They Asked To Leave

 

I sat in my office dividing my attention between watching the General Conference session and clicking away on my laptop at the task on hand. The lights were on in my office and the door was wide open. Following the worship at The UMC General Conference on April 25, 2024, and despite the presence of the usual and additional challenges of serving as pastor in my current context, I felt light-hearted and excitedly hopeful about the church – local, denominational, and universal. I was excitedly hopeful that on principle, the church would no longer remain silent in the face of gross injustices but would be vocal and active about transforming the same.

Then, it was as if the light flickered and dimmed as a conference in The UMC asked to leave. I felt the dip in my heart and my hope. The church should stand united against marginalization. The church should stand united in seeing God’s active love at work. Surely, I was in the twilight zone. I turned my attention back and watched the flickering pixels of the General Conference, a mosaic of faces, each one a story, a life entwined deeply with the vine of our shared faith. When the decision came, it was like a fracture. It felt as if the ground beneath me moved. My fingers were still moving, but they were trembling. My ears burned as I heard the voices echoing from the screen, asking for division perhaps under the cover of doctrinal disputes for the necessity of saving lives.  

The departure of churches in the Eurasian region from the United Methodist Church (UMC) highlights a poignant reality of the complex interplay between faith and politics. The political climate in these regions runs amok of righteousness. The political challenges are shitty for those who want to practice a full-bodied Gospel that is at the heart of The UMC. This situation is particularly disheartening as it underscores and highlights the painful decisions that must sometimes be made when external forces constrain religious expression. They asked to leave because they had to leave. It is a stark reminder of the ongoing struggles faced by some religious communities worldwide when confronted with environments that are hostile to open and diverse expressions of faith. The US churches, however, drive me nuts with their petty shit, while lives are at stake. What the hell?  

I locked my office door. The click of the latch sounded too loud in the sudden oppressive silence that filled my head. There in my office, I wept. They were tears for a church I loved, tears for a community I served, and tears for the unseen wounds we inflict upon each other in our stumbling search for sanctity. The pain was visceral, slicing through the facades of theological arguments to lay bare a grievous truth: the tools we wield to parse our sacred texts are too often the same that have historically hewn divides among us, feeding the frenzy of exclusion. I live this. How can the same words that call us to love and unity also be marshaled to justify our schisms? US churches are still spreading discord and sowing seeds of shit to divide the UMC to grow their own harmful expressions of church. Do they even care that church communities elsewhere are being devastated by politics? This is the nonsense that the church in the US needs to be attentive to. I cried.

I cried for the loss of unity, for the refusal to recognize the divine and sacred spark in each person, regardless of their interpretations or identities. It felt as though each decision to sever ties was a denial of the expansive, inclusive love that is the foundation of our faith. In that moment, I felt a deep sense of isolation at the notion that some among us (GMC proselytes) would still rather choose departure over understanding and boundless love. It was a bitter elixir to swallow. This struggle for me is not only about ecclesiastical disagreements; it is about the core of who we are as followers of Christ. The deep sadness that enveloped me is both personal and a lament for every moment we choose division over the hard, necessary work of reconciliation. I mourn for every time we see the humanity in the next person as a threat to our certainties rather than as an opportunity to embody the grace we so fervently preach. I know this. I live this. The US churches drive me nuts. 

The road to healing is long and arduous, and it is fraught with the pain of old wounds reopening and the fear of new scars. I am aware that this journey is also part of our calling. We are tasked beyond building sanctuaries of stone and glass. We are still tasked with forging sanctuaries of spirit and truth, where all are welcome, all are valued, and all can find healing.

I am writing this on the morning after (April 26). The heartbreak is still real, the hurt is still palpable, and so too is the hope that is springing from the well of our shared humanity and our boundless capacity for love. Hope is more resilient than I am. God’s love is more powerful than our human interpretive lenses. I am still hopeful that the church at large would become a church that sees humans with God’s eyes. I have wiped my tears—not because the pain is gone, but to clear my vision, and I am pressing on. For the work ahead demands courage to confront what divides and ails us, and the compassion to embrace what can unite and re-unite us. 

#beumc #GC2020 #GeneralConference #UMCGC #Eurasia #Bestillandknow