stewardship

The Cattywampus Episcopacy: A Friendly Question About GMC Bishops

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

There is a word we used back in Jackson Parish when something wasn’t exactly crooked, wasn’t exactly backwards, but somehow didn’t seem put together quite right: cattywampus. I’m not sure that’s how one spells it, but I know it’s how one says it.

I’ve been looking at the new episcopal areas of the Global Methodist Church, approved earlier this year and now being used to elect bishops at its General Conference in South Africa, and I’m having trouble finding a better word.

I should probably establish my credentials—or lack thereof—before going any further. I am not a member of the Global Methodist Church. I am an ordained elder in the Evangelical Methodist Church. However, I spent more than twenty-eight years as a United Methodist pastor, served for a time as a district superintendent, and currently pastor a GMC congregation. I’d call myself an inside-outsider.

I understand the Methodist system. I understand some of the problems the GMC was attempting to correct when it designed its polity. I have friends and former colleagues throughout the denomination. One of the newly elected bishops, Carolyn Moore, and I were seminary classmates. So, please understand, this isn’t an attack on the GMC, nor is it criticism of the eight people elected to serve as bishops.

It is simply a question about structure. And the question is this: Does this seem cattywampus to you?

Trying Not to Rebuild What You Left

I understand at least part of the philosophy behind the GMC’s episcopacy. The Global Methodist Church did not want simply to recreate the United Methodist episcopal system with a new name on the door. That’s understandable.

GMC bishops are intended to function as general superintendents of the whole connection rather than becoming little ecclesiastical rulers over permanent territories. The denomination emphasizes a traveling episcopacy. Its Discipline even provides that episcopal areas do not have to be geographically contiguous and may be international in composition. I get the theological argument. In fact, the international character is intentional: no episcopal area was designed with more than four annual conferences from the same continent.

A bishop is a bishop of the whole church, not merely the bishop of Louisiana, Texas, Georgia, or wherever that bishop happens to be assigned. But here’s where I begin scratching my head. Why does being a bishop of the whole church require having a geographically scattered supervisory assignment? Those are two entirely different things.

A bishop could be a general superintendent of the whole Global Methodist Church while being assigned for a particular term to annual conferences located within a reasonably coherent geographic area. Those ideas aren’t contradictory. In fact, Methodists have been figuring out how to combine connectionalism and geography for a very long time.

This Map Ain’t Mapping

The problem is that theology doesn’t make geography disappear. If a bishop is responsible for annual conferences spread across large portions of the United States and other parts of the world, somebody has to travel between them. That means airline tickets, hotels, meals and ground transportation. It means days spent traveling—sometimes over multiple time zones. It means jet lag. And perhaps most importantly, hours and days in which a bishop is sitting in an airport or airplane rather than actually exercising episcopal ministry.

That raises a stewardship question for me. Local congregations provide the financial support that ultimately makes denominational ministry possible. Every dollar spent moving a bishop from one side of the country—or the world—to another is a dollar that originated somewhere in the offering plates and bank accounts of local churches. If geographically coherent episcopal areas could substantially reduce those costs without compromising the denomination’s theology of episcopacy, why wouldn’t we do that?

Maybe there’s a good answer. I just haven’t heard it yet.

There’s Also the Stewardship of the Bishop

Money isn’t the only thing being entrusted to our stewardship. People are, too. The GMC elected eight bishops in 2026 to six-year terms. Again, that isn’t a criticism of them. I’m 62 years old myself.

Carolyn Moore and I were seminary classmates, so we’re essentially the same age. I have great respect for Carolyn and wish her well in her ministry.

Rev. Dr. Moore has been assigned to Episcopal Area 8, which consists of these annual conferences: 

  • Allegheny West — U.S.
  • North Carolina — U.S.
  • Heartland — U.S.
  • Uganda
  • Kenya
  • Malawi
  • Zimbabwe

That’s three U.S. conferences and four conferences spread from East Africa down into Southern Africa.

I cannot imagine spending the next six years repeatedly flying across multiple time zones, arriving somewhere and immediately being expected to preach, preside, meet with clergy, address problems, make decisions and provide spiritual leadership—then fly home, recover and eventually do it again.

Could I do it? Probably. Would I want a denomination to design my job around doing it repeatedly until I was nearly seventy? That’s a different question.

A six-year episcopal term isn’t necessarily unreasonable. A traveling episcopacy isn’t necessarily unreasonable. International connectionalism certainly isn’t unreasonable. But when you combine six-year terms, extensive travel and intentionally noncontiguous episcopal areas, I wonder whether the pieces fit together as well as the designers intended. In Jackson Parish terminology, things start getting a little cattywampus.

Preserve the Principle Without Creating the Problem

What puzzles me most is that the solution doesn’t seem terribly complicated. Create geographically sensible episcopal areas. Assign bishops to those areas for six-year terms. Maintain strong presiding elders and annual conference leadership. Rotate bishops among episcopal areas when appropriate. And continue teaching clearly that every bishop is a general superintendent of the entire Global Methodist Church rather than the ecclesiastical owner of a particular territory.

What theological principle would that sacrifice? I don’t see one.

A bishop assigned to Louisiana, Arkansas and East Texas would not somehow cease being a bishop of the whole church simply because the conferences under that bishop’s immediate supervision were located near one another. Geographic efficiency doesn’t require theological provincialism. It just requires a map.

Sometimes the Old Guys Did Something for a Reason

This may point toward a larger danger for every new denomination. The GMC was born partly out of dissatisfaction with structures and practices in the United Methodist Church. Consequently, there is an understandable desire to avoid recreating the institution it left behind. But reaction can sometimes become its own form of institutional blindness.

Not everything the UMC did was wrong simply because the UMC did it. Some practices developed because generations of Methodists discovered that they worked. Geographically coherent episcopal areas may be one of them. 

You can reject an unhealthy understanding of episcopal authority without rejecting sensible geography. You can make bishops accountable without making them accumulate frequent-flier miles. You can insist that bishops serve the whole connection without requiring them to spend an unnecessary portion of their ministry getting from one part of the connection to another. And you can build something new without assuming that everything old needs replacing.

A Question From an Inside-Outsider

I don’t have a vote in the Global Methodist Church. I shouldn’t have one, nor do I want one. The GMC will determine its own polity, elect its own leaders and decide how best to deploy them.

But I do have an interest in the question. I pastor a GMC congregation while remaining an elder in another Methodist denomination. Many people I have served alongside for decades now call the GMC home. I genuinely want them to flourish. So, consider this a friendly question from an inside-outsider.

The Global Methodist Church says it wants a leaner, more accountable and more missionally focused denomination. Good. Then every structure ought to be evaluated according to those goals. Does this structure make the best use of the church’s money? Does it make the best use of its bishops’ time? Does it make the best use of their physical and emotional energy? Does it strengthen relationships between bishops, clergy and congregations? And most importantly, does it advance the GMC’s stated mission “to make disciples of Jesus Christ and spread scriptural holiness across the globe”?

If the answer is yes, then perhaps this old Methodist needs someone to explain the map to him.

But if essentially the same theological goals could be accomplished with less money, less travel and less wear and tear on the people we’ve asked to provide episcopal leadership, then perhaps the structure deserves another look. Because sometimes something can be perfectly permissible under the Discipline, carefully thought through by committees, overwhelmingly approved by a General Conference, and still be a little…

cattywampus.

Until next time, keep looking up…

If any of my reflections encouraged or challenged you, follow Not the Perfect Pastor on Facebook for more conversations about faith, ministry, and becoming faithful disciples of Jesus.

The Miracle in a Lunchable…

/ pastorlynnmalone / Leave a comment

Someone asked me recently what is it about being at the beach that draws me in, and I answered that it was a spiritual experience to sit along the shore, especially at night, and listen to the waves crashing against the shore beholding the vastness of the universe above. Not only is it a spiritual experience, but it is humbling, too.

Actually, life is filled with humbling experiences. I pat myself on the back for being a regular at the Monroe Athletic Center, working out, doing cardio, trying to stay healthy. That’s great, and I feel real good about myself until I turn on the TV and the Bowflex guy comes on the commercial with his six-pack abs (yes, those abs he got in only twenty minutes three times a week on the Bowflex), then I look at mine and I’m humbled (and embarrassed!).

Life can be humbling. That’s the context in which we have to view John’s account of the story of the loaves and fishes. That’s okay because it is in the humility of life that we discover the stuff of miracles.

This story, the feeding of the five thousand, is the only miracle Jesus preformed that is recorded in all four Gospels. John’s version of the story of the feeding of the five thousand (or the loaves and fishes, however you chose to reference the encounter) is distinctive in that John’s is the only account that tells us about the little boy. Can we identify with that little boy? Think with me for a moment what it feels like to be a child in a large crowd. It’s intimidating. It’s scary. It’s challenging. It might even be humbling. Here’s this little boy in the middle of a crowd of Pharisees, Sadducees, big burly fishermen, rich people, poor people—5,000 men, John tells us and that doesn’t include the women. Heck, this little boy is not even significant enough to be counted. He is insignificant…almost as if he doesn’t even exist. Is that a humbling experience?

lunchableHe’s not just a little boy, but he’s poor, too. John tells us the loaves were barley loaves. Barley was the grain of the poor because it was the cheapest grain. And, the fish, well, they were sardines. Two little fish and a few slices of pita bread. This was the little boy’s Lunchable. This is what his mother had packed for him when he left home. He is a poor little boy with the worst sort of bread and a couple of sardines. When we understand this, we begin to see the power of the miracle.

The little boy was probably from a nearby village. He might have been out working in the fields or playing with friends when Jesus came by with this large crowd following him. Jesus comes along and the little boy gets caught up in the crowd. It gets late in the day and the crowd starts to stir. Some man (Andrew) comes along and asks for his lunch, “Jesus needs your lunch!” At first, he’s scared, but fear soon turns to pride—this teacher is asking for my lunch. Then, the pride turns to embarrassment as he says, “All I’ve got is my Lunchable—barley loaves and sardines.” It didn’t matter. Jesus took the barley loaves and fish and feed the crowd—maybe ten thousand people in all—and had plenty to spare.

I wonder why John makes mention of the little boy? I’m not sure why he mentions him, but I know the little boy teaches us that even the most insignificant among us possess the stuff of miracles. It was out of what the little boy had that Jesus found the building blocks of a miracle. Jesus desires to use whatever we bring. How many miracles in the world are denied because we won’t offer what we have to Jesus? We have time. We have skills. We have financial resources. We have expertise. We have so much to offer no matter how insignificant we believe ourselves to be.

Offering her little, a lady named Rosa made a difference. The story takes place in hell—Hell’s Kitchen, that is. Hell’s Kitchen is the most dangerous part of New York City. After her conversion, a Puerto Rican woman named Rosa wanted to serve. She didn’t speak a word of English. Through an interpreter, she pleaded with her pastor, Bill Wilson, “I want to do something for God, please!”

“I don’t know what you can do,” he said.

“Please just let me do something for God,” Rosa persisted.

“Okay,” Pastor Wilson said, “I’ll put you on a bus. Ride a different bus every week and just love the kids!”

That’s exactly what Rosa did. That’s how she offered to God the little she had in her own way, and as she had opportunity. In all, she rode 50 different church busses. She would find the saddest looking kid on the bus, sit down, put him or her on her knee, and whisper the only words she knew in English: “I love you, and Jesus loves you!”

After several months, she became particularly attached to one little boy. Because of him, she decided to ride just that one bus so she could be with him on the way to and from Sunday School. The little boy went every week with his sister, but he never said a word. All the way there, Rosa whispered over and over again, “I love you and Jesus loves you!”

The little boy never responded. One day, the bus stopped to let the little boy off at his stop. Before he got off, to Rosa’s amazement, he hugged her and stammered, “I, I, I love you, too!”

That was 2:30 PM. At 6:30 PM that same day, the little boy’s body was found stuffed into a garbage bag and placed under a fire escape ladder. His mother had beaten him to death. The story is unbearably tragic except in knowing that some of the last words he heard was the stuff of miracles. If he knew nothing else, he knew for sure he was loved by at least two people: Jesus and Rosa! Rosa offered her little bit of English, and what do we know that it made an eternal difference in that little boy’s tragic life.

We’re tempted to believe we can’t make a difference in the world. We’re tempted to believe that in the grand scheme of things, we’re just insignificant. We have nothing to offer. We’re not heroes. We don’t draw crowds. We don’t get press. But, here, too, God uses the insignificant, the overlooked, the little.

Jesus points out in the story, “not enough” is never the final answer. Because, when placed in the hands of Jesus, our human weakness becomes more than enough! Do we believe this? An African proverb says, “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try spending the night in a closed room with a mosquito.”

It is truly miraculous, when we allow God to work through us. We should never get in the way of God’s work, by trying to take things into our own hands and saying, “There is not enough to go around!”

What do you have to bring to Christ today? You may feel like you don’t have anything significant, or that you’re not significant. You may be like the little boy who only had his Lunchable, but Christ will take that Lunchable and transform it into an all-you-can-eat buffet. When I bring my meager fare, and you bring yours, God through the Holy Spirit does the work, and it is truly miraculous!

Until next time, keep looking up…