​A wise Bishop once explained to me that “Methodists have always fought their theological battles with polity not theology.” Polity is a word which stands for the rules and principles by which we order ourselves as church.   We were studying the church spilt prior to the American civil war. As I watched this year’s historic called General Conference, I remembered that lesson.  How true it remains.  We know no other way than to attempt to solve our problems through rules of order. That way has brought us about as far as we can go. 
 
On one hand, pragmatism has been Methodism’s unique gift to the church catholic – granted, occasionally we act and talk as if we invented the church ourselves.  At our most Methodist, we set our doctrinal differences aside for the sake of mission; we organize and reorganize as needed to serve the world’s hurt in our unique time and place. This is an essential observation to understand the layer upon layer of rules in our Discipline.  There is no one theology of the church that makes sense of it  — though occasionally someone tries and makes even more of a mess of that pedantic book.
 
Historically, Methodist’s organize to advance mission, not for the sake of theological clarity or rhetorical elegance.  On the other hand, when we do arrive at an impasse that is theological — our words about God and our lives in relationship to God —  we have little other precedent or recourse but to talk and debate order; we throw the words 'accountability', 'biblical', and 'holiness' around, sounding confused enough at it as not to be convincing to anyone.
 
This General Conference was a battle over plans of order: polity.  Polity happens through politics and politics is always about power (and money); whoever manages a majority pretends themselves to be the victor and arbiter of truth.  At the height of the American Civil War, even Abraham Lincoln knew better than this.  Robert’s Rules of order assume that a conversation is a battle, that a majority wins, and a minority voice (if it is at least a 3rd of the body) is heard. Robert's Rules are the work of a wise Army general.   They are not equipment for theology.   For that we need witness, humility, reverence.  In theory we are called to be witness to the Word of a lone prophet, a minority of one, who spoke truth to power and was put to death for the sake of good order. 
 
I was amused by the professional parliamentarian who was hired to bring to us some sense of decorum.   He said – I paraphrase – “Friends, we need to talk. I’ve read your transcripts, two General Conferences worth.  Your favorite thing is to rise to a ‘point of order.’” When a delegate raises a point of order, it is to claim an infraction of the rules has occurred; a foul serious enough that proceedings should stop and the error be corrected.  We loooove doing that; mostly as an excuse to make a speech.  As I watched the live debate, I longed for a way to rise to a point of theological order; to press a big red button and claim that an egregious foul had been committed, one worthy of pausing and sorting out a bit. I’m going to take some space in this and another post or two, to throw a flag on the play – to use an American sports term -- at key moments that rendered the parliamentary process theologically incontinent.
 
Here it goes; my first.  And this was in a friendly action: a speech for one of the inclusive plans; pro gay, sort of.   An earnest pastor from the south, a former district superintendent, rose to a speech in favor. As I remember it, he argued that human sexuality was such a small part – holding his fingers together in the “teeny weeny” gesture – of who we are and what we do that we should be setting aside our differences about LGBTQ sexuality so we can do the principle work of the church.  Foul!  I'm going to call a flag on that play.  Maybe we should pause there, sisters and brothers, and talk about that a bit.
 
We are believers in a Word made flesh, as I recall. Salvation came and comes to us into this world, through enfleshed existence.  Jesus said, I came that you may have life in all its fullness. The vision of the end the bible gives is not an escape from this world -- Plato gets this wrong -- it is God coming into this world, making all things new.   Behold, our sexuality, our sensual orientation to this enfleshed world conditions everything we see and know and respond to as human beings.   It is not a tiny part of being human; our sexuality is the warp and woof of our being.  One of the church's first bishops, Irenaeus of Leon, put this vision of enfleshed salvation perfectly, “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” 
 
Let me give a witness.
 
I am a gay man.   I came out when I was 43.   I have been blessed.  I am grateful beyond words for those who have loved and cared for me.  We did the best we could.  However, ever since I was a child I have been haunted by a recurring nightmare. (Be at peace, I wouldn’t be telling  you something this personal if I didn’t know exactly what it meant).  One of the worst things I could imagine as a boy was getting into trouble:  I was a preacher’s kid; small town; rural community.  My goal was to be the best little boy in the world.   Good boys weren’t gay.  I was haunted by a dream. I would go into the basement, my basement, my house, my room and discover that there was a dead body buried there.  I would be blamed.  I wake up horrified, terrified, trembling.   This dream, night and again, throughout my life until I was 43.
 
To make a long story of Calvinist providence and Wesleyan whimsy trivially short, I eventually found my way into the pastorate, or it found me. The revised common lectionary, Lent Year B, is a series of extraordinary texts from the gospel of John.  The grace of the risen Christ stalks us on every page, challenging the reader to accept it. It was the penitumite Sunday, the Sunday before Palm Sunday.   Lazurus dead, 3 days stinking dead.  Mary and Martha angry. Jesus wept.  And finally, there, I heard my savior’s grief stricken call:  “Lazarus, Come Out.”  That terrified gay child I had buried in the basement of my being, answered.  I walked into the light.  I was finally whole; awkward as anything, but fully alive.   My sexual being united with the rest of me.  I never had that dream again.  Granted, my body that had been wracked by stress and anxiety, felt at midlife, like I was born again with 3 decades worth of stink.   Yet I was finally whole, saved by the voice of my Lord.   The acceptance of our sexual orientation toward God’s glorious creation is an essential, non negotiable part of salvation, wholeness of life, shalom   We deny it to all we entomb with shame and ignorance, and to all those whom we have murdered, physically or spiritually, through our bigotry and violence.
 
Recounting this story, through that biblical lens, helps me to have compassion for those who have not yet opened themselves to this truth.   To accept it one must stand at the grave of all those LGBTQI children who are dead because you have arrived too late. It requires us, as church and culture, to weep at what we have allowed to happen, to admit the harm we have done.  Jesus wept.  And so must you.  
 
In reality, I am poor at theological argument.   I detest conflict.  But I am going to stand with Mary and Martha, angrily, and demand we come to the tomb of our gay children and weep.   For it is only there that this church can bear witness to the grief stricken voice of her Lord who calls us out into the fullness of life and makes us whole.  Some folks say I have courage, I don’t.   Like the blind beggar of John 9, I didn’t ask for this life, or for this healing. At this point, I'm just a beggar at the Table of grace looking for someone to love.  Interrogate me all you like.   There is just one thing I know; it is the only thing I know for certain: once I was blind. Now I see.
 
And I dare you, double dog dare you, to claim that I am not taking the Bible seriously.   Next time, we are going to call foul on that play.

Friends,
As you have read in the headlines, the General Conference of the The United Methodist Church met in St. Louis this week, with the intent of resolving three decades of conflict over the subject of human sexuality. They did their work. And? We have an expression in Missouri, "You cain't put lipstick on a pig." So I won't try. A minority of US delegates and a majority of international delegates succeeded in passing legislation which tightens enforcement of already existing restrictions against LGBT clergy and marriages; the legislation keeps intact discriminatory language about LGBT persons.

The implications of the decision remain to be seen. The legislation must pass through the Judicial Council (the Supreme Court) of the UMC before it becomes church law. That meeting will occur this April. It is likely all or part of the legislation passed will not be in compliance with our existing constitution (The Book of Discipline). There remains wisdom and protection in the Discipline preventing our exertion of power over one another. However, with the outcome of this General Conference, we see those restrictions breaking. Depending on the outcome of the Judicial Council rulings, the traditionalist legislation would certainly be redrafted for the 2020 General Conference session. 

This decision came as a shock to many of us. It has been traumatic for LGBT Methodists, and those who love us, and our vision for an inclusive church. I was asked this morning "Are you okay?" My answer is no, I'm not okay. The reality is in the near term nothing will change; there is a sense, however, that we have turned a corner. The last floor speech at the General Conference opened a door to a new future. Through the chair of the Western Jurisdiction leadership and delegates, Rev. Donna Prichard, your representatives to this General Conference spoke, "Rooted in Wesleyan tradition, grounded in Scripture and committed to mission and ministry, the Western Jurisdiction intends to continue to be one church, fully inclusive and open to all God's children, across the theological and social spectrum. . .We also know there are others who feel the same way today, so we invite you to be in dialogue with us as we move forward together into a future with hope."

Either that dialogue advances the GC in 2020 to a new spirit or we are seeing seeds for a new church, grounded in the inclusive vision of the Western Jurisdiction of the UMC. You are and will be part of that. It is essential for you, Los Altos UMC to not be swayed, or discouraged, but ever more resolved as I am to be a witness to God's love for all people.

-- Peace, Pastor Mark
Rev. Mark Sturgess

"Only the soul that ventilates the world with tenderness has a chance of changing the world."
--Father Gregory Boyle

As we made our way through the book of Ephesians this summer in worship, I found myself preaching a common theme: as a church, the spirit in which we do something is more important than what we accomplish.  I am convinced of this. 

Charitable work, social justice advocacy, music education and performance, family services, can be accomplished by anyone. In fact, there are a host of organizations in our society providing these services at a higher capacity and competency than we are. This is as it should be. Our unique work, by God's grace, is the transformation of the human heart as a vessel of God's healing love. Wesley identified the presence of this spirit of gracefulness most often using Galatians 5:24: "the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control." These "holy tempers" are the identifiable characteristics of Christian community. When these are replaced by perfectionist critique, complaint, and correction, a church becomes an institution like any other. 

Early in my years in ministry, I was derided by a colleague as I held fast to the conviction that congregational health is more important than growth. Sadly, that person burned out of ministry quickly. In our time growth is an idol; so is fear of "decline." A joyful, compassionate, graceful body, may numerically grow or it may not. The essential thing is a spirit rooted and grounded in the love of God. Such a community has a presence of infectious joy: we are quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to take offense. I worry when the first words I encounter at the close of worship is a complaint about a hymn, a misprinted announcement, or an incorrect date. I rejoice when we share the experience of simple, quiet joy: then stale coffee, served on year old out-of-season napkins will quench thirst as if drawn from a well of the water of life. It is a people's gracefulness and tenderness that speaks the word: welcome.

I suggested Sunday, another way to approach this same point. The number of our days are short, where should our best energy be spent? Wesley gave a remarkable sermon on the subject that is nearly a compendium of his teaching about the church. He describes our work in the church in concentric circles.  The center is the love of God and of every life that has breath. Shaping this love in the grace of God -- moving outward (see diagram)-- are the "holy tempers", acts of mercy, acts of piety, then our membership in the church itself (I put administration here too). We should be increasingly "zealous" for that which lies closer to the center. I leave you with Wesley's words and invite us into a conversation in the weeks ahead on how to live them in our work together.

"For instance, all that truly fear God should be zealous for the Church; both for the catholic or universal Church, and for that part of it whereof they are members . . . At the same time they should be more zealous for the ordinances of God; for public and private prayer, for hearing and reading the word of God, and for fasting, and the Lord's Supper. But they should be more zealous for works of mercy, than even for works of piety. Yet ought they to be more zealous still for all holy tempers, lowliness, meekness, resignation: But most zealous of all, for that which is the sum and the perfection of religion, the love of God and [humanity]." (From "On Zeal" by John Wesley)

​-- Rev. Mark F. Sturgess, Los Altos UMC Newsletter column, August 23, 2018
​

 John 18:37 Pilate asked [Jesus], “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” 38 Pilate asked him, “What is truth?” 

“What is Truth?”  Pilate’s question.  Our’s today.  The question, in the text, is rhetorical.  Pilate is either being evasive or dismissive.  It is the end of the conversation for Pilate.  The reader and the church know otherwise, or at least we should.  The truth is standing right in front of him.  In the 4th Gospel — as the church has held ever since — truth is a person, the Word made flesh. In fact, Jesus does not claim here to be truth itself, but rather, Jesus is the one who makes God known. The words of the gospel point to the Word, the Word makes God known in order that we may “belong to the truth.”   

Using a bit of modern Evangelical language, the goal of the biblical testimony is that we may have a personal relationship with God through Jesus Christ.  Truth, then, cannot be reduced to objective “facts,” but is known and made known in our relationship with God and one another.  This is an abstract idea, but attested repeatedly in Scripture. The evidence and measure of our relationship with God in Christ is how we treat one another.  This is why — I suspect — in Matthew 25 for example, Jesus suggests that we meet him in the face of poor we feed, or deny him by ignoring the needs of the rejected and outcast.  This is why — as I illustrated in my last post — hundreds of verses in the biblical text address how we treat one another, especially the least.  

The beauty of this simple, ironic scene from John, is its unveiling of our most fundamental confusion about the Bible. Truth is not about certain knowledge; truth is the One to whom we belong. For Christians -- I would argue -- the Bible is the word of God only in a derivative sense, only in the sense that it brings us into relationship with God through Jesus Christ. Truth, then, cannot be reduced to “facts,” no more than a relationship can be reduced to sentences.  In my previous post, I listed the seven passages that are argued to condemn same sex acts as antithetical to the Christian lifestyle.  In these “facts” we claim to possess the truth.   Friends, we do not possess the truth, we belong to it.  The truth possess us.

​This misunderstanding exists among modern liberals and conservatives, alike.  Modern Liberals have attempted to burrow beneath the testimony and discover truth by the measure of our scientific, analytic reason.  The question for liberals is “Did it happen? What did the original author really think and say?”  Modern conservatives, in a parallel quest for objective certainty, freeze the text as if each verse were a “fact” given to us by God.  Both ways of reading are dead ends.  We do not possess the truth, we belong to God, and that belonging is evidenced in how we treat one another.  Until we recognize that mistake, I fear we will never move forward as a church.  I pray that as our General Conference ponders: “What is Truth?” that we observe Jesus standing before us, always standing before us guiding our way.

-- Rev. Mark F. Sturgess