I Got to Vote Again!

So today I don't have much to say.  I got to sit in on a legislative committee, and for that I'm thankful.  The committee ended up dealing with some pretty difficult issues that next week will go before the whole plenary, but it was so great to be a part of the process.  

The Journey Continues

Friends, I'm feeling nostalgic tonight. Perhaps it was because I just had a fantastic dinner (elk for the first time!) with the folks at General Conference who went on the Mission of Peace to Cuba in 2008 (and other fantastic and really awesome people), but I feel like reflecting a bit on the past tonight.

See, 2016 is kind of a big year for me. December 31 at 11:40pm will be eight years of me knowing that I'm being called to ministry.  But this year, in fact this very month, marks ten years since my Confirmation and becoming a full-fledged member of the United Methodist Church.  It marks ten years since my decision to become a disciple of Jesus Christ.

We talk a lot about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus Christ in the United Methodist Church.  After all, our mission—our whole reason for existing—is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.

But here's the thing about discipleship. It's more than a one-day-a-week thing.  It's more than giving 10% of your income.  It's more than going on a service trip every now and then.  Discipleship is a complete and total commitment to following Jesus Christ.  Discipleship is giving your all to Jesus Christ all of the time and encouraging others to do the same.  That's what it means to make disciples. 

And we need this total commitment from EVERYONE if we're going to build the Kingdom.  Clergy alone can't build the Kingdom.  Americans alone can't build the Kingdom.  Africans alone can't build the Kingdom.  The wealthy alone can't build the Kingdom.  We need—no, Jesus needs—everyone for this sacred work.  Christ needs his whole body, not just parts.

And we heard as much today in the laity address from Upper New York's own Scott Johnson.  It's gonna take doctors and lawyers and teachers and farmers to accomplish the task.  Or, as we heard in the episcopal address a few days ago when Bishop Palmer quoted Upper New York's own Thom White Wolf Fassett "we need to discover again the vocation of being full-time Christians".

Child of God needs to be our primary identity, followed closely by follower of Jesus.  Those two are the only labels that should matter in our lives and when looking at other Christians.  All other identities and labels come after those two. 

Will we slip up every now and then?  Most definitely.  But as long as we're all moving onward and upward, then that's ok.  Praise be to God, and in the words of Bishop Tom Bickerton, pictured above, the journey continues. 

I Got to Vote!

Yeah, that's about all I have to say about yesterday. I got to sub in for 30 minutes or so and vote on Rule 44. And even though it ultimately didn't go the way I wanted it to, being within the bar of the plenary floor just felt so good. 

It's About Trust

I'm happy to report that today was a decidedly better day than yesterday was.  Was it perfect?  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  We still have yet to adopt all the rules, which is fueled by a lack of trust in each other and a lack of trust in the rules committee, and that still frustrates me to no end.  Yet I'm encouraged as I write this blog.  I got to have dinner with some members of our delegation and it was a fantastic time of fellowship.  I was able to get to know them on a level that I hadn't been able to do over video conferencing during delegation business meetings.  For example, I had no idea that one of them went to Wesley for seminary and had some of the professors that I have taken classes with, so we were able to bond over that, and I think that's just awesome.

And through that time of fellowship and learning more about each other, we were able to have some meaty and heavy conversations.  These conversations didn't necessarily result in changed minds, but—and maybe it's just me—they did result in opened hearts.  And consequentially, my trust in our delegation was affirmed as a result of that dinner and it fills my heart with joy.  Each and every member of our delegation felt a call from God to go to General Conference as a delegate, and that call was affirmed by our Annual Conference through election.  To not trust my delegation would be to not trust in God.

Of course, it's not just the delegation from the Upper New York Annual Conference that is comprised of delegates who felt a call from God that was externally affirmed.  Every single one of the 864 voting delegates went through that process.  Every single presiding bishop went through that process.  Every single person who has worked tirelessly over the past four years to put this General Conference together went through that process.  They all had a call from God of some sort that was affirmed in some shape and/or form by their peers, and if I can't trust them, then I cannot in good conscious say that I trust God.  And if they can't trust each other, how can they say they trust in God?

Everyone within the bar of the conference is my brother or sister in Christ.  And Christ calls me to love each and every one of them.  I'm not called to agree with them, but I am called to love them.  And that is a call that I will answer gladly.  The United Methodist Church has some tough conversations ahead of it, both this year and in years to come.  It's my deep and fervent prayer that those who make up the body of the sole entity that gets to speak for our church can find it in their hearts to answer that same call and come to first and foremost love and trust one another.

Orientation and Worship and Rules, Oh My!

I said I wanted this blog over the next two weeks to be a reflection of my experiences, I don't want it to be merely a list of what I did (and then I did...and then I did...and so on and so forth).  And yet, as I lay here in my hotel room I'm at a loss.  It was a frustrating day.  Oh don't get me wrong, there were some good parts to it.  I got to spend most of the day with some pretty cool young people who are on our delegation whose joy and dedication give me hope for the state of our church.  Getting to connect with old friends and making new ones was pretty great.  Being with our delegation in person after spending a year of needing to connect with them via video conference call was a breath of fresh air.

The other young adults of the Upper New York delegation at the General Conference young delegate briefing.

However, I still find myself less than encouraged for this General Conference.  Maybe it's because today's main piece of business was considering the rules we will abide by over the next ten days, but as soon as our business began, I could palpably feel a spirit of contention.  Everyone has their own agenda, and in my experience, it's hard to discern the will of the Holy Spirit if you're blinded what you think is best.  And it's hard to love your neighbor if your pre-conceived agenda makes you view them as your enemy.

Another obstacle that the General Conference faces is that we really don't know each other.  People talk about a spirit of contention in Congress, but Congress is decidedly smaller than we are—the House of Representatives is about half the size of us and the Senate is one-eighth of our size—and they get a chance to know each other over two years of work.  864 delegates from all over the world with a vast diversity across just about every form of identity get only 10 days to try and discern what the United Methodist Church will look like for the next four years.  I almost feel like we should be electing our delegates to General/Jurisdictional Conference four years out so we can at least try to get to know each other.  But maybe that would be more trouble than it's worth.

So as I close out tonight, I'm going to offer this prayer that was recited during our opening worship and just happens to be in the front of my personal journal.  It should be familiar to most of you Methodist nerds who are following this blog, but even if you're not a Methodist—or hell, not even a Christian—I still think it's a great prayer to surrender yourself and your ego to a higher power (Christ in a Christian context, obviously):

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine.
So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

May it be so.  Amen and amen.

Portland or Bust

Well it's finally upon us.  After almost a year of planning and preparation and day-long conference calls, General Conference is here.  I'm seeing all my fellow delegates posting their selfies at their respective airports. Everything is packed.  And it's just starting to hit me.  See, as a full-time graduate student this past month has been hectic to say the least.  Somehow, most of my assignments ended up being back-loaded.  I turned in my last final this past Friday afternoon, so I haven't had much time to shift from a mentality of school to a mentality of conferencing.  But as I sit here waiting for my room to become available at the hotel, I'm feeling a mix of emotions.  I'm excited. I'm nervous.  I simultaneously feel ready and not ready.

Obligatory selfie at Dulles

After all, in Methodist circles, these upcoming 2 weeks are kind of a big deal.  The UMC isn't like some other branches of Christianity.  We don't have a president or figurehead for our church.  The General Conference is the only group that has the authority to speak on behalf of the entire UMC.  And the General Conference only meets once every 4 years, so this is it.  If anything is going to happen or change in the world of United Methodism, it has to happen now or it will have to wait until 2020.  And of course there are pundits on every side of every issue making predictions about what will happen over the next two weeks.  I'm by no means an expert, so this blog over the next two weeks won't contain any of that.

Layover in Denver

Instead, I'm only going to share my day-to-day experiences.  As a reserve delegate for the Upper New York Annual Conference, my schedule is a little bit more open than my full delegate colleagues.  Unless I'm called to pinch hit, so to speak, I get the opportunity to bop around the convention center and take it all in.  I can sit in on committee meetings, meet new people, and explore all that General Conference and Portland has to offer.  So while I don't know what exactly our United Methodist Church will look like in 10 days, I'm still excited.

Snow-capped mountains en route from DEN to PDX

As for the rest of the day, once my room becomes available, I plan on getting situated in it and resting after a long day of travel (5:00am wake up call to catch a SuperShuttle to take me to Dulles).  And then going out to explore a little bit.  I'll try to get a feel for the TriMet system.  And with any luck I'll make it back to the hotel in time to get a good night's sleep before it all begins tomorrow.  I ask that you keep all of the delegates and the General Conference in your prayers over the next two weeks.  While I don't know much, I do know that we will be having some difficult conversations as a church and it's my prayer that we are always mindful of the presence of the Holy Spirit with us.  Until tomorrow.

I'm told that this is a thing to do in PDX

A Time to Celebrate and a Time to Lament

Every season of the year, I create a new Facebook photo album to document the shenanigans I will (most likely) get into over the course of that season/semester.  I end up titling each album with something that represents what (I expect) is going to happen over the course of that album.  For example, I titled my Fall 2013 album "The Beginning of the End" due to the fact that it was the first semester of my last year of undergrad.  Of course, sometimes I end up having to change the name of the album part of the way through so that it more accurately reflects what I'm experiencing (like Fall 2014 started out as "Mastering the Divine" but quickly changed to "How the Heck Do You Spell Athanasius" after writing his name down in my notes fifty thousand times and spell check never knowing if the spelling is right or not).

All this is to say that I've changed my photo album for this summer.  It started out as "JK there's no summer break in grad school" (due to the fact that I am currently taking a six-week intensive Hebrew course), but I've renamed it "A Time to Celebrate and a Time to Lament", because as I sit here at the halfway point of the summer and look back on the past two months, I notice that the threads of celebration and lament have been sewn throughout my summer (and probably my whole life, but I don't have a single Facebook photo album for my whole life).

I celebrated the fact that I got to go on a two-week choral tour of the Balkans, increasing the number of countries I've been in to 15.

Yet I lament at the fact that the Balkan region was torn up by bloody war, the evidence still visible 20 years later.

I celebrated going to Annual Conference, being elected to the General/Jurisdictional Conference delegation as the first lay alternate delegate to General Conference (and probably the youngest delegation going to General/Jurisdictional Conference in the denomination), and being a part of the Conference endorsing and sending (by a fairly sizable margin) seven petitions to General Conference that would change the rules of the United Methodist Church to allow for LGBTQ persons to be married in United Methodist churches and be ordained as ministers in the United Methodist Church, as well as allow United Methodist clergy to perform LGBTQ marriages without having to risk losing their credentials.

Yet I lament that the conference failed to pass a resolution that would have us advocate and pressure Albany to raise New York State's minimum wage to a living wage of $15/hour, relying on tired, fear-based rhetoric such as "it would hurt small businesses" or "it will result in people losing their jobs" rather than living into Christ's resurrection hope that calls all of us to work for a just society.

I celebrate that our national conscious has finally realized that flying the Confederate battle flag does not honor Southern Pride, but rather is a racist symbol that at least should not be flying over public land and buildings.

Yet I lament that it took a racially based act of terrorism against a historic black church and the loss of nine innocent lives to come to that seemingly common sense notion; that black churches are being burnt; and that in spite of how far we've come since the time of slavery (both in years and accomplishments), the evil of racism is still alive and well in our country and around the world.

I celebrate a historic ruling from the Supreme Court that allows for two people who love each other very much and want to publicly profess their love before family, friends, and God will be allowed to do so even if they happen to be of the same sex and/or gender.

Yet I lament that my LGBTQ Family members can still be legally discriminated against because of their sexual orientation or gender identity in the majority of states in the USA; that many of my LGBTQ Family embers still face stigmatization, leading to higher rates of suicide, mental illness, poverty, unemployment, and homelessness (among other things) than my straight Family members.

Of course, all of our entire lives cycle through seasons of celebration and lament.  But for one reason or another, this tension has really stuck out to me this summer.  It has seemingly been one thing after another.  As I reflected, I struggled with figuring out which emotion to feel.  Do I celebrate the victories, or do I lament at the failures?

But then I realized that celebrating and lamenting are not the primary goals.  Rather, the primary goal is to work to build God's kingdom, governed not by fear, but rather by love, here on earth.  No matter what the victory we celebrate or the failure we lament is, we still have work to do, and it cannot stop because of a good thing happened or a bad thing happened.  Our celebrations and our laments cannot be the end of the story.