DreamUMC – a Pentecost Vision (sermon video)

“Dream UMC – a Pentecost Vision”

Sermon, now with 100% more video!

(May 27, 2012 – Pentecost Sunday) A movement is underway to help shape the future of the United Methodist Church by inviting and including as many voices a possible. Using the social media tool of Twitter (follow @DreamUMC and #dreamumc), anyone and everyone can share their hopes, visions, and strategies for the denomination, and listen to the dreams of others. Can we hear a worthwhile message in the midst of this “holy noise,” or will we write off the dreamers as drunkards and fools?

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so, as is fitting for a Pentecost experience, I’ve never done it this way before…

Sermon: Dreams and Drunkenness

“Dreams and Drunkenness”

(May 27, 2012 – Pentecost Sunday) A movement is underway to help shape the future of the United Methodist Church by inviting and including as many voices a possible. Using the social media tool of Twitter (follow @DreamUMC and #dreamumc), anyone and everyone can share their hopes, visions, and strategies for the denomination, and listen to the dreams of others. Can we hear a worthwhile message in the midst of this “holy noise,” or will we write off the dreamers as drunkards and fools? (Acts 2:1-21)

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video coming soon!

Sermon: “You’re It”

“You’re It”

(May 20, 2012) In the moments following Christ’s departure, I imagine the disciples must have a frightening realization: the life, work and ministry of the Jesus movement is now up to them. We’re all in that position, if we think about it. If there is a body tasked with carrying on the work of Christ, we’re it. ( Acts 1:1-11 )

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Thanks to Kristen, muse of the week
and to Elissa and the members of the Old Meeting House

Fragments for the Fragmented

Lifting the broken Body of Christ, tears in my eyes. Photo by UMNS

Late last week, I was contacted by fellow pastor and blogger Drew “Pastor Mack,” who was planning to write about the communion witness in which I participated at General Conference on May 3. He asked for my permission and to further pick my brain a bit, which I gladly granted, and I feel that his resulting post was a fair representation of what I said.

I subsequently posted his link on my facebook page, and followed the comments there and on his blog. Some common threads emerged, which I would like to engage a little bit further.  A central critique by both Drew and many commenters centers around whether the action (commonly called a protest– I’ll get to that later) was inclusive or exclusive, unifying or divisive, and potentially politicized (in a bad way). All of it centers on what we believe about communion.

So if you will, take a journey with me through some sacramental theology.

Who Can Serve Communion (and When)?

One early response on my facebook page suggested that because the General Conference schedule already offered communion once a day, consecrated by a bishop, that this communion witness on the floor was offensive or divisive. A commenter on Pastor Mack’s blog stated that she assumed in the context of General Conference that only a bishop would be eligible to preside over communion. Both of these statements run counter to how I understand the sacrament of communion. As a sacrament, Eucharist is a sign (and outward and visible sign of an inward, spiritual grace, if I remember my sacramental theology definitions correctly). It is a visible, tangible way of us living out our belief. It is a gift from God to us. Celebrating Eucharist once a year, once a month, once a day, or one hundred times a day cannot diminish the significance or holiness of this act. Any diminished sacredness is in us, not in the sacrament. And any ordained elder is eligible to preside at the communion table. In fact, the effectiveness, so to speak, of the sacrament is not contingent upon the presider, because the one truly offering the Eucharist is God. No one can appropriate or steal communion. I can’t make “mine” what already belongs to God. Whenever two or three gather in Christ’s name, he has promised to be among us; whenever those two or three break bread and share a cup, they remember him. As a means of grace (Methodist church speak word), communion might be the place where those who do not yet know or experience Christ find a moment of grace, a beginning on the journey. As such, no celebration of communion trumps any other. We never know where and how grace might be made known.

Is the Table Open?

“This was communion for a fragment,” one person wrote.

My reply, “No. For the fragmented.”

Several people seemed to feel that this service of communion was a private one, only for the GLBTQ community and their allies. It’s sad to me that people would assume that, and I’m actually not sure why they did. We were a big honking clump of people (what I’ve learned my friend and colleague Elissa calls a “holy blob”) in the middle of a huge room, at a communion table. Once the elements were prayed over, wafers and cups were taken out from the table and offered to those around the room and outside the voting area “bar.” We were presumably all Methodists to some extent, and one of the most powerful and profound points of Methodist theology is the practice of the open table. All are welcome at the table. Always. That doesn’t mean all *feel* welcome at the table, and I can understand if one is not feeling in the spirit to take communion, or not feeling part of the body. Again, that is the spiritual place of the individual, not a reflection on the sacrament.

We did anticipate at some level that people might not feel invited to the table. Those of us who planned the witness wanted to issue an invitation, but didn’t want to “mic check” it, so we went with song. What we would have loved to sing was “Welcome” (all are welcome in this place/all of us are welcome here), but while we had the, ahem, magnificent songwriter Mark Miller in our midst, we had no piano, and it’s a harder tune to carry if not everyone knows it really well. We also ruled out “One Bread, One Body,” because the marked contrast between the preceding vote and the words of all of us being one with differences washed away was a bit too much. So we sang “Let us break bread together.” Together. Lord, have mercy on us.

Anyway, it is again counter to my very understanding of the sacrament of communion to ever presume that a table at a Methodist gathering is closed. Our communion table is always open– well, always open on one side, the receiving side. On the side of the presider, we have a closed communion table, but that’s the big question isn’t it?

Now, I have been on the other end of things, and been invited to a worship service where it would be rude not to attend, but where it was made clear I would not be welcome at the communion table. It was in the context of a Roman Catholic colleague renewing his vows to his order, and it was known that I was a former catholic now Methodist candidate for ministry. I had felt that this had been thrown in my face a few times recently, and was hurting, and in thinking about going to the service, realized that I wanted to go up to the altar with my hands outstretched and make the priest look me in the face and deny me the body and blood of Christ. Out of my own pain and anger. I chose not to attend the service, rather than either sit sullenly in the pew or come to the table of the Lord out of spite. This illustrates both the importance to me of the open table, and leads me to our next question.

In What Spirit Should We Preside Over & Take Communion?

This is not a protest. This is a sacrament. photo by UMNS

I hear the word protest a lot, associated with the action on the floor at General Conference on May 3.

There was a protest that same day. It happened just a little later, and I participated in that too, although less visibly and less stridently. When the people who were on the floor around the communion table refused to leave, when they prevented the business of the conference from resuming with their presence and their singing (“What does the Lord Require of You?”), that was an act of protest.

It followed on the heels of an act of witness. An observation of a sacrament. A moment of prayer and worship, offered publicly and in response to a public vote, but not as a way of swaying anyone or articulating any message apart from what is always articulated in communion: our brokenness and God’s grace.

Pastor Mack wrote, “no matter what our divisions, some things should remain sacred. This should be true, most of all, for the Lord’s Table.” Another commenter described the use of the elements of communion as “props” in a political scheme.

At the same time, many people who were present in Tampa and those who were watching from the live stream describe their experience of the moment as spiritual, powerful, prophetic, or pastoral. One person wrote: “You all stayed and performed an act of Christian faith that reached across the world through this picture. You hallowed our denomination by this holy act performed in the center of a broken place.”

Much of this seems to hinge on the spirit in which the communion was offered and received. Was it offered out of anger? Taken out of spite? Lifted up to drive home a point? Some saw it this way. I knew there was a danger of that.

But, as I wrote and as Drew quoted on his blog, those who decided to offer communion in that moment saw it as  “one standout example of what it means, theologically and spiritually, to live in the broken but believe in the whole and hope for the future we cannot see. Was there ever greater brokenness than the division, distrust, and ungodliness that led to Christ’s sacrifice? Is there any better example of how the broken becomes whole than the bread shared, the cup poured out to make us one?” Elsewhere, “what we decided was that the moment, no matter how the vote went, would be one of brokenness and deep pain for roughly half the room no matter what. And yet, in this brokenness and division, we are still one, and we still believe that God is able to bring healing, indeed salvation, out of the deepest pain and division.”

Even Drew acknowledges this in a comment, before restating that the “private” nature of the action (see above) was what he took issue with: “It is always a broken body that gathers at the table, and always one desperately in need of grace…”

Not everyone was in the same spirit that day. Are we ever when we celebrate the Eucharist? For me and for many, the act was one of deepest reverence, a witness and testimony to the belief in a God of justice and liberation, compassion and deep grace, in a world that has not always demonstrated those traits.

Can Communion Be (Over) Politicized?

This brings us to the most common critique I have heard following the May 3 witness: communion should never be political.

Now, I went to Boston University School of Theology, so all my theology has a strong social justice theme laced through it, for the better if you ask me, and all of my understandings are peppered with a preference for the radical, political, earth-shaking nature of Christ’s life and ministry. Jesus was a consummate political strategist. He was a master of metaphor, using story and parable, and reinterpreting ritual and pomp to articulate a new worldview, one we call the Reign of God. This is not a bad thing. I’m not saying Jesus was a politician in the way we think of our politicians today– sleazy, selfish, pick a disparaging adjective. Nor am I claiming that Jesus manipulated the people around him (although all speech, particularly rhetorical, prophetic speech, is manipulative in the best possible way). Rather, what I am saying is that Jesus was a savvy, brilliant man, who used the secular and religious rituals and symbols of his day to cast his vision, and who flipped and reframed the symbols around him into vessels for the Gospel he was preaching.

Consider the triumphant entry into Jerusalem (see Borg and Crossan, The Last Week), a dramatic and brilliant reimagining of the Roman governor’s show of might and worldly power the week of the Passover. Jesus flips this pomp and circumstance on its head, riding into Jerusalem on a donkey rather than a war horse, surrounded by children and peasants with palm branches rather than soldiers with spears. That’s not an accident. That’s brilliant political symbolism. Choose this day, his actions scream: who is your King? Under whose Reign will you live?

So when we come to the Last Supper, we also can’t ignore the religious symbolism Jesus is playing with here. It’s a Seder, a central focus of the Passover observance, a time of reflecting on suffering and bitterness, on God’s deliverance. Jesus layers on top of this ritual a new meaning– the present suffering and that which is about to strike the disciples, the tears and sweat that will be shed, the blood that will be spilled, not to mark a doorpost, but to seal a heart. He creates a new Body, a new people of God, and he enacts a new covenant, signed with his own sacrifice. Then he throws himself on the mercy– or lack thereof– of his enemies, refusing to meet their violence with violence, offering forever a different Way to live and serve and die, in service to the Holy, out of love for the broken.

That’s beautiful, human, pastoral, Divine, tender, daring, spiritual, theological… and it’s also political. And communion remains political to this day. In the moment of the Eucharist, we remember what Jesus did and who he was, we proclaim his victory in the face of the world’s violence and the crushing weight of sin, and we envision the Reign of God that is a completely different spiritual, social, and political system than anything the world knows. When we hold up the bread and cup, we also hold up another Way.

Communion sets a table in the misdt of the world’s power and proclaims a new kin-dom. Communion says all when the world says some. Communion says whole when the world says broken. What’s more political than proclaiming Christ’s reign in the midst of the world’s power? What’s more political than saying all are invited to the banquet when the world teaches the wealthy and powerful 1% get the feast, and the poor must beg for crumbs?

And so to the charge of allowing communion to speak its political message, a message of wholeness in the midst of the fragmented, of liberation for all the oppressed, of unity in a moment of deep division, of hope for those who have been trod under, of welcome and inclusion for all– most especially for those who were told yet again that their lives and loves are incompatible with the Gospel when nothing could be further from the truth, of peace and healing and love and tenderness from and through a body that has allowed violence and hatred to fester in its heart– to the charge of allowing communion to be political, I plead guilty. And may I be guilty of that for many years to come.

Reflections on Romero

A final comparison has frequently been made in this conversation: the links to Archbishop Oscar Romero, the visionary and prophetic martyr for justice, who was shot to death in his mission field in San Salvador the week after Easter, 1980, just as he turned to the altar to celebrate the Eucharist.

Now I am no Oscar Romero (nor, I must emphatically state, am I suggesting above that I’m Jesus of Nazareth), and much of the theological reflection surrounding Romero and communion comes from his Roman Catholic tradition. However, I too have Roman Catholic roots, and the sacramental theology of sacrifice and witness as linked to the Eucharist resonates strongly with me.

In this 2001 essay, “Dying for the Eucharist or Being Killed by It”,  William Cavanaugh explores the links between martyrdom (from Greek, “witness”) and communion. He cites Romero’s decision to hold one Mass in the entire archdiocese the week following the assassination of Rutilio Grande, effectively “forcing” the body to commune together. Cavanaugh writes: “Romero intended the one eucharist to be an anticipation of the kingdom, of the day when rich and poor would feast together, of the day when the body of Christ would not be wounded by divisions… Under these circumstances, the single mass also served to illumine and to judge the ongoing divisions between rich and poor. The single mass, just like the martyrs, did not create conflict, but rather shone a light on it and revealed the truth about it.”

Like Pastor Mack, Cavanaugh ties this conversation about the meaning of communion to Paul’s words in the first Letter to the Corinthians about “discerning the body” as an important criteria for receiving communion in the proper spirit. Cavanaugh writes, “Discerning the body must mean being able to identify truthfully where the body is not whole, where divisions exist.” You see, breaking bread in the midst of the broken is not a failure to discern the body, but a proper response to it. To break the bread and deny the brokenness in the body, that, Cavanaugh claims (and I agree), is a failure to discern the Body of Christ in all its messy complexity.

Cavanaugh continues:

Fortunately, our eucharistic communion gives us hope that this is not the final word. Besides shining a light on the divisions that exist, discerning the body includes an exercise in dissolving those divisions, blurring the lines between “them” and “us.” In the body of Christ, Paul continues to tell the Corinthians, people are distinguished from each other, not by class or race or nationality, but by charisms given them by the Holy Spirit. Each has a different role to play in the service of the whole, and the weakest members are the most indispensable, to be treated with the greatest honor. Therefore, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it” (1 Cor 12:26). The eucharist gives us hope by helping us to discern the deep reality that all people are members or potential members of the body of Christ. The body of Christ transgresses artificial national borders that separate the United States from El Salvador or Iraq.

That is the truth I hope I lifted up on May 3, in an act of worship, prayer, and witness. By naming the division and brokenness in the body and refusing to sweep it under the rug, but choosing instead to stand in the very heart of that brokenness, I hope I was part of God’s reminder to all people: no matter how much we tear at each other, no matter how divided, no matter how vile our treatment of our siblings in Christ who are GLBTQ is, this division is not an act of God. Violence, oppression, hatred, bigotry, ignorance, apathy, and holier-than-thou piety are not acts of God. Scheming and manipulation and infighting and vote counting are not acts of God. Weaving the broken and whole together, drawing the circle wider than human arms can reach, extending forgiveness and grace that are never warranted or earned, casting a vision of a more radical, more inclusive kin-dom than the world can possibly imagine, this is God’s work, and the work to which Christ’s Body is called.

May we remember. Not to simply call to our minds. To reflect– and by reflect I mean as a mirror– the life and witness of Christ. May we relive and retell and re-be the Body, broken and whole, the life poured out for the world. Every time we break the bread and share the cup, we proclaim a victory, we offer ourselves as a sacrifice alongside Christ, and we re-member his fragmented yet gloriously whole Body.

Link Love – DreamUMC

Here’s a great article about our DreamUMC conversation. Our next chat is in a week: May 28, 9 pm Eastern (not 10 pm, as initially stated in the article).

I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…

Monday night was magic.

We had our first Twitter Chat for #DreamUMC, the conversation born out of the strong desire to keep shaping the future of our denomination in the wake of General Conference. You can read the full archive of the chat here, or you can view bullet points of answers to the questions we discussed (and some unofficial demographic info) at the facebook page.

First of all, wow! There were 171 people tweeting, and many many more I know who were “lurking,” or as I call it, actively listening. We sent 1,272 tweets, not including retweets. That’s a lot of conversation in an hour! Although dominated by younger voices, the conversation spanned generations, came down fairly even on gender representation, included voices of clergy, laity, and folks between the two, and crossed the U.S. pretty well. We have some work to do yet on inviting the voices of persons of color and reaching out to hear our siblings in the movement from around the world. But there is a lot of energy for movement and hope in this body.

Especially as the conversation got started, what was amazing to me was the passion of the participants. Here, ten days after General Conference ended, people were still filled with pain, regret, brokenness, and grief. Here, despite the brokenness and raw pain, people were still filled with vision and hope and excitement for the future of the United Methodist movement. Such deep pain and deep joy, woven together often in the same person, speaks volumes for the vibrancy and heart of the UMC. As the conversation concluded, the call to continue and progress in our work together was overwhelming and joy-filled. I have rarely felt more in the presence of the Holy Spirit doing a new thing, and never while staring at pixels on a screen.

Reflecting on the conversation, I want to try to synthesize what I heard. We asked three questions, and some themes emerged from the responses.

Question 1: What did you learn/take away from General Conference 2012?

In response to this question, this is where I experienced a lot of pain and brokenness. Many tweets lifted up a new or renewed understanding of our  division as a denomination, and several spoke directly about lack of trust. One person wrote “Trust issues abound and we have no idea how to heal them.” Others spoke of the power imbalance in the denomination, and disillusionment with this power. “Manipulation (from all parties and sides) carries more influence than Holy Conferencing.” Many tweets lamented the legislative process, and how it seems to be in the way of the true work of the Spirit and the forward movement of the church. “Movements cannot be legislated,” one wrote, and another: “it is wrong to expect reform to happen @ the structural level.”

Many people lifted up both the blessing and challenge of being a global church– or as I’ve recently had reframed for me (in this excellent post by Wes Magruder), an international church that wants to be a global church. The beauty and diversity of the global Methodist movement breaks down when we try to articulate theology and polity across radically different contexts. As one person put it, “I learned that theology is contextual and structure probably ought to be too.”

Still others took away hope from the General Conference. “God is not finished with the UMC!” was a frequent refrain. People celebrated new connections and friendships, and the sense of not being alone, in either the feeling of sorrow or the passion for ministry we share. Many celebrated the desire for change and the opportunity for conversation and hope. Much as we may try to Methodologize  (think I made that up) our movement, that doesn’t stop the Holy from breaking in. As one person wrote: “even when we think all hope is gone, the Spirit has a tendency to show up and surprise us!”

My husband snapped a picture as I got ready for the chat. He informed me that the glasses were a must.

Question 2: How has this new knowledge changed your Dream (vision or hope) for the United Methodist Church?

The next time I am feeling discouraged about the state of the world in general or the church in particular, I promise myself that I will read through these answers again, or just ask a fellow dreamer to tell me their dream for the UMC. These answers were beautiful. Still much pain laced through them, but such amazing and faithful dreams.

Broken dreams were named: “I’m struggling to see how a schism will be avoided,” one person wrote. In another place, a participant would add “I think it’s already happened.” Trust issues were raised again: “I now realize that in order to move forward, we need greater trust. Far too many folks became us vs. them.”

The need for localized contextual ways of being the church was named and lifted. One person summarized this feeling well: “I have become much more in favor of regionalism/contextualism. Annual conferences and local congregations need to be unbound,” while another wrote “I wouldn’t have understood it before #GC2012, but I’m all for a US central conference now.”

Many, many of these dreams envisioned openness and inclusivity for all people, some naming especially the GLBTQ community, but many leaving a wide-open statement– regardless of any division. “I am now even more passionate and committed to building relationships across cultures and other barriers…without agenda,” one participant wrote. Another said, “I (continue to) dream/hope that the UMC will be UNITED, but in our diversity, not just our name.”

The dreams included a deep need for personal transformation and formation as disciples, and the hope that personal transformation would expand out into a transformed way of being and relating to one another. “It has made me more determined to teach Wesleyan theology, more determined to share Wesleyan formation, less fearful,” said one tweeter, while another wrote that we need “less ‘fixing,’ more constructive listening and discerning what a holy life and life together may be.”

In this part of the conversation, one person wrote that General Conference convinced them to go all-in and seek ordination, to get deeply into the system and work for change. Another wrote that GC convinced them to abandon the ordination track and fully embrace and claim the power of lay leaders within the church for transformation. It struck me as wonderful that both articulate a sense of transformation and purpose and calling, and it highlights for me that the call to ministry has to do with our gifts and passion, not our titles or position on the laity-clergy spectrum.

Question 3: What’s one achievable change that would make the UMC a bit closer to the church you dream about?

Here the conversation was at its most powerful for me, as people’s passion was channeled into positive, practical visioning. What I learned is that there are lots of people who see the same way forward I do (I think it has a lot to do with contextualizing our theology and practice, through some form of national or regional central conferences for the U.S.), there are many people who have other or additional creative ideas for transformation. Nothing gives me more hope than passionate people who also can think proactively.

Wordle WordCloud of the Q3 answers (online here)

There were many cries for a U.S. Central Conference, something for which I’ve never heard a huge groundswell of support before. But as I mentioned earlier, the tension of trying to live globally (not internationally) amid massive cultural differences really tied our hands and hearts at this conference. One person put it this way: “A US Central Conference free to set our own standards around the issues that divide the global church. That is it.” Another wrote, “Ditto, US central conference. &, quit trying to motivate US church w fear. Motivate w love (good news).”

Many spoke to the need for refocused ministry efforts at the “church” level, and one person emphasized that we need to “expand our idea of ‘church’ to include non-conventional forms of ministry (campus ministry, non-profits, on tap groups, etc).” Another sumarized this need, saying: “invest in the local church, focus less on ad campaigns and expensive meetings and more on the work of the people.”

Still more voices lifted up the need for justice-seeking local ministries: “quit trying to legislate for holiness and rather emphasize social holiness,” said one, and another, “go back to some of our roots of leading social change instead of following it.”

I was especially heartened by the numbers of people describing a need for deeper theological education and spiritual formation at all levels of the church. One participant wrote of the church’s need for “much more serious commitment to Wesleyan theological education. We need more curriculum based on theology AND context.” Another put it this way: “new emphasis on practical theology at local & general church level, a theology of ‘doing’ church-aka being the body of Christ.” This theological formation– from the grassroots up, not the top down!– impacts our entire way of being as a movement. Said one individual: “Return to Wesleyan tradition. more local autonomy, more Lay leadership, prevailing GRACE, full inclusion, I could go on.”

Very practical, short term suggestions called for the elimination of dashboard metrics tools: “Dashboards (obsession only with the quantitative) creates a distorted view of kingdom building that is consumer driven.” Others called for term limits for bishops and for delegates to General Conference. And of course, there was a call to reinstate the Conference Cookies.

One participant invited us to dream up “a radically different way to do GC2016. I have no idea what that looks like, but we need to start imagining now.”

Many goals were personal and connectional, speaking to the heart of what Methodism is, in my opinion. Some were general: “Encourage more collaboration & working together rather than fighting against each other.” Others much more personal: “I’d really like to be in meaningful conversation with our sisters and brothers in Central Conferences.” Still others focused on the #DreamUMC conversation itself as a place where change needs to happen: “reach out to my CC friends and people of color to make sure that the tweet chat has a wider range of voices.”

One person concluded with a simple goal, “Stop worrying about our fears….just do ministry….” I’ve found that at any level of ministry, this is the best advice.

Conclusion & Looking Ahead

For many of us, this conversation was only the beginning. As the hour drew to a close, people expressed joy and hope through the process, “It’s like a Holy Spirit wave!” one person wrote, and I agree. Another person wrote that Twitter gave them a whole new understanding of Pentecost, and I can’t help but see how much of this conversation, and the form in which it is happening, will shape my sermon for that holiday next week. I concluded the time feeling uplifted, hopeful, and heard (which is ironic, since as moderator, I kept most of my opinions to myself– a challenge for this raging extrovert). And I felt and feel deeply blessed to be part of a church and a movement filled with so many passionate people who love and serve Christ in radical, hope-filled, life-changing ways.

We plan to chat again in two weeks, on Monday May 28th, 9 pm eastern.

And as often as we need to in order to equip ourselves, organize our thoughts, and hold one another up in grace and hope.

Sermon: Tell God Your Plans (GC2012)

Lifting the bread and cup. Photo from UMNS

“Tell God Your Plans”

(May 13, 2012) Reflecting on the United Methodist Church’s General Conference, much of it seemed to me to be a lesson in how God works outside of our plans, expectations, and categories. In the face of a wily and wild Holy Spirit, who refuses to be contained by little things like place of origin or status as delegate, who is willing to withhold the grace of God from those upon whom the Spirit has been poured? (Acts 10:44-48)

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powerfully present in spirit with me today were the people who had been with me in the moment, and/or who had helped me with some sermon crafting details. Most especially: Gregory (for lifting the cup), Leigh, Steve, JoAnn and Annie (for weeping with me– on camera), Jeremy S, Karen O and Laura Y (for information now as then), my NE delegation and UNY “step” delegation and volunteers (for being you), Kristen, Justin, and Chett (for laughter through tears), and Sean (for friendship that doesn’t fit inside parentheses).

I used a handful of photos on screen during the sermon, illustrating the chaos, brokenness, and tears of General Conference.

Non-delegates just outside the bar. Photo by UMNS

The progressive ad hoc caucus huddles at the communion table (picture from afar by Laura Young)

Steve and Leigh Dry do the only thing one can do in the face of such brokenness. Photo by UMNS

JoAnn, Annie, and I share communion in the midst of the Body’s brokenness. Photo from the UMNS.

I’m still here

(I know, a pig the other day, and bulls now…)

And that’s a choice.

I’m a Taurus (in fact– shameless plug for well wishes– my birthday is tomorrow). If you believe anything at all about astrology, that should tell you that I am stubborn. Perhaps my decision yet again to remain United Methodist in the wake of the past two weeks is simply a manifestation of my inner bullish nature.

I hope it’s more than that.

I wrote a while back about why I’ve remained United Methodist so far, and most of those reasons remain. However, of the four points I listed, two were challenged: our understanding of grace came up for a vote and passed by a measly 53%, and our use of interpretive lenses (the “quadrilateral”) was scheduled for a vote and never made it to the floor. A third point has been significantly diminished: by removing guaranteed appointment, the church eliminates a safeguard that has protected women and persons of color in ministry for years.

The theology I love about United Methodism remains, for now. Prevenient grace. Unconditional love. Personal and social holiness. The structure that allows for our ministry remains, for now. General Boards and Agencies that equip local churches. Democratic organization. Lifting many voices.

But what also remains, and can never fully be expunged, is the tremendous harm the UMC does to people at the margins, most especially in this time and place, to persons in the GLBTQ community. This isn’t a political conversation or an issue to debate. These are my friends, people as close to me as family. These are names and faces, arms that hold me when I weep broken-hearted onto their shoulders and laps when it’s really them who deserve to be weeping. Tears I have shared and dried when they let the safety walls down for a minute. Hands I have held, sweaty-palmed, while votes were cast. Laughter and hope I have shared in small miracles, or as a way to chase away the shadows of sorrow.

At some point, one wonders, when does my continued engagement in a body that can be so abusive signal my complicity with that abuse?

Some of you are bold enough to ask me that (and know that I can hear it and love you and trust in your love for me, still). Some of you haven’t asked but wonder, maybe, if I think it. I do.

So why am I still here?

Not theologically, but personally.

I could be UCC. I’ve got a lot of friends in that denomination, and I bet they’d help me get in. I’d even get some control over how often I move. I could join the voices calling for churches, or conferences, or jurisdictions to declare themselves independent. We could be the United Methodist Church of New England. Or the Northern Methodist Church.

But I’m still here.

I’m giving it one more try, in part because of the hope I named. There are two reasons:

1. Because I can. That’s not meant to be flip; I’m deadly serious. For many of my friends, remaining is not an option. When the abuse is lobbed at you personally, it comes to the point when it may be time to go. But since it’s not me, I can stay and fight for inclusion. And because I can, I kind of feel that I should.

2. I’m not leaving anyone behind if I can help it. If I get out, my church, my conference, my jurisdiction, where does that leave my congregants, my colleagues around the connection, my friends in the Southeast Jurisdiction? As one aforementioned tear-bedecked dear one reminded me, I’m staying around to be there for the GLBT babies straight Methodists keep having, to baptize them, teach them, serve them communion, and doggone it marry them.

If we can find a way to stay connected, to be the church I love, to find and articulate those thing that are essential, where we seek unity, maybe we can all give each other the freedom to live and serve as one diverse body. And that’s better for everybody, I hope.

So maybe this one last time, I’m giving my all for a church that practices the grace we say we believe in, and that orders itself with love and compassion around Wesley’s rule to do no harm and do all the good we can, and I hope we can someday live into his invitation: “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.”

Diary of a Delegate: in the end, Hope.

In the Greek myth of Pandora’s Box (from Hesiod’s Works and Days), Pandora opens a container from which all the world’s evils spill, never to be contained. But there is a glimmer of possibility, because last of all things in the box is the most powerful force: hope.

Perhaps for those of you who attended or followed General Conference with me, that’ll preach.

As my earlier posts attest, there were all manner of ills that spilled out of the box of General Conference, and by Friday morning I was counting down the hours until I could go home and plot my exit strategy from my beloved denomination. I could no longer live in a church that would silence voices, consolidate power, diminish grace, bargain away accountability, tread upon biblical interpretive lenses, and call my friends incompatible and worse.

But last out of the box, from a most unlikely place, hope.

The creative chaos that ensued after the Judicial Council struck down Plan UMC was a breath of fresh air. And we all know that breath, wind, and Spirit are the same, right? Ruah. Pastor Deb, from North Broadway UMC (a friend on Facebook) described it, saying, “Divine creation loves holy chaos. There was a Spirit of freedom in the room…” Indeed there was.

What was so perfect about that moment was that what we’d been feeling and saying all along was proven true: there actually is something inherently un-Methodist about consolidating power in the hands of a few, and people don’t tend to like big huge plans that are made without their voice and involvement, especially in a movement that was once upon a time so grassroots.

But we all agree– change is needed. And it’s clear now that this change can’t be hierarchical, can’t be made by one or two people behind closed doors, and can’t be limited to any particular group, with some token demographics thrown in. Change has to be transformational from the inside out, from the grassroots up. Change has to be transparent and invitational, with many voices at the table. Change has to be free and freeing.

And #dreamUMC was born.

All over twitter, this is what people were clamoring for. Young people, yes, but people of all ages. GLBTQ and allied people yes, but people from all demographics. Women, people of color, progressives, moderates (lovers of the Adam Hamilton Amendment, which I now call AHA), and yes, even some conservative caucasian looking males.

We all want a conversation about the future of the UMC, what it should look like, how it should be shaped, and how we get there. And we all want a voice in it. And the chaos in the void of a defunct plan gives us the space for the Spirit we need to have it.

This isn’t a young people thing. Oh sure, we’re kind of starting it, and it’s on twitter, which is our sandbox in many ways. But see, the thing is, we objected to plans that were made without our voices, so we’re not going to silence anyone else’s. And speaking as a progressive, I object to the marginalization of many unique voices; I’m not going to push aside a theologically diverse voice at this table.

Here’s where we will start: next Monday night at 9 pm Eastern time, we will have a TwitterChat. If you’ve never done this before, you just need to sign up for twitter and search the hashtag (that’s the little # followed by word/s) #dreamUMC. You may also want to follow the account @DreamUMC (you can also “like” us on Facebook). At 9 Eastern, we will have a prayer and then ask some questions for an hour. I’ll start with something like “what did you take away from this general conference?” Over time, with monthly chats, we hope to build a conversation around what is needed for the future. We may one day craft legislation or make a motion, but for now, we want to have a conversation– a conversation as big and broad as twitter can manage.

You’re invited. Whoever you are. We are trying to build a United Methodist Church that has room and freedom for all voices, and springs from the Spirit’s leadings. If that speaks to you, come speak with us.

We have a window, a light at the end of the tunnel, a sliver of hope at the end of all other things. This is the time to dream.

I close with some of aforementioned Pastor Deb’s observations, used with her permission:

• The body has taken authority and the reformation of our structure will be driven by vitality at the congregational level that is contextual and incarnational. Vital congregations cannot be legislated, or mandated, or created by statistical reporting. The Spirit has begun to empower the people.
• The attempt of a few people to write a plan for the whole denomination from their social location of power and privilege has been soundly refuted. We are a connectional church, and our connectional structure worked at a very critical moment in our life.
• A great deal of time and money was wasted over the past 4 years by people preparing a plan that placed too much power in the hands of too few people. There was an arrogance on behalf of those who prepared this plan, and their efforts to exclude the voices of the less powerful did not prevail.
• Those who support a church that fully affirms and includes GLBT persons will begin to live in disobedience to the formal authority of the church. 40 years is long enough to wait for permission to do the right thing. The pledge many of us made to uphold The Discipline while disagreeing with it will be refuted. It is time for organized, thoughtful, sacred disobedience.
• There are young leaders in this church who have a better idea for restructuring and reformation. They’re already planning to meet on Twitter, (a radically open forum) and you can expect some enabling legislation from them at the 2016 G. C. Closed door deals between powerful people will not shape the church of the future.

It is a good time to be a United Methodist. I do not think it will be an easy time. The backlash will be fierce. But I do believe that the Spirit of God, free and radical and creative, might have captured again the heart of the people called United Methodist. I pray that many will join in “occupying” the church with risk taking, bar crossing, rule breaking ministry that brings the good news of God’s love in Jesus Christ to many, many new people.

Diary of a Delegate: rebuttal – Some More Equal than Others

I received a comment on my last post (and have received several mentions on Twitter) decrying my efforts with my colleagues as overly political, pushing an agenda, and even Machiavellian or Orwellian. My commenter wrote: “The only totalitarianism is the ‘progressive’ caucus forcing their will on the rest of the church. Disgraceful.”

Let me be clear: this was indeed a wild, crazy, political, how-the-sausage-gets-made, messy jumble. But if you’re looking for the “some are more equal than others” agenda, you are barking up the wrong side of the barn, my friends.

Make no mistake: the progressives were not the only ones caucusing, strategizing, and trying to make sure their “agenda” made it to the floor. We were not the only ones who huddled at the 4:15 break or the dinner hour. We were not the only ones who had been working for ten days to try to mold the United Methodist Church into the vision to which we believe God has called it.

We may be the only ones willing to blog about it, however.

I will not accuse my colleagues from differing theological perspectives of nasty politics. I will say however, that they had meetings out on the floor and behind closed doors. They were organized. They had powerful people and blocks of voters on their sides. They were, for nine and a half days, unstoppable. Their agenda– an agenda of silencing dissent, whitewashing minority voices, consolidating oversight (which we have learned is patently unconstitutional) and solidifying power in conservative demographics– was very clear and very much in force.

Let me share with you my agenda, particularly in the final evening, but really throughout the General Conference. I can only speak for myself, but I believe it was and is shared by many:

1. Provide for the ministries of the United Methodist Church to function well for the next 4 years. This includes equipping the general boards and agencies or whatever their successor bodies are with the resources and people they need to continue to be a vital voice and resource for our church.

2. Protect the voices of women, persons of color, the GLBTQ community (such voice as it has), and any others pushed to the margins. This includes advocating for a strong and thriving GCORR and COSROW.

3. Propose legislation that does no harm or mitigates harm. Oppose and try to prevent legislation that does harm.

4. Maintain a space in the United Methodist Church for social justice and prophetic preaching.

5. Whenever and however possible, cultivate space for all voices in the conversations, so that people are engaged in the process and the shaping of the future of their church. This includes a commitment to transparency and the honesty with which I blog about our process.

6. Stay within the proposed, smaller quadrennial budget, so as not to harm local churches in their ability to do ministry. Because…

7. In all things, remember that what GC does and how the UMC is formed matters only in so far as it equips local churches for the vital, transformational, contextual ministry they do. We have to help and not hinder churches in reaching more and more diverse people, lifting up principled and equipped leaders, being in ministry across socioeconomic, political, ethnic, gender, etc divides, and reaching out in mission to meet the needs of our global family. Or, you know, make and nurture disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the church and the world.