Holy Conferencing and Division

The people of the North Carolina Annual Conference of the UMC met in Greenville last week for our yearly (that's why it's the Annual Conference) time of gathering for what John Wesley called "holy conferencing" or "holy conversation."  It's been a rough couple of years in NC, symbolized in part by the cross in the picture on the left. It was created from bits and pieces of "stuff" that was found all over the eastern part of our state in the aftermath of Hurricane Florence, hence the ominous-looking swirl of material that dominates it.  Consecrated as a reminder of the resurrection power of God who can take the worst of circumstances and yet work through fallible, frail human beings like you and me in order to bring new life out of the chaos, it was a powerful symbol of not only the violent natural storms that batter our state but also the destructive forces ripping our Connection as United Methodists apart.

Coming just a few months after the bloodbath that was the special called General Conference, there was more than a little apprehension on the part of many, including myself.  What would happen when the voting for delegates to General and Jurisdictional Conference began?  What would we say to each other when/if tensions flared?  Could we calmly and respectfully discuss the resolutions?  And most importantly, could we celebrate the wonderful mission and ministry that we are able to do together in Jesus' name, in North Carolina and into all the world?

As it turned out, there was a Spirit of joy among many of us and a Spirit of thanksgiving for the ways we care for hurricane victims (thousands of whom are right here in our Conference) together, the ways we minister alongside women in Sierra Leone as they create beautiful textiles to support their families, the ways we literally and figuratively encourage the rebuilding of lives and homes and futures, all as part of our mission of making disciples for Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world.

We heard sermons about the generous God who calls us to be equally generous as we participate in the UMC's ministries through our prayers, presence, gifts, service, and witness.  We rejoiced to celebrate 150 years of UMW servant ministry and to engage with the exuberance of our youth who confidently presented several resolutions -- all of which passed.  We sang "And Are We Yet Alive," and "O, For A Thousand Tongues to Sing," and "Love Divine, All Loves Excelling," we feasted on the bread and cup of holy communion, remembered our newly deceased pastors and their spouses in a beautiful memorial service, and as we commissioned and ordained sisters and brothers to the orders of deacon and elder.  The Spirit was there in our midst, and we were caught up in the Pentecost wind and flame.

And yet.  The shadow of General Conference and the past decades of turmoil hung over us.  There were feelings of hurt, of grief, of anger, of resignation to the impending break-up of the United Methodist Church.  The results of the elections of our Conference delegates were lauded by many even as they filled others with despair.  We are a divided Conference.  We are a divided Church.  It is heartbreaking for many of us, and it would certainly have grieved the heart of our father John Wesley who defined schism as "evil in itself."   In his sermon "On Schism," he writes in words that achingly and accurately describe our modern predicament:

And as such a separation is evil in itself, being a breach of brotherly love, so it brings forth evil fruit; it is naturally productive of the most mischievous consequences. It opens a door to all unkind tempers, both in ourselves and others. It leads directly to a whole train of evil surmising, to severe and uncharitable judging of each other. It gives occasion to offense, to anger and resentment, perhaps in ourselves as well as in our brethren; which, if not presently stopped, may issue in bitterness, malice, and settled hatred; creating a present hell wherever they are found, as a prelude to hell eternal.

Alarmingly, he goes on to state:

But the ill consequences of even this species of schism do not terminate in the heart. Evil tempers cannot long remain within, before they are productive of outward fruit. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. As he whose heart is full of love openeth his mouth with wisdom, and in his lips there is the law of kindness; so he whose heart is full of prejudice, anger, suspicion, or any unkind temper, will surely open his mouth in a manner corresponding with the disposition of his mind. And hence will arise, if not lying and slandering, (which yet will hardly be avoided,) bitter words, tale-bearing, backbiting, and evil-speaking of every kind.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.  Just as in Wesley's day, whenever suspicion and distrust are found, gossip and ugly words and bitterness are never far behind, which is abundantly attested to by even a brief perusal of Facebook posts.  So I don't naively assume that just because we were able to stand shoulder to shoulder during worship and exult in the ways in which we are doing good to as many people as we can, our differences have somehow vanished or will soon disappear. I do, however, believe that the God whose Spirit brooded over the waters of chaos and engaged in the creation of an orderly and beautiful world filled with wondrous creatures and populated by women and men created in God's very own image can and will be present even in the division and conflict. I believe that God in the person of Jesus Christ has promised to always be with us, even to the end, prompting John Wesley to whisper from his deathbed that the very best thing of all is that God is with us.  And so, trusting that our God is indeed making all things new; how can I refrain from hoping?  How can I keep from singing? Alleluia, Amen!