Good for a Hundred Years

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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 19, 1862

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 20, No. 12.

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Good for a Hundred Years.

"I do not think the Advents are very consistent in putting up such an Office of publication as they have in Battle Creek. It is good for a hundred years to come. What do they want of such a building if the world is coming to an end so soon? I think they have here given us a complete denial of their faith."
Such is the import of remarks not unfrequently made by Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Cretes, Arabians and Gentiles generally about the Office of publication, here in Battle Creek. Now it is astonishing how much more these people know about our faith than we do ourselves. They can instantly detect the least inconsistency between our faith and actions, and so remarkably acute is their vision that they can see it with equal clearness whether it exists or not! And as ready as they are to detect every discrepancy, they are no less ready to make them known. Just as though we were so obtuse as not to understand our faith well enough to know what course of action would comport with it, or else were so reckless as to deliberately do those things which would contradict or deny it. To hear them talk about "our faith," one would conclude that we believed something like this: That everything was to close up in a few months, and we had nothing under the sun to do but to sit down and fold our arms in idleness, and make the best shift we could when the crisis should come. If they really think that such is our faith, we can assure them that they will have to better acquaint themselves with it, or an authorized version of it will never come from them.
We do indeed believe that time is short, and that the end of all things is at hand; but we believe also that a mighty work is to be accomplished in the short time that intervenes. This work is expressed in the imagery of inspiration, by an angel coming down from heaven, and the whole earth being lightened with his glory. This means something more than that believers in present truth are to content themselves with a limited sphere of action. It denotes a greater work than that of individual preparation. It brings to view a work in which it will become those who are engaged therein, to make use of every improvement, and every convenience, which the science and ingenuity of the present age have brought to the knowledge of man.
Why then do not people sometimes talk to us in this way: You have made preparations to carry on an extensive business. It must be that you are expecting a great work to be done, and that you have strong faith in the stability, progress, and prosperity of the cause in which you are engaged? Yes, sir, would be our reply, and it is for this very reason that you see here this substantial building, with its airy and convenient rooms, the best style of power-press that the country affords, the steam engine, and all the machinery necessary for the successful prosecution of the work in the publishing department.
But to look upon these things as carrying out our faith, would be to condemn themselves. Noah condemned the age in which he lived by his faithful course in preparing for the flood. Lot condemned the cities of the plain. But it is only a faith that is carried out by consistent works that condemns its opposers. Just detect a discrepancy between faith and works, and the faith at once loses its power, and the world pass on unimproved thereby. Hence when some seem so anxious to involve us in inconsistency and contradiction, is it not to shield their own necks from condemnation? Is not this the reason why they are so much more inclined to take the first, instead of the second, view of the operations of the Association in Battle Creek?
Let us now suppose a little on the other side. Suppose that when the time comes for the message to go with that power with which we expect it soon will go, when a most efficient Office of publication will be needed, one which can furnish books and papers almost without number, and promptly and rapidly, suppose that then we had made no provision for that time, and no conveniences of this kind were at hand—what then? "Ah!" the opposer might justly say, "you did not believe in the success of your cause; you had no faith in your work, or you would have been prepared for such an emergency as this." Against any such source of detriment to the work, of mortification to ourselves, and cause of just reproach from without, we intend that the way shall be forever hedged up.
"But your building is ornamental." Ah! what of that? Does it follow that the Association expects that the building is going to stand forever because they have had it so erected as to present a respectable appearance from without? But let us look a moment at the faith of our accusers on this point; for they have faith and works as well as we, and it may be that their own course will shield us from their censures in this thing. If they are consistent in their charge against us, then they should never ornament anything except that which is designed to be permanent. But how is this principle carried out? Almost everywhere we see time and expense lavishly bestowed upon the works of a day. Especially on public and festive occasions, there are everywhere present scenes and appendages, prepared with almost infinite pains, which it is well known will perish with the occasion. Why all this time and expense, since these things are not to continue? We might approach them and say, How nicely you have made your preparation! What pains and expense you have bestowed upon every department! How beautiful are all your arrangements! You certainly must expect that this occasion is to last forever!
Will not our friends set their own house in order here, before questioning the domestic arrangement of ours. When they will do this, and vindicate their own course, then will we patiently sit down before them on the stool of examination, and grant them the privilege of catechising us to their hearts' content, respecting a few brackets under the cornice of the Office, by which it is saved from a blank and cheerless appearance to the passer-by.
U. S.