Advice to My Methodist Friends: Have the Conversation Anyway

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Special to United Methodist Insight

Why should Methodists listen to a Baptist’s advice at this precipitous juncture in United Methodist history? Because this Baptist pastor has been where you are, faced one of the key decisions you need to make, and so far, lived to tell about it.

I’m the associate pastor of a large Baptist church in Dallas, Texas — a church that three years ago dared to have an in-depth conversation about human sexuality and came out on the other side better and stronger. Which is not to say the conversation was easy or painless; it was not.

When our senior pastor walks babies around the sanctuary for dedication — yes, we do still have that little difference between Baptists and Methodists, but don’t stop reading yet — he always says this important line: “We pray that this child would have a good life, not an easy life.” The reason, of course, is that to live a life of meaning is not to live an easy life. A good life is not an easy life.

This is an important lesson for churches and denominational bodies to learn as they consider one of the most challenging questions of our time: how to address the inclusion of persons who are gay, lesbian, transgender, or otherwise nonconforming to traditional gender roles. Taking up this question is not easy, but it is necessary. It is necessary not just to determine which side you will take in the United Methodist Church but because lives are at stake.

Most pastors and churches would rather talk about almost anything but human sexuality, and for good reason: “It’s just too hard.” “It’s too divisive.” “I’ll get fired.” “We’ll lose giving.” “We’ll lose members.”

In Why Churches Need to Talk about Sexuality, I write about the 18-month study process my church, Wilshire Baptist, underwent to understand the need for LGBTQ inclusion. Ultimately, we voted to have one class of membership, so that if you follow Jesus Christ and have been baptized — regardless of your sexual orientation or gender identity or any other label — you are a full member of the church. No second-class members.

Here’s the main message I wanted to convey in the book: The avoidance of conflict that appears to be a good life is actually only a substitute for an illusory easy life. And in this case, easy is not good. In hindsight, we are better for choosing the good over the easy. We are better for having had the conversation.

In Hebrews 12:1–3, we read these words: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such hostility against himself from sinners, so that you may not grow weary or lose heart.”

For the sake of the joy that was set before him. We learn from the life of Jesus that we can and must take on difficult tasks for the sake of the joy that will come later.

This has certainly been our experience. The joy we have found in welcoming into church life those who have been rejected and expelled and maligned by the church is beyond measure. Yes, we lost nearly 300 members because of our vote. But we also gained more than 350 new members because of our vote.

I mourn the loss of most of the folks who left our church over the LGBTQ vote, but I also realize there are a hundred other churches in Dallas where they can land and find community. But for those who are coming to us now, there are fewer  churches in our part of Dallas where they could be restored to faith and know the joy of their salvation. That’s a trade-off I would make again and again.

As a pastor or lay leader in a church, why should you take the risk of having a conversation about LGBTQ inclusion? The negative answers are obvious: You could lose your job. You could lose financial support. You could lose your friends. You could be embarrassed publicly. You could be kicked out of some other group. But the positive answers should be equally obvious: You could help more people find faith in Jesus Christ. You could set an example of the love of Jesus. You could become a beacon of hope to other churches. You could gain members and gain finances. You could save someone’s life.

Following the example of Jesus does not guarantee your retirement funds, does not ensure keeping your friends, and does not assure you of an invitation to the denominational awards banquet. Following Jesus requires humility to the point of death — maybe not just physical death, by the way, but perhaps death of standing or acclamation in the eyes of others.

I’m not going to say this is easy to do. I and others in our church leadership have physical and spiritual wounds to show for the road we’ve taken. It is exhausting. It is nerve-racking. It is hard work. But it’s also the right thing to do. It’s the road to a good life, but not an easy life.

My plea to you is not that you should follow the exact road our congregation has taken. It’s not even to beg you to become inclusive of the LGBTQ community. My plea is for you and your church to have the courage to have the conversation, not to hide in fear of hard questions. You may come down in a different place than we have, and that’s OK — so long as you know why you believe what you say you believe.

This is a hard conversation. Have the conversation anyway.

The Rev. Mark Wingfield serves as associate pastor of Wilshire Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas. He is the author of “Why Churches Need to Talk about Sexuality” published by Fortress Press.