LGBTQ+ Reflections on the Just Resolution

EDITOR’S NOTE: On October 29, over 70 people gathered at the Virginia United Methodist Center in Glen Allen for a public prayer and singing witness to support all of those who participated in the Just Resolution meeting. The Just Resolution took place because of multiple complaints filed against a pastor in our conference for officiating a same-gender wedding. When someone submits a formal complaint to the Bishop’s office alleging that a United Methodist clergy person has violated the church’s Book of Discipline, the first step in resolving that complaint is a meeting to seek what is known as a Just Resolution. A Just Resolution is one that focuses on repairing any harm, achieving accountability by making things right in so far as possible, and bringing healing to all the parties. It is intended to be a pastoral meeting where the parties involved can name the perceived harm that has been done and seek reconciliation. If the meeting fails to resolve the complaint, it could then move forward to a full church trial. Under the current Book of Discipline, the Bishop and the accused clergy person must agree on the resolution. The Traditional Plan provisions that go into effect January 1, 2020 stipulate that the complaining party must also agree to the resolution for it to be satisfied at the Just Resolution stage. NBC 4 in Washington, D.C. covered both the Just Resolution and our prayer and singing witness. CLICK HERE to watch their video. We received the following statement after the Just Resolution meeting: "The initial meeting for a Virginia Conference elder under complaint for preforming a same-gender wedding comprised of a time of deep pastoral listening by Bishop Lewis and the sharing of personal narratives which brought the participants to the table. The next meeting is scheduled for late November to enable a time of prayer, discernment and wisdom-seeking by all during this interim. All are encouraged to bathe the Bishop and participants in prayer." 

 

A call to worship, praise, and prayer amid the chaos. On Tuesday, October 29, the Just Resolution was the reason we gathered around the United Methodist Center in Glen Allen, Virginia. A group of Virginia Methodists for a New Thing came together as witnesses of God in a time of struggle, strife, and mystery. Through the hurt, we sang. Through the uncertainty of what was to come, we praised. Through the storm, we still hoped for clear skies.

The worship was overflowing with love and inclusion. Although I am just a young college freshman, I was given the opportunity to read one of the scriptures before the Just Resolution. I jumped right in. But as I came up to the front of the crowd, a flood of anxiety pushed through my body, sinking deep within my skin, uncertain that I could say what I was asked to share. I pushed through, I read the passage (1 John 4:7-13) and as I left a sudden rush of everything hidden deep down inside came out. We were praying out loud for the hope of the church, the Just Resolution, the pain of it all, and everything in between. I could not handle myself in the overwhelming feeling of injustice of this world. As hard as it is to be LGBTQIA+, it is also hard to be an ally, like Drew, and many who were at the gathering.

Having to discuss punishment or mercy for performing a same-gender wedding should never be on the table. Having to discuss acceptance of LGBTQIA+ siblings in Christ should never be on the table. Having to discuss whether a human is worthy and valid is the opposite of what Christ did at His Holy table.

I cried three times that day. Once after reading the scripture, once when the chaplain of my college asked if I could give Drew a hug during the remembrance of our baptism, and once when I called and asked my dad, as clergy in the UMC, how he would feel about my name out there for being a part of it. What I am saying in all of this is that being a Christian, a Methodist, someone who loves God, is hard. We have a right to be upset. We are chosen as disciples to discern a path that God has set aside for us. And we are chosen to make decisions and learn from the hardships that come from it. These decisions can make or break us. Drew decided to preform that wedding, because he loves them, because he loves and supports the community, and because he knows that the church can do better. That was a choice that he made. One of my friends with me at the Just Resolution did everything possible to hide whenever the camera was around. Only because they have dealt with much worse situations where they were not accepted in their church. God chose them as a witness, too. Even in the uneasiness, discomfort, and frustration of getting away from the camera. We make choices to be witnesses of God, and we must continue that witness with continual prayer as they meet back again here soon. The process of the Just Resolution is still not over, for we are still in waiting for the result of this battle.

Hope. I have hope and I know that many do.  I found that hope when I was given a little bit of water from someone’s hands to remember my baptism, even when I was not in the right head space to walk forward and receive it. I find that hope in Drew, who cares so much for me and many (even when he is embarrassing me by telling people that he used to read me bedtime stories…). I find that hope when I think of everyone that is working towards inclusion, equality, and acceptance.

I wish that the Just Resolution never had to happen. I wish that it would be over with already. But it gives me hope that there are clergy who are willing to take the risk to be who they are and stand up for what they believe in. The LGBTQIA+ community needs more of that. The UMC needs more of that.

Melanie Fleischer (she/her/hers) is an A. Purnell Bailey Scholar in the Pre-Ministerial program at Randolph-Macon College. She is a freshman studying Religious Studies and Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s studies, and hopes to attend seminary in pursuit of ordination in the UMC as an elder. She aspires to be proof that elders have a call to justice and compassion, too.

Melanie Fleischer