.

Ephesians 2:8-9 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.” In spite of all the Scripture memorization I did when I was a child, somehow the meaning of this passage completely escaped me for most of my life. I lived for doing good deeds.

I was constantly fearful about my salvation. I cried myself to sleep many nights, praying countless times for God to save me.

I was constantly fearful about my salvation. I cried myself to sleep many nights, praying countless times for God to save me. I recognized that I was a sinner and in need of salvation, but Adventist doctrines said to me that if I slipped up just once, I was in danger of hell if I didn’t confess that sin before I died.

One Sabbath, a non-Adventist guest speaker came to our youth Sabbath School Class. He posed the question, “What if you were a Christian and you were out driving one day. Suddenly a Mac Truck pulled directly into your path, so you cussed as you swerved, and a second later the truck hit you and you died. Would you be saved?” No one in the class could answer him. Our general consensus was that we couldn’t know whether or not committing a sin just before we died would keep us out of heaven. He was horrified and showed us some Scripture detailing the overwhelming grace and power of God. I came home amazed by my newfound knowledge, and I remember my mom being shocked that I hadn’t known that once you were saved, you were saved. Yet I had learned that I could not be certain of salvation. 

I continued to struggle with fear and doubt. I would lie in bed at night, crying, afraid that if I died, I would not go to heaven. I prayed and asked Jesus to come into my heart on at least a weekly basis. 

To guarantee my place in heaven, I obeyed all the Adventist laws and regulations. No matter how my friends pressed me, I refused to eat meat or dairy products or to drink anything with caffeine in it. Looking back now, I am amazed at how devout and disciplined I was then.

When I say that I was devout, I mean it in the fullest sense of the word. I was a very zealous little Adventist. I knew all the dietary laws and berated others for not following them. Because of our strict diet, I ate only the crusts of pizza, declined ice cream, soft drinks and candy, and never ate meat until my family left the church. Horrified, I listened as some of the older kids at church talked about eating hamburgers and even drinking Cokes—didn’t they know that caffeine was of the devil?

As far back as I can remember I did everything in my power to do what I thought God wanted me to do. I read Sabbath books on Saturdays, didn’t watch movies when at friends’ houses, and gave up playing sports and having sleepovers for that oh-so-inconvenient 24-hour Sabbath period. As for foregoing certain activities on Saturdays, I knew that I might be heaven-bound if I obeyed all the rules, and this obedience gave me incredible strength. 

My mom home-schooled me and did an excellent job of having me participate in acceptable activities. I hardly noticed that my involvement was modified. Piano competitions, swim meets, birthday parties—all inevitably fell on Saturdays, and I missed them all, except for the piano Hymn Festival. For some reason, I couldn’t participate in the Rock Festival, Baroque Festival, or any of the other events that fell on Saturdays, but the Hymn Festival was deemed permissible.

The catalyst

During my eighth grade year, our church underwent a crisis which caused members to take sides and the church to crumble. As a result of this confusion, my mom stopped attending. God was definitely doing something in her life, though; she had a quiet, joyful peace she could not explain. Even though my dad was becoming disenchanted with the church, however, his tie to it was still overwhelmingly strong. 

 Now 13, I was very educated about Adventist doctrines and was quite a rabid little legalist. I believed it was very wrong for my mom not to be attending church, and I still went with my dad and brothers. As the church continued to disintegrate, however, my dad stopped attending as well. It was only at this point that I began to sense not only my parent’s dissatisfaction with Adventism but my own. During this time my mom explained the gospel to me clearly, and I began to notice the “scales fall from my eyes”. Nonetheless, I continued to be fearful about my salvation and continued praying to receive Christ almost every night.

During this time of upheaval, I learned the truth about Ellen White, and I started to doubt other doctrines of the Adventist church. The longer we stayed away from church, the more the Bible came alive to me on its own. I remember reading certain passages of Scripture in disbelief—”has this verse always said this?” I wondered. 

My transformation did not happen overnight. My family started attending the comfortable Saturday night service at a nearby Bible church. We definitely were not breaking the Sabbath—nor were we succumbing to Sunday worship! One weekend, though, the church announced the completion of its new worship center—an event which would call for the abridgement of the church service schedule. From then on both services would be on Sunday mornings. We were cornered—we were about to accept the Mark of the Beast on our hands by becoming true Sunday worshipers! It took a little while, but by the time school started in the fall of my sophomore year of high school, my whole family was attending church together on Sunday mornings.

It wasn’t until toward the end of that semester that I was ready to renounce Adventism completely. I remember taking offense in Bible class when my teacher linked Mormons, Adventists, and Jehovah’s Witnesses into the same group as people who don’t give Jesus his due role as Savior in their religions. One of my friends protectively went to the teacher, saying, “Aerin’s a Seventh-day Adventist, and she believes in Jesus!” A little more thought and maturity on my part, however, had me admitting the truth of my teacher’s statement and desiring to dismiss all ties with Adventism.

I decided to pray one last time, once and for all—and that prayer marked the beginning of a new life for me! Since then, I have experienced an abundance of freedom in Christ.

I attended a youth retreat at our new church, and there we were encouraged to spend “20 Minutes” communing with God and seeking his face for what he wanted us to do. During that time I committed myself and told Him that I believed that He had the power to save and desired to save me. I decided that I needed to have faith and trust God to take away my sins and give me His gift of salvation. I decided to pray one last time, once and for all—and that prayer marked the beginning of a new life for me! Since then, I have experienced an abundance of freedom in Christ. I sometimes marvel at where I used to be, lost in the clutches of legalism, and where I would be now if not for the all-powerful, saving grace of Christ.

Today, at 21, I look back on my Adventist days wistfully, wondering what I would have been like if I had never been an Adventist. My family will sit together sometimes, laughing at the things we used to believe or to fear. For example, chewing gum would give you ulcers, cheese should never enter the stomach, meat-eating would arouse animal passions especially in children, and drinking coffee is sinful. Just remembering the things that we never got to do—competitive sports and sporting events, television shows we missed completely—and remembering all the Friday nights and Saturdays we spent in boredom brings a wistful sadness for lost experiences.

I strongly believe, however, that God brings each of us through life on a certain path for a specific reason. If I now have a super-appreciation for the grace of God and the love He has for me as a result of my background, I praise Him. If I can someday counsel someone struggling in the clutches of legalism, God will be redeeming my past. More than anything, I give praise and thanks to God for the place to which He has brought me—to His banqueting table, feasting on the everlasting love of the Bridegroom. †

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