Through my college and grad school years, almost anywhere I went across the country, I could count on an invitation to stay the night and enjoy a good meal from relatives or friends of my parents. My presence created a fairly small footprint. I was single and healthy. I had a modicum of good manners. I wouldn't stay long. I accepted their hospitality with routine gratitude. I was young, houseless, rootless. They were older, home owners, settled. They were filling their role; I was filling mine.

My role has changed. When my daughter came home from college for Thanksgiving in a van with six other students, we fed them. We put one on the plane the next morning. Another spent the holiday with us. When my nephews fly into town, I meet them at the airport. When a young pastor passes through town and asks to see me, I pay for lunch. These young people are filling their role; I'm filling mine. I've grown up.

Adventism, too, is growing up. The denomination of my youth saw itself as a small, threatened remnant. We had no responsibility for society at large. Our Sabbath-keeping did not alter the flow of the economy. Our eating habits made no difference to the local grocery stores. Our views on church-state relations had no significant political implications; office seekers had no need to court "the Adventist vote."

We did not worry about what would happen if all our members embraced the most restrictive Sabbath rules. We could still ride the bus to church and there would be electricity for the public address and air conditioning systems during services. If nearly all our children enrolled in the local church school, public school would continue providing a solid education for our neighbors and for our children with learning disabilities. We could limit our health care to fomentations and nutrition; regular hospitals would handle the brain surgery. If we ignored politics, someone else would tend to government.

We were small and healthy. We had a modicum of good manners. We wouldn't be here long. We accepted the hospitality of the world with a certain sense of entitlement. The institutions of Christendom and secular society were filling their role; we were filling ours.

But our role has changed. Even in North America, our behavior impacts larger society-whether it is the research of Adventists who are national leaders in geological dating methods. (I'm thinking of Ed Hare and Erv Taylor, not Robert Gentry.) Or the artistry of musicians who conduct and perform with major music organizations. Or the work of computer specialists who maintain national networks that must function 24/7. Or the service of Adventist politicians. If these individuals ordered their lives only with reference to the values and needs of the church, they

would bring dishonor on the Adventist church and even on Jesus himself. They must think and act with reference to the whole of their society. They must act like adults. And so must the clergy who shape the life of their church.

Outside of North America, there are countries where Adventists are a major percentage of the population. By their sheer numbers, Adventists shape society, whether they intend to or not. Adventist union presidents are peers of national presidents.

Adventists have a unique identity born of our pioneers, our denominational history, the Bible, the work of the Holy Spirit. But we are growing up. We are learning from other communions. We are recovering old ways of cultivating spiritual life and seeing new light in the gospel. The leaders of our church are learning to think and talk like the international statesmen they must be. We are embracing our essential role in the secular world where God has placed us.

This maturation of the church annoys the ideologically driven purists among us-whether right-wing historicists or evangelicals or liberals. The church refuses to be simple (or pure). It will not remain "what it was." Nor will it entirely quit being "what it was." The grownup church has renounced its "purity" in its mature commitment to serve all its children . . . and their friends . . .and the neighbors . . . and the folks across town.

If we try to return to the role of our simpler, younger days, we will not be more holy or effective. We'll just look silly, like grownups aping teenagers. The only way to relive our childhood is to step forward into the roles of maturity, offering hospitality and encouragement to our children and their friends in their own passages toward maturity.