“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.” – 1 Cor. 13:1

Some men improve the world only by leaving it”. – Oscar Wilde

---

Note: This is the unedited version of the Spectrum Magazine article I wrote here: Should Charlie Kirk’s Politics Matter to Adventists? – Spectrum Magazine

“Murdered. They shed innocent blood. We love you Charlie! You [sic] legacy will not be forgotten.”

That’s what a Facebook friend posted on Wednesday afternoon (a friend who also happens to be an Adventist Black man).

Until Wednesday, I wasn’t even sure who Charlie Kirk was (hopefully that admission won’t cause you to outright dismiss the points made in this essay).

I had to look that name up. Charlie Kirk… who is he again? I had heard he had died, and so I Googled. I noticed that he enjoyed debating people about race, much like Ben Shapiro and Jordan Peterson. Oh, he’s conservative... Oh, he’s right-wing…. and I then saw some vile quotes attributed to him about Black women, protection of the Second Amendment, immigration, his daughter and her womb, single women and DEI hires. I consider myself a fair and reasonable person, but there was no added context I could imagine that could ever justify or properly situate such abhorrent thoughts and backwards thinking.

Then I heard of the school shooting in Colorado that happened on the day Kirk was killed. Didn’t they just have a school shooting last week?

I’m a Canadian. I wish the United States would just get their act together and finally unite around gun reform, but it doesn’t look like that will ever happen anytime soon. Likewise, Charlie Kirk has little significance to my life. But the response to Charlie Kirk carries great significance for me as a Black woman who, for some reason, insists on maintaining membership in the Seventh-day Adventist church.

With this newfound knowledge I re-read my friend’s post:

Wait, what? “We… we love him”? Who is we? Why do you love him? You’re a Black man? You’re a Seventh-day Adventist.

Then I scrolled further.

Another Adventist pastor posted something about Charlie Kirk keeping the Sabbath. Then another Adventist friend posted a link to pre-order Charlie Kirk’s book about the Sabbath, and another Adventist friend posted a “Wisdom Pearl” interview where Charlie Kirk discussed how the Sabbath had helped him. Then I saw a post from famed TV evangelist Doug Batchelor where he said, “How the mighty have fallen… We’ll have to meet in the kingdom.” And I’m like, Wait. What? What?!

We’re not just giving condolences to this person; we’re actually celebrating him, despite everything that he’s done and said to malign marginalized communities? What? What?!

Interestingly, I didn’t see any posts from Adventists about the school shootings (I suppose school shootings are already old hat in the United States and not worth commentary anymore. Charlie Kirk keeping the Sabbath seems far more interesting). I only saw posts about the Sabbath (that’s not to say they didn’t post about the school shootings – it’s just that if they did, I didn’t see them).

This all made me think of Alisa Williams’s article that I saw the week before.

White Supremacy, Adventism and Charlie Kirk

I knew that the Seventh-day Adventist church was anti-Black. Besides regional conferences and not admitting Lucy Byard to the White Adventist hospital and a segregated GC cafeteria, I had also gone through a lifetime of worshipping in spaces where clapping was frowned upon, dancing was forbidden, jazz, R&B, and anything with rhythm was demonized, and AY was overtaken by debates on whether drums should be allowed in church. I knew that my Blackness was at odds with an Adventism steeped and created in Whiteness by White people, but I loved Jesus, and my Adventist family ties run deep, so I stayed in a church that may never truly accept or see me in the fullness of my humanity.

But last week, in light of the recent spate of school shootings in the US, I read an article by Alisa Williams titled “Adventism and White Supremacy,” where she masterfully drew the connection between our fear-based evangelism and how that becomes a harbinger and haven for White supremacists.

And so even though I knew the church was anti-black, it wasn’t until her article that I made the connection about how our radical Adventist teachings endear themselves to people already radicalized in other ways, such as White supremacists.

But with the death of Charlie Kirk, and the Adventist response to it, we have this new development. The timing is uncanny. Not only is the church anti-Black, not only is the church a great place for White supremacists. I now see, with the death of Charlie Kirk, that many Adventists are actually okay with White supremacy, as long as it’s cloaked in Sabbath keeping.

Because what do Adventists fear the most? Adventist eschatology turns on Sunday Blue Laws. So long as you have somebody who believes in the seventh-day Sabbath, for Adventists, you’re in the clear and their fears are quelled. That’s enough to win their loyalty.

And that’s what scares me. It scares me that Adventists are so easily bought. That all it takes is someone saying, “I keep Saturday as Sabbath,” and suddenly we excuse, absolve, and endear ourselves to them. No scrutiny. No critical thinking. Just Sabbath = safe.

And isn’t it ironic? Adventists like to pride themselves on not being like evangelicals. But the truth is, we’re no different. Evangelicals will excuse anything as long as you’re against abortion and LGBTQ+ rights. For Adventists, you can be against those things too, but the golden ticket is the Sabbath. Keep the Sabbath, and you’ve won yourself a friend among us. That’s all it takes.

And if that’s the case, then we are not safe. How do I sit in church next to people who openly laud someone who degraded Black intelligence, questioned Black excellence, opposed diversity, disliked immigration, scapegoated trans people, and defended gun violence as the “cost” of freedom — and yet, somehow, their main takeaway is that he kept the Sabbath? How do I worship in a space where racism isn’t seen as sin, but breaking the Sabbath is?

How do I worship in a space where racism isn’t seen as sin, but breaking the Sabbath is?

It is frightening. It makes me question whether your God is even my God.

Then you want to turn around and ask, “Where are the young people?” The young people are trying to find spaces that are not filled with White supremacist sympathizers. The young people are trying to protect themselves from y’all.

I truly thought that trans people would be the first people thrown under the bus. But no — it was Black people.

Five or six universities – notably all HBCUs – were under some type of lockdown the day after Charlie Kirk’s death. A White supremacist was killed by a White supremacist, but HBCUs caught the blowback – and Adventists would rather post that Charlie Kirk is coming out with a book about the Sabbath.

A few days later, two Black men were found lynched on university campuses. But Adventists would rather post about the Sabbath.

There was a school shooting on the same day Charlie Kirk was assassinated. But Adventists would rather post about the Sabbath.

“Where are the young people?” The young people are trying to find spaces that are not filled with White supremacist sympathizers. The young people are trying to protect themselves from y’all.

And what a strange occasion to proselytize the Sabbath? As if his alleged Sabbath-keeping should be connected to his death, and that’s what he should be remembered for.

You don’t realize what this looks like to the Black and Brown people whom you allegedly say you like and love and befriend – the racialized people in your church communities (assuming you even have Black and Brown people at your church). How could you possibly love me if you don’t care about the issues that affect me?

One of the reasons why I’ve become an Inadvertent advocate for 2SLGBTQ people is not because I’m trying to push some kind of woke, worldly, sinful agenda, but because I’m in regular community with them, religious or otherwise.

I would hope that as an Adventist, if you have Black, Brown and immigrant friends, that you would be sympathetic to their cries, pain points and interests. But these Facebook posts have shown me that no, many Adventists are not.  They are in proximity to these people, no doubt, but they are not in community with them.

The Bible calls us to love our neighbour. But these posts on social media have shown me that they do not care about their neighbour or what’s hurting their (marginalized) neighbour. How can you love me if you do not care about what hurts me?

So many of these Adventists show more concern for the family of Charlie Kirk than their own church family. You shake my hand on Sabbath morning, but then venerate and sympathize with a person who would have me dead, or at the very least, unemployed. You teach Children’s Sabbath School and you clap during the recitation of memory verses, and you volunteer in Pathfinders, but you sympathize with a man who thinks that these children are reasonable collateral for your precious gun rights.

I’m sometimes a little bit of a hypocrite myself, but I cannot sign up for that level of hypocrisy–that level of misalignment.

 I digress.

So many of these Adventists show more concern for the family of Charlie Kirk than their own church family. You shake my hand on Sabbath morning, but then venerate and sympathize with a person who would have me dead, or at the very least, unemployed. You teach Children’s Sabbath School and you clap during the recitation of memory verses, and you volunteer in Pathfinders, but you sympathize with a man who thinks that these children are reasonable collateral for your precious gun rights.

Charlie Kirk and Sabbath Idolatry

Charlie Kirk said that if he sees a black person, he’s going to wonder if they’re qualified for their position. But, yes. The Sabbath.

He essentially said that gun deaths are part and parcel of defending the Second Amendment and other “God-given” rights. But yes, the Sabbath.

He talked about gang violence in response to mass shootings, but no matter – he kept the Sabbath.

Ketanji Brown Jackson is the only person on the US Supreme Court to have attended public high school, graduated from an Ivy League law school, served as a public defender, clerked for the Supreme Court, served on the sentencing commission, served as a district judge and served as a judge on the Court of Appeals. But he questions her brain processing power and the brain power of other highly educated, overly qualified Black women. But – you guessed it! – the Sabbath.

Charlie Kirk did the very thing that Adventists love the most: he allegedly kept the Sabbath, and that, for whatever reason, was enough for scores of Adventists to overlook what he said about Black women, what he said about trans people, and what he said about gun violence.

The Sabbath is all that matters. We don’t know if he actually kept it, but we know he mentioned it and we believe he observed it based on his own trustworthy admission. 

And that’s how God acts towards us too. God doesn’t care about what we said or did in our lives. He doesn’t care about what violence we may have incited by our words or how many people may have died because of our wanton disregard for their lives. He doesn’t care how we’ve treated people or whether we have His love in our hearts. He just cares that we have kept the seventh-day Sabbath, because, after all, the Sabbath is the seal…

(… I say this with tongue firmly in cheek. I hope you note the sarcasm.)

Charlie Kirk did the very thing that Adventists love the most: he allegedly kept the Sabbath, and that, for whatever reason, was enough for scores of Adventists to overlook what he said about Black women, what he said about trans people, and what he said about gun violence.
The Sabbath is all that matters. We don’t know if he actually kept it, but we know he mentioned it and we believe he observed it based on his own trustworthy admission. 

And so it was quite jarring to see people – pastors Adventist and non-Adventist alike – not only share their beliefs about Kirk’s place in heaven, but also take this moment as an opportunity to talk about how he kept the Sabbath. Because what Adventists love the most is the Sabbath.

Adventists don’t just worship on the Sabbath. They worship the Sabbath. They love their Sabbath. Sabbath this and Sabbath that. Sabbath, Sabbath, Sabbath. It’s in the name – Seventh-day Adventists. It’s one of the major things that distinguishes us from other mainstream Christian denominations and allows us to keep our proud peculiarity.

And sometimes I think Adventists love their Sabbath more than they love their Jesus.

The way that they put the Sabbath before humanity. The way they elevate the Sabbath above common sense. The way that people are allowed to hike on Sabbath but not swim on Sabbath. You can drive on Sabbath but you can’t buy gas on Sabbath. You can have a full day of church activities from morning until night on Sabbath, but you shouldn’t sleep away your Sabbath.

I’ve often wondered if we venerated the Sabbath more than the Lord of the Sabbath.

Because what Adventists love the most is the Sabbath.
Adventists don’t just worship on the Sabbath. They worship the Sabbath. They love their Sabbath. Sabbath this and Sabbath that. Sabbath, Sabbath, Sabbath. It’s in the name – Seventh-day Adventists. It’s one of the major things that distinguishes us from other mainstream Christian denominations and allows us to keep our proud peculiarity.
And sometimes I think Adventists love their Sabbath more than they love their Jesus…
I’ve often wondered if we venerated the Sabbath more than the Lord of the Sabbath.

When the Sabbath becomes about performing, proving, or protecting one’s righteousness, rather than about rest, reflection, and relationship with God, it can be idolatry.

And it’s so ironic because it would seem to me that Jesus came to dispel and dispense of Sabbath idolatry. Whether it was encouraging people to take their ox out of the pit it fell into on Sabbath, or picking an ear of corn on Sabbath, or healing on Sabbath, Jesus consistently showed that “the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath.”

And yet many Adventists elevate the Sabbath into an idol or ultimate sign of righteousness rather than it being a spiritual practice in service to God.

Some Adventists treat the Sabbath as a badge of moral superiority. They emphasize keeping the Sabbath perfectly (timing, activities, avoiding any “work”) and think that makes someone holier than those who don’t. They look down on other Christians or even fellow Adventists who might interpret Sabbath observance differently.

Then there’s the legalism and rule-focus previously articulated: focusing on the letter of Sabbath rules (no shopping, cooking, or driving) instead of the spirit (rest, worship, and connecting with God).

But I think what’s at issue here is the Sabbath as cultural identity over spirituality. So many Adventists treat Sabbath-keeping as a marker of Adventist identity more than a practice of faith — almost like a club membership requirement. They prioritize appearances and ritual correctness over internal devotion or ethical action.

Charlie Kirk kept the Sabbath, Adventists said. He’s one of us. He’s part of the club.

Many Adventists use the Sabbath as a shield, with Sabbath observance signalling to others that they are “righteous” or “chosen,” and leaning on Sabbath rules to avoid moral self-reflection or engagement with social issues (“I follow God’s law, so I’m exempt from broader accountability”).

But what most grieves me is how many Adventists see the Sabbath as a proxy for justice or compassion. They believe that “keeping the Sabbath” somehow automatically makes someone morally superior or less accountable for actions during the rest of the week (or the rest of their lives, like Charlie Kirk). These Adventists – especially the ones with their quizzical Facebook statuses – prioritize ritual adherence while ignoring inequity, suffering, or societal injustice — in essence, being “perfectly Sabbath-keeping” but silent on genocide, oppression, or systemic harm.

Silence about School Shootings, Genocide and Social Justice

We have to talk about the silence. For years, I have been begging the Adventist Church to say something—anything—relevant. To be relevant about anything. Even a statement as simple and clichéd as “violence is never the answer” would at least show that our faith speaks to the realities of this world (as of today, the Central States Conference of Seventh-day Adventists is the only SDA entity I’m aware of to have addressed the Charlie Kirk murder).

Say something about Gaza. Say something about Black Lives Matter. Say something about George Floyd. And if that’s too woke, say something about school shootings. But no—Adventists would rather remain quiet. We don’t want to be rabble-rousers. We don’t want to rock the boat.

And yet, suddenly, when it comes to Charlie Kirk, everyone finds their voice. For Palestinians? Silence. For the Congolese? Silence. For the Sudanese? Silence. For children gunned down in their classrooms? Silence. But for Charlie Kirk—a man who does not need their advocacy, who has a platform, who is neither marginalized nor voiceless—the church somehow rediscovers its vocal cords.

That contrast is telling. And it is not “interesting.” Interesting is too soft, too polite. The word I’m looking for is disappointing. The word is grieving.

I’ve seen leaders declare that they will “meet Charlie Kirk in the Kingdom.” But what Kingdom is that? If this is the Kingdom you are envisioning, I am not sure it is one I want to be a part of. When people publicly declare, “We love you, Charlie,” while showing so little love for the least of these, the dissonance is jarring.

This tone-deafness, this dismissiveness, is not new. It is characteristic of the denomination. We pride ourselves on not being part of the world’s cacophony, but what we’ve produced instead is a hollow silence. We were supposed to have a “certain sound”—a clarion call. But too often, our call is not to justice. It is to membership, to Sabbath observance, to self-preservation.

This tone-deafness, this dismissiveness, is not new. It is characteristic of the denomination. We pride ourselves on not being part of the world’s cacophony, but what we’ve produced instead is a hollow silence. We were supposed to have a “certain sound”—a clarion call. But too often, our call is not to justice. It is to membership, to Sabbath observance, to self-preservation.

I want us to evaluate our knee-jerk inclination to immediately share doctrine when someone dies. This might sound heretical, but perhaps we could put a pause on proselytization when people are dying. Perhaps, just for a moment, we could hold off on pushing dogma. Perhaps we could just mourn with those who mourn. 

I want us to evaluate our knee-jerk inclination to immediately share doctrine when someone dies. This might sound heretical, but perhaps we could put a pause on proselytization when people are dying. Perhaps, just for a moment, we could hold off on pushing dogma. Perhaps we could just mourn with those who mourn. 

Instead, our energy and our condolences are reserved for those who look like us, think like us, and talk like us. And we will do anything for people to join our ranks, no matter how tone-deaf it is. And that, more than anything, leaves me dismayed.

I will never get over the fact that people (read: Christians) have found it easier to rally behind and be outspoken about Charlie Kirk more so than trade wars, genocides, ICE round-ups and school shootings. Adventists managed to be quiet for two years of genocide, but all of a sudden found their voices for Charlie Kirk.

Spineless when it suits us. Missing when it matters. It’s sobering and revealing.

What does it say about us when White supremacy feels safer? We’ve lost our way, and I am afraid for us.

(Note: the crisis in Palestine is also another manifestation of White supremacy — a story for another day).

“Bigotry is not a ‘difference of opinion’”, Charlie Kirk and “Forgiveness”

I will never get over the fact that people (read: Christians) have found it easier to rally behind and be outspoken about Charlie Kirk more so than trade wars, genocides, ICE round-ups and school shootings. Adventists managed to be quiet for two years of genocide, but all of a sudden found their voices for Charlie Kirk.
Spineless when it suits us. Missing when it matters. It’s sobering and revealing.
What does it say about us when White supremacy feels safer? We’ve lost our way, and I am afraid for us.

I remember when the news broke out that Karla Homolka, one of Canada’s most infamous murderers, was found to be volunteering at an Adventist school that shall remain nameless. The school didn’t notify the parents, and the parents were understandably upset.

And I remember posting the CBC article on Facebook and roundly criticizing the incident, even saying how this probably would not have happened at a non-parochial school.

And I remember several (Adventist) Facebook friends defending the situation. I remember people disagreeing with me, saying, “What about forgiveness? Don’t people deserve second chances?”

And I just restated how, you know, Karla Homolka aided and abetted in the rape and murder of her sister and two other minors, and how I have nothing against forgiveness, but forgiveness doesn’t mean volunteering at your children’s school. Forgiveness might mean finding some other type of volunteer work.

And that’s the same thing that I see in reactions to Charlie Kirk’s death — this idea of “he may have said some problematic things, but, you know, none of us are perfect. We gotta forgive.” 

We’re comparing apples to oranges. On one hand, people are comparing Charlie’s hateful and inflammatory rhetoric to their shortcomings as human beings. There’s a difference between bigotry and just being a flawed human being.

Too often, churches conceive of forgiveness without wisdom, without accountability, without parameters, and without consequences. I’d submit that this is but one reason for the attrition that we see in church membership and the rates of child sexual assault and other religious trauma. In religious spaces, too many people believe in forgiveness, carte blanche, without protecting the most vulnerable and marginalized. We’re supposed to forgive 70 times 7, but we’re also supposed to be as wise as serpents and as gentle as doves.

Charlie Kirk was indeed a racist (among other things). And let’s not compare his racism to our foolishness, flaws and foibles on a day-to-day basis. We don’t have the same platform. And hopefully we’re not spewing the same racism.

Many Christians collapse the spectrum of sin into one undifferentiated category: “we’re all sinners, so who are we to judge?” But there’s a profound difference between ordinary human shortcomings (selfishness, gossip, temper) and systemic harm/bigotry wielded with a platform. Conflating the two minimizes the gravity of racism and abuse.

In so many Christian (and specifically Adventist) spaces, forgiveness is preached as an unlimited pass for harmful behaviour, but accountability and wisdom are neglected. That cheap forgiveness ends up protecting abusers, racists, and perpetrators of harm while leaving the vulnerable exposed.

This is directly tied to the Adventist veneration of the Sabbath:

Regarding the Sabbath, Adventists are meticulous. We are zealous. We police the exact minute sundown begins, argue about whether it’s permissible to cook or buy food, and shame those who interpret Sabbath practice differently. We know how to recognize sin when it comes to Sabbath-keeping.  But on racism, abuse or bigotry? Silence. Minimization. “We’re all sinners” becomes the refrain and “forgiveness” is extended without accountability, without boundaries, without wisdom, which erases the harm done.

This reveals a kind of selective moral energy: people are willing to go to war over ritual rules but not over protecting the oppressed. 

This selective moral energy reveals that the Sabbath has become, for many, not a day of rest and justice but an idol—a badge of righteousness that blinds us to the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy, and faithfulness (Matt. 23:23). We’ve made Sabbath-breaking the ultimate sin, while refusing to call racism sin at all.

The problem with church people is that we can recognize sin, but we can’t recognize racism (which is a sin). We keep putting people in harm’s way because of how we choose to forgive. Forgiveness without accountability isn’t grace. It’s complicity.

Regarding the Sabbath, Adventists are meticulous. We are zealous. We police the exact minute sundown begins, argue about whether it’s permissible to cook or buy food, and shame those who interpret Sabbath practice differently. We know how to recognize sin when it comes to Sabbath-keeping. But on racism, abuse or bigotry? Silence. Minimization. “We’re all sinners” becomes the refrain and “forgiveness” is extended without accountability, without boundaries, without wisdom, whicherases the harm done.
This reveals a kind of selective moral energy: people are willing to go to war over ritual rules but not over protecting the oppressed. 
This selective moral energy reveals that the Sabbath has become, for many, not a day of rest and justice but an idol—a badge of righteousness that blinds us to the weightier matters of the law: justice, mercy, and faithfulness (Matt. 23:23). We’ve made Sabbath-breaking the ultimate sin, while refusing to call racism sin at all.
The problem with church people is that we can recognize sin, but we can’t recognize racism (which is a sin).

Conclusion

Christians’ worship of abortion and homosexuality, and Adventist Christians’ worship of the Sabbath, is the plank in their eye that will keep them from seeing injustice.

I don’t rejoice when anyone dies. Charlie Kirk was a person with a family who loved him. There is no perfect villain or victim.

And… 

He said vile, hateful things when alive.

As many have said, “Listen, I don’t support what happened to Charlie. But Charlie supported what happened to Charlie.”

And a friend of Trump can be no friend of mine. My heart goes out to Kirk’s family and the many marginalized communities reeling and bearing the brunt of his reckless rhetoric.