When I was a kid, Sabbath conversations were often quite involved theological arguments, many of them not so much conversations as ritualized role-plays, with standardized for-and-against arguments. In hindsight, they were mainly of the "how-many-angels-on-a-
pinhead" variety.

One I remember was the hypothetical, "If you were stranded on a desert island and the only food was pigs, would you eat them?" The heretics would say Yes, the noble martyrs would affirm that they would starve to death rather than touch one, while the truly righteous would piously proclaim, "The Lord will provide." It was only many years later, when I remembered this discussion, that I realized that the Lord had indeed provided: he had placed the pigs there.

I am reflecting on the power of upbringing to shape attitudes and beliefs, and how hard these attitudes can be to access as they are often embedded below the level of consciousness. It’s fine when those values are of value, but problematic when their (concealed) influence is unhelpful.

Take for example the Bible stories I was raised on. Being a readaholic in a poor family, the main books I had as a child were Uncle Arthur’s Bible Stories. We had the complete set, purchased on the cheap when my colporteur father acquired a repossessed set from a customer who didn’t pay. I read them so many times that I virtually memorized them. Even today, decades after I last read them, a few key words can trigger lines from the books. And what an investment they have been for me. I credit a lot of my knowledge of the Bible stories to Uncle Arthur.

However, as a lecturer in Bible literature, I have repeatedly been surprized by what the Bible actually says, or doesn’t say, as opposed to the retellings through books, videos, and sermons. For instance, The Bible Story tells us that Noah took 120 years to build the ark, and that he preached repentance while doing so. Neither of these facts appear in the account in Genesis (although 2 Peter 2:5 does call Noah "a preacher of righteousness").

My point is that, quite often, my knowledge of the Bible is based on Arthur Maxwell’s interpretation of it, with all its flourishes and additions. Other popular stories—the lion’s den, David and Goliath, the prodigal son, the good Samaritan—are probably mostly known by Christians in second-hand versions, rather than from original readings. I am finding that a close reading of the actual text, stripped as far as possible from the various colorings added over years of exposure to sermons, Sabbath Schools, children’s videos, and Christian education, is an enlightening and rewarding experience.

Take for example the Last Days. I went through an Adventist school with a teacher who was much enamored of eschatological musings, many of them highly colored and totally unsubstantiated by Scripture. We were told that we would not reach adulthood before the Second Coming, we heard legends of torture chambers in the crypts of Catholic churches, of Catholic and trade union plots to take over the world, of caves opening up in the hills behind us to protect us during the time of trouble, miraculously stocked with food. And all this was backed by the statement, "Sister White says…," though no references were given of course (perhaps they are to be found in Testimonies, vol. 10…).

And of course, the great activity was making time lines, on which we could plot where we were at the present and predict the future. Timelines were terrific things: they gave assurance to those who felt they were on God’s good side, while they gave the rebels the impression that some critical signs of the end were still in the future, giving them the opportunity to sin now and still repent in good time. Those of us without the guts to be rebels were secretly jealous of their have-their-cake-and-eat-it-too ways, and predicted dark fates for them.

This attitude to prophecy colored my thinking for a long time, searching through apocalyptic literature for sequences of events to be compared to historical and contemporary records. It only slowly dawned on me that perhaps that wasn’t what Daniel and Revelation were about. This was confirmed by recent readings of the Gospel of John, where various "hidden" statements suddenly took on new life as I read them for what they were, instead of bringing my assumptions to play.

The Gospel of John makes the point several times that Jesus’ prophetic activities and statements were not understood at the time. In John 2: 18–22, Jesus says that he can rebuild the destroyed temple in three days. The disciples only make sense of this after the resurrection. "Then they believed the Scripture and the words that Jesus had spoken" (John 2: 22 NIV). When Jesus washes Peter’s feet, Jesus says, "You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand" (John 13: 7 NIV). Then in verse 19 he says, "I am telling you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe that I am He." He says much the same again in 14:29 and 16:4. All of these instances can be expanded by exploring Jesus’ words and deeds, and how often people only believed after his words were verified by later events.

My point? That prophecy is not about me knowing the future. The old timeline mentality made me sure of myself, despite the fact I could quote repeatedly that the time of the end would come as a surprise. In fact, in my heart I believed that it would surprise everyone but me, and a few elect of my ilk. Jesus used prophecy as a means of building trust in him, as events proved him to have foreknowledge that I lacked. Prophecy therefore isn’t designed to be transparent until after the event.

So do I understand Revelation, or the more obscure chapters of Daniel? I have the general picture: there will be a titanic struggle, with good triumphing in the end. But the fine print is in God’s hands; the prophecies are there not to build arrogant complacency and faith in myself and my timelines, but to help me trust in God my Savior.

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