Saturday, March 2, 2019

To be braver and stronger than before …


When was the first time you realized that your parents were human? Not like you thought they were aliens before, but human in the way that they were not perfect and sometimes made mistakes. It happens to all of us – and it’s sobering and sad and maybe even makes us mad.

After that moment, we realize that we have agency. We have choices. We get to look at things from our own perspectives and make decisions that our parents wouldn’t make. And while it’s freeing, but it’s also scary. We can no longer rely only on the things that we have always believed or be bound to the way that things have always been. It means we have to do our own work to in figuring out the big questions of our lives.

I walked in a peace demonstration in Washington, DC the weekend after the Gulf War started, January 1991. Will Willimon was the Dean of Duke Chapel and he called me into his office and told me to reserve two vans from the motor pool and fill them up with students to represent the university and the chapel. And because I was his intern, I did just what he said. It was a holy day, and on the way home, I realized that this was a privilege that might not so easily be available to me anytime soon. 

It was a formative experience, but I didn’t talk about it with anyone in my new church because I got burned as soon as I got home. I shared my trip with my parents, who were not just worried that it would endanger my ability to get an appointment, they were mad. They felt that I had dishonored my dad’s service in the Army and all of those who fought for freedom. I disagreed. Eventually, our relationship healed but I kept the info close hold. 

Only two years later did I confess the trip to an Air Force pilot on our second date. I wanted to it out of the way in case this was the thing we couldn’t get over. His reply: “We need people willing to say the hard things that keep our leaders accountable.” In 24 years of marriage, I still feel that support, but have always been careful to make sure that my beliefs and actions do not reflect poorly on his service to our Country… I was a quiet ally, some would say.

Fast forward to today: I’ve had gay friends for as long as I can remember. It wasn’t until I went to seminary in the late 1980s that I was confronted with the position of the United Methodist Church on homosexuality. When I was ordained a few years later, I promised “celibacy in singleness and faithfulness in marriage,” and I was OK with that. Within two years of my ordination, I was engaged and then married and life ticked on as normal.

For my gay friends – not so much. They were not afforded the same options as me. Marriage was not sanctioned by the church or the State. I was continually tamping down this feeling of unease, that members of my community were being discriminated against because of their biology using biblical arguments of submission, many long since discarded.

I didn’t make public statements but tried to be a quiet ally. Still, friendships were lost. People left churches and even some left the Christian faith because the implied message was “You are not good enough” and “You will never really belong.” Some lived unauthentic lives in order to stay in the good graces of the Church. Some openly defied the Church’s rules and many, but not all, paid a heavy price.

Meanwhile, I was also living in another world. When the US Congress repealed the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy for military service, there were innumerable warnings of gloom and doom. Instead of morale going down, it went up. Instead of readiness suffering, it was enhanced. What could be more affirming for a workplace environment that people living out life with no apologies or excuses for who they are?[i] And when marriage equality became the law of the land, we celebrated with new families offering gifts to our military communities. I had every hope and expectation that my denomination would soon join the growing list of mainline Protestant churches that opened ministry and service to all who felt the call of God. I saw a path to greater understanding and acceptance.

So far, that’s not how it turned out.

A lot of people much smarter than I have written about the process and outcome of our recent called General Conference.[ii] And the reality is that while legislation was passed, we don’t even know if it can be enacted because of continuing constitutional issues. And maybe it doesn’t matter, because damage has already been done. And we're not sure yet where we go from here.

Over the last week, I’ve cried a lot of tears. I’ve asked a lot of questions. And I’ve tried to gain perspective on where we’ve been and where are now. In this short time, I recognize several problems with our approach – because hindsight is 20/20 and in gaining some clarity maybe we can keep from making the same mistakes.
  • We operate out of a place of fear rather than mercy.
  • We thought that there was a legislative solution to a heart problem.
  • We misunderstand the role of “power” in how we live out life in the Church, letting the ways of the world dictate solutions and behaviors instead of rejecting them for something totally new and Spirit-led.
  • We haven’t remembered and thought and taught what it means to be Wesleyan Christian. 
  • Some of us thought it would be enough to pray and be quiet allies from behind the scenes, seeking safe protection from what others would think if we took a more open stance against the status quo.
I am guilty of all of those and many more that I can’t even name right now. And I have no magic solutions to make this all go away. But I can address my own failings and be a better, more vocal advocate to the LGBTQIA[iii] community, in and out of the Methodist context. 
  • I have to learn more about this community, it’s history and struggles and heroes. 
  • I have to study more about what John Wesley taught theological conflict in his societies. I think some of this work can be done through the Wesley quadrilateral, but I may have to start reading Wesley’s sermons again. And Charles Wesley’s hymns.  
  • I have to be braver in saying what I really believe, and back it up with good theological and biblical research to support my gut instincts about how we can be a Church that welcomes all to ministry and leadership in the Church.
I have no idea what that will look like in practice. I'm sure I'll get both pushback and support along the way. This is just the beginning of a new chapter in the faith journey that started at my baptism and continued through my confirmation, call to ministry and marriage, to the place where I am today.

I’ve recently studied the Parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus didn’t just tell this story for fun but in response to a specific question. The conversation went something like this:
Questioner: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus answers with a question: “What does the Law say?”
Questioner: “Love God and love your neighbor.”
Jesus: “Do this and you will have eternal life.”
Questioner: “But who is my neighbor?” 

And you know the story from there. Jesus ends the parable with the ultimate answer… the neighbor is the one who showed mercy… The question for us is this: what will it take for all of us to become those merciful people?

John Wesley had 3 rules: Do No Harm. Love Others. Stay in Love with God. I’m pretty sure that’s our starting place.

Peace in Christ,
Deb




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