GC 12 day five: reflections on the struggle for justice

Today I was reminded that the work of justice in the church and the world is indeed a struggle. After four days of extraordinary hope, today was a disappointing one for a two particular reasons. First, I had the experience of witnessing the Faith & Order subcommittee vote to approve stronger language restricting ordination to individuals whose sexuality is expressed only within the boundaries of “marriage between one man and one woman.” Of course, this language would restrict non-celibate LGBTQ individuals from seeking ordination; however, it would also restrict all candidates for ministry—gay, straight, and everything in between—who are (and possibly even who have been) sexually active outside the context of marriage. I wholeheartedly believe that we must hold our clergy to high standards of integrity, but the addition of this particular language would be an unfortunate—not to mention unenforceable—addition to our Book of Discipline. As this comes before the plenary, it will be one fascinating piece of legislation to watch!

Next, tonight the General Administration committee (in which I have been serving as a legislative coordinator for the Common Witness Coalition) completed its four days of work on the denominational restructuring proposals by sending exactly no restructuring legislation to the plenary floor. Today was a long day in subcommittee—8am until 9:30pm, to be exact—and the GA committee worked an extra (and extremely chaotic) half hour with the permission of the General Secretary of the General Conference. The rules of General Conference state that any legislation which has not been voted on by 9:30pm on the last day of committee is considered unfinished, but in this situation (just restructuring the entire church, you know…no big deal), the committee was given permission to take one final vote. However, at the end of the night—after watching legislative and political mass chaos erupt—all three restructuring proposals were voted down by the committee. Two things about this situation were especially disappointing to me—first, young adult and Central Conference delegates had worked all day in subcommittee on amendments to Plan B, and this work was dismissed by the committee as a whole. These delegates— both young and global voices—represent the vitality to which the Call to Action is supposedly calling us. But at the end of the day, the voices of vitality and diversity did not have the final (or any) say in the restructuring of our great church—the voices of power did. Finally, this experience called into question the value of parliamentary procedure in the life of the church, something for which I am typically a strong advocate. While I have always appreciated parliamentary procedure as a structure that provides both equality and efficiency, in General Administration tonight that was not the case; instead, it functioned as a structure through which those in power stalled the process, silenced the body, and stayed in power.

After this long day, General Conference rolls on. I am humbled by this opportunity to better understand this church I love—this beautiful and broken people of God. But most of all, I am humbled by this opportunity to enter into the struggle for justice and for the inclusion of all voices—not only the voices of the powerful—in The United Methodist Church.

GC 12 day four: learning solidarity

Last night was a powerful night of solidarity for the Common Witness Coalition. First, during plenary session, Mark Miller--one of the most gifted worship leaders in The United Methodist Church-- took a point of privilege on the floor of the plenary to express the brokenness and hurt he has felt as an openly gay man taking part in some of the conversations around human sexuality at General Conference. Before he was ruled out of order, he invited LGBTQA individuals to stand with him in plenary hall, and coalition members and others stood in solidarity with Mark within and beyond the bar.

After plenary and closing worship, the Common Witness Coalition held a silent demonstration at the doors of plenary hall. Hundreds of us, wearing rainbow stoles, joined hands and formed a silent—silenced—tunnel at both exits. Delegates and bishops, church members and visitors walked by us as they left the hall for the evening; some ignored us, but many also spoke words of blessing and words of prayer. A few people hugged and prayed over each of us, and many joined hands and stood with us. Once everyone had left the hall, we broke our silence with a song— “we are all your sons and daughters, and we are singing, singing for our lives.”

As we joined in the Tabernacle for worship and conversation following the demonstration, around my table we discussed what it really means to be in solidarity with the LGBTQ community. Many of us were keenly aware that the silence of the demonstration eliminated any distinction between LGBTQ individuals and allies. Each of us who stood in the line truly stood in solidarity-- a radical posture of being with-- indistinguishable from the LGBTQ community. With this vulnerable posture of solidarity comes risk, especially for those of us seeking ordination in this church, and I was keenly aware of that as every bishop of The United Methodist Church walked past us. But I also had hope as some bishops joined us, standing in solidarity and entering into the silence. To be sure, there is risk involved in action, but the greatest risk is inaction and complicity to injustice and exclusion in the body of Christ.

GC 12 day three: order as identity: restructuring the body of Christ

The following is a blog I wrote for Methodist Federation for Social Action, the organization I am serving with here at General Conference.

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As the Young Adult Legislative Coordinator for General Administration, my day was spent in committee listening to presentations, discussion, and debate on the three restructuring proposals. Because these conversations are filled with complex language and business concerns, it is easy to forget that this work of restructuring our church is truly the work of reimagining who we are as the diverse people of God. So, with that being said, who will we choose to become? As one watching these conversations unfold, I would like to highlight two key questions of identity that I think are implicit in these proposals:

1) First, in the morning presentations on the three proposals, there was a significant contrast between an emphasis on life and death, especially between the Call to Action legislation and the MFSA plan. When the Call to Action team was asked by a Central Conference delegate if they had conducted research on the vital congregations of the Central Conferences, they answered that they had focused on the “declining, diseased” congregations in the United States. The MFSA team, on the other hand, emphasized dialogue with Central Conference delegates and a commitment to draw on the vitality that already exists in our church. Remembering the Episcopal Address by Bishop Weaver, my hope is that the new structure of The United Methodist Church will reflect not a fear of death, but our calling to be people of the “Resurrection Revolution,” living into Christ’s abundant gift of life.

2) Second, these decisions about structure are decisions about whose voices will be included and excluded in the leadership of the church—most significantly, the voices of the rapidly growing Central Conferences. The Call to Action legislation not only failed to study the vital congregations of the Central Conferences, it also fails to create abundant new spaces for these new people to serve as leaders of the denomination. The MFSA plan, however, proposes that 40% of general church leadership come from the Central Conferences. Furthermore, MFSA advocates for leadership from every region (Central Conference/Jurisdiction), in contrast to the language of “proportionality” of other plans, which—for example— could leave all of Europe with only one delegate. Seeking to become a church that welcomes all people, my hope is that we will order our life together in such a way that all voices are included and valued at the table.

As the committee work continues, I hope you will join me in praying not for one plan to prevail over another, but for the structure of our church to reflect who we are and who we are called to become as The United Methodist Church—the wholly inclusive, beautifully diverse body of Christ.

GC12 day two: tangible hope.

At the end of this second (long) day of General Conference, there is one word that I simply cannot get out of my mind:

Hope.

I am here in Tampa working with the Common Witness Coalition, a partnership of organizations working for the inclusion of all people in the life and leadership of The United Methodist Church. In addition to the events of the General Conference, our coalition holds events every day in the Love Your Neighbor Tabernacle. Now, “Tabernacle” is just a fancy title for a HUGE, air-conditioned tent (seating 300+) that sits across the street from the convention center. Each day in the Tabernacle, we enter into the rhythm of the life of God’s people across the ages—sharing meals, worshiping together, and gathering for fellowship and prayer. It is a sacred space—the heartbeat of this diverse, inclusive community that has come together not to change the church, but to become the church.

The abundantly and beautifully diverse Spirit of God has moved in the Tabernacle more times than I can count in the past two days—in conversations shared, songs lifted to our Creator, and communion offered to all by the radical grace of Christ. But the most incredible gift of my time at General Conference so far has been the experience of the diverse and inclusive Spirit of God outside the Tabernacle. First, this morning, as Amory Peck and Betty Spiwe Katiyo gave the Laity Address, we caught a glimpse of God’s vision for the church. The voices of these two women—one openly lesbian and one from Zimbabwe—formed the symphonic voice of the holy, wholly diverse people of God. Then, in my legislative committee, as votes were being counted, delegates from the Central Conferences spontaneously led us in worship in their first languages. And finally, tonight in closing worship, we heard the good news of Christ’s welcome for all people proclaimed by Bishop James King and sang together these words: “God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy, compassion and peace.”

Indeed, God is delighting as we are creators of justice and joy here in Tampa and all across the connection. The Spirit is moving, the joy is contagious, and the hope is tangible. But most of all, this gospel of love and inclusion cannot be contained to a tent—no matter how big it is! Thanks be to God!

GC12 day two: the tedious work of transformation

As I write this, I am currently sitting in the plenary of the General Conference of The United Methodist Church. On this second day of General Conference, the plenary has yet to set the rules of the conference as the body is still debating and amending them. Since I have arrived in Tampa, I have been constantly reminded of why we are the people called Methodist— we have a method for everything. Now, I have to admit that with every hour the General Conference debates the rules (thus falling behind in the work it will do by these rules), it seems more and more like our method has become our madness. But I want to argue that this is is not the case. In fact, I think these legislative shenanigans actually reflect of one of the gifts of The United Methodist Church:

We are a people who take seriously the implications of how we do all that we do.

Taking two days to set the rules and organization of the General Conference might seem ridiculous, but these rules will give shape to this legislative community for the next two weeks, which will in turn give shape to the global community of The United Methodist Church for the next quadrennium. This is a tedious task, but I think it is an important one. So, is the General Conference falling behind in its schedule? Absolutely. But a better question would be: is the General Conference wasting its time? I would argue that it is not— the organization of the top legislative body of The United Methodist Church is indicative of its identity and theological commitments. I am proud to call myself a member of this church that takes seriously the process—the rules—the tedious work of transformation. And because there is a method behind our madness, the conversation continues…

resurrecting church

[While I realize that this blog post is utterly impractical and gives little consideration to the realities of the church as an institution, I write as one who is convinced that Christ’s life, death, and resurrection were neither practical nor business-minded.]

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Just last week, we relived the radical story that stands at the center of who we are as the body of Christ: we visited the empty tomb, expecting to find the body of our Lord, but instead heard the good news of his resurrection. As a church, we joyously shouted the words that echo through the ages:

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!

But as I look around the church today, I have to wonder if we truly take the truth of the resurrection seriously. Have we really considered the implications of being a community for whom death has been overcome by the resurrection of Christ?

Honestly, I think we have forgotten who are as a resurrected people. In my own denomination, the rhetoric of death and decline has taken hold, and our discourse is driven not by the truth of resurrection, but by a paralyzing fear of death. We are so terrified of our demise as a church that we have closed our ears to the gospel of life.

And you see, the resurrection is not just about Jesus, it is also about us, the church, the body of Christ. Since the church is the body of Christ, when we shout “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!” what we really mean is that we are risen, indeed.

The resurrection gives us a new way of talking about who we are and how we are as the people of God. And more than that, it gives us a new way of being the body of Christ. We are a risen people, not a dying people. To use language of death to describe the church is to deny the power of the resurrection. And while I understand the need to address the reality of our local churches and our global church, it is time that we start doing it in light of the empty tomb rather than in the darkness of the shadow of death.

Almost two thousand years ago, a few women found themselves staring into a tomb, fully prepared to tend to Christ’s dead body. Today, it feels to me like the leaders of my church are standing in the very same place, forgetting that there is more to our story than death.

“The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’” [Luke 24.5-7 NRSV]

Why are we, as a church, looking for the living among the dead? Why have we forgotten that death is simply a precursor to new life, and that Christ’s resurrection is our own?

Friends, the body of Christ is risen. We, as the church, are a resurrected people. We can either live into that truth, or throw Jesus into the tomb again and roll the stone back into its place.

I hope we choose resurrection.