Why I'm Taking a Stand

I intend this to be my last Blog related to General Conference `08. However, I wrote this last night (at home, thank God) and shared it with my congregation this morning at church. It was part of our "Did You Know?" piece in worship.

I need to begin by setting the stage, so that you might have a glimpse into the depth of what I experienced at General Conference in Fort Worth on Wednesday afternoon (4/30/08). It began during the deliberations of Paragraph 161G of the Book of Discipline. That’s the paragraph that has stated, for the past 32 years, “The United Methodist Church does not condone the practice of homosexuality and considers this practice incompatible with Christian teaching.” This paragraph has been at the heart of United Methodism’s version of the social and religious controversy that has added to the to division of states into red and blue; and brought entire denominations of the Christian Church to the brink of schism.

Unfortunately, it is a controversy that is usually talked about in terms of Biblical beliefs, societal standards and norms, and traditional religious and relational values. Rarely does the larger portion of our population ever talk about Gay, Lesbian, Transgendered and Bi-sexual (GLBT) people as just that: people. We theorize and forecast. Talk in terms of slippery slopes and lamented days gone by, but hardly do we ever look at how our talking around people dehumanizes, distances and depersonalizes those already disenfranchised.

I not only came face-to-face with that kind of hurtful speech at General Conference, but far worse; I heard remarks coming from people gathered for proposed “Holy Conferencing” that were downright unholy and hate filled. I was shocked and deeply saddened!

Every time a vote was taken Wednesday afternoon on an item that hurt the GLBT people present, they and their friends would simply stand silently and respectfully in protest for about 30 seconds. Even though the speech grew more hateful and people seemed to be standing more often, I still had hope. This time a Committee was actually binging forward a new statement that was both honest about the divisions and the hurts of the past three decades, but more importantly, respectful of the faithfulness of all those who have struggled on every side of the issues surrounding our understandings of human sexuality and the Christian faith.

But because the incompatibility clause was not there, lines were drawn and the dehumanizing rhetoric began to grow. We were lead in prayer to refocus us all on the presence and power of our loving God. And finally the vote: 517 to 416 to reject the new statement for another that is far worse than anything we’ve had in the last 12 years. As usual, the media and cameras descended, shooting as many pictures possible of the once again devastated GLBT people and friends who had the courage to even still be there after all that had been said on the floor. That is, all the media except the official video cameras of the General Conference. They all stayed focused on the conference secretary. All microphones, but his were silenced, and for the next 20 to 30 minutes he read out loud 3 Judicial Council decisions that had been referred to them earlier.

There was no recognition or even an attempt to break for a recess so that people who were hurting could have a little time to sort out what had just happened. There was absolutely nothing that resembled the Christ-like Church I believe we are called to become.

As I saw the hundreds of gifted pastors, church members, musicians, singers, Sunday School teachers, Seminary professors, students, (etc.) and friends that were weeping, sobbing and trying to hold on to their sense of dignity, value and worth in light of what their church had just told them; I realized that I could no longer sit still for the dispassionate, hurtful actions of my denomination. I have never been so close to surrendering my orders and walking away.

But the sad reality is that I lacked the courage; and my thoughts ran to my family and children that still need my support; but my heart and mind also ran to you, my church family. I asked myself; if I quit now, would the next person in this pulpit give voice to Christ’s inclusive love as I hope I do? Would they go out into the community to strive to give voice to those that our very denomination seems bent on silencing? Would I ever find another church home like this? A place where, as imperfect as we are, we do strive to live out of the abundant grace and hope of loving community rather than hide behind the closed doors of scarcity based on fear and familiarity. I asked myself, what more can I do to stand up for the silenced, wounded, and wronged, that I haven’t already done? It was in those thoughts that I wrestled Wednesday night.

As I prepared to go back for the opening worship service on Thursday morning, I gained a moment of clarity. I can keep standing up. Every time the voices of fear and dehumanization try to force others to sit down and be quiet, I can stand up. And so my friends, I’m standing up, literally! I have decided that from now on as a symbolic gesture of solidarity with my Gay, Lesbian, Transgendered, Bi-sexual and yes; faithful and blessed brothers and sisters; as an elder of the United Methodist Church; which I still love and hope for, I will remain standing every time I am in public worship. Whether it is at Annual Conference, in joint services here in Schenectady, or God help me, at another General Conference; and yes, here on Sunday mornings. However, here, and only here, I would hope you would take this simple, symbolic gesture as a deep and heartfelt thank you for the support, love, and care shown n this place in Christ’s name.

I am, in a sense, asking for your permission and approval. My intent is to continue this practice until the doors of the United Methodist Church are truly open and this unholy language is removed from the Discipline. That will most likely mean for at least the next four years. However, if this will cause a problem for any of you, I would hope that we could talk, so that I can prayerfully reconsider this decision, if needed. I’m sure we’ll be talking in the staff parish team soon enough. I will, as I hope I always try to do, take everyone’s needs and feelings into account.

But especially for this Sunday, I thank you for putting up with me and my pastoral eccentricities. But more so, I thank you for continuously reminding me why I answered this often disturbing call to ordained ministry in the first place; so that all, and “all does mean all,” might see the love of God know Christ’s Jesus and the community Jesus has called us to create together. Thank you.