Forward Together: A Call for Prophets

This past weekend I had the opportunity to take my Forward Together tour to Hope Church in Bloomington-Normal, Illinois. Next week I’ll travel to Oneonta NY, followed by Wisconsin, and then my undergrad graduation, followed by four months of twenty-first century John Wesley style circuit riding via cars, planes, busses, and trains. I am continually reminded that our God surpasses all understanding and expectation. I thought I would travel around my home state of NY and see a California church or two this summer—I did not expect to travel to eight states and nearly 30 communities! 

This hectic new reality which has become my life reminds me of the theme verse for the summer, Hebrews 11:1. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen.” 

We, as followers of Jesus, believe in the “absurdity of faith” (a phrase from Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling). We live in this paradox: we are completely obedient to the will of God—even if that means sacrificing everything like Abraham was willing to do with Isaac—and yet we simultaneously have hope that God will provide far above what we could expect. We must believe in the absurd, be convicted by the things not yet seen—including a Church which celebrates LGBTQ+ people and our callings.

While at Hope Church, I had the opportunity to hear from other young people who are in the process of discerning callings—and some specifically feeling called to ordained ministry in the UMC. Many of these young people, like me, identify somewhere in the LGBTQ+ alphabet soup. If you’ve ever heard someone articulate their calling, you know it’s a powerful experience. As these young queer folks described their “burning bush moments” with me, I witnessed God’s continued presence with us—God is still at work! God is using all of us to be vessels for a time such as this, we just have to listen and then act boldly. 

I mentioned to the congregation that one of my favorite sermons by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. is “But if Not.” In these powerful 23 minutes, King used the action of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego as a biblical example of civil disobedience. He said, 

“There were those individuals in every age and every generation who were willing to say ‘I will be obedient to a higher law.’ I must be disobedient to a king in order to be obedient to THE KING.” 

Like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, we are called to stand boldly in defiance of injustice, for we abide by a high law. These boys wouldn’t have made it into our bible if they had just decided to pack up shop and join other like-minded folk in a village outside the reach of Nebuchadnezzar. These boys were influential because they decided that truth must call out the injustices of power, that their God was calling them to boldly embody civil disobedience from within. 

May we be like Amos and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego; may we boldly speak truth to power and be obedient to a higher law. May we commit to join together through resources like Reconciling Ministries Network, to boldly remain and resist; to claim this ground as holy and all people as sacred—especially LGBTQ+ people and people of color. We are the Church, and we will go forward together into this unseen future believing in the absurd: that we can reclaim the Church as a vehicle for divine justice and love. 

Is the UMC Dead?

We are in a time of great division and pain. To have a global denomination in countries where same-sex acts are still illegal—and with countries like Brunei which just recently codified their condemnation of homosexual people to death by stoning—to be a Church in all of these places, and to expect us all to agree is preposterous. And yet, we tried to do the same thing over again; we tried to use a broken system to fix its own brokenness. To see a majority of the Bishops stand and weep with us at General Conference as the Traditional Plan gained traction illustrates just how broken our system is. What can we do if even our leaders no longer have the ability to lead within our structure?

I stepped off the voting floor once the TP passed and I wondered: “where is the Good Shepherd in this? Is this decision truly the work of the Holy Spirit?” And when we confront these questions, we are faced with an even more alarming one: is our denomination able to discern the will of God? Has The United Methodist Church died, has it ceased in its ability to serve God and serve all people for the transformation of the world?

When I reflect on this question, I think of Jesus’ approach to the city of Jerusalem before his crucifixion. As he approached the city of God’s chosen people, what was set aside to be a holy city of God, Jesus wept. Now this little verse doesn’t get much credit but the only other time we see Jesus weep is over the loss of his beloved companion, Lazarus. And yet, as Jesus looked at the so-called “city of God,” and he wept. Many of the Bishops, the majority of those gathered in St.Louis, and those around the world looked at our denomination on Tuesday, February 26th and we wept.

Jesus wept and said, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43 Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. 44 They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.” (Luke 19:42-44)

If only we as a global denomination had recognized on that day—and on this day—the things that make for peace. Those who seek to do harm to neighbor, or whose theological convictions somehow “justify” real harm on the children of God, have hemmed us in, trying to crush our spirits and grind us into this holy ground because they do not recognize our visitation from God. Jesus wept for the supposed city of God because he knew that without justice, there is no peace; and peace is not just a heavenly reality—it’s something that can be witnessed and worked for here in this life—in this world. Jesus is essentially the first one to express the chant which many social-justice marches use: “No justice, no peace.”

I believe that through this great pain—through the death of what we understood to be The United Methodist Church—there will be a glorious resurrection. Already there are over 40,000 reconciling United Methodists—individual Church embers who have pledged to support the full inclusion of LGBTQIA people in the life and ministry of the UMC. There are over 1,000 reconciling communities now in our global connection.

Let me be clear as to my position: The United Methodist Church—as currently structured—is dead, but we are already witnessing a glorious resurrection! We will not allow the river of justice to be damned, nor will we allow our deeply flawed general Church structure to silence sound of the Spirit. WE are the Church, and I am committed to forging forward with congregations around our connection to reclaim our United Methodist heritage and tradition—TO RECLAIM OUR CHURCH. I cast my vote now for no confidence in the General Conference as a body which can discern the will of God. I, along with many other inclusive leaders in the UMC, do not know what the next step for our Church will be, but we are inviting all of us to enter into deeper conversation–and holy resistance–as we discern the movement of the Spirit together.

May we continue not only to discern the Spirit, but to take action in bold ways as we follow the Spirit of justice. Silence at this time cannot be an option, we must boldly affirm and celebrate the life and ministry of LGBTQ+ people because without justice for us and others excluded by the Church, there will be no peace in the land of the Lord.

Star Dust: Reimagining Lent

Yesterday many Christians around the world attended an Ash Wednesday service to mark the beginning of the Lenten season. Ash Wednesday, though not formally practiced in the books of the Bible, is steeped in a rich tradition of meaning–both biblically and scientifically–and carries great significance for us today.

“You are dust, and to the dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19)

This verse always startled me because it forces us to come to terms with our humanity; not only with our mortality, but with our humanness as well. We are ALL dust. And in fact, we are all star dust! When God caused the Big Bang (in my opinion), a little dot of matter (scientists say it was no bigger than the period at the end of this sentence) exploded into a beautifully complex and diverse universe. All of the original “dust” of the universe is the result of stars which have “died;” they have come to the end of their cycles and their matter is scattered. This matter helps create something new. This star dust was then knit together by gravity (and Divine intervention) to form Earth. And this star dust makes up you and I as well.

So, what can we learn from this brief physics lesson? (And no, I claim no knowledge of physics, and I’m sure that my physicist partner will correct me on many details.)

Nonetheless, we see that there is great power and potential in the most minute places. It takes the violent “death” of a star to create new life. Dust comes from the ancient stars which continue to make new life today. We are all dust, yes, but we are star dust. We are made up of an intergalactic substance which has persisted through time and space; a substance which will always be part of our identity even if we no longer recognize the source. And it’s a substance which undeniably makes up ALL people. No one is less of a star than anyone else.

So when we contemplate the reality that we are dust, I hope we will remember that our substance is something mysterious, full of potential, and knit together from the far reaches of the universe.

Though the United Methodist Church may have experienced a painful explosion last week in St. Louis, new life is being formed. Churches which previously had a don’t ask don’t tell understanding, are making statements of affirmation and support. Conservatives are emailing me to tell me that they are deeply sorry, and that their opinions about LGBTQ+ people have changed. Moderates are stepping out from their places of privileged and are speaking up for God’s inclusive love and justice. Our exploded star dust is settling, and God is using us to make something new; something which is of the same substance as the old, but is different.

May our Lent be a beautiful exploration of our humanity and our interonnectedness; may this pain birth something beautiful; may our Churches, no matter how small, explode with the radiance of God’s multi-colored love for all people–especially LGBTQ+ people.