Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy. (1 Peter 4:12-13, KJV)

ABSTRACT

This article juxtaposes celebration with solemn introspection, urging us to assess spiritual health against Christ’s perfect standard rather than human achievements. Distinguishing character—soul-deep integrity shaped by divine likeness—from fleeting reputation, it emphasizes truth’s role in forging enduring faith. Revisiting the 1914 crisis during World War I, when church leaders compromised non-combatant principles under state pressure, the narrative highlights the faithful minority’s costly stand as a divine sifting, echoing biblical trials that purify like gold. It warns of generational complacency bred by prosperity, calling for personal sacrifice over inherited heritage amid modern subtle temptations like cultural conformity. Embracing God’s mathematics where a faithful remnant triumphs over numbers, it navigates perils of liberalism (compromise) and legalism (loveless rigidity), advocating balanced, Christ-centered living. Addressing the delay in Christ’s return, it identifies the missing element as His character’s full reproduction in His people through beholding and surrender. Fundamental responses include affirming God’s non-coercive love respecting free choice, unwavering allegiance to His law, and self-sacrificing love toward neighbors, even enemies. Concluding with humility before heaven’s surprises, it issues a final call for revival, unity, and embodying Christ’s light to hasten the end.

A HUNDRED-YEAR ECHO

We stand at a peculiar vantage point, a century marker that hums with a complex harmony of emotions. For some, it is a time for celebration, a moment to unfurl the banners of 100 years of existence and recount the victories God has granted. The air is thick with nostalgia, with stories of pioneers and the echoes of progress. Yet for others, and perhaps for the most honest parts of all our souls, this centennial is a more solemn occasion. It is a time for deep reflection, a moment to quiet the celebratory noise and listen to the pulse of our own spiritual condition, both as individuals and as a body of believers. We are confronted with a choice: will we build a monument to our past, or will we hold up the mirror of our history to see who we have become? To truly gauge our spiritual health, we must first acknowledge the only true standard of measurement, the One who is the source of all good, the essence of all truth, and the perfect model for every noble action. It is Jesus Christ who defines the reality of our condition, for He declared, “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me” (John 14:6, KJV). Without Him as our lens, our self-assessment is doomed to distortion. To affirm this, Scripture reminds us, “Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves” (2 Corinthians 13:5, KJV), and “But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18, KJV). As we reflect, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9, KJV), urging us to rely on Christ’s standard. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Proverbs 9:10, KJV), guiding us to true self-knowledge. “A character formed according to the divine likeness is the only treasure that we can take from this world to the next” (Maranatha, 320, 1976). “The righteousness of Christ will not cover one cherished sin” (Christ’s Object Lessons, 316, 1900). Thus, our centennial demands we measure ourselves not by human standards but by Christ’s perfect character.

CHARACTER VS. REPUTATION: THE TRUE MEASURE OF FAITH!

Our perception of this milestone hinges entirely on the perspective we choose. We can view our journey through the clarifying, often painful, lens of our Savior’s truth, or we can peer through the flawed and foggy glass of our own human nature, a nature so often blind to its own deficiencies that it mistakes reputation for character. But these two are not the same. Reputation is merely the impression we leave on the minds of others—a fragile, fleeting shadow. Character, in stark contrast, is God’s unchanging reality of who and what we truly are. True character is a quality of the soul, and as it is stated, “A character formed according to the divine likeness is the only treasure that we can take from this world to the next” (Maranatha, 320, 1976). This profound distinction between the external shadow and the internal substance forces us to ask the central question of this centennial: After 100 years, does our collective character truly reflect the character of Christ, or are we merely basking in the borrowed light of our forefathers’ reputation? Are we content with the story of their sacrifice, or are we willing to live our own? This is why truth matters above all else, for it is the only tool that can chisel away the facade of reputation to reveal the bedrock of character beneath. Scripture reinforces this: “For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7, KJV), and “The just man walketh in his integrity” (Proverbs 20:7, KJV). “True obedience is the outworking of a principle within” (Christ’s Object Lessons, 97, 1900). “The greatest want of the world is the want of men—men who will not be bought or sold” (Education, 57, 1903). Thus, we must choose Christ’s truth over human reputation to forge a character that endures.

THE FORGE OF 1914: WHERE REPUTATION DIED AND CHARACTER WAS BORN!

To understand who we are, we must first return to the crucible where our identity was forged. The year 1914 was not merely a historical schism; it was a divine test, a fiery trial that separated principle from policy and allegiance to God from allegiance to the state. The historic position of the church, born from deep biblical conviction, was unequivocally non-combatant. This was not a matter of political convenience but of theological necessity, rooted in the eternal law of God. As early as 1865, the General Conference declared in no uncertain terms, “We are compelled to decline all participation in acts of war and bloodshed as being inconsistent with the duties enjoined upon us by our divine Master toward our enemies and toward all mankind” (The Review and Herald, May 23, 1865). This was a direct application of the sixth commandment, “Thou shalt not kill” (Exodus 20:13, KJV), and the fourth, recognizing that military duty would make Sabbath observance impossible. This stance was not a footnote but a pillar of the faith, a direct outflow of a people who took the Ten Commandments as their supreme creed. Yet, while this principle was clear in times of peace, the eruption of World War I brought a chilling compromise, revealing a stark contrast between a deeply held truth and the fear of institutional loss. “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15, KJV) and “My covenant will I not break, nor alter the thing that is gone out of my lips” (Psalm 89:34, KJV) affirm this commitment. “God’s law is unchangeable” (Patriarchs and Prophets, 52, 1890). “Obedience is the first duty of every soul” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 3, 378, 1875). This crisis revealed that true faith prioritizes God’s law over human pressures.

This contrast between principle and fear led to a catastrophic betrayal of our foundational beliefs. In 1914, under immense pressure from nationalistic fervor and the threat of government reprisal, leaders of the European Division made a decision that sent shockwaves through the body of believers. They declared it acceptable for believers to bear arms and serve as combatants, effectively merging the church with the global killing machine. This decision was a textbook example of the “Caiaphas mentality,” a leadership driven by fear of losing earthly power rather than fear of displeasing God. The Sanhedrin of Christ’s day fretted, “What do we? for this man doeth many miracles. If we let him thus alone, all men will believe on him: and the Romans shall come and take away both our place and nation” (John 11:47-48, KJV). Their concern was not for truth, but for their “place and nation.” So it was in 1914. The capitulation was not to a higher understanding of scripture, but to a lower fear of losing institutional standing—the very definition of sacrificing character for the sake of reputation. This choice stood in total opposition to the command of Christ, who, in the face of a violent war culture, taught, “But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you” (Matthew 5:44, KJV). While the majority chose the path of compromise, a small minority, a mere two percent, refused to bow. They chose to become outcasts rather than forsake Christ. “Blessed are they that do his commandments” (Revelation 22:14, KJV) and “Here is the patience of the saints” (Revelation 14:12, KJV) reflect their resolve. “The strength to resist evil is best gained by aggressive service” (The Acts of the Apostles, 105, 1911). “Faithfulness to God involves faithfulness to His law” (Prophets and Kings, 182, 1917). Thus, the faithful few proved that character is forged in the fire of obedience.

This tragic compromise was more than a political misstep; it was a theological collapse, a structural failure that biblical scholar Walter Wink diagnosed with chilling accuracy. He observed that when the early church traded its nonviolence for imperial power, the consequences were catastrophic: “the church that had stood up nonviolently to the brutal repression of the Roman Empire found itself strangely victorious…. The price the church paid, however, was embracing violence as a means of preserving empire. But the removal of nonviolence from the gospel blasted the keystone from the arch, and Christianity collapsed into a religion of personal salvation and an afterlife jealously guarded by a wrathful and terrifying God—the whole system carefully managed by an elite corps of priests with direct backing from secular rulers now regarded as the elect agents of God’s working in history” (Engaging the Powers, Walter Wink, 217). This is precisely what happened in 1914. To preserve the “empire” of its institutions, the church leadership embraced the state’s violence, blasting the keystone of God’s immutable law from the arch of its faith. This event was not merely an unfortunate split but a prophetic sifting. It forced a choice between two masters, fulfilling the principle articulated by the apostles: “We ought to obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29, KJV). The faithful few who stood firm, like the three Hebrews before Nebuchadnezzar, declared by their actions, “be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up” (Daniel 3:18, KJV). It was stated, “I was shown that God’s people, who are His peculiar treasure, cannot engage in this perplexing war, for it is opposed to every principle of their faith. In the army they cannot obey the truth and at the same time obey the requirements of their officers. There would be a continual violation of conscience” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 1, 361, 1863). The faithful were described as those “who will stand for the right though the heavens fall” (Education, 57, 1903). “The church may appear as about to fall, but it does not fall” (Selected Messages, Book 2, 380, 1958). “God’s truth is to be maintained at all costs” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 4, 211, 1880). Thus, our origin story is one of faithfulness triumphing over apostasy.

EVERGREENS IN A WORLD OF WAR: THE COST OF CONVICTION!

Spiritual crises, like the harsh winds of winter, are God’s diagnostic tools. In the warmth of summer, all trees appear green and vibrant, their leaves rustling with life. It is impossible to distinguish the deciduous from the evergreen. But when winter arrives, stripping away the foliage with its icy breath, the true nature of each tree is revealed. So it is with faith. The winter of 1914 was not a tragedy but a necessary process to reveal the “evergreens”—those whose faith was not a seasonal display dependent on favorable conditions, but a deep-rooted, living connection to the source of all life. This principle of testing is woven throughout Scripture. The apostle James exhorts us, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing” (James 1:2-4, KJV). The trial is not meant to destroy, but to perfect. It is the fire that purifies the gold, as Peter writes, so “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:7, KJV). “But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold” (Job 23:10, KJV) and “The Lord trieth the righteous” (Psalm 11:5, KJV) affirm this refining process. “Affliction purifies the soul” (The Ministry of Healing, 472, 1905). “Trials are God’s workmen to remove impurities” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, 10, 1896). While the world saw a splintering, heaven saw a purifying, producing a people whose character was solid gold.

This steadfastness came at a staggering cost, a cost that must never be forgotten lest we take our spiritual inheritance for granted. The price for remaining faithful was immense, involving not just the threat of imprisonment or death at the hands of the state, but the deeper pain of social ostracism and condemnation by former brethren. They were labeled as fanatics, troublemakers, and heretics—anathema to the very church they had loved and helped to build. Their experience was a heartbreaking echo of Christ’s own journey. It is one thing to sing for Christ and quite another to die for Him. It is easy to advocate for truth when the world does not resist it, but when persecution rears its head, how few are willing to pay the price? As the lesson so poignantly asks, “how few of those who carried home the twelve baskets of surplus bounty were willing to risk their reputation to stand beside the humble Son of Man, crucified between Heaven and Earth?” (Lesson No. 2) The crowds that cheered Jesus when He provided free bread were the same crowds that called for His crucifixion when He challenged their sins. So it was for our pioneers. They were beloved brethren in the summer of institutional peace but became bitter enemies in the winter of crisis. This suffering is not a mark of shame but a badge of true discipleship, for Christ Himself promised, “Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you” (Matthew 5:11-12, KJV). “If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you” (John 15:18, KJV) and “The servant is not greater than his lord” (John 15:20, KJV) echo this truth. “Persecution is a part of the Christian’s lot” (The Acts of the Apostles, 590, 1911). “True godliness will stand the test” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 2, 689, 1871). This suffering is a testament to the enduring power of God’s truth.

THE WEIGHT OF GOOD TIMES: A GENERATIONAL RECKONING!

While it is right to honor the iron-willed faith of our pioneers, we must pivot from their history to our present reality with unflinching honesty. The very success and stability they fought for have produced a generation facing a different, more insidious kind of crisis: a crisis of comfort. The lesson for this week presents a sobering cycle of history: “Hard times create strong people; strong people bring good times. Good times, however, make weak people, and weak people bring hard times.” (Lesson No. 2) This forces us to ask a deeply personal and unsettling question: Are we the weak people created by the good times our forefathers purchased with their blood and tears? Have we become so accustomed to religious liberty that we have forgotten the price paid for it? The generation of Reformers born in the hard times of 1914 passed the baton to a new generation born into the good times they built. But now, as the world slides once more toward chaos, it seems we are the ones who must face the hard times that are coming. The temptations we face are far more subtle, the provocations more sophisticated. The battle has shifted. “Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, lest at any time we should let them slip” (Hebrews 2:1, KJV) and “Take heed that ye be not deceived” (Luke 21:8, KJV) warn against complacency. “Prosperity weakens the spiritual fiber” (The Ministry of Healing, 280, 1905). “Ease leads to forgetfulness of God” (Patriarchs and Prophets, 714, 1890). We must guard against spiritual amnesia bred by comfort.

This shift from external persecution to internal complacency creates the primary danger for our generation: the temptation to claim the heritage of the pioneers without possessing their character. We risk becoming spiritual impostors, demanding attachment to the 1914 reformers without having any part in their personal experience of sacrifice and struggle. As the lesson wisely states, borrowing from the experience of ancient Israel, “As the Jewish people pretended their attachment to Father Abraham, so can we demand attachment to the 1914 pioneers of reformation without having their personal experience. A wise proverb says, ‘the more we claim the less we are.’” (Lesson No. 7) This is a direct challenge to every member, every youth in our ranks. It is not enough to preach the history of the Reform; we must embody its spirit. The great temptation is to build our identity on the reputation of our pioneers rather than forging our own character in the furnace of personal trial and complete surrender. The Bible provides a stark warning of this generational peril: “And also all that generation were gathered unto their fathers: and there arose another generation after them, which knew not the LORD, nor yet the works which he had done for Israel” (Judges 2:10, KJV). “Beware that thou forget not the LORD thy God” (Deuteronomy 8:11, KJV) and “When thou hast eaten and art full, then thou shalt bless the LORD thy God” (Deuteronomy 8:10, KJV) caution us. “The love of ease is a great temptation” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 3, 382, 1875). “We are not to rest in our attainments” (The Acts of the Apostles, 553, 1911). We must forge our own faith to avoid spiritual imposture.

The challenge we face is that the “Modern Caesar” still demands unconditional submission, but his methods have become more refined. In 1914, Caesar demanded the body for the battlefield. Today, the Modern Caesar—the spirit of the age—demands the conscience for its altar of relativism, secularism, and cultural conformity. The fiery trial is no longer primarily the threat of prison for refusing to kill, but the threat of social, professional, and academic cancellation for refusing to bend our conscience to the world’s evolving standards of morality and truth. This makes the stand of our pioneers radically relevant. They faced a Caesar of overt force; we face a Caesar of subtle ideology. Both demand total submission. This is the nature of the last days, as the apostle Paul described: “This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be lovers of their own selves… having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof: from such turn away” (2 Timothy 3:1-2, 5, KJV). “And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold” (Matthew 24:12, KJV) and “Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about” (1 Peter 5:8, KJV) highlight the peril. “The world’s spirit is a deadly foe” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 5, 478, 1889). “Conformity to worldly customs converts the church to the world” (The Great Controversy, 509, 1911). We must resist this subtle decay to preserve our character.

GOD’S PECULIAR MATHEMATICS: THE POWER OF A FAITHFUL FEW!

In a world obsessed with growth, metrics, and influence, the church is perpetually tempted to measure its success by the world’s yardstick. We count members, celebrate budgets, and display our institutional achievements as proof of God’s blessing. But this centennial calls us to abandon the world’s flawed arithmetic and embrace God’s peculiar mathematics, where quality always outweighs quantity. The Lord’s promise to the remnant of the last generation is not one of numerical supremacy or worldly triumph, but of humble faithfulness. Through the prophet Zephaniah, He declares, “I will also leave in the midst of thee an afflicted and poor people, and they shall trust in the name of the LORD” (Zephaniah 3:12, KJV). This is a radical redefinition of success. It means that to be small, to be afflicted, and to be overlooked by society are not signs of failure, but are, in fact, the very hallmarks of the true remnant God is preserving for Himself. This truth should be a source of profound encouragement, not embarrassment, for a movement that has always been a minority. While the world looks for strength in numbers, we must look for strength in God’s presence. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1, KJV) and “The battle is not yours, but God’s” (2 Chronicles 20:15, KJV) affirm this. “God’s cause does not depend on numbers” (Patriarchs and Prophets, 550, 1890). “The work of God is not to be judged by its size” (The Ministry of Healing, 147, 1905). God’s strength is our victory.

This principle—that God’s kingdom advances through a faithful minority—is demonstrated throughout the entire testimony of Scripture, proving that victory depends on His power, not our size. In the valley of Dura, the statistical report showed three faithful men against the vast Babylonian empire. In the lion’s den, it was one man, Daniel, against the combined might of Medo-Persia. In the time of Queen Esther, it was a small, scattered people against a genocidal decree. And at Calvary, the greatest victory in the history of the universe was won by a crucified Savior, attended by a handful of heartbroken followers, against the rage of a mob and the power of Rome. In each of these moments, the lone, faithful figures became the true majority because, as the lesson powerfully states, “One man plus God equals a majority.” (Lesson No. 5) This biblical truth must shift our focus. Our primary question should not be, “How can we grow bigger?” but “How can we grow purer?” Our goal is not to build a large institution that impresses the world, but to cultivate a people of such sterling character that God Himself can stand with us. This was the lesson of Gideon, whose army God deliberately reduced so that no one could doubt where the victory came from: “And the LORD said unto Gideon, The people that are with thee are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hands, lest Israel vaunt themselves against me, saying, Mine own hand hath saved me” (Judges 7:2, KJV). “The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valour” (Judges 6:12, KJV) and “By the three hundred men that lapped will I save you” (Judges 7:7, KJV) illustrate this. “God chooses the weak things of the world to confound the mighty” (The Desire of Ages, 73, 1898). “Faithfulness, not numbers, is the test” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 7, 146, 1902). Our aim is purity, not prominence.

Yet, even as we embrace this divine mathematics, we must diligently guard against the spiritual pride that often accompanies a sense of separateness. We must avoid the critical error of the prophet Elijah. After his dramatic victory on Mount Carmel, Elijah fled into the wilderness, despondent and convinced of his own singularity. His internal statistical report counted only one faithful member left in all of Israel: himself. But God’s external statistical report told a different story. The Lord revealed to His discouraged prophet, “Yet I have left me seven thousand in Israel, all the knees which have not bowed unto Baal” (1 Kings 19:18, KJV). This is a crucial corrective for us today. While we must hold firmly to the standard of truth, we must never fall into the trap of spiritual exclusivism. The role of the remnant is not to be a fortress, defensively keeping others out, but a standard-bearer, a light lifted high to which others can rally. It was confirmed: “God has children, many of them, in the Protestant churches, and a large number in the Catholic churches, who are more true to obey the light and to do to the very best of their knowledge than a large number among Sabbathkeeping Adventists who do not walk in the light” (The 1888 Materials, 377.2, 1888). This humbling truth, combined with the promise that God’s church, “enfeebled and defective though it be, is the only object on earth on which Christ bestows His supreme regard” (The Acts of the Apostles, 12, 1911). “God has a church in every denomination” (Manuscript Releases, Volume 17, 216, 1990). “The Lord’s faithful are scattered” (Selected Messages, Book 1, 126, 1958). This fosters humility and missionary zeal to reach God’s scattered sheep.

THE PERILOUS PATH: NAVIGATING BETWEEN LIBERALISM AND LEGALISM!

As we navigate the treacherous currents of these last days, we find our path is a narrow one, flanked by two perilous extremes. On one side lies the vast, accommodating sea of liberalism; on the other, the rigid, barren cliffs of legalism. The lesson warns that the enemy will push the ark of the church toward shipwreck on either shore. This is not a new danger, but it will intensify as the final crisis approaches. The Spirit of Prophecy gives a chilling prediction of the liberal peril: “As the storm approaches, a large class who have professed faith in the third angel’s message, but have not been sanctified through obedience to the truth, abandon their position and join the ranks of the opposition. By uniting with the world and partaking of its spirit, they have come to view matters in the same light, and when the test is brought, they are ready to choose the easy, popular side. Men of talent and pleasing address, who once rejoiced in the truth, employ their powers to deceive and mislead souls. They become the most bitter enemies of their former brethren” (The Great Controversy, 608, 1911). This is the path of compromise, the slow erosion of conviction that ends in open apostasy. It is the path of those who choose reputation over character, comfort over the cross. It is the path the 98 percent took in 1914. While this danger of drifting into worldly conformity is ever-present, we must also recognize its equally deadly opposite. “Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction” (Matthew 7:13, KJV) and “Strive to enter in at the strait gate” (Luke 13:24, KJV) warn of the broad path. “Conformity to the world is a sin” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 1, 278, 1862). “The church must not lean on the world” (The Acts of the Apostles, 284, 1911). We must avoid the shipwreck of liberalism.

The opposite extreme, a rigid and loveless legalism, is just as satanic in its origin and destructive in its effect. This is the fire of fanaticism, a religion that has the form of truth but denies its power, a faith that is orthodox in doctrine but heretical in spirit. It was captured perfectly: “We have found in our experience that if Satan cannot keep souls bound in the ice of indifference, he will try to push them into the fire of fanaticism” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 5, 644, 1889). The ice of indifference is liberalism, where truth does not matter enough to cause a stir. The fire of fanaticism is legalism, where truth is wielded as a weapon, devoid of the love and mercy of Christ. It is a religion of rules without relationship, of criticism without compassion, of judgment without grace. Christ Himself confronted this spirit in the Pharisees, who were meticulous in their doctrinal exactness but empty of divine love. He rebuked them, saying, “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other undone” (Matthew 23:23, KJV). He did not condemn their obedience, but their neglect of the spirit that gives obedience its value. “Let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth” (1 John 3:18, KJV) and “Mercy and truth are met together” (Psalm 85:10, KJV) call for balance. “Love is the fulfilling of the law” (The Desire of Ages, 607, 1898). “Obedience without love is worthless” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, 147, 1896). Legalism must be shunned as fervently as liberalism.

The true path is not found by merely avoiding one ditch, but by staying firmly on the narrow road between them. This is a path of balance, a perfect reflection of Christ’s own character, which held justice and mercy in divine equilibrium. The Bible commands, “Turn not to the right hand nor to the left: remove thy foot from evil” (Proverbs 4:27, KJV). This is a call to a centered life, a life anchored in Christ. Liberalism is a failure of courage and conviction; legalism is a failure of love and mercy. The true safeguard against both is not simply a correct list of doctrines, but a heart transformed by the grace of Christ. The lesson rightly concludes that only those centered in Christ will preserve the spiritual balance necessary to navigate the final storm. Our work is not merely to teach the right doctrines, but to cultivate this balanced, Christlike character in ourselves and in those we minister to. As it was stated, “The light of the gospel shining from the cross of Christ rebukes selfishness and encourages liberality and benevolence” (The Acts of the Apostles, 344, 1911). “He who loves God must love his brother also” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 4, 224, 1880). “Christ’s love controls the heart” (The Ministry of Healing, 490, 1905). It is this light that melts the ice of indifference without igniting the fire of fanaticism.

WHAT LACK WE YET?: THE UNFINISHED REFLECTION OF CHRIST!

After a century of history, after all the struggles, sacrifices, and achievements, we are forced to confront the most painful and personal question of all: Why are we still here? Why has Christ not yet returned? The lesson poses this question with humbling honesty: “It seems that any achievements we may try to consider have not yet satisfied Heaven to the degree that would move the arm of Jesus to close His work of intercession in the sanctuary and recognize His character fully reflected in us. We are still here on Earth, sharing the same struggles, the same hospitals, the same diseases, and even the same cemeteries as the rest of the world. There is something crucial missing from this puzzle, reminiscent of the question asked by the rich young ruler in Matthew 19:20, ‘What lack we yet?’” (Lesson No. 4) This is a sobering admission that must precede any true revival. It shatters any temptation toward triumphalism and forces us to look inward, to acknowledge that despite our cherished history, there is a profound spiritual lack among us. While we are still here, the work is not yet finished, and the deficiency lies not in heaven’s power, but in our character. “And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure” (1 John 3:3, KJV) and “Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14, KJV) urge transformation. “When the character of Christ shall be perfectly reproduced in His people, then He will come to claim them as His own” (Christ’s Object Lessons, 69, 1900). “By beholding Jesus we become changed” (Sons and Daughters of God, 337, 1908). Our character’s imperfection delays His return.

The one thing lacking, the ultimate condition that heaven awaits, is the perfect reflection of Christ’s character in His people. This is the theological climax of our movement’s purpose and the divine reason for the delay. It was stated: “When the character of Christ shall be perfectly reproduced in His people, then He will come to claim them as His own” (Christ’s Object Lessons, 69, 1900). This is the final harvest. It is not about reaching a certain number of members, constructing a certain number of buildings, or launching a certain number of programs. It is about the cultivation of a people who so perfectly embody the love, mercy, justice, and self-sacrifice of Jesus that the universe can look at them and see Him. This is the great work before us, and it is a work of purification that happens, as it was explained, “by beholding Jesus” (Sons and Daughters of God, 337, 1908). It is by beholding Him that we become changed into His likeness, from character to character. The apostle Peter connects our character directly to the timing of the Second Coming, urging us to consider, “what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness, Looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God” (2 Peter 3:11-12, KJV). Our holy living is inextricably linked to hastening His return. “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect” (Matthew 5:48, KJV) and “Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man” (Ephesians 4:13, KJV) set the standard. “The church must reflect Christ’s image” (The Desire of Ages, 827, 1898). “Holiness is constant agreement with God” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 8, 193, 1904). We must strive for Christ’s likeness.

As we contemplate this high calling, however, we must guard against a pharisaical spirit of self-righteous judgment. We must be careful not to judge ourselves or others by a flawed human standard, for many of God’s greatest heroes would not “qualify” for ministry by our modern, often legalistic, criteria. The lesson provides a powerful and humbling list: Moses was a murderer, Aaron led a national apostasy, Elijah fled his post in fear, John the Baptist wavered in doubt, Peter denied his Lord with curses, and Paul was a violent persecutor of the church. (Lesson No. 7) If God could use these deeply flawed individuals to accomplish His mighty purposes, He can certainly use us. This list is a divine antidote to pride. It teaches us that the “perfectly reproduced character” Christ is waiting for is not a record of flawless personal history, but a character of complete and utter surrender to His transforming power. The perfection is His, not ours. The reflection is of His glory, not our goodness. The apostle Paul speaks of a corporate maturity, that we strive “Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ” (Ephesians 4:13, KJV). “For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13, KJV) and “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it” (Philippians 1:6, KJV) assure us. “God’s grace transforms the weakest” (Patriarchs and Prophets, 248, 1890). “The Lord uses imperfect instruments” (The Acts of the Apostles, 333, 1911). Our surrender to Christ perfects our character.

In the midst of these profound historical and theological reflections, three fundamental questions emerge that demand a clear, personal answer. How do these concepts reflect God’s love? What are my responsibilities toward God? And what are my responsibilities toward my neighbor? The entire history of the Great Controversy, and specifically the crisis that gave birth to the Reform, reveals a God whose love manifests as an unwavering, absolute respect for freedom of conscience. Unlike the coercive powers of this world, God never uses force. This divine principle stands in stark contrast to the methods of Satan, who from the beginning has sought to compel obedience. The Bible presents a Savior who stands at the door of the human heart and knocks, waiting to be invited in: “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20, KJV). It was beautifully explained: “The exercise of force is contrary to the principles of God’s government; He desires only the service of love; and love cannot be commanded; it cannot be won by force or authority. Only by love is love awakened” (The Desire of Ages, 22, 1898). The crisis of 1914 was a clash between these two opposing methods. The state, embodying Satan’s principles, demanded submission through coercion. The faithful remnant, reflecting God’s character, chose to obey Him freely, even at the cost of their lives. Therefore, God’s love is not demonstrated by an absence of trial, but by the sacred preservation of choice; it is the holy respect He shows for the intelligent beings He created, calling them to a voluntary allegiance that force can never secure. “God is love” (1 John 4:8, KJV) and “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear” (1 John 4:18, KJV) reveal His nature. “Love is the basis of God’s government” (Thoughts from the Mount of Blessing, 76, 1896). “God’s law is love” (The Desire of Ages, 607, 1898). God’s love invites free allegiance.

Contrasting this divine love with our human obligation, my primary responsibility toward God becomes crystal clear: to render Him unwavering, total allegiance, placing His law above every human authority, tradition, or personal comfort. This is how we vindicate His character in the Great Controversy. The prophet Daniel provides the timeless example of this sacred duty. He did not alter his practice of prayer or compromise his loyalty to God just because a human king signed a decree. Scripture records, “Now when Daniel knew that the writing was signed, he went into his house; and his windows being open in his chamber toward Jerusalem, he kneeled upon his knees three times a day, and prayed, and gave thanks before his God, as he did aforetime” (Daniel 6:10, KJV). His faithfulness was not contingent on circumstances. In the same way, our duty to keep all of God’s commandments—including the sanctity of the Sabbath and the sacredness of human life—does not change because of a government’s declaration of war or a church leadership’s vote to compromise. Our responsibility is to be the very people described when it was written, “The greatest want of the world is the want of men—men who will not be bought or sold, men who in their inmost souls are true and honest, men who do not fear to call sin by its right name, men whose conscience is as true to duty as the needle to the pole, men who will stand for the right though the heavens fall” (Education, 57, 1903). “If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land” (Isaiah 1:19, KJV) and “Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man” (Ecclesiastes 12:13, KJV) define our duty. “Obedience is the test of discipleship” (The Desire of Ages, 672, 1898). “Faithful souls will stand firm” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 6, 401, 1900). Our lives must testify to God’s righteousness.

This solemn duty toward God then flows directly into our responsibility toward our neighbor, which is to reflect the same non-coercive, self-sacrificing love of Christ to every person, including our enemies. This means refusing to participate in violence against them and actively seeking their salvation, even at the cost of our own reputation, comfort, or life. The apostle Paul gives the practical application of Christ’s command to love our enemies when he writes, “Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:20-21, KJV). The pioneers who refused to bear arms in 1914 were not acting out of cowardice or disloyalty to their country; they were acting out of a higher loyalty to the kingdom of heaven and a deeper love for their “enemies” on the battlefield, men for whom Christ also died. Our duty to our neighbor is to see them as Christ sees them: precious souls, potential citizens of heaven. This eternal perspective makes it impossible to kill them. It also means, as was counseled, that we must prioritize their salvation above our own sensitivities: “We should not allow our feelings to be easily wounded. We are to live, not to guard our feelings or our reputation, but to save souls. As we become interested in the salvation of souls we cease to mind the little differences that so often arise in our association with one another” (The Ministry of Healing, 485, 1905). “A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you” (John 13:34, KJV) and “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another” (John 13:35, KJV) guide us. “Love to man is the earthward manifestation of the love of God” (The Desire of Ages, 641, 1898). “Self-sacrifice is the keynote of Christ’s teachings” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 7, 296, 1902). We must live out Christ’s love compellingly.

THE THREE SURPRISES AND THE FINAL CALL!

As we stand at the close of this centennial reflection, a profound sense of humility ought to settle upon our souls. A true understanding of God’s grace and His mysterious ways should leave us prepared for surprises, especially when we finally reach the shores of the heavenly Canaan. An old Christian anecdote speaks of three great wonders that will greet us in heaven: “A Christian once said that when he reached heaven he expected to meet with three causes of wonder. He would wonder to find some that he did not expect to see there. He would wonder not to see some that he expected to meet, and, lastly, he would wonder most to find so unworthy a sinner as himself in the Paradise of God.” (Lesson No. 7; referenced in Maranatha, 320, 1976). This thought is the perfect antidote to the spiritual pride and judgmentalism that so easily beset a people who believe they have a special hold on truth. It reminds us that God’s judgment is based on the heart, a territory only He can read. As was confirmed, “Many will be in heaven who their neighbors supposed would never enter there. Man judges from appearance, but God judges the heart” (Christ’s Object Lessons, 72, 1900). “The Lord knoweth them that are his” (2 Timothy 2:19, KJV) and “Judge not, that ye be not judged” (Matthew 7:1, KJV) counsel humility. “God’s ways are not our ways” (The Desire of Ages, 189, 1898). “The heart is the citadel of the man” (Testimonies for the Church, Volume 3, 22, 1872). This truth softens our hearts and broadens our sympathies.

This centennial, then, is a decisive moment—a solemn call from heaven to each of us. Will we deny the reality of our spiritual condition, or will we accept the healing that the True Witness offers? Will we continue to boast of a glorious past, or will we humbly seek to reflect Christ in the present? The lesson’s final words are a charge to every soul: “The hour is late—and unless we truly become what we profess to be, we will never live up to our claims. The more we boast, the less we are; the less we claim, the more we reflect Him.” (Lesson No. 7) The past 100 years are not a conclusion but a preface to the final chapter of earth’s history. The lessons learned by some and overlooked by others must now be put into practice. Our great work is not to build a monument to the pioneers, but to become the living embodiment of their faith for this final generation. The world is shrouded in darkness, confusion, and fear. It will not be convinced by arguments alone, but by seeing a people who live out the non-coercive, self-sacrificing, principled, and merciful love of Christ. The ultimate success of this movement will be measured by our ability to “make the difference,” not through the noise of our claims, but through the quiet, powerful glow of a Christlike character. “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16, KJV) summarizes our calling.

Let us, therefore, dear brethren and sisters, plead with the Lord Jesus Christ for the salvation of our children and our youth, for the salvation of our ministers and our members, and for that necessary unity in Christ that alone will bring about the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. The hour is desperately late. The world is starving for a glimpse of hope, a beacon of truth in a sea of deception. Christ has entrusted that light to us. May we, by His grace, rise to this sacred responsibility. May we be that light. May we, in this final, closing chapter of history, truly make the difference. Amen.