I went on a date tonight and at one point he asked me what kind of hobbies I had and I rattled off the easy ones: reading, travel, cooking, television etc. but then I felt like my list wasn’t sufficient enough and I mini-panicked and was like, “Oh, shit what are my other hobbies?”
And I could literally hear Leslie Knope’s voice in my head:
Dispatches from the Church Front: my church is meeting next month to pick a side in the ordination & marriage of LGTBQ persons...it’s gonna be a clusterf*ck
I really don’t know what is going to happen or what I’ll choose to do once the decision comes down...stay or go?
I’m talking about the United Methodist Church, which has about 12 million members worldwide, 7 million in the United States.
Christianity at-large is flourishing in the Global South: Latin America, Asia, and Africa (which has about 631 million Christians, making it the continent with the most Christian adherents) while it is floundering in America & Europe. In America, most new Christians are people of color. (x)
Christianity-at-large moves slow and large. Generalizing, in church history there is a major shake-up in worldwide Christianity every 500 years or so. It’s a rummage sale of sorts where old systems are thrown out, who makes up the church changes, and there are major theological shifts. It’s never a single issue - but a set of core issues/factors/historical events that are thematically linked - that spark the change. And those changes ripple outward in the cultures around the church. Like I said, we move slow and large. The kicker? 2017 marked 500 years since the last one (the Protestant Reformation). We’re due. (x)
My Methodist centric-life: Neither of my parents grew up in religious families; when they became Christians they each chose Methodism with a lot of intention. They met at a United Methodist seminary and both became pastors. Eventually my mom went back to school for computer science so then it was just my dad in ministry. Our pastors get moved a lot like soldiers in the military - so we moved about every 4 years to a completely new church and town. The church had been a huge part of my childhood just in the most practical way. I have never wanted to be a pastor. ::skips over long story:: still I earned my masters at a Methodist seminary. I’ve worked for lots of different kinds of churches, but most of that time has been spent in Methodist settings. Today, that is where I work and where I worship. To be thinking of walking away from my church [not my faith] is big and scary, but I feel ready to do it depending on what happens in the next few months.
At the end of February, a called General Conference will happen in St. Louis, MO. General Conference is like the Olympics - it happens every 4 years and everyone shows up for it. The one happening in February is called one - a special one off schedule specifically to deal with our polity and human sexuality.
In America, Methodists have a reputation for being nice. We kinda fall in the middle on the spectrum of church denominations you’ve heard of. We’re not too extreme one way or the other with our beliefs. I don’t say this to flatter ourselves; nice and medium can also be polite ways of saying wishy-washy.
Most Protestant denominations in the US have already picked their side: the Episcopalians, Baptists, Lutherans, Presbyterians, non-denominational/mega churches, etc. We’re the last major denomination to do so.
We’ve been punting on this for my entire life. Our church is made up of conferences - usually one per state - and while technically, our polity (it’s actually called the Book of Discipline because clearly God has a sense of humor) prohibits the ordination and marriage of LGTBQ persons on a practical level that has been at the discretion of the bishops and pastors in each conference. I’m generalizing here but a conference in the South is going to be a very different experience for LGBTQ persons than one in the Pacific Northwest. It’s been a weird holding pattern for decades that is fair to no one and hurts everyone.
Why the are you still part of all this? Well, my faith is Christian and not driven by a denomination’s beliefs or polity. But I’m here because this is part of my family and choosing to leave a part of who you are that is such a core aspect of your identity is never easy. Also, because I’ve been fortunate to be fairly insulated from the conversation. I’m straight raised in a household where our parents told us out loud and with regularity that love is love - you can love whomever you want and we will love you. The Methodist churches I’ve been a part of have been LGTBQ affirming congregations. In college, I participated in a conservative Evangelical church ministry and that was the first time in my entire life I heard a pastor say homosexuality was a sin. I challenged that, but I also stayed because there were other parts of that church community that were good for me. I got to set the issue aside and pretend it wasn’t that big of a deal. Eventually, I left because I couldn’t stand how they viewed women. I knew at the time that my frustration about the way that church treated women was parallel to what was happening to LGBTQ persons. I couldn’t care about one and not the other; it’d make me a hypocrite if I did. I wish I’d seen that more quickly, but it took that experience for me to get that this wasn’t some abstract theological debate - that it affects real people who I need to care about because Jesus already does.
It’s as straight forward as 7 + 5 = 833/78 i.e. next month is going to be a clusterf*ck. In the UMC church there are 5 jurisdictions in the United States and 7 world-wide in Africa, Europe, & the Philippines. From those jurisdictions will be 864 delegates who will be the ones to vote. Those delegates are 50% clergy and 50% lay people, but the number of delegates from each jurisdiction is proportional to church membership & clergy. 504 delegates are from the United States and 360 are from Africa, Europe, & the Philippines. There will also be non-voting delegates from affiliated Methodist denominations in Asia and Latin America. They are autonomous from whatever decisions are made. This isn’t just about the U.S.
Here’s where the numbers tell you this is going to be a clusterf*ck: They say the devil is in the details, right? Well in 2016, at the last General Conference they voted to finally stop sitting on the fence. The decision was to form a committee (GAWD my church loves committees and acronyms) to come up with a few proposals that’d be voted on at this called General Conference in 2019. Just to allow for us to take up the issue - to stop punting and being wishy washy - the vote was razor close. We’re talking 428 to 405. (Some delegates abstained, too) 23 people being the difference one way or the other for 12 million.
Oh but, there are 78 separate proposals for “what to do.” Are you beginning to see why this is going to be a clusterf*ck no matter what happens?
Taking this micro... The plan with the most likely chance of passing would allow individual clergy & churches to pick a side. I think the plan is super flawed for a lot of reasons, but that isn’t the point ::long boring explanation about polity:: If this plan passes some important voting would need to take place at the local level that would affect the people I know and care about. My clergy friends who I went to school with. The church I work for. The institution I earned my degree from. The church where I worship. So on and so on. My worshipping congregation is a medium-sized liberal one. Our pastor has asked for a sabbatical because she’s about to burn out. I’m on the governing board and we had to approve the request or not. She’s an important vote at the local level but if she’s on sabbatical our church’s voice won’t be heard when it might count the most. We approved it of course, but it made for some awkward, hard conversations.
So that’s what is going on in a distant corner of church-land. I don’t know what I’m going to do - truly. I’m waiting to see what happens in February.
I posted on Twitter about a new fic I sent to some friends and this happened, easily the most on brand I’ve ever been: fictional characters and organizing supplies.
Sat at a bar alone today to get work done and drink (cause life is hard, guys), and a few times the cute guy next to me introduced himself and we chatted (I was there awhile so they rotated out). It was low-key and pleasant.
My first thought? Oh, this is what diaphenia means about bars and strangers.
(No worries, code-name-duchess I’m still on board with always bringing a book to a bar.)
Hope your birthday was as wonderful as that time last summer when we went to the Container Store together.
That was a glorious trip. diaphenia was so patient to indulge us. My birthday was wonderful, as are you. So grateful we’re friends. The internet was invented so we could be friends. I’m convinced.
