Look, not everything was perfect — but let’s be honest: the 90s were peak Adventist vibes. Here’s what we miss:
Scandal aside, Robert Folkenberg had positive energy. Every GC leader since has tried, but no one matched that blend of vision and fax-machine determination.
Jan Paulsen’s calm voice. The man could tell you the world was ending and you’d still feel oddly reassured.
Net ’98. Half the church in the fellowship hall, squinting at a fuzzy satellite feed and eating haystacks off paper plates. Pure magic.
The Heritage Singers’ golden era. Matching outfits. Perfect harmonies. That one slow pan across the choir in every VHS performance.
Camp meeting hype. Everyone came. Everyone sang. Someone got rebaptized. Someone got sunburned. It was the event.
Pathfinder Oshkosh camporees. Before it turned into the logistical equivalent of the Exodus.
Adventist Book Center runs. When a new Uncle Arthur’s Bedtime Stories set felt like Christmas.
Youth Congresses that actually filled arenas. Because everyone still had FOMO before social media existed.
Church bulletins thick as magazines. Announcements, birthdays, tithe reports, and one mysterious missing deacon’s note.
The “It Is Written” glow. That intro music hit different when it came from a tube TV.
Adventist World Radio on shortwave. That little crackly voice that made you feel connected to the remnant worldwide.
Friday night vespers that felt sacred. No phones, no reels, just candles, testimonies, and the soft sound of someone’s guitar.
Agreeing more with each other. Or at least pretending to — which sometimes felt just as peaceful.
The 90s church era: no hashtags, more harmony.
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