Is the UMC an Old Car?

When I was in graduate school in the mid-90s, I drove a 1980 Toyota Corolla. It had a standard transmission, manually-operated windows, and no air conditioning. But it was fairly dependable for the decade I drove it. During graduate school, it got me between Salem, Oregon, and Berkeley, California, at least once a month, as I returned home to see my family. The drive North and South could be a trial during the Summer months, especially in the Central Valley when the temperatures reached 115°. Not having air conditioning was a problem, so I figured out a system wherein I wrapped an ice cube in a bandana and wrapped it around my forehead, and drove with the windows down. The rapidly-evaporating ice cube cooled my head, but I had to add a new ice cube every rest stop. But it worked.

It was not a glorious or glamorous car, but it got me dependably between Point A and Point B. I used it to take my German student friends to experience the Redwoods and to drive down Highway 1 to Claremont to attend regional meetings of the American Academy of Religion. It worked really well... until it started having problems. First a piston went out and had to be reground. Then there were brake issues. Then, the final straw was when the clutch went out. I could not afford to replace a clutch on a graduate student's budget, so I sadly said good-bye to my old friend, a vehicle that had carried me well for ten years, safely and dependably delivering me, carrying my worldly goods, and ferrying friends and family. And even though I had come to be attached sentimentally to it, it was only a vehicle after all, and if it no longer did its job, it was not really a vehicle but simply an assemblage of spare parts at a pick-and-pull.

I think about that car as I think about the rampant dysfunctionalities plaguing the United Methodist Church, especially as those dysfunctionalities manifested themselves at the recent General Conference Special Session. The UMC is a 50 year-old vehicle that is in the process of breaking down. It has been a noble vehicle. It is the vehicle that carried my family and me into deep and direct encounters with Jesus Christ and brought young people together at church camps, youth rallies and conferences, and gathered young and old together on Sunday mornings into these wonderful experiences of being a small faith-filled village. I met people I would never have met otherwise, and encountered a wide variety of theological opinions and commitments. Conservatives sat next to liberals sat next to agnostics, sat next to Praise-the-Lord evangelicals. I even met some crypto-charismatics who prayed in tongues at home. Wow! The UMC was not just a vehicle, it was a tourbus! It was like the Magic School Bus that went cool places, like ancient Palestine, Israel, Judah, Rome, Egypt. We had people visit us from Africa and England. We even

visited ancient India as we learned about other religions like Buddhism. It was cool. It fed my soul, and introduced me to a Savior who became my Best Friend. And then became my Spiritual Guide. What a vehicle it was! It carried the Good News with Grace, integrity, and  joy.

But, like my old Toyota, the UMC started to become less able to function well as a conveyor of Good News. Early on in its career, some people removed some of the seats, singling out one particular sexual identity for exclusion. This exclusion was based upon three verses in the Bible, while seats remained for gossips, slanderers, liars, boasters, and even ruthless and heartless people. Some of them even became bus drivers occasionally, but never were their seats removed. 

But it has finally happened. The 50 year-old UMC Magic Bus has broken down. The seat-removers are issuing restricted-seating tickets, and are prohibiting sight-seeing. They do this while scores of young people abandon the rickety rattle-trap. It is time for the rest of us to acknowledge that it is time for a new vehicle.

And that is all a denomination is, after all: a vehicle to carry the Good News of God's unending, unrestricted, unfettered, unlimited, unconditional love for all of Creation. This love is way too immense to be confined to such a small vehicle as the United Methodist Church, anyway, so it is time for a new conveyance. And the Gospel wants to be carried forward, not backward. It wants to progress, not regress. It wants a vehicle that is roomy and has seating for all. It wants a vehicle whose operating manual is sleek and easy to understand, and flexible enough to fit everybody's understanding. It wants a vehicle able to handle every terrain, and adventurous enough to explore new terrain. 

We can thank the old vehicle for getting us this far, but as it is hauled away, let us remember that it was simply that: a vehicle. It was not the Good News itself. It was not the source of salvation. It was not even the Presence of God itself. It was a container. And now it is time for a new and better container, a new and better vehicle, a new and better Progressive Methodist Church.

Progress is the Only Way Forward.