Holy Shift: On Memories, Old and New
I’ll be honest: This year’s General Conference of The United Methodist Church, which ended yesterday, has left me with few words but many happy tears. There has been a real, palpable, fresh movement of the Spirit toward unity and inclusion, for which I was cautiously hopeful but did not expect nearly the sweeping changes that have come. It’s all such good news. With this year’s adoption of a worldwide regionalization plan, revised Social Principles, and the removal of harmful language, this General Conference has begun the work of undoing decades of painful exclusion and unconscionable harm.
In short, the General Conference of The United Methodist Church instituted changes that removed the ban on LGBTQ+ clergy and allow for clergy to perform same-sex and same-gender weddings. What’s long been true at The Local Church is now officially possible for our denomination: that each and every person, including LGBTQ+ persons, is made in the image of God, imbued with sacred worth, and celebrated and affirmed by God.
It’s been a long time coming, and in the midst of the celebration this week, I’ve also spent a lot of time remembering.
I remember the hope I felt in 2012. Then, before beginning at Duke Divinity School, I was serving as a worship leader for a new United Methodist faith community in Harrisonburg, Virginia. My pastor, Amanda, the most formative person in my Christian life, was a delegate to General Conference that year. She had hoped to be a part of moving the needle toward inclusion and away from the harmful language in our United Methodist Book of Discipline, our church law book, that stated, “homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching.”
That change didn’t come.
I remember Amanda returning from General Conference that year full of frustration and grief. All the while, our fledgling faith community in a small Shenandoah Valley college town had become a refuge for LGBTQ+ individuals who had been excluded and marginalized by the church. We became a safe space in an ecclesial landscape that was largely anything but safe. And for me, it was journeying with these brave, faithful friends who were taking a risk and opening themselves to love and to the church—some for the first time, others for the first time in a long time— that helped send me into ministry with a purpose: to share God's love and belonging for all people with no exceptions. Because of them and their stories of lament and loss, grief and grit, I carried hope with me for a more inclusive United Methodist church and a brighter future.
But that hope was tested a few years later while I was in Divinity School. Amanda was brought up on charges for performing a same-sex wedding and consequently suspended without pay. I remember her courage, her witness, her resolve. I also remember the tremendous pain she felt in the wake of the punishment leveled and the harm perpetuated against the couple she married. I remember, too, my own anger, heartache, and confusion about the lack of grace extended toward my mentor and friend at the hands of a denomination where God’s grace is central to our theology. And I remember how this reignited my commitment to be an agent of healing, hope, and inclusion in the name of Jesus through The United Methodist Church.
I’d have this opportunity in a real, tangible way just a few years later. In 2017, before The Local Church even had a name, I remember how our launch team gathered to pray together and discern our identity and core values. During those many early conversations, we committed ourselves to being an inclusive community. This was a non-negotiable for our team, rooted in our understanding of who Jesus is.
But this was also at a time when our United Methodist Book of Discipline contained the harmful “incompatibility” language. So I remember how bold it felt to name inclusivity as a core value. But I also remember how, just a few months later, a stranger who would become a dear friend emailed us for clarity after seeing the word "inclusive" on our website. Understandably, she had been hurt before and wanted to know just how inclusive we truly were. In other words, was there any real meaning behind this word for us, or was it simply more empty church jargon?
I remember how our team was compelled then to clarify what we meant, making it clear that wherever one was on their spiritual journey (or on no journey at all) and no matter their race, gender, ethnicity, creed, or sexual orientation, everyone belonged at The Local Church.
And I remember the most recent General Conference in 2019 in St. Louis. It was a called General Conference, convened particularly to consider a way forward on human sexuality as a diverse global denomination. In a time of division and hyperpartisanship, I had hoped that we might be able to, at a minimum, bear witness to unity amidst diversity. At a minimum, I had hoped we’d be able to demonstrate what it looked like to, in the words of John Wesley, love alike though we may not all think alike.
But when the 2019 General Conference took up the question of human sexuality, the change was even worse than I'd feared. Not only was the incompatibility language not removed, but it was reinforced, along with stricter penalties for clergy performing weddings of LGBTQ+ couples.
When this legislation, dubbed the “Traditional Plan,” passed in 2019, I remember the sinking feeling I had. I remember the questions I carried about my own commitment to and future in this denomination that nurtured and ordained me. And I know my own questions and heartache paled in comparison to the devastation my queer siblings endured—the pain they felt, the wounds reopened. And in the days afterward, I remembered the words of hope and comfort I offered as best I could, recommitting to our mission as The Local Church, naming how our work, witness, and leadership toward full inclusion, by God’s grace, was more important than ever. We were called to continue preaching and embodying God’s inclusive embrace.
So we did. As a result, I remember today how we’ve become our own refuge for LGBTQ+ persons to discover a fresh, expansive theology and a loving God. We’ve become a place of healing for those who have experienced harm by the church. I remember with great love, joy, and appreciation the ways we’ve learned from queer preachers, leaders, and congregants—and how our own journeys of life and faith have been enriched. I’m a better pastor and a more faithful follower of Jesus as a result. I remember how we’ve lived into our baptismal vows to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves. I remember how we’ve nurtured and affirmed God’s call among LGBTQ+ candidates for ministry and are sending them into church leadership with confidence, joy, and hope. And I celebrate how we’ve become a community that celebrates and affirms the sacred worth of all people, especially LGBTQ+ persons, and this is no more evident than in our work to launch Pittsboro’s first-ever Pride festival last year.
(Don’t miss this year’s Pride Celebration Worship on June 2!)
And yet, even as we strived to create an inclusive community at The Local Church, the broader denomination continued to struggle. In the past few years, there have been painful church trials, the spread of malicious misinformation, lost credentials, eroded trust, broken relationships, and a new denomination created primarily to declare exclusion as settled doctrine. It's been a long and difficult road.
But this year, something remarkable happened. A new memory has been born.
As General Conference approached, I was cautiously hopeful but also so very aware of past disappointment. Past memories. I wasn't quite sure what would happen. But I have been overwhelmed by the news from this General Conference. As noted above, the incompatibility language has been removed, and there are no longer prohibitions around LGBTQ+ clergy being able to fully be who God called them to be. Clergy are also free to perform same-sex and same-gender weddings, and now The United Methodist Church can join our siblings in other inclusive denominations in saying that everyone means everyone.
There is so much I love about our United Methodist tradition. I value our connectionalism. Our theology is embedded deep in my bones, and I think it situates us well to offer meaning, hope, and healing in our modern world. And yet, since our inception as The Local Church, while I haven't necessarily hidden the fact that we are a United Methodist community, I also haven't shouted it from rooftops. For better or worse, I haven't wanted to perpetuate more harm. The safety, celebration, and affirmation of those entrusted to us by God took priority. (For anyone wondering, still, in our functioning and core theology, we have leaned hard into our United Methodist identity.)
And this is why today, I’m so thankful that both things can be true. We can be proudly affirming and proudly United Methodist. It feels so good, and there is so much to celebrate. I give God thanks for all who worked so hard to make these changes happen—for the faithful, risk-taking pioneers who have led the way in the face of punishment, for those who’ve accepted God’s call even when the church wouldn’t affirm them, for organizations like the Reconciling Ministries Network, for those who have quietly prayed, been moved to affirmation by the Spirit, and then born witness to their transformation—and I celebrate what these historic decisions mean for our congregation, our denomination, the world, and most importantly, all beloved LGBTQ+ children of God. I pray that this week will bring with it a new memory that inspires, brings healing, and empowers us to continue sharing God’s expansive, transforming love to all.
To this end, there is still so much work to be done toward repair and reconciliation. By God’s grace, this work continues. But today, what’s been true all along at The Local Church is now true for our denomination: all means all. I’ll never forget it. Thanks be to God.
If you have any questions about General Conference, what this means for us moving forward, or would simply like someone to process with, I’m here for you.
Grace and peace,
Brent
Gracious and loving God, we give you thanks for the diversity of your creation and for the work you are doing to bring about a more inclusive United Methodist Church. We celebrate the historic decisions made at the recent General Conference and pray that they will mark a new beginning of healing, unity, and love within our denomination. Empower us by your Holy Spirit to continue building a church that truly embraces and affirms all people, so that together we may share your transforming love with the world. In the name of Christ, our Redeemer and Reconciler, we pray. Amen.
