Beloved brethren,
As the outgoing General Conference Secretary, I take this opportunity to greet you in the name of our dear Saviour and Lord Jesus Christ, with a humbling yet vital instruction He shared with us all: “So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do” (Luke 17:10).
We have the blessed privilege of enriching this magazine with a few historical reflections, especially now as many eagerly celebrate 100 years of our existence as a movement, while others express deep concerns about our spiritual limitations.
To truly gauge the pulse of our spiritual life— both as individuals and as a collective body of believers—we must first acknowledge the One who revealed Himself as “the way, the truth, and the life.” He alone can perfectly identify our needs, heal our infirmities, and ultimately affirm our eternal salvation before our Heavenly Father.
It is natural to evaluate ourselves, to question who we are and what our mission entails. Yet, our assessment will vary depending on the lens through which we see ourselves. We can either look through the eyes of our Saviour, seeking His truth, or through the flawed lens of our own selfish human nature, which is often blind to its own shortcomings.
Indeed, reputation is what people think of us; character is what God knows about us. Therefore, unless we humble ourselves before the Lord, we cannot form an accurate perception of the true impact our movement has had over the past 100 years.
This is why truth matters most. In general, truth passes through three stages: First, it is fiercely opposed; then, it is ridiculed; and finally, it is universally accepted. This ongoing debate— whether to celebrate 100 years of success or to reflect on 100 years of achievements mingled with disappointments to God—leads us to our next point:
What is the truth about the Reform Movement, its development, and its mission throughout history? Is there any doubt regarding the legitimacy of its existence? I personally believe that the Reform Movement is nothing more and nothing less than Seventh Day Adventists who have preserved the original and historical values of their faith. Reformation, or reform, is a term that, sadly, points to the apostasy of the majority—and that is the simple reality.
From 1914 to 1945, many Adventist believers held a deep conviction that the world wars then raging would mark the end of civilization and set the stage for the imminent return of our Lord Jesus Christ.
In the autumn of 1913 and the early months of 1914, many Seventh Day Adventists still believed that the chaotic, violent battlefields of the world were not places where sincere and honest souls could prepare for heaven. This conviction was shared not only among church members who awaited Christ’s return but also among atheists, agnostics, and people of various religious practices. It seemed the entire world was convinced that the war was the final stage before the end of the human era.
The majority of Seventh Day Adventists—98% according to some estimates—were compelled to join the ranks of combat, merging into the global killing machine of a war without clear definition. A small minority, only about 2%, chose a different path. Rather than forsake Christ and violate the commandments of God, they preferred to become outcasts, labeled as anathema by society. Imbued with a steadfast portion of the Spirit of Christ, they stood the test of time, their eyes fixed on the beauty of that other country—the eternal one.
There were moments in history when the Adventist people clearly recognized that the philosophy of war could never align with the command to “love your enemies.” The inevitable clash between the Law of God and the law of Caesar led to fiery persecution, a harsh reality that tested the resolve of the faithful.
Time and space have often conspired to bring people that did not know each other and did not hate each other to kill each other—because of a few old men that knew each other and hated each other, but would never allow themselves to be the ones to risk taking up weapons against each other.
Carl von Clausewitz, in his seminal work On War (Vom Kriege), described war as “an act of force to compel our enemy to do our will… a fascinating trinity—composed of primordial violence, hatred, and enmity, which are to be regarded as a blind natural force.”
It is not difficult to see that this ideology stands in total opposition to the character of God. It embodies the very origin of sin. The act of forcing or compelling intelligent beings to say or do something against their own conscience mirrors the beginning of the great war in heaven—a rebellion rooted in coercion and defiance against divine freedom.
It is wise for us all to remember that in the summertime, all trees are green—but when winter arrives, only the evergreens preserve their color. In the same way, it is during times of spiritual and social crisis that our true colors are revealed. It is only when the flame touches our feet that we discover who we truly are. Those who falter under the weight of pressure might be called “Fair-weather Christians.”
Until such a trying moment strikes, it is easy for us to advocate for the truth when the world does not oppose it—but when persecution rears its ugly head, how few are willing to pay the price for their profession of faith! Many were eager to follow Jesus when He was distributing free bread on the hillsides of Jerusalem, yet 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?
When Jesus hung on the cross, it was only the thief beside Him who recognized Him as the Son of God. Even the disciples who had witnessed His agony in Gethsemane could not bring themselves to stand with Him. They were too embarrassed, too afraid of being seen as followers of a condemned Teacher.
The disciples were deeply disappointed that Jesus did not reveal Himself as the God of the Universe by a mighty display of power and authority from Heaven. They would have rejoiced to see Him as the triumphant king of Israel, but not as one labeled a criminal, guilty of “treason against the Roman government.” (The Desire of Ages, p. 773.)
So, it will be in our days. History has a way of repeating itself in every generation. My hope is that we will not echo the same words of condemnation as those who once said, “Abraham is our father.” By God’s providence, we have the example of our fathers—the pioneers of faith, the heroes who, in times of war, chose to be killed rather than to kill.
We cannot boast of an experience that is not our own—it belongs to others. We must have our own personal “1914 type of experience.” We should aim to be the spiritual fathers of the next generation, not by merely recounting the experiences of the pioneers, but by sharing our own testimony, the living proof of our faith. We can speak of Abraham’s faith all day long, but that alone will never convince anyone that we are true followers of Christ. If our actions do not reflect His life, we risk being seen as nothing more than an expired generation.
It is one thing to read the book of Job without ever facing his trials, and quite another to read it with an empty stomach, after days of fasting and prayer in the midst of affliction. It is one thing to sing for Christ, and another to die for Christ. It is one thing to swim in a pool, and quite another to swim in the ocean, fighting against the currents.
Hard times make strong people; strong people bring good times. Good times, however, make weak people, and weak people bring hard times. So here we stand after 100 years of existence—confronting an identity crisis, facing new challenges, and watching as new ideological currents “wave their shame” at the gates of the church.
The generation of Reformers born in hard times passed the baton to the next generation—one born in good times, built by strong people. Now, however, it seems that the world is being led by weak people, and as a result, hard times are coming upon us once more.
The new generations of Reformers are facing temptations and provocations far more subtle than those faced by the generations before them. The past generation rests in peace, buried in forgotten cemeteries across this world, while their children and grandchildren remember little of their forefathers’ struggles.
One pressing question remains for all of us today: How many more years must we wander as pilgrims on this earth before we are ready for heaven?
For more than 2,000 years, Rome and the world, through their “Caesar,” have challenged faithful Christians to compromise their faith in Jesus and break the commandments of God. Since the time of Christ, the dominant law has been the Roman law. Under the harsh decree, “Non licet es vos!”—“You are not allowed to exist!”—early Christians sacrificed their names, reputations, comforts, and ultimately their lives for their beloved Christ. Today, the “Modern Caesar” makes a similar demand: unconditional submission, or else you are deemed unfit to exist. It was under this pressure that the Reformation among Seventh Day Adventists was born.
It is true that God’s gift of life comes as a package with a personal “cross.” God gives the cross, but men hammer the nails. Because of this, we have two versions of history—one written by the persecutors with the ink of cruelty, and another by the martyrs, written in their own blood.
So, I ask you: What do you read? How do you read? Whom do you believe?
Our forefathers, the pioneers of the Reform, penned their history with their own blood because they valued truth over the fleeting glory of this world. In communist countries like Romania, our people were stripped of fundamental education, freedom, and human rights. In those dark times, many authorities would boast, “Just wait a few more years, and you will be extinguished.” But God has always cared for His people, and in the end, it was the oppressors who faded away, silenced by their own arrogance.
My personal lesson learned through hardship and over many years—is that if I want to “arise,” I must first humble myself in the valley of the shadow of death. And if I wish to “shine,” I don’t need to quench the light of someone else.
To shine, we do not need to storm or criticize others with our words and actions. Let the character of Christ shine in us, and the debate over “who is holier than whom” will cease. Let the atmosphere of heaven travel with us wherever we go, so that people will not only notice our presence as a movement but will also appreciate the distinction between good and evil. They will feel the impact of our presence in society. That is how we will make a difference.
As humans, we are often tempted to give “flourished reports” that build golden statues in our minds and hearts. In the process of self-glorification, we can become quite skilled at painting our past and our future in an overly attractive light. But the testimony of the True Witness to the Laodiceans in Revelation 3:17 shatters the illusion of the boast: “I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing.” The True Witness exposes the myth of secular glory that deceives the last generation.
This could be one way to present a report of ourselves to the present generation. Or, we could offer a second, more honest version, in the words of the apostle Paul: “O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” (Romans 7:24).
It is up to us: Will we deny the reality, or will we accept the healing? We must remember that success is not measured by the height of the mountain we manage to climb, but by the number of people we bring with us to the top.
Judging by mere numbers, church growth might appear to have been a failure. But if we judge according to quality, not quantity, we will have an entirely different perspective on the work of the church.
“Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee”—these words are the perfect remedy for the people of God, as passengers still wandering in this transient world. This promise applies to the remnant of the last generation. In Zephaniah 3:12, the Lord declares: “I will also leave in the midst of thee [in the middle of the world] an afflicted and poor people, and they shall trust in the name of the Lord.”
This statement reveals that at the end of the world, God’s people will not be a vast, triumphant multitude shouting in victory, but rather an afflicted and humble group who trust solely in His name.
As we can see, there is no grandeur or extravagant display of power at the second coming of Christ. Instead, there is a faithful remnant—afflicted, unnoticed by society, and unimpressive by worldly standards of wealth or numbers. Yet, it is they who carry the light of His truth.
The inspired word of God declares:
“I saw the nominal church and nominal Adventists, like Judas, would betray us to the Catholics to obtain their influence to come against the truth. The saints then will be an obscure people, little known to the Catholics; but the churches and nominal Adventists who know of our faith and customs (for they hated us on account of the Sabbath, for they could not refute it) will betray the saints and report them to the Catholics as those who disregard the institutions of the people; that is, that they keep the Sabbath and disregard Sunday.”—Spalding Magan Collection, p. 1, 5th paragraph.
And so here we are, my dear friends, after 100 years of existence, and 130 years since this statement was made. What can our report be? “Thy light is coming,” for Jesus Christ is coming in the clouds of heaven—that is our hope of glory. That is what we should be waiting for and focusing on, as expressed in Colossians 1:27, “Christ in us, the hope of glory.” Only when the glory of the Lord rises upon us can we display the mature perfection of character that leads us to abhor self and renounce the long-standing self-gratification nourished by our inner sinful nature.
“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, p. 69.
In reflecting on our past, we can affirm that Christ has been ever-present in the trials and suffering of His people. In every corner of the world where our brethren have faced cruel opposition, Jesus was there, witnessing their faithfulness and shining His glory upon them. In every courtroom, in every darkened cell of distant prisons, Jesus stood by His bride.
Totalitarian regimes have inflicted much suffering, imprisonment, and silencing of church members, stripping them of their liberty and freedom of expression. The Reform Movement has bled the blood of many generations for the sake of truth. By upholding the Law of God above human decrees, the remnant has found itself at the center of adversity, drawing resentment from those who wield power in this world.
Yet it seems that our achievements 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?”
Looking to ourselves, we see fear and uncertainty. But looking to Christ, we find hope in His great salvation. The longer we remain here on Earth, the more our desire to see the Lord Jesus return seems to fade. It is up to us: Do we wish to stay here, becoming part of the problem? Or will we choose instead to focus on eternity, and be part of the solution?
The remedy for the lukewarm condition seen in the lifestyle of many can be found in the book of Jeremiah. Chapter 17 offers a unique perspective—it speaks of the human heart in the harshest terms, revealing the curse upon those who trust in man instead of God. Verse 9 describes the heart as “deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,” but it is within this same chapter that we find a treasure, a pearl of the Old Testament, a verse that shines as brightly as John 3:16: “Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved: for thou art my praise (glory)” (Jeremiah 17:14).
What a wonderful thought, and what an inspiring message of salvation for us—that despite all our fears, doubts, and shortcomings, we Reformers can ultimately be saved from ourselves!
The Reform Movement has managed to preserve a global membership of just over 44,060 members, precisely as the Lord foretold through Zephaniah: “I will also leave in the midst of thee [in the middle of the world] an afflicted and poor people, and they shall trust in the name of the Lord.” We have seen an increase of 1,835 members compared to the 42,225 members recorded at the 2019 General Conference Session in Itu, Brazil.
Let us not forget that God values quality over quantity—and the mathematics of God is different from ours. One person plus God becomes a majority. Elijah was only one man against a nation and its king, but the difference was that God was by his side, making him the majority.
We tend to focus too much on counting our membership, but the Lord reminds us that victory can be secured by just a few. Consider the statistical report from the plain of Dura: three faithful men standing against the vast Babylonian empire. In the lion’s den, it was only one—Daniel—against the double realm of Medo-Persia. The statistical report in the time of Queen Esther was Mordecai and Esther against countless persecutors of the Jews. And at the cross of Calvary, the statistical report was Jesus, the centurion, and the thief facing a relentless, enraged mob. Yet, in each of these moments, those lone figures became the true majority.
From my five years of service as General Conference Secretary, I have learned that numbers only show the existence of a ship or an ark on the ocean. Numbers alone do not carry much weight without the presence of God, but when those numbers are joined by our Saviour, they gain tremendous significance.
Something for us to consider
I would appeal to all the members of our church to plead with the Lord Jesus Christ for the salvation of our children and youth, for the salvation of our ministers and members, and for the unity in Christ that will bring about the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. Without this unity, we cannot complete the work entrusted to us in this world. 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 claim, the less we are; the less we claim, the more we reflect Him. May the Lord, our God, help us to accept the reality of the True Witness and spare us from the illusion of our self-righteousness.
There will be three mysteries 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.”—The Faith I Live By, p. 370.
Let us never forget that God calls us to a faith that goes beyond appearances and numbers—a faith of quality and depth that truly reflects the character of Christ. Our mission is not to be seen as a powerful multitude in the eyes of the world, but as those who, even in simplicity and humility, shine with the light of the Savior.
“Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.” (Isaiah 60:1.)
Just as the generations before us faced immense challenges, we too are called to remain faithful in times of adversity, to rely on the strength that only God can provide.
And as we wait for our Lord’s return, let our prayer be constant:
“Lord, help us to reflect Thy character in every word, in every action, so that the world may see in us a hope that cannot be vanquished.”
It is late in the night, and the world needs the light that Christ has given us. May we be that light. May we make the difference.
Your brother in the blessed hope,
Liviu Tudoroiu
