This past October we observed the 160th anniversary of the Great Disappointment—October 22, 1844. That was the date a handful of Advent believers, mostly white, mostly rural, mostly living in the northeastern United States, waited in vain for Jesus to appear in glory.

Now, the remnant of that band of believers numbers in the millions and encircles our planet like stars in the autumn sky with congregations, schools, health-care and evangelistic centers, and countless individuals dedicated to living God's love and proclaiming the soon coming of Christ.

If you imagine this movement to be monolithic, monochromatic, and monotonous, you'd be disappointed. Rather, if you could travel to different parts of the world and see the vitality of the movement we call Seventh-day Adventist, you'd be impressed.

I've been to the Philippines where the pastor with whom I worked was responsible for nearly 30 congregations.

I've been to Russia, where self-supporting Global Mission pioneers move into communities with few, if any, Adventist believers and sell books, hold evangelistic meetings, and establish new congregations.

I've been to Poland, where Adventists work creatively to counteract decades of prejudice nurtured by members of the state-sponsored religion.

I've been in Ghana, where the vast number of newly baptized members strains the church's ability to nurture them.

I've been in Nicaragua and El Salvador, where dedicated members travel hours—sometimes by car, often by foot—to small villages to teach people to read and to help them study the Bible.

I've been to churches in North America—both small and large—where the members seek to implement outreach strategies that appeal to a society steeped in secularism and materialism.

The past 160 years have brought challenges and changes that our spiritual forebears couldn't have imagined. The greatest number of Adventists now live outside North America, with the largest number living in Africa. The language used most often by Adventists is Spanish—not English. In some places, the church is growing so fast that administrators can't manage the growth.

Not all Adventists are alike. When people come to church in Poland (at least in the town I visited), they stand reverently with eyes closed before they sit for Sabbath services. In some parts of the world people remove their shoes before they enter the sanctuary. Some Adventists drive to church; others use public transportation; still others walk. In some countries Adventists risk their lives by worshiping together, and so worship in secret.

Health reform is practiced differently in different places. In some places the main staples are fish and rice, in other places fish and noodles. Outside North America, obesity is rarely a problem.

Adventists pursue an incredible array of occupations: we are professionals, laborers, farmers, artists, performers, legislators, etc. Some Adventists are internationally known, others known only in their communities. Many Adventists have earned advanced educational degrees; many are illiterate.

Some think our movement would benefit if we all dressed alike, ate alike, worshiped alike, and appreciated the same kind of music. I would rather see a church that reflects John's vision of "a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language" (Rev. 7:9, NIV).

Rather than promoting uniformity, let's spend our time, energy, and resources nurturing a people "who obey God's commandments and hold to the testimony of Jesus" (Rev. 12:17)—whatever their culture.

Stephen Chavez is the Managing Editor of the Adventist Review. This article was reprinted from the Adventist Review, November 25, 2004, p. 6, with permission.