Ordination in the Global Methodist Church

What it means to me after 12 years of ministry in The United Methodist Church

This is an article detailing my twelve-year journey towards ordination. It covers a lot of details that people usually do not say out loud. I have never read an account like the one I have written below, which is why I am writing it. I believe there are hundreds of people who have been chewed up and spit out by the dysfunctional structure of The United Methodist Church. My hope is that my account will give some comfort to folks who never really got to process what happened to them and just had to deal with the rejection and dejection they experienced. Some have notions of propriety about not naming persons who wronged them publicly. I don’t share such notions of propriety all the time. Others think it inappropriate to share in-house documents, but I don’t. I have laid myself bare here, sometimes trying to earnestly acknowledge things that could be considered bragging. That is not the spirit in which it is intended. You, of course, can decide for yourself how graciously you would like to interpret my words.

When my father learned of my intention to attend seminary and to enter the ministry, there were a lot of feelings. Not all of them good. My father is now a retired United Methodist elder. He served the UMC for decades, first in the West Texas Annual Conference, then in the Oklahoma Annual Conference. In that time, there were many joys, but there was also much pain and anguish. Churches and their people can be cruel and, well, sinful. A lot of that can be targeted at the pastor. It often is. Moreover, I’m sort of a glutton for punishment. I speak when most others choose to be silent. He knew that the path on which I was setting out would result in a good deal of pain and anguish. He wasn’t wrong.

This was in the year 2007, having just graduated Hendrix College in Conway, AR with a major in Religion. Though I had been an atheist through undergrad, I had been interested in world religions, so I studied them. When graduation came, they asked me to speak at baccalaureate because of my degree program. To the surprise of many, I spoke in a different voice than I had previously known. I suddenly became aware of the real possibility of the presence of the Holy Spirit. I needed to go to seminary to further explore whether the God whom I had dismissed as a fairy tale was actually real.

It was too late to go to seminary on any financial aid, so I took a year away from education. In that year, I worked for a few nonprofits and officially entered the candidacy process in the UMC, a candidate of University UMC in Tulsa while living in Little Rock, AR. I appeared before a District Committee on Ministry (DCOM) for the first time soon after being approved as a candidate. It didn’t necessarily go well. I remember them pushing me on creeds (at the time, I wasn’t fond of them). The dynamic was strange; it was repeated in other contexts over the years. It was a disparate group attempting to guard something that wasn’t altogether clear to them. Some were friendly while others were hostile. This was when I identified as a liberal. I was assigned a mentor, an associate pastor at Boston Avenue UMC in Tulsa, with whom I met a few times over the years as I returned to Tulsa. My folks lived there, so I would return with some frequency at different chapter markers of my early adulthood.

In Little Rock, I was given a mentor, Ed Matthews, to lead me through the candidacy process while living and working in Arkansas. He was a gracious and patient mentor, as I recall. We would meet at FUMC Little Rock on a regular basis to talk through the curriculum provided by the denomination.

Anyway, long story short, God is actually real, and he revealed himself to me over a period of many years. I was accepted into Boston University School of Theology and got some financial aid, matriculating in 2008. I read my bible for the first time in seminary. I went through what was purportedly the most rigorous and worthy theologically liberal seminary program the UMC has to offer. I took a course on United Methodist polity and history and found that I was very drawn to the vision of the Methodist Revival. God systematically took things I had thrown in the trash (Christianity/Methodism) and established them in my passions, while taking things I had loved (liberalism and social justice activism) and exposed them as irredeemably lacking.

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Candidacy in Boston

While living in Boston, my candidacy was entrusted to the New England Annual Conference, though my official relationship remained with the Oklahoma Annual Conference. After much effort, I was able to set up an appointment with the district superintendent of my area. I showed up the morning we had arranged. He was an hour late, having forgotten entirely about our meeting. He gave me the bare minimum time, assigned me a mentor who never returned my calls, and sent me on my way. He seemed hostile to me for most of the meeting, but at the end he gently grabbed my hands and prayed with me. It was strange…

Anyway, it never came to much. I was too focused on my degree program, and my mentor had other priorities (as he should).

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Candidacy in Idaho

Coming out of seminary, my parents had just gotten divorced and I didn’t want to do ministry in the same conference or area as them, so I decided to transfer to the Oregon-Idaho Annual Conference and go minister to a three-point charge in the High Desert area of southern Idaho. I was given a mentor, Gary Ross, who was also a conservative (I had come out of the closet by then), and a good friend. We met several times over a few years. I appeared before my district’s DCOM several times, seeking ordination. I met with much frustration there. For instance, after my first couple meetings with the Snake River District Committee on Ministry, they made two recommendations, one of which was, “During your past two visits with SRDCOM many have noted that you brought an aura of confidence which came across as arrogant, self-righteous, and an unwillingness to listen to others.” There was no real recommendation there. They told me to work with my mentor. This was in 2012.

My mentor was a kind man. He was overtly conservative, which was pretty rare in those days. Now, I’m pretty sure it cannot be done by anyone except the most established leaders. I gradually came to see myself similarly, though not at all because of him. It was more because of my seminary education and upbringing being continually revealed as plainly false in daily ministry and life, plus the clear veracity of the scriptures and church through the ages. It had become abundantly clear to me that the church of my generation was proud, and that I needed to serve as an instrument of God to help it to return to our roots.

A word is required about my psychological profile. I am a white male who also presents as male and is attracted to women. To many, in the way I look, speak, and comport myself, I represent privilege. I am well educated, self-aware, and eager to connect with others. I lack the ambivalence and reticence of most others who engage in large tasks. Rather, my method has always been to engage with vulnerability and willingness to learn. In a previous age, I would have done well. In this present era, I have been hammered down. My openness was interpreted as cockiness. Being openly unimpressed with liberal theology, the animating ideology of the majority of those in authority in the UMC, did not help. In retrospect, I imagine it was somewhat easy for them to repeatedly sideline me, claiming that I lacked the humility necessary to take on the mantle of ministry.

The following year, they gave me the illusion of moving forward while actually stalling me. Here’s the letter I got

This was to become par for the course. I satisfied all of the educational requirements, as well as submitted all of the required paperwork. My submissions were backed up by solid Wesleyan theology, informed by the historic works of the the early church fathers. I did well in my interviews, articulating the reasons for why I believe what I believe, showing my roots in Methodist doctrine, applying my beliefs to the context of local ministry. The committee’s answer was to point to individuals who might feel alienated or left out by my theology. You will notice all of their recommendations compel me to consider the experiences and feelings of others as though those things have anything to do with doctrine. The pushback doesn’t seem to have anything to do with how I presented Methodist doctrine. It was that I presented it at all in any authentic form. It was as though some consensus opinion had already been reached that authentic, orthodox Wesleyan theology was now trite and gross, and now only figurative, more inclusive forms of it could be welcome.

Though they are rare in Oregon-Idaho AC, conservative clergy do exist. A couple of them served on my DCOM. In private, they warned me that I would never make it through the DCOM or the Board of Ordained Ministry (BOOM) if I continued to speak nakedly of my affinity for anything resembling a historically recognizable biblical hermeneutic. I resolved not to water down, mask, or misrepresent my personal theology in those settings for the sake of personal integrity. I alienated more than a few conservatives over the years by making this decision. By inference, and now here explicitly, I would say that those conservative clergy who have not plainly stated their theological understandings before these bodies lack integrity and should be ashamed. Their willingness to ‘play ball’ in this way contributed to the farce that the UMC was open to ordaining conservatives in various conferences, when the truth is that they fatally wounded these clergy on the way through the process by compelling them to essentially lie in order to gain access to the status of ‘ordained elder.’

This was something that got intensely personal at times. There was a conservative clergy member who had somewhat befriended me in the course of my years in Idaho. He actually welcomed me into his home more than once. Yet, at my last meeting with the DCOM, after the group deliberated, it was he who informed me, after they brought me back into the room, that they simply thought I was too rigid. I felt so betrayed. He knew my heart, my love for the Lord and his people. I didn’t speak to him for several months. When I finally did, I told him of my hurt. He said that he hadn’t agreed with them, but that he wanted me to hear it from him so that I might receive it better. I saw this, too, as weakness. In private, the man had convictions. When he had to work with liberals in a committee, suddenly he didn’t have any fight in him. There were more conservatives along the way who unfortunately folded during oversight committee work over the coming years.

They asked me to take a psychological assessment in 2014 before they would consider sending me along to the BOOM. It came back good, with only a couple of concerns. They made mountains out of molehills and ended up recommending that I engage a licensed therapist for ten sessions or so. I called the psychologist who assessed me to verify they had gotten the correct impression. “No,” he said. “You fall well within healthy parameters for leadership, and that should be obvious by my report.” Frustrating. I found a licensed therapist in Twin Falls, not far from me, who after a few sessions said, “There’s nothing wrong with you, man. I don’t know what they want me to do with you.” We finished our sessions, but then it became an issue to get him to write a final assessment. He was apparently going through some kind of crisis. I hounded him several times to write something up for me, not realizing that it didn’t really matter.

In the end, my mentor wrote a defeated letter to my DCOM, asking that they simply choose not to discontinue me as a candidate so that I might transfer to another annual conference where I might be acceptable. They were happy to provide the facade of graciousness and allow my transfer to the Oklahoma Annual Conference.

I skipped over many chapters of scandal in the years of my service in that conference. There was a lot of dysfunction and dishonesty. A local pastor just south of my charge knew people in my congregation and started interfering with my ministry. My DS refused to correct him. Another pastor, a supposedly conservative guy from Great Britain, was commissioned to come assess my ministry for the DCOM. He ended up throwing me under the bus for the sake of his own status in the conference. After I left, he tried to patch things up, looking to transfer to a more friendly conference. Though many on the local church level appreciated my ministry, there were members who were openly hostile. Without conference support, I was neutered in what response I could offer to those who openly spurned my leadership and worked to frustrate me. One leader finally realized my intentions and started to soften, but then he died. My wife had to learn how to stand by me even while it sometimes felt like everyone hated me. While I had to wonder if I really was crazy and unlikeable, she had to wonder if she had married a crazy, unlikeable man. I am glad for the growth in our marriage that was achieved at that time. I am still disappointed at how unnecessary and scandalous the crisis was that produced it.

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The Move to Oklahoma

It became clear that I was going nowhere in Idaho. I sought a transfer to other conferences, interviewing at perhaps three or four of them. I remember Arkansas was particularly hostile. In Oklahoma, one of the superintendents remembered me from my time as a youth in camp. He was happy to offer me a two point charge at a church that had been full of conflict and a church that seemed to be almost dead.

It just so happened that the Lord was making a place for me. Leadership who had previously caused much conflict either died or left within a couple years. Though things weren’t ever serene, I had much more peace, people took less offense, and I have had much more confidence in the Lord. I had a superintendent who decided I was a problem, taking issue when I conducted a membership audit that removed 3/4 of the membership. He later accused me of being a sexist because a couple of women had a problem with me, despite the many women who have loved my leadership. It’s pretty easy to make an accusation when you don’t look at the counterpoint. Moreover, after a particularly destructive person came and wreaked some damage on my congregation, I wrote a letter to warn the clergy at the church she went to after that. I CCed my superintendent to likewise notify him, after which he sent a copy to the person I had warned about. I sincerely worried about this person’s mental health. I couldn’t believe the incompetence of my DS. I still am incredulous as I think about it.

My time with the DCOM in Oklahoma went some better, though not substantially. I was able to eventually be recommended to the BOOM. I had been assigned a mentor who, though liberal, acknowledged that I was not so rigid as to be uncompromising in collaborative work with those who see things differently. In 2017, I appeared before the Board of Ordained Ministry (BOOM) for the first time. I was aware that there were conservatives serving on this board. One of them, in particular, was supposedly strong in healing ministry. Many other conservatives I knew had stories of his efficacy in calling God’s attention to the need for healing in various people. I personally know a person who was healed of a serious condition during a time a group prayer he was facilitating. I had sought him out ahead of time, seeking to show him my heart for ministry, seeking his counsel and wisdom. He had been indifferent to me at that point. During my first BOOM meeting, he was openly hostile. I never figured out what the deal was.

At a later annual conference session, he made a point to approach me and be friendly. I awkwardly refused to engage. He later confronted me in the cafeteria, and I spoke honestly about how betrayed I had felt by his conduct. He eagerly volunteered how sorry he was that I felt that way, but he offered nothing with respect to his motivations for harpooning me, nor would he acknowledge having done so. For that reason, there was no reconciliation. To this day, I have no idea what happened.

Another conservative on the BOOM was kinder to me during my examination, but she wasn’t able to stand up for me against those who took offense. I remember one member in particular was incredulous that I was not tolerant of people who behaved rudely in the church. “You mean there are churches we would send you to that you would not happily serve?!” Well, yeah. Just like every pastor. The job of the pastor is not to serve as a punching bag. If there are problem personalities, I will directly speak to them. As a child, I attended churches in which folks were mistreating my folks. I’m not going to put my kids in the same position.

Another BOOM member was more derisive than angry, openly scoffing at my beliefs. I can remember looking around the room I was in, trying to gauge if the other members of the committee could recognize how strange it was to be exposing a pretty middle-of-the-road conservative to such scrutiny. Between meetings, a member or two approached me and patted me on the back as if to say, ‘I like you, but you’re not gonna make it.’

I was eventually approved as a ‘provisional elder.’ That entailed a three-year period of additional scrutiny, but it also implied that I might make it through. There was a big cringy display at annual conference that year, putting me and the other provisional elders in a silly sport-themed video for the assembled session. The lack of theological seriousness in that assembly was discomfiting. That was one of the years rainbow stoles were everywhere. One of the other provisionals tried to put a stole on me. When I refused to wear it, oh boy, anger was in the air.

My meeting with the BOOM the following year was met with more hostility. A liberal chairing one of the boards, an open lesbian (though supposedly not practicing), calmly said things to the effect that I was taking my faith too seriously and expecting too much. Another member of the same committee had taken the time to go through my Facebook posts, taking issue with my phrasing on strangely small things, with no corrective as to how else I should have said some things. He continued to politely hound me over the years with small picadillos for me to worry about.

The BOOM ended up rejecting most of my work. I had completed all of it, turned it in on time, and conformed it to the correct writing standards. When confronted on the content of my work, I was able to defend it. I was supposed to author a bible study that could be reproduced. I did it on Revelation. No good. They didn’t like my format. They couldn’t tell me what was wrong with mine; only that it did not conform to what they required. I fulfilled the requirements they gave me beforehand. I wrote a project proposal to teach a ‘Faith & Finances’ course at one of my churches. That was actually okay with them, I think. I wrote a ‘Theology of Worship’ paper. No good. I submitted a sermon. No good. The bibliography did not have enough references in it, they said. I had a couple. Their understanding of a sermon seems to have been more informed by academic papers than the needs of local congregation exhortation. Keep in mind that I had previously generated work worthy of a 3.7 GPA at BU School of Theology. My work had not and still has not slipped. These folks were moving the goalposts. They still had a second year to correct me if they saw something seriously lacking. The truth is that they were not willing to let me go any further.

They wanted me to read two books: “Generation to Generation” and “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality.” I reckon they were each aimed to inform me on family systems theory and emotional intelligence. It’s funny how each generation lacks the self-awareness to realize that the fads of their era will be seen as quaint and silly by the next. Meanwhile the eternal Word of God is readily available and treated as insufficient to govern a pastor as he discerns his role in the body. Oh, and how about that pesky Book of Discipline that pretty clearly guides that work and responsibilities of persons in the UMC? As in many other places in the UMC, it was often either disregarded or shrugged at. It was reported to me a few years later that members of the committee scoffed when, in private session, one person commented on how important it was to uphold the doctrinal standards of the Book of Discipline while conducting interviews.

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Intermission & Analysis

It’s worth remembering that, all this time, I had been serving faithfully as a local licensed pastor in the UMC. My churches, in small towns racked with addiction and poverty, had grown in financial health and attendance. While there was pushback and dissatisfaction from the laity, there always is. In pretty much every single appointment. I was personally available on a level most clergy aren’t. I had a healthy marriage, a burgeoning household. There were many signs of spiritual health if anyone had the energy to take a look. The only problem was that I didn’t observe the pieties of the cultured despisers who had claimed the upper leadership of my conference and of the UMC.

I’m not sure I would have made it through the process even in a more conservative conference. Granted, Oklahoma is more conservative than Oregon-Idaho, but the progressives have claimed the high ground in many a conference where they are a minority. The bulk of the laity are conservative and want to hear a pastor speak with clarity and conviction. Laity have generally appreciated my ministry in my twelve years. It is mainly clergy who have taken offense to me: liberals because I insist a standard exists that they deny, and conservatives because I expose their cowardice.

Many will respond defensively to this article, choosing to believe that the concerns about my psychological profile and emotional intelligence were deserved. You can do as you like. I would just urge everyone to look at the longevity of my ministry, my marriage, and my children’s flourishing. The people closest to me flourish. My wife is happy. My children are healthy and self-aware. We eat organic, locally produced food, drink raw milk, and spend our days in ministry JOYFULLY. We rest on the sabbath, we work the rest of the week. We lead lives of balance. There is no slamming of doors, or screaming, saying things we regret, losing control. I am pastor to two small churches in depressed areas, having navigated them successfully through Covid, political strife, and satan’s best efforts. I can understand (with help) the Greek and Hebrew biblical texts and am conversant in ancient church history as well as modern liberal theology. I am aware of and can pastorally navigate modern issues pertaining to the various ideologies, political and otherwise, found across the post-Christian West. My preaching is not boring or fatuously influenced by pop culture. While I am still lacking in many areas of ministry, I am overqualified when held up against the average UMC elder.

God has been faithful to me. I have done my utmost to respond faithfully and consistently. Having known many clergy personally throughout the years, very few have had such balance. If the standard of my life is Jesus, I fall far short. If it is the average UMC pastor, it is embarrassing to the institution, which so many less qualified candidates easily got through, decided to screen me out. They sifted out a gnat and swallowed a bunch of camels.

It is my sincere conviction that they gaslighted me for years in order to keep any more conservatives from entering their ranks. Those progressives who did so saw themselves doing their part to curtail the continued domination of the patriarchy and make room for marginalized minorities. Those conservatives who did so were either trying to hold onto their own statuses as respected sheep among wolves, or they were just afraid of conflict. I doubt many thought very hard about it. I believe these dispositions have been conditioned in many venues throughout the denomination, such that it somewhat automatically happens frequently. It is likely that many more go through the exact same thing as me, except they are too ashamed and afraid, or inarticulate, or unwilling to recount injustice, to do so. I already know that when I hit ‘Publish’ on this article, I will get dozens of responses saying essentially “Me too!” I get these more and more as PlainSpoken (my podcast) continues to grow.

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Resuming Oklahoma Narrative

I got a call from a nice liberal clergy on the BOOM in late-2019, flummoxed that the committee hadn’t heard more from me since their last letter. “Well, you guys rejected all of my work and pretty much asked me to repeat year 1,” I said. He reviewed the final correspondence. “Yes, it would seem we did,” he confirmed, some wonderment in his tone. I got the impression this didn’t happen very often. “Do you want to continue?” he asked. “Not really,” I answered.

That was the end. I probably should have returned my Provisional Elder credentials. I didn’t even think to do so. I didn’t discover the certificate until fishing out my Local Licensed Pastor certificate to return to my DS last week. There was no correspondence from the bishop or my DS that I can remember. I simply reverted back to a LLP (local licensed pastor).

My remaining years in the UMC confirmed the long march through the institution that more people are finally waking up to. I never used the pulpit to rail against the progressive takeover of the UMC, nor was I anywhere near the first to talk about the division in the UMC from the pulpit. When the time came to have the discussion, we had a couple meetings outside of worship. Those who took the time to investigate concerns of creeping progressivism did not have a hard time finding evidence. The vote to disaffiliate from the UMC was unanimous for one of my churches. The other had only one vote to stay.

We made it through the conference ratification process a few weeks ago. The churches received the quit claim deeds to their properties. Each lost a good chunk of their assets to do so. Conference officials were largely fair. Superintendents in other districts of my conference were known to have been petty and frustrating. I learned this last week of one who would cry publicly at every disaffiliation vote. Another had at least one secret meeting with a Sunday school class without the knowledge of the pastor. One, prior to facilitating a church vote, read letters from former pastors, urging them to vote against disaffiliation. The conference, of course, has refused to rein in their more aggressive superintendents. Meanwhile, their fairest ones have the fewest disaffiliations. Weird, huh?

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Global Methodist Church Connection

I saw the writing on the wall a decade ago. I knew there was no way that left and right would be able to operate peaceably under the same tent. I was dismayed at the overt hatred and disdain I saw at the last three General Conferences. For a time, I was confident that conservatives would be able to force progressives and liberals out. We had the numbers. I did not count on conservatives not having the stomach for the work of a purge. For all of their theological clarity, conservatives seemed impotent to insist on the enforcement of our standards. As liberals refused to abide by our clear disciplinary rules, much less the scriptures, while many conservatives vocally decried the situation, the status quo sustained. Dysfunction even grew, to the point that liberals welched on the deal of General Conference 2019 and refused to leave.

Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. I knew things would probably come down to a church vote. That’s why I had completed the three-year membership audit process a couple years prior. When the day came to vote, only those active in the churches, with one exception, came to vote. Active members knew the score because of capable lay leadership in these churches. Many things worked together so that we were able to navigate this process with very little conflict, whereas many churches were torn asunder by it.

I volunteered to serve on the Oklahoma Wesleyan Covenant Association when they were looking for their second-year members. I was more vocal and aggressive than others. Many were uncomfortable with my repeated advocacy for speaking in public, revealing the deception of conference leadership, openly preparing for annual conference votes. Many worried that my rough draft public statements would come off as bitter or resentful against the conference, that it would go against longstanding unsaid rules of decorum. But at annual gatherings for years, it was evident that the progressives had loyalties that outweighed whatever respect they had for conservative colleagues. While some did choose to behave honorably, others who showed clear disrespect went unchecked. When dozens of clergy publicly stood against the decision of General Conference 2019 and took out a full page in a major paper to scorn the rest of us, there was no correction. When they wore rainbow stoles like stuck up sneeches to sneer at us ignorant bigots at our assembly, there was no correction. I didn’t want to speak because of bitterness. I wanted to speak because of a concern for truth and a concern for those churches that did not know what was going on.

Some of the WCA leadership still probably think my approach is wrong, but others did come around. For so many, however, one can never be righteous and speak about the bad behavior of others. I think the honest truth is that so many have never learned to speak fairly when in the midst of a disagreement. Once they open that door, ugly things come out. If the truth is ugly, then I say show it as clearly and fairly as possible. If it turns out I am ugly, and I am projecting that onto someone or something else, then may I be exposed!

My service on the WCA eventually led to my nomination for the Heartland Transitional Conference Advisory Team (TCAT) of the Global Methodist Church (GMC). When my churches seemed near the end of the disaffiliation process, I sent it my application for transfer to the GMC. All I had to send in was my seminary transcript, a photo of my UMC credentials, and permissions for them to do a background check. There could have been a couple more documents that I am now forgetting, but I was able to send in all materials in under an hour. I received the notice of my reception into the GMC shortly before the conference’s ratification vote.

Before that date, an ordination service was planned for new clergy in the GMC. Local licensed pastors and candidates from Oklahoma, Kansas, Colorado, Missouri, and Arizona were invited to come be ordained as deacons and elders of the GMC. My name was put on that list.

On Saturday, May 13, I sat next to my brother, Daniel, with whom I have a past of doing ministry (it’s interesting and I may write about it some other time). He and I walked up to the bishops alongside my friend Cara Nicklas at the same time. His wife and I laid our hands on him as he knelt and was blessed by Bishops Jones and Lowry. To my surprise, I felt great emotion.

You see, I practiced ministry for twelve years just fine without ordination. I administered the sacraments of baptism and communion. I married people and buried people. I applied ashes to people’s foreheads and washed feet. I anointed the foreheads of the sick, led bible studies, did marriage counseling, and tried to aid the poor. Moreover, I was able to participate in the pension and healthcare programs of all clergy. While the UMC tried to maintain a second-class status for LLPs, my daily work undeniably made me equal to ordained United Methodist clergy for all intents and purposes. Ordination was ruined for me. In the UMC, at least, it started to become a symbol to me for those who were willing to compromise their personal faith in order to achieve status. It was almost a point of pride for me to be a local licensed pastor.

So when the opportunity came along to be ordained in the GMC, I was reticent. I had learned to be at peace with my status. I was leery, not only of ordination, but also of those who offered it, and of those who craved it. Yet I wanted to be a team player. It isn’t right for me to want to lead within the GMC while refusing to participate in its structure. So I assented.

And suddenly as I was laying hands on my brother, I began to shake. He rose and was installed with his stole, then he returned to lay his hand on me as my wife and suckling baby (seriously, she was feeding right then, under a shawl over Sara Beth’s front) also joined him to bless me as the bishops consecrated me. I shook and wept, my mind awash with the different thoughts and reflections of the previous twelve years of ordination frustration. Here it finally was.

My friend, DA Bennett, was the one to place the mantle on my shoulders. He insisted on looking at me in my tear soaked eyes and said, “If you had told me when I met you years ago that I would be doing this to you today, I wouldn’t have believed you.” He placed the stole on me and hugged me.

Others gave me gifts designated for all the ordinands on the way back to my seat. There was a reception afterwards in which the class of ordinands together got to process a lot of the grief of previous years and the relief at the simplicity of this GMC initiation. We have all now returned home with the high hopes of reclaiming what has been lost in previous decades of Methodism in America. It remains to be seen whether the Lord will bless our hopes and efforts, or whether we will be faithful to the biblical call, or whether we will seek to return to the fleshpots of Egypt.

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Closing

I do not know what ordination means to me. Ordination isn’t mentioned as such in the bible, though it is clear that they practiced laying on of hands and consecrating people for ministries. Yet that so easily lends itself to a theology of apostolic succession, which I’m not sure if Methodists really believe in?

I do not think my previous ministry was illegitimate. I am skeptical about any new power that will accompany the work of my hands, or whether the Lord will be more pleased with my obedience and leadership. I am a firm believer in the priesthood of all believers. So I do not know how much room there is for me to take comfort in ordination.

Even so, I felt deeply honored on Saturday. I meant the vows I made to be a faithful covenant partner with those alongside of whom I took my vows, along with my new bishops. I believe what I confessed to believe in front of everyone. I did not have to lie or sell my faith short in order to get here. There were many times along the way, when there was so much resentment and hatred directed towards me, when I thought I would be dismissed and my credentials revoked. I still do not know how that did not come to pass. Some combination of God’s grace and the merciful whims of those in leadership over me in the UMC is the most likely answer. Still, I am grateful.

I am grateful that my story did not end in Idaho, dejected and questioning my sanity with a wife thinking she hitched her buggy to a horse with no legs. I am grateful that I did not allow DCOMs and BOOMs to cajole me into a milquetoast and unworthy representation of what I believe. I am grateful that my story has come to this place, encouraged and hopeful, unlike so many others who were trampled underfoot by the UMC.

It is not certain what the future holds. Yet I know that God is faithful. He has gotten me through some significant trials in the past, and he has led me out into a broad place in the present. There will be many more trials along the way. I know there will be more times in which I question my convictions, when I feel the stability of my life on the line. In those times, I hope I remember God’s faithfulness in this chapter of my life.

My ordination marks the end of a long and dysfunctional chapter in a denomination that I believe traded in its heritage for a bowl of pottage. I pray, and I ask that you would pray, that this new chapter marks one of faithful obedience in a body that honors, not just the legacy of John Wesley and those first people called Methodist, but also our Lord Jesus Christ and the saints of the ages.