…or at least, that’s what it felt like. It felt like everyone had been run over by a truck when General Conference 2019 ended yesterday. No one was celebrating. There was nothing to celebrate. Everyone was tired. Everyone was emotional. Everyone was grieving. Everyone!
Here’s a summary as I understand it:
- The Traditional Plan (which retains the current language of the Discipline & attempts to strengthen enforcement) passed the General Conference.
- A “Disaffiliation” petition (basically a “gracious exit” plan) passed the General Conference.
- Addressed some pension issues requested by the General Board of Pensions and Health Benefits in case clergy or churches leave the denomination.
That’s pretty much it, and all it took was four days, and all it cost was nearly $4 million dollars. We got our money’s worth in weariness and brokenness.
Of course, everything that was done was referred to the Judicial Council for review, so it remains to be seen if anything at all was accomplished. Some parts will be ruled constitutional. Others will not. Only after the Judicial Council rules will we know for sure. In a nutshell, what was done may end up being purely symbolic with nothing practical (except the pension resolutions) resulting.
Was the symbolism worth it? Probably not, except to quantify on record the divisions that exist within the UMC. That division could have been quantified at General Conference 2016, but the General Conference chose to delay it.
My heart hurts this morning for the United Methodist Church. My heart hurts for those in the LGBTQI+ community who feel threatened or harmed by the actions of the General Conference. My heart hurts for the clergy and lay persons who are in ministry to the entire hurting church, who themselves are hurting. My heart hurts for the many, many long-time relationships that seem so horribly broken in this moment. My heart hurts for these leaders in the UMC that now return to their local congregations and must interpret what happened while focusing on the mission of making disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. My heart hurts that we are not of one mind as the body of Christ.
All week long, and in the week’s leading up to the gathering in St. Louis, we heard a lot about the Holy Spirit doing a new thing among the people called Methodist. The different groups within the UMC continued to call upon one another to listen for the Holy Spirit, surely it would be the Spirit who would unite us. We prayed. We fasted. We worshiped. We prayed some more. Yet, nobody moved. The percentages were pretty much the same as they were in 2016.
Were none of us attentive to the Holy Spirit? Perhaps the Holy Spirit really is wanting to do a new thing among people called Methodist. Perhaps nobody heard the Holy Spirit because we were praying for the wrong thing. Perhaps the Holy Spirit was trying to tell us all along that the unity we were seeking goes far beyond a denominational label…that the unity we seek is found in Jesus Christ alone…and that unity goes far beyond the denominational boundary of United Methodism. Perhaps, all along the Holy Spirit was trying to tell us that it’s time for a new birth of the Wesleyan movement, and the only way that can occur is through death and resurrection. Well, it is for certain that you do have to have a death before you can have a resurrection.
Please don’t take that sentiment as advocacy for a denominational split, but it is an admission that something new may be given life out of this desperate brokenness. Already, there are some in the UMC who are calling for a new expression of Methodism that is open and inclusive. Perhaps that’s what the Holy Spirit was after all along, and we had to come to the end of ourselves before we could realize the fact. It’s only when we’ve come to the end of ourselves that we’re able to meet Jesus. It’s only when we’ve come to the end of ourselves that Jesus, through the power of the Holy Spirit, is able to transform us into His likeness.
I was up early this morning, praying and drinking coffee (those two go together, by the way). In my reflections this morning, I attempted to recall an experience that I disliked more than I disliked this General Conference. I’ve come to the conclusion that it was not the worst experience of my life, but it is close. The time in St. Louis was emotionally, mentally and physically exhausting (and I am a supporter of the Traditional Plan). I can only imagine how supporters of the other plans must feel.
I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I know I’m not the only one. If you happen to be in the St. Louis airport this morning and you see a bunch of people with tread marks on their clothes, they’re United Methodists. Those monster trucks that were supposed to follow us in the Dome at America’s Center, well…they apparently arrived early.
Until next time, keep looking up…