Grace, The UMC, and an Upcoming Vote

A few disclaimers before you read this:

*This was really more of a therapy exercise for me to work through my feelings, but I decided that part of that process was putting it out into the universe. It was written at two different times. Part one was a recount of trying to figure out how I got here and part two was trying to reconcile conflicting feelings. These thoughts are mine and mine only.  They are not representative of anyone else in our family or our local church. My daughter had full approval/veto options for any mention of her in this blog post before I sent it out into the world.

*It’s also important to note here that my disillusion/angst is the with the global United Methodist Church, not with our local church.  Grace Avenue continues to be the sanctuary that it has always been for our family.  I know that every single member of my family is welcomed, loved, and wanted.  I am very proud of the way that our clergy and staff have addressed the upcoming vote. They’ve made sure that our congregation is informed.  We’ve been encouraged to discuss concerns and feelings about the upcoming vote and to listen with open hearts.

*This is not a place for debate- just a place to put my thoughts.  I respectfully ask that if you wish to debate any part of this, please meet me in person for coffee and we’ll have a discussion. I’m always up for coffee.

Part 1

The United Methodist Church is coming to an important crossroads next month.  At the General Conference scheduled for February in St. Louis, the delegates from the UMC will vote on the church’s stance on homosexuality. And while I’ve attended meetings, read the plans, listened to explanations, and read countless essays and thoughts online about the positions and votes to be had, I would never claim to fully understand all of the ins-and-outs of the plans, the repercussions- both known and unknown, or the enormity of the politics behind the votes.  This is the part of the church that I never liked.  This is the part of the church that had me staunchly in the anti-organized religion camp in my 20s.  The politics, the hypocrisy, the humanness of it all.  It’s what led me to declare that I would never take my wedding vows in a church. (I’ve always believed that God has a sense of humor. We did get married in a Methodist church, but that is a story for another day.)

My husband was always much more willing than me to embrace the church.  I felt uneasy and possibly slightly angry any time that I entered a church building- which was rare, and only for holidays or funerals.  It was our oldest child, who was 7 at the time, that ultimately led us there.  She attended a week of vacation Bible camp at Grace Avenue, which seemed like a great way to introduce her to God without too much commitment. I figured that would be a good chance for her to learn some basics and then she could make up her own mind about religion down the road.  On the Friday of camp, she declared 1.) that she had learned just about everything that there was to know about God and 2.) that she wanted to sing in worship with her fellow camp attendees on Sunday. I couldn’t really say no to that since she had put in all the hard work to learn everything about God in one week.  So, we gathered our girls, a diaper bag, and my apprehension, and we went to church on that Sunday morning. We’ve said many times that we knew that this church was different from the moment we stepped into our first worship service.  I sent a message to a friend that afternoon that they would be pleased to know that lightning did not strike the church when I walked through the door. At Grace Avenue I felt at home in church for the first time in my life.  Our family started attending every week. My husband would have joined the church the first month we were there, but I was not ready. Part of joining the church was reciting vows in front of the congregation. (I’m not actually sure that is the proper name for what we did, but it seemed like vows.)  The thing was- I was not willing to recite words that I didn’t mean, and I had to be very sure that I could stand up and honestly speak those declarations before we joined the church. I spent hours in late-night conversations with colleagues who were committed to their own churches.  I hashed out my concerns and issues with the Bible and with theology.  I tried to understand the concept of the Holy Trinity.  I tried to reconcile my previous feelings about organized religion with the experience that I was having now in this particular church.  I joined the choir and was amazed to learn that the songs we sang corresponded to the scriptures and sermons each week. (Who knew?)  I found this both smart and very helpful in figuring out more about this religion thing. Finally, after months of me wrestling with it all, we stood in front of the congregation and became official members of Grace Avenue United Methodist Church– but we had become part of the Grace Avenue family long before that.

Of all the gifts that I am thankful for in my life, our church ranks up there just behind my girls.  It has welcomed us, loved us, nurtured us, and challenged us.  I have written before that I feel our church is a literal sanctuary for our family.  I have learned to pray, to worship, to believe, and to love.  I never fully understood community until we found our church.  It’s part of what makes this vote so painful. It’s hard to reconcile the love that we’ve received from Grace Avenue UMC with the stance on human sexuality taken the by the global United Methodist Church.

Early on after joining the church, we took a Methodism class.  It was there that I learned the United Methodist Church’s official stance on homosexuality.  There is a line in the Book of Discipline that deems “The practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.”  This means that same-sex marriages cannot not take place in a UMC church and that UMC clergy cannot perform same-sex marriages.  It also means that openly gay persons cannot be ordained into ministry. I had a hard time reconciling this with the “Open Hearts. Open Minds. Open Doors” motto of the UMC. The line on homosexuality was added to the Book of Discipline in 1972- four years before I was born. I felt some odd comfort with the fact that it was antiquated.  It was an old rule.  Times had changed.  People had evolved. Our understanding is deeper now.  In my mind, this was an inevitable change that was bound to come soon. I felt reassured knowing that there were a growing number of Methodists working to change it.

We took that class almost 10 years ago.  In the decade since, the UMC’s stance on human sexuality has continued to be debated, but remains unchanged.  This will hopefully change in February.  Human sexuality is the only matter that will be voted on at the upcoming special session of the General Conference.  Right now, it is unclear how the UMC will move forward after the vote and unclear what the UMC will look like in the future.  I’ve been caught off guard by how emotional this vote has become for me.  I’ve always been in favor of full inclusiveness in the church.  As the vote draws closer, my feelings are now raw.  It was one thing to have an antiquated rule on the books. It’s another to have people arguing against inclusion in 2019.  It’s another thing altogether when it affects your child.  I can’t adequately express the pit that I feel in my stomach or the tears that I’ve cried reading and hearing that the UMC feels that something about my child is incompatible with Christian teaching. 

It’s unimaginable to me that anyone can look at her and see anything but a beautiful, valued, worthy child of God. This child that brought us to church and has offered so much back to the church.  My child with a heart for missions. My child who will hands-down give up every other summer vacation or activity to repair houses on the annual UMARMY trip.  My child who happily sleeps on a church floor every summer and works without air conditioning.  My child who was thrilled to learn how to cut tile with a wet saw, and welcomed the challenge to build wheelchair ramps in 100 degree weather.  My child who comes back every year telling all the stories of where she saw God as she worked- and how she saw God in the people that she met. My child who volunteers for summer camps, sings in the choir, serves on the youth council, and leads Bible studies.  My child is a precious gift from God. This child- and everything about her, is not only compatible with Christian teaching, but embodies what it means to be a Christian.  She serves and loves and believes that all are worthy of God’s light and grace.  I can assure you that there is no question of her worthiness to God, but I do question whether the United Methodist Church is worthy of her.

Part 2

God speaks to us in all kinds of ways.  And sometimes God speaks to us through a book from 2013 written by a tattooed Lutheran pastor.  My beloved Jen Hatmaker ends her podcasts by asking, “What is saving your life right now?” Well, chapter 5 of Pastrix by Nadia Bolz-Weber is saving my life right now. 

Seriously, I’ve listened to chapter 5 four times now- twice by myself, once with my husband, and once with my oldest daughter. After hearing chapter 5, I bought the paperback edition.  I’ve now read, re-read, and highlighted chapter 5. It was chapter 5 that helped me to sort out some of the feelings that have been enveloping me about this vote.  It helped me to realize that my emotions are not only about my daughter, but also about my struggle with organized religion and the role that I now play in it.  I spent my 20s adamantly opposed to organized religion believing that more often than not, the church did more harm than good.  My vision of organized religion was that it was hypocritical and superficial at best, and abusive at worst.

However, when we found Grace Avenue, I thought that I was proven wrong.  I found a place where questions were welcomed, we were not expected to check our intellect at the door, differences of opinion were okay, and open discussions were encouraged.  I found a place that believed in taking church outside of the walls of a building and into the lives of people in the community. I found a place where people shared the message of love and of Jesus, not just by preaching, but by serving.  Service without strings.  Service in the name of love. I found a church that dedicated itself to eradicating homelessness in whatever form it presents itself- literally.  Grace Avenue adopted this as their mission statement, believing that every single person deserves an emotional home, a spiritual home, and a physical home. At Grace Avenue, my family was loved and nurtured, and we truly found a home. 

I’ve come to love the Methodism that I never experienced fully until we came to Grace Avenue. I’ve come to love the traditions and the rituals.  In my 20s I refused communion because I felt hypocritical taking part in a ritual that held no meaning for me. I’ve since come to cherish that sacred time. Some of my holiest moments have been taking communion with my family and kneeling at the rail hand-in-hand with my husband for prayer and reflection. Receiving communion from and offering communion to my children, my friends, and my husband are experiences that I’m truly grateful for. Communion is a sacrament that is open to everyone.  It’s an assurance that there is a seat at God’s table with no conditions or restrictions.  Everyone is welcome. Everyone is worthy. I witnessed my oldest child’s journey to confirmation. I watched as she grew in her faith, challenged beliefs, and figured out what she knew to be true for herself.  We stood beside her as she was confirmed and became an official member of the United Methodist Church. I witnessed the baptism of all of my children, and my husband- and those, again, were some of my holiest moments.  I still cannot witness a baptism without tears. It’s such a beautiful promise that we make to those being baptized.  We promise to love and support them. We promise to help them along in the journey of life. We welcome them with open arms into our faith community. 

And yet the global United Methodist Church is still debating how to love and support our LGBTQ brothers and sisters.  They are debating the extent to which they are welcome in our faith community.  Our LGBTQ friends and family are welcome to God’s table, but not to the marriage altar and not to the pulpit.  As it stands right now, my child, who has dedicated so much of her life serving as a Methodist ambassador, will not be allowed to marry or preach in the United Methodist Church.  Part of my struggle is that I am the one who introduced her to the United Methodist Church- where she is now hearing her worthiness debated on a national stage and in blog posts and in Twitter debates. My fear of organized religion being damaging and hypocritical is playing out in real time. And it’s taking my daughter along with it.  It’s rocked my assurance that I found the exception to my previously thought rule.  I do not believe that exclusion is how we serve as the hands and feet of Christ.  God deems us all worthy.  Jesus did not exclude.  Jesus invited all in. 

So, now I return to Chapter 5 in Pastrix by Nadia Bolz-Weber.  This one chapter covers so much so beautifully.  She reminds us that every human community will disappoint you and the church is certainly no exception to that.  She reminds us that God’s grace is given freely and applied to all circumstances.  She reminds us that the beauty often lies on the other side of disappointment when grace has been let in. God can make all things new.  In the book, referring to the Lutheran Church prior to 2009, (but applicable also to the Methodist Church today) it was said that “There’s not enough wrong with it to leave and there’s just enough wrong with it to stay. Fight to change it.” Nadia Bolz-Weber reminds us that our “value in the kingdom of God comes not from the approval of a denomination…but in having been come-and-gotten by God.” And she reminds us that God is always choosing us– just as we are. It’s the thing that has brought me the most comfort during a time of uncertainty and pain.

I don’t know how the vote will go in February.  I don’t know what the future of the United Methodist Church will look like, and I don’t know what our family’s role will be within it.  I do know that Grace Avenue will continue to be Grace Avenue, for which I am very thankful. I know that I will appreciate the gifts that the UMC has given to my family. I know that the holy moments that I’ve experienced as part of the Methodist tradition will always be holy moments. I know that I believe in grace and the beautiful community that is within the UMC- those who agree with me and those who don’t.  I know that if the vote does not go the way that I hope, I will fight to change it. And I know that each one of us will continue to be a child of God- perfectly imperfect and loved beyond all measure.  And for now, that is all I can know.  God’s grace will have to cover the rest.