Leaving the Wilderness: A Farewell Address to the People of Upper NY
When the entire nation had finished crossing over the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua: “Select twelve members from the people, one from each tribe, and command them, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of the middle of the Jordan, from the place where the priests’ feet stood, carry them over with you, and lay them down in the place where you camp tonight.’” Then Joshua summoned the twelve from the Israelites, whom he had appointed, one from each tribe. Joshua said to them, “Pass on before the ark of the Lord your God into the middle of the Jordan, and each of you take up a stone on his shoulder, one for each of the tribes of the Israelites, so that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off in front of the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. So these stones shall be to the Israelites a memorial forever.” (Joshua 4:1-7)
Since I was six years old, the United Methodists of the Upper New York Conference have been a second family to me. It was there, in the small town that my family moved to, nestled right in the heart of the beautiful Finger Lakes region of central New York, that I would attend my first United Methodist church, participate in Sunday School and VBS, take confirmation classes and officially join The UMC. I’d attend youth group and eventually lead youth group—and even learn to play guitar (not that well) so that we could have live music.
It was there, in Upper New York, that I’d attend my first summer camp—a United Methodist summer camp, of course—and learn to experience and explore God through nature and genuine Christian community. It was there, in Upper New York, that I grew in my faith was given opportunities through youth ministries programs to lead and find confidence in my voice, in my calling, and in my commitment to the love of God. I was nourished by the friendships I made through the Conference Council on Youth Ministries (CCYM), and some of the first seeds of my passion for leadership were nurtured and tended to by Rev. Ted Anderson, Tony Hipes, Sharon Rankins-Burd and others on the CCYM. These seeds began to sprout as my gifts were recognized and further nurtured by wise older lay people and clergy, and I had the joy of leading the CCYM as their co-chair in my senior year of high school, guiding the team of about sixty young people from across the state as we planned transformative events for the young people of Upper New York. And the Church continued to provide opportunities for me to grow.
It was there, in Upper New York, that I was offered the chance to be in community with and learn from our Methodist siblings in India through the Northeast Jurisdiction of The UMC’s “Mission of Peace.” I quickly realized the deep meaning and relational responsibility that Wesley’s words still have for us today when he said, “The world is my parish.” Quickly, The UMC in Upper New York taught me the value of compassion and empathy for our neighbors—even those who live on the other side of the globe. Quickly I learned that the Church was so much more that one church or one annual conference—or one country for that matter. The Church was becoming real people, people around the globe committed to the Wesleyan rules: to do no harm; to do good; and to stay in love with God (or “to attend to the ordinances of God” if we’re sticking with Wesley’s original wording).
It was there, in Upper New York, that I was first given the opportunity to preach at my home church by Rev. Jeff Childs, who would become one of the most humble and influential people along my journey. His constant support of my calling to ministry, his offering and encouragement to let youth lead worship, and his bold leadership in calling our small town community to affirm LGBTQ+ people began to clear a path for me that I didn’t know I needed. At the same time, Mike Huber, then director of Camping Ministries for Upper NY, began to mentor me and invited me to work at camp Casowasco, the same UM camp I attended as I kid. I joined the staff as the only 17 year-old counselor, still finding my way in the world, and again, the Church, through the people, nurtured and encouraged me in my calling to ministry and leadership. After several summers on staff, I would become the Spiritual Life coordinator, and enjoyed coordinating worship, Bible study trainings with the staff, and companioning the campers and staff along their own spiritual journeys.
It was there, in Upper New York, that I first began to travel to local churches and preach. Rev. Eleanor Collinsworth, then in the next town down the lake (Bath, NY), was always one of the first to offer me her pulpit. Revs. Alicia Wood, Stephen Cady, Sara Baron, Marti Swords-Horrell, Michelle Bogue-Trost, Beckie Sweet, Joellyn Tuttle, Jane Sautter, Richelle Goff and so many others in Upper New York, including fellow young adults, namely Ian Urriola, Elyse Muder, Marthalyn Sweet, and others would continue to companion and support me as I emerged from college ready to travel the lengths of Upper New York and as I became more involved in conference leadership and organizing.
It was there, in Upper New York, that the people nourished me and gave me more opportunities to co-lead the Young Adults Ministries Team and preach at our Annual Conference worship for several years. It was there, in Upper New York, that I was elected as an alternate delegate to General Conference (GC) 2016, and then traveled with the rest of the delegation to the special session in 2019. It was an Upper New York lay person who gave up his seat on the voting floor so that I could be part of the conversation, and eventually make that speech. It was there, in Upper New York, just a couple years ago that I was elected to serve as a full voting delegate to GC 2020 (which is still postponed). And because the people of Upper New York have given me so much, it has been my deepest desire to stay—to remain with the church family that nourished me, and to give back to the people who have given me so much.
Crossing the River
But, my time in the wilderness of Upper New York has come to an end. I’ve reached the boundary line of this liminal space with the support and guidance of so many. And now, it’s time for me to cross the river. I knew Upper New York would be a difficult place to seek ordination: in a conversation during GC 2019, the bishop of UNY insisted that he would “support me but not ordain me” if/when the moment arrived; the District Superintendents (DSs) have slowly been replaced with non-affirming clergy; women in conference leadership roles have been systematically disempowered; LGBTQ+ affirming clergy have been removed from the Board of Ordained Ministry; the bishop and the DS who was newly assigned to my district both signed on to leave The UMC for a non-affirming sect when the Church splits; petitions that passed with overwhelming majorities in our annual conference to condemn the Traditional Plan (which further excludes LGBTQ+ people) and affirm LGBTQ+ folks were ruled “out of order” by the bishop himself. The voice of the people has been continually stifled—but we’ve persisted.
Last month, the District Committee on Ordained Ministry (DCOM) decided not to recommend me for Commissioning interviews with the Board of Ordained Ministry (the probationary time before ordination). I respect many of the members deeply, and unfortunately we fundamentally disagree on our understanding of what an elder is. After days of research and listening to other clergy, lay people, and bishops across the Connection, I appealed the committee’s decision and asked for a reconsideration. Yesterday, on October 14th, they decided to stand by their original decision. I will not be allowed to seek Commissioning this year, though I could, and was encouraged to, jump through several logistical hoops (including another $300 psychological assessment without financial support) and return next year to try again.
I believe that the good majority of the members of my DCOM over these last six years have faithfully done their part to help me answer God’s call. To their credit, they certified the first openly LGBTQ+ candidate for ministry in Upper New York. Unfortunately, it seems that political maneuvers above their “pay-grade” intentionally made this process more difficult. It’s unfortunate that my time in the ordination process in Upper New York has been a six-year journey of mistrust, miscommunication and pain. After GC 2016 I came out at annual conference. That same year, the Board of Ordained Ministry dictated for the first time that every DCOM specifically ask each candidate if they would uphold ¶ 304 of the Book of Discipline, which includes the stipulation that “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” cannot be ordained. Fear and mistrust were being sown. Each year as I gathered with the committee, despite how well-meaning many of the members have been, a process that should have been holy was shrouded by the fear and mistrust that a select few in Upper New York conference leadership positions have sown. And if all of this is a mere misunderstanding of events, if I am wrong in seeing patterns of oppression where they may not be, then I grieve the fact that this hostile situation has drawn me to these conclusions and diminished the sacred discernment process for me. I grieve the fact that this situation must also be a great loss for many of the DCOM members as they earnestly tried to do their best within a system that would not support us, and which created a chasm between us. I thank Rev. Val White for her leadership as chair these last few years, and for her unceasing pastoral support and allyship even as she fulfilled the uncomfortable duty of being the messenger of bad news.
I will not, however, artificially alter my calling to the Order of Elders to fit into a box that has no space for me. It is clear now that I’ve arrived at the edge of the possibilities open to me in Upper New York, and that my path to ordination must lead beyond the conference. And so, it is with deep grief held in holy-tension with a great hope that I take these next steps beyond the wilderness, moving into the unknown promises ahead. I prepare to leave Upper New York, my home—our home—taking with me the lessons and courage and boldness of a people who have long been stifled, but who have continued—and will continue—to persist. I hold the memories and the times we’ve shared together dearly and I place just a few of them here as my own monument of remembrance. Like the stones from the Jordan, I will always look back and remember the journey that has brought me to where I am, and the people who made this journey possible even in a difficult wilderness. After my service as a General Conference delegate comes to a conclusion (hopefully with the General Conference in August), I will cross the river and begin the process of transferring my membership and candidacy to another conference of The United Methodist Church, one that is able to continue to nourish the seeds that the people of Upper New York have tended to for so long. I prepare to leave with confidence because I know that Upper New York can, and will soon, become the Church that we have so long longed for it to be.
To the people of Upper New York, thank you. Thank you for your continued efforts in the struggle for justice—for staying when possible on Committees on Ordained Ministry, on the Board, and in other leadership positions. Never give up. Keep moving forward together. Continue to reclaim what it means to be the Church in Upper New York. May the God of mercy continue to comfort us like the cool waters of the Finger Lakes, and light our path forward like the camp fires at our once-vibrant camps. We shall overcome.
Your grateful friend from the Finger Lakes,
J.J. Warren