My daughter Maddie would tell me “hate is a strong word, daddy.” And she would be right. With her spiritual guidance ringing in my ears, I should confess that I don’t really hate Annual Conference. But despise seemed too extreme even for me. I thought about titling this “Why Annual Conference Wears Me Down,” but then you might think it was a statement about my aging or unfit body. That isn’t what I mean, however, though I am aging and unfit. On the other hand, I love walking, and have refused the shuttles and elevators by choice, preferring to enjoy the sights and sounds of walking back and forth across the Ball State campus.
So, it is not a physical wearing down that brings me to this essay. Rather, Annual Conference wears down my soul. It erodes my sense of call and place in the church. Now, let me point out an omission in the title of this rant. (OK, I’ve named it!) I didn’t say “Why I Hate The Annual Conference.” The Annual Conference is the body that gives me a place to live out my call, to exercise my gifts, whatever they may be. Beyond that the Annual Conference is my family, brother and sister clergy, many of whom have been formational in profound ways, some of whom have shared significantly in a variety of moments of my life, and a few of whom I name as some of my closest, deepest friends. In addition, the Annual Conference, in a variety of iterations, has been my family since my birth. The Annual Conference baptized me, sent me and my family hither and yon across Indiana into a rich tapestry of living environments for which I am grateful.
No, I don’t hate the Annual Conference. I couldn’t, because it is me or in me, and in those I love, including my congregations, yesterday and today. Most of you reading this are also the Annual Conference. So, read carefully, please. It is not the entity, but the gathering. Once a year, hence annual, the entity gathers together representatives to do the business required by the human institution that we are, and - in theory - the spiritual booster shot and call to accountability that John Wesley envisioned when the Methodist movement began.
If you had asked me five years ago why I was reluctant to go to Annual Conference I would have talked about the mind-numbing tedium of the administration of the Conference - and a whole lot of it focused on the benefits for me and my colleagues. The rules and regulations of churches and institutions are frighteningly complex. The structures of the Annual Conference would cause a Washington bureaucrat to stare open-mouthed in amazement. Thankfully, the church and the Conference have people who love to wrangle out the details with exacting care. I’m glad they are there, but also wish they would do it behind closed doors! I was reluctant to attend Conference because of the necessary tedium of the institution, or so I thought.
I don’t know whether things have changed lately. Perhaps in our panic in the face of decline has brought about a shift in emphasis during the annual gathering. Or maybe I was just oblivious to it until the cumulative effect has worn me down to a raw, overly-sensitive mass of insecurities. But for the past few years, it seems as though the main purpose of Annual Conference is to tell me how worthless I am.
Probably an overstatement, but it doesn’t feel that way. Over and over again I am told that I am not doing the right things, that I’m valuing old out-dated ideas, that I am contributing to the continued decline and irrelevance of the church.
Let me give you an example: A bishop told us this year that since he hasn’t been able to find a radio station that plays organ music and 18th Century English hymnody that we ought to junk the tradition. It doesn’t speak any more, he claimed. He also introduced us to the fact that most folks, particularly young people, don’t wake up or go to work with a desire to sing 18th Century English hymns. And he’s right, I have to say. But then, I doubt that most young people wake up with a burning desire to read a confusing ancient text with a dizzying array of literary styles and references to obscure historical events. Or, come to think of it, they probably don’t go to work with a hankering to know a two thousand year old son of a carpenter from a tiny Middle Eastern country who only managed to preach and teach for three years before meeting a grisly end. So, by the bishop’s logic we should dismiss the bible and Jesus because they are no longer relevant. Let me put some minds at ease and point out that the bishop in question is not our bishop, but a hired gun who came to conference to sell a book, I mean to teach us something about being the church.
I liked the book, I think that the bishop is on to something, to be honest. I’ve used it in a class, and used it to take a look at some of the things I do and the priorities I have. But I was a bit surprised to hear the claim that there is only one way to be the church and our way isn’t it. It seems to me that the theology of the Wesley hymns is so much deeper than much of what seems popular in worship today. Maybe the form doesn’t appeal like it used to, but surely there are other choices than abandoning something that has fed centuries of Methodists and others and taught us the essence of our faith.
Maybe I’m overstating. Maybe I’m misreading. Maybe I’m whining a bit. Or more than a bit. But it seems to me that there is room in the United Methodist Church for a variety of approaches, a variety of styles, and to continue to be told that unless you do it this way you aren’t really doing it right, or well wears on me after a while.
So, let me turn away from all of that and toward a bible study which is what this space is supposed to be about. When I asked Don what the scripture is for this weekend, since I am heading out of state to prepare to teach in the School of Christian Mission this summer, he said there isn’t a text for worship. ... sigh ... But, the text for the Lifetree ministry which is forming the basis for our Sunday morning worship is this:
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6 it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
OK God, I can take a hint. Get over myself and listen again. Being loving includes loving even bishops and Annual Conferences. “Does not insist on its own way.” You know, sometimes trying to be like Jesus is darned hard. “Not irritable or resentful.” Come on, give me a break. “Bears all things ...”
These verses, and a number of others I have to admit, are why I’ll go again next year. I admit that I have things to learn. I confess that I don’t always do things right. And I am sure that I don’t have all the answers. So, I’ll keep plugging away. And I hope you’ll keep plugging away where you are too.
Maybe hoping all things is a better way for all of us.
Shalom,
Derek
So, it is not a physical wearing down that brings me to this essay. Rather, Annual Conference wears down my soul. It erodes my sense of call and place in the church. Now, let me point out an omission in the title of this rant. (OK, I’ve named it!) I didn’t say “Why I Hate The Annual Conference.” The Annual Conference is the body that gives me a place to live out my call, to exercise my gifts, whatever they may be. Beyond that the Annual Conference is my family, brother and sister clergy, many of whom have been formational in profound ways, some of whom have shared significantly in a variety of moments of my life, and a few of whom I name as some of my closest, deepest friends. In addition, the Annual Conference, in a variety of iterations, has been my family since my birth. The Annual Conference baptized me, sent me and my family hither and yon across Indiana into a rich tapestry of living environments for which I am grateful.
No, I don’t hate the Annual Conference. I couldn’t, because it is me or in me, and in those I love, including my congregations, yesterday and today. Most of you reading this are also the Annual Conference. So, read carefully, please. It is not the entity, but the gathering. Once a year, hence annual, the entity gathers together representatives to do the business required by the human institution that we are, and - in theory - the spiritual booster shot and call to accountability that John Wesley envisioned when the Methodist movement began.
If you had asked me five years ago why I was reluctant to go to Annual Conference I would have talked about the mind-numbing tedium of the administration of the Conference - and a whole lot of it focused on the benefits for me and my colleagues. The rules and regulations of churches and institutions are frighteningly complex. The structures of the Annual Conference would cause a Washington bureaucrat to stare open-mouthed in amazement. Thankfully, the church and the Conference have people who love to wrangle out the details with exacting care. I’m glad they are there, but also wish they would do it behind closed doors! I was reluctant to attend Conference because of the necessary tedium of the institution, or so I thought.
I don’t know whether things have changed lately. Perhaps in our panic in the face of decline has brought about a shift in emphasis during the annual gathering. Or maybe I was just oblivious to it until the cumulative effect has worn me down to a raw, overly-sensitive mass of insecurities. But for the past few years, it seems as though the main purpose of Annual Conference is to tell me how worthless I am.
Probably an overstatement, but it doesn’t feel that way. Over and over again I am told that I am not doing the right things, that I’m valuing old out-dated ideas, that I am contributing to the continued decline and irrelevance of the church.
Let me give you an example: A bishop told us this year that since he hasn’t been able to find a radio station that plays organ music and 18th Century English hymnody that we ought to junk the tradition. It doesn’t speak any more, he claimed. He also introduced us to the fact that most folks, particularly young people, don’t wake up or go to work with a desire to sing 18th Century English hymns. And he’s right, I have to say. But then, I doubt that most young people wake up with a burning desire to read a confusing ancient text with a dizzying array of literary styles and references to obscure historical events. Or, come to think of it, they probably don’t go to work with a hankering to know a two thousand year old son of a carpenter from a tiny Middle Eastern country who only managed to preach and teach for three years before meeting a grisly end. So, by the bishop’s logic we should dismiss the bible and Jesus because they are no longer relevant. Let me put some minds at ease and point out that the bishop in question is not our bishop, but a hired gun who came to conference to sell a book, I mean to teach us something about being the church.
I liked the book, I think that the bishop is on to something, to be honest. I’ve used it in a class, and used it to take a look at some of the things I do and the priorities I have. But I was a bit surprised to hear the claim that there is only one way to be the church and our way isn’t it. It seems to me that the theology of the Wesley hymns is so much deeper than much of what seems popular in worship today. Maybe the form doesn’t appeal like it used to, but surely there are other choices than abandoning something that has fed centuries of Methodists and others and taught us the essence of our faith.
Maybe I’m overstating. Maybe I’m misreading. Maybe I’m whining a bit. Or more than a bit. But it seems to me that there is room in the United Methodist Church for a variety of approaches, a variety of styles, and to continue to be told that unless you do it this way you aren’t really doing it right, or well wears on me after a while.
So, let me turn away from all of that and toward a bible study which is what this space is supposed to be about. When I asked Don what the scripture is for this weekend, since I am heading out of state to prepare to teach in the School of Christian Mission this summer, he said there isn’t a text for worship. ... sigh ... But, the text for the Lifetree ministry which is forming the basis for our Sunday morning worship is this:
1 Corinthians 13:4-7 Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant 5 or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; 6 it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. 7 It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
OK God, I can take a hint. Get over myself and listen again. Being loving includes loving even bishops and Annual Conferences. “Does not insist on its own way.” You know, sometimes trying to be like Jesus is darned hard. “Not irritable or resentful.” Come on, give me a break. “Bears all things ...”
These verses, and a number of others I have to admit, are why I’ll go again next year. I admit that I have things to learn. I confess that I don’t always do things right. And I am sure that I don’t have all the answers. So, I’ll keep plugging away. And I hope you’ll keep plugging away where you are too.
Maybe hoping all things is a better way for all of us.
Shalom,
Derek
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