Following the disasterous decisiom of the United Methodist 2019 General Conference, upholding the Book of Discipline's statement that "the practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching", ministers in this denomination have been faced with difficult decisions.
"At a special conference in February 2019, convened specifically to address divisions over LGBTQ issue, delegates approved the "Traditionalist Plan" which affirmed the denomination's teaching on homosexuality. It also hardens the denomination’s approach to rulebreakers. It closes loopholes that conservatives believed had allowed some LGBTQ people to be ordained as clergy and some bishops to avoid enforcing the rules. It enacts new across-the-board standards for punishing ministers who perform same-sex weddings: a minimum one-year suspension without pay for the first wedding, and permanent removal from ministry for the second."
Some ministers, like the author of the following letter, have withdrawn from their calling as ministers. This is a truly heart-breaking statement, and a reminder to all of us to be mindful of our responsibilities as an Affirming congregation.
From Stan Mitchell, via the choir director of Moody Methodist Church in Galveston, Texas:
Two mornings ago, I accompanied a friend as he formally forfeited his ordination papers to a small group of church leaders. The leaders were representatives of the congregation that, some thirty years ago, ordained my friend into Christian ministry. He has faithfully and effectively served there in two different stints, the most recent stint lasting more than a decade during which he occupied the role of lead minister.
Though I didn’t know what to expect, it wasn’t surprising to me that very few words ended up being spoken in the exchange; we all knew why we were there, the roles we each played in the process, and that pretty much everything that could have been meaningfully said had been. Importantly, the meeting was not requested by the church but by my friend. For him, it was an act of integrity as well as closure, the final page of a painful, transformative chapter in his life’s story, a chapter that began in earnest (at least publicly) eighteen months ago with his decision to perform his son’s wedding ceremony.
After leaving the short meeting, my friend and I stopped at a coffee shop just down the street. We both (especially he) needed to gather our wits, check in with our hearts, and reflect a bit on what had just happened. We did that, mostly sans conversation, for the better part of an hour. After he left, I remained there waiting for another appointment to arrive. In the few minutes I had, I found myself thinking specifically about some of the formative ideas that have inspired and driven me these past few years, ideas I have eventually put into words, words I have ended up repeating again and again, words I have frequently posted here.
Sitting alone in the wake of my friend’s sad, hard, brave meeting, I was reminded again of just where these thoughts of mine, these reflective musings have come from. And I was reminded why I work so diligently to set these thoughts to the most appropriate combination of words I am capable of, why I work so carefully with the medium of language to point, if only remotely, to the beauty I am so often privileged to bear witness to.
Watching this friend of mine…this father, this minister, this human…as he honorably, vulnerably did what he just did reminds me from whence these thoughts, these words come.
Words like:
“If you are holding onto a faith that causes your child to not want to live, let go. It will not be God you are letting go of.”
and,
“There is no such thing as being privately affirming.”
and,
“LGBTQ+ people do not need the Church to do something wonderful and generous; they just deserve for it to stop doing something awful and selfish.”
and,
“If you claim to be someone’s ally but aren’t getting hit by the stones thrown at them, you’re not standing close enough.”
and,
“There simply could not be a better reason to change your mind than the life of your child.”
and,
“It’s not your child’s job to make their coming out okay for you. It’s your job to make it easier for them. Be the parent in the relationship.”
and,
“Parents of LGBTQ+ kids are the most qualified to be the prophetic conscience of the Church on this issue. Their child’s suffering is their ordination. Their child’s beauty is their anointing. Their child’s future is their Great Commission. Simply put, their child is their reason. And there simply could not be a better reason.”
and,
“And while others, even religious leaders, play abstract, doctrinal games with plastic chips and Monopoly money, these parents are not only playing with every dime they have in the world, they are playing with their children’s lives, their children’s hearts laid bare and vulnerable on the table.”
and,
“That a heart can be both broken and full at the same time — this is grace.”
Alas, just a bunch of letters and words were it not for the beautiful lives that have inspired them. My deep, deep gratitude to my friend and so many more of you who have written these words with your lives.
