You never miss a vespers.
Your idea of a wild Friday night is inviting friends over to read Ellen White’s writings aloud. After vespers, of course.
You preface every decision with “According to the Spirit of Prophecy,” even if it’s just choosing between cereal brands.
You believe potlucks are a spiritual gift, and you’ve been known to rank them in order of righteousness/veganism.
Your wardrobe consists mainly of somber fabrics covering you up completely and you have impossibly sensible shoes. You’re convinced that “modest is hottest” but would never say it that way.
You’ve attended more church committees than you can count, and you secretly aspire to be the chairperson of the Doug Batchelor Appreciation Day planning committee.
Your idea of family hijinks and hilarity is visiting the local Adventist Book Center and discussing the merits of various “Steps to Christ” covers.
You’ve mastered the art of converting any casual conversation into an opportunity to share the Three Angels’ Message.
Your idea of a celebrity encounter is getting Walter Veith to sign a book.
You won’t say for sure if you’re saved but claim you live with the “blessed hope”