The Best Proposed Solution to the UMC’s Stalemate

An update: our Annual Conference narrowly voted against the two petitions I discuss below. This was heavily influenced by speeches about “the UMC my grandparents grew up in” and pleas for us to work it out rather than giving people a way out. In my humble opinion, these arguments were naive to our current realities, found safety in the status quo (see my final paragraph below), and lead us toward a scorched-earth litigation battle. David Watson, the co-sponsor of this proposal, offers some helpful retrospective insights in his post, “So where are we now?“

Debates about human sexuality threaten to break apart the UMC. Though these debates are nothing new, they’ve taken on a new urgency.

At the heart of these debates is this line in our bylaws:

“The practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching. Therefore self-avowed practicing homosexuals are not to be certified as [ministry] candidates, ordained as ministers, or appointed to serve in The United Methodist Church.”

United Methodist delegates have upheld that position for forty years, and everything indicates they will continue to uphold it.

But a large minority disagrees. They’ve grown more vocal and more active in their disagreement. “Why don’t they just leave the UMC?” some may ask. One major reason (though by no means the only one) is because the church doesn’t get to take its property with it, and the pastor may fear losing his/her pension. A retired Bishop, Will Willimon, explains it this way, “I’m thinking a major division is not going to happen, mostly for financial [and] property reasons. Any group exiting would face having to leave behind lots of resources.”

Leaders have suggested various solutions to help the UMC get beyond its impasse. The most discussed of these is a “local option,” which would allow each local UMC church to amend that line in the bylaws (quoted above). With a supermajority vote, a church could rewrite that line however they choose. This would also allow each Conference to set their own standards for ordaining clergy.

For all the attention that “local option” has received, it creates as many problems as it solves. It instantly has each congregation voting on whether to alter the statement on homosexuality, and if so, how. Our congregations are far from uniform in their beliefs on this issue. We would likely see a number of 60-40 votes, the kind of votes that can tear a church apart. And even after the dust settles on these votes, we’ll have established a bifurcated denomination. Appoint “conservative” pastors only to the churches that preserved the standard line. Appoint “progressive” pastors only to those that amended it.

The Best Option Out There
(note: this option is now represented by the Covenantal Unity Plan. See its 6 proposals here, here, here, here, here, and here.)

My conference will be voting this Thursday on two petitions (attached as PDF) that represent the best option I’ve seen. These were both submitted by Bill Arnold. I interviewed Dr. Arnold and reviewed his book on the same subject last year.

Dr. Arnold’s petitions graciously acknowledge the problem with our current situation: (1) We have irreconcilable differences within the denomination. The kind of differences that can’t and shouldn’t be fixed by creating a bifurcated system of “pro-” and “anti-” churches. (2) We have pastors and congregations whose consciences will not allow them to abide by the UMC’s standards. But (3) those pastors and congregations stay, in large part, because of the resources––property and pensions––they would have to leave behind.

Arnold’s petitions allow clergy to keep their pension benefits if they withdraw from the denomination. They also allow a local church to disaffiliate from the UMC and retain full rights to its property, with the votes of 2/3 of its members.

This is not a perfect plan. For one thing, it doesn’t address all the reasons that we haven’t already had an amicable separation, or the desire of many for us to stay together. Perhaps I’ve become too pessimistic, but I don’t believe any plan can address all of the issues, nor do I see a healthy way forward together.

Also, this plan could still lead to a number of 60-40 votes. Those would be devastating votes—especially when the majority of a congregation has voted to disaffiliate from the UMC but then must stay because they didn’t achieve a 2/3 majority. I fear the day we begin taking these kinds of votes. I suspect they’ll infuse into local churches the same turmoil and hostility we’ve seen at a denominational level. Sadly, I see no way we can avoid those votes forever.

What the plan does provide is consistency and clarity for those within the UMC and a gracious way out for those with irreconcilable differences. Unlike the “local option,” it doesn’t create a bifurcated denomination. Unlike so many other battles, this plan avoids a scorched earth, winner-takes-all litigation approach.

There is no perfect plan. Each will come with a number of downfalls and dangers. But it has become clear that the UMC can’t continue on the same path—with a clear majority setting the rules while a large minority despises or flouts them. We need a path that will honor both of these groups. The most viable path I’ve seen is in these petitions.

We run the risk of doing what the UMC so often does: we see the problems that a new plan presents and find it easier to do nothing. This is my greatest fear––that for all the talk about new plans and solutions in the UMC, we’ll identify the problems with each new option and opt to maintain our current course—with growing dysfunction and dissatisfaction. It’s time to recognize a path that provides more hope than status quo. I hope Kentucky will lead the way later this week by passing these petitions. Stay tuned.

How does an everywhere, all-knowing, almighty God respond to evil and tragedy?

How does God use his power? [pt. I]

The book of Job contains as much about God’s majesty as any book in the Bible. It’s full of lines like, “He alone stretches out the heavens and treads on the waves of the sea,”[1. Job 9:8] and “His eyes are on the ways of mortals; he sees their every step.”[1. Job 34:21]

The most dramatic lines come from God himself—

Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? //
Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’? //
Do you know when the mountain goats give birth?[1. Job 38:4, 35; 39:1. If you can, take the time to read all of Job 38-39. It’s a spectacular speech.]

Yet all these declarations about God’s greatness come against a backdrop of tragedy. If you’ve asked theological questions about the problem of evil before, you’ve likely heard someone mention the book of Job.

The book’s introduction presents Job as a “blameless and upright man” who fears God and shuns evil.[1. Job 1:1] He has everything a man of his time would ask for—a large family, enormous flocks and herds, many servants—and he’s called “the greatest man among all the people of the East.”[1. Job 1:3]

But then the narrative cuts to a short conversation between God and Satan.[1. Some people take the book of Job as a type of epic, others view it as actual history. Regardless of how you see it, the purpose of the book seems to revolve around our questions about the presence of evil in the world.] God talks about Job like a proud father. Satan is unimpressed: “Of course he’s loyal to you. You’ve kept a hedge around him. You’ve blessed him in every way. Take away all the blessing and he’ll curse you to your face.”

So God agrees. “Very well, then, I’ll remove the hedge.”[1. My paraphrase of Job 1:8-12]

Then we see Job lose everything in an instant—all of the flocks and herds, every one of his children, and every servant except for the few messengers who escape to tell Job about his losses. When he still doesn’t give up his faith, he loses his health, too.

We usually look to the book of Job to ask why God would allow tragic evil, and most people conclude that it doesn’t give any final answers. The most we can take away is that God’s ways are beyond our understanding. Perhaps the best we can do in the face of tragedy is to respond as Job does, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”[1. Job 1:21]

But we often miss an important revelation in Job. At the beginning of the story, why has Job prospered so much? Satan himself says that God has put a hedge around Job and his household and everything he has. And what happens when God removes the hedge? Job loses it all in an instant.

The book of Job shows us that God must have a great hedge around us. If you have anything good in your life—any loved ones, any possessions, any health—there must be some hedge. If the hedge were removed, it would all be destroyed.

We usually look at it the other way. We ask why God would ever remove any hedge of protection. But let’s first recognize what a great hedge God has around us. We don’t see a God who intervenes in every situation the way we’ve asked. We don’t see a God who keeps a perfect hedge around all people and all things. I admit I don’t understand why God performs miracles in some situations and allows others to continue in tragedy. I don’t understand why God keeps his hedge up sometimes and removes it in others. But I’m left with Job, praising a God who gives and provides and protects and works miracles, and praising God still when the hedge of protection comes down and the miracle doesn’t come.

This is the second most compelling way that God uses his power in our world. But it pales in comparison to the most compelling—and shocking—way that God has used his power…

How does God use his power? [pt. 2]

The Gospel of John begins with a shining statement about Jesus’ glory and presence and power.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.[1. John 1:1-3]

He has existed forever. All created things were created through him. He was with God in the beginning, and he is God. But then look at what John says about how we have seen his glory:

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.[1. John 1:14]

How have we seen the glory of Jesus—the one who is God himself? He took on flesh and made his dwelling among us. Not only did he take on flesh, he took on the very nature of a servant and humbled himself. He became obedient to death—even death on a cross![1. All of this from Philippians 2:6-8]

In Jesus, we see a God who doesn’t just intervene from on high. Instead, we see a God who was made low. He came, and rather than ending all suffering immediately, he participated in our sufferings. Rather than triumphing over the powers of evil in our world as an almighty conqueror, he triumphed over them by the cross.[1. See Colossians 2:15]

How can an everywhere, all-knowing, almighty God allow evil and suffering to persist? The answer we long for is a simple one—that God would use his power to vanquish these things, that there would be no more death or mourning or crying or pain. We long for an answer that says all the tragedies cease––no more cancer, no more earthquakes, no more car accidents, no more school shootings. There’s no more reason to mourn or cry or hurt.

A day is coming when that will be God’s response, when Christ declares, “I am making everything new!”[1. See Revelation 21:4-5] With that, we have a great hope: Death doesn’t have the final word. Tragedy doesn’t have the final word. All the tears now don’t have the final word. Christ has the final word, and he is making everything new.

As we wait for that day, though, how does an everywhere, all-knowing, almighty God respond to evil and tragedy? In Jesus, we see that the God who is everywhere comes down to be present with us. The God who knows all things knows our heartbreak and grieves with us. The God who is almighty has suffered grief and shame and pain alongside us. And in these things, as much as in the stretching out of the heavens and treading on the waves of the sea, we see God’s majesty.

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Pilgrim people seeking permanence

Cain

Augustine observes that it was Cain (the first murderer) who built the first city, “while Abel, as though he were merely a pilgrim on earth, built none.”

Augustine uses that example to talk about the people of God as a wandering people–– “as on a pilgrimage through time looking for the Kingdom of eternity.”

Babel

The next case of city-building in Scripture is no better. In it, the people say, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” We know that tower as the Tower of Babel.

What’s wrong with this picture? “Let’s make a name for ourselves” is an easy clue. Beyond that, the people are doing their best to avoid scattering “over the face of the whole earth.” That’s a problem when God has already twice told them to fill the earth.

So God confuses the people’s language, ends their building, and scatters them “over the face of the whole earth.” God accomplishes his will, regardless. Sadly, it happens in spite of the people, rather than in cooperation with them.

Abraham

By contrast, look at how the book of Hebrews describes Abraham:

“By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.”[1. Heb 11:9-10]

Cain built a city. Those at Babel tried to build a city. But Abraham lived in tents. Now look at the concluding statement, with references to life on earth and the city of God:

“All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”[1. Heb 11:13-16]

Pilgrim people, Pilgrim church

Augustine says that we’re a pilgrim people, even a pilgrim church. But our flesh lusts after safety, security, and permanence.

The Israelites in the desert longed to go back to Egypt. They created romantic ideals in their heads about those great times in Egypt, where they sat around pots of meat and ate all the food they wanted.[1. Exod 16:3] Why the false romantic notions? Because a trek through the desert is neither safe, nor secure, nor comfortable. At least there’s comfort and some security in the known––even if it involves slavery in Egypt.

This is the constant tension we face as the people of God. We live in this world as foreigners and exiles, pilgrims on a journey, never fully settled here because this world and its desires pass away.

We can’t build any new city where we will be fully comfortable. No cloistered community will suffice. The utopian paradise––where we make our own rules and everything works––is a dangerous mirage. The city we seek is the city of God, and it comes only when God’s new creation comes. We can have tastes of it now–– “If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come!”[1. 2 Cor 5:17]––but these are only tastes. For now, we remain pilgrims.

What does it mean for Christians to live as pilgrim people? What does it mean for the Church to live as a pilgrim Church? It at least means living with less comfort than we would prefer.

We follow a Messiah who said, “the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”[1. Matt 8:20] One scholar comments on that line: “The nature of his mission kept him on the move and would keep his followers on the move.”[1. D. A. Carson, The Expositor’s Bible Commentary: Matthew] We follow the teachings of a man named Paul who traveled across the Roman Empire, often in peril, to preach the gospel and help establish churches. In my tradition, we follow in the more recent footsteps of circuit riding preachers who traveled the country by horseback––again at great risk to life and health––for the sake of proclaiming the gospel.

In our own desires, we seek safety, security and permanence. Those can seduce us away from the hard, but better, road of pilgrims. We can settle for what’s comfortable and safe. We can try to stop and build our own secure cities and become comfortable in this world, because the pilgrim life is too daunting.

If we ever find ourselves fully comfortable and content––safe, secure, and at ease––might we wonder if we’ve settled too soon, camped out at a way station along the trail as if it were the final destination?

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