Surprises at General Conference

On the faithfulness of God

Just before the Global Methodist Church’s Convening Conference began, a friend said to me, “I read your Substack article on the conference. You seem apprehensive.” Yes, I was apprehensive. The “cautious” part of my cautious optimism had kicked into high gear.

I’m not a pessimist or even much of a worrier. Nevertheless my expectations around denominational gatherings have been formed by my past experiences, even as I resist that formation. Those experiences have often been painful. I’ve never been to a General Conference that wasn’t a gauntlet of political gamesmanship and parliamentary jostling, with a final outcome that marked off winners from losers. The 2019 UMC General Conference was especially painful. It left scars on many who attended. I know I accumulated deep pessimism during that gathering. That pessimism wasn’t the result of who “won” or “lost” the votes. Rather, it rose up within me because everyone lost. Long before the process of formal separation began, the church was rent asunder.

I came to Costa Rica apprehensive. I’m leaving surprised. As I type in my hotel room the night before returning home, I feel differently than I did a week ago. One reason for this is that we accomplished a great deal. We didn’t get jammed up in legislative gridlock. We established a strong bone structure for this new denomination. We even put some meat on those bones. I learned that my fellow delegates wanted to be Methodist—not non-denominational, not simply evangelical, but Methodist. We were there for a common purpose, and I’m grateful for that.

In fact, the strongest feeling I’m taking away from this conference is gratitude. First, I’m grateful to God for guiding us through. Many were in prayer before and during the conference for God’s wisdom, peace, and presence, and God answered them with an overflow of grace. “The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective,” writes James (5:16). Yes and amen, time and again.

I’m grateful for the untold hours of work that went into this conference. The staff was efficient and dedicated. Volunteers spent hour after hour serving sacrificially. Delegates worked 12-13 hour days, and pages worked longer. The music team was up early and late to bed. The committee charged with organizing the conference labored long and hard to pull it off in a time frame they were told was impossible. Turns out, it wasn’t impossible. It was demanding, but they did it.

I’m also grateful for the spirit of cooperation with which the delegates went about their work. Time and again I heard people say, “That’s not just what I wanted, but that’s okay.” When you agree on the big things, smaller disagreements become manageable. You can trust more. You don’t worry that every motion or amendment is a Trojan horse. The push and pull of legislative work was sometimes difficult, but we all knew we were working toward common goals.

Over the course of the week, the proceedings of the Convening Conference began to change my expectations. The goal of this gathering was to build up Christ’s church, and that is what we did. Sometimes I would see the old habits of political maneuvering rise up again. I didn’t like it. Neither did the assembled body. We wanted to trust each other, and, by and large, we did. But that was a choice, an act of will. We had to choose to trust, even when our malformed instincts told us not to do so.

The most unifying element of the conference was its powerful worship. People knelt in repentance. I was one of them. Tears flowed. We sang our lungs out in adoration of the triune God. It was downright charismatic. I don’t mean we all started speaking in tongues, though some people did. Rather, God was pouring out charismata—”gifts”—on his gathered people as we called on the name of Jesus. We immersed ourselves in goodness, truth, and beauty, and when we gathered again for business, our minds were rightly directed to the work of God and away from the exaltation of the self.

In those moments of worship, there was healing. God is, after all, a healer. Our public worship, prayers, and the Lord’s Supper were the instruments by which God applied the healing balm of the Holy Spirit. That’s what many of the tears were about. God was tending to old wounds. Perhaps we’ve even kept these wounds open because it’s less painful than allowing them to heal. God is telling us, however, that enough is enough. It’s time to heal. If we’re harboring unforgiveness, it’s time to let that go. If we’re crouched in a defensive posture, we can stand up straight. Christ did not die so we can wallow in resentment or self-pity, but so we can have new life.

For my part, I’ve learned I still need to repent, and I still need to heal. I’m unlearning old ways of thinking. God is burning the unforgiveness out of me, but it’s difficult, sometimes painful, to receive this grace. “Wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25). I would guess that many others share the same struggles. We’re in a new place, and now we need to learn new ways of relating to one another. We need to heal. Only God can make these things possible, but if we are yielded to his will, he will do so. He wants to do so.

At a dinner after the conference, my friend chastised me for all the anxiety I brought with me. It was something along the lines of, “O ye of little faith!” And yes, I deserved it. What a foolish thing to have such meager trust in God when I’ve seen his goodness throughout my life. God is faithful. There is peace beyond measure when we finally internalize that truth. God is faithful.

Lord, make me faithful, too.