Notebook and pen
Perhaps we are endangered and should be given special sanctuary.
According to a 2012 Pew Research study only 18 percent of the seven million U.S. United Methodist members are between the ages of 18-35. Divide from that 18 percent of GCFA’s (General Commission on Finance and Administration) 2013 Ethnicity and Gender statistical data that reports that only 6.1 percent of all U.S. United Methodist members are African American and you can see why to be a United Methodist African American young adult in today’s culture is akin to being an endangered species.
We are collectively the remnants of a vibrant yet buoyant legacy that traces the echoes of its crescendo back to the passage of the 1968 dismantling of the Central Jurisdiction. With that legacy flowing through our Methodist veins, African American young adults, despite our small numbers, are poised now more than ever to re-emerge from the ashes of quantitative extinction into a new morphed form of Methodism. That form, largely peppered with the essence of intentionality found in Wesley’s Holy Club and the profound Holy Ghost-filled gatherings of 19th century camp meetings has now been coupled with the swagger of urban culture and an anti-establishmentarianism ethic of a millennial generation. The produce of this marriage is a new form of blackness. The product of such a legacy laced with generational angst and theological question is relational reverence.
By relational reverence, I’m alluding to a reality that many within the millennial generation (especially African Americans) are well aware of. The Hagar’s cry of this generation is relationship. It is the unexpected simplicity of discipleship metrics. It is a direct connection, a mentoring between those with age and wisdom and those with youth and energy. When we think about the Central Jurisdiction in all of its glory we see that centrality at work.
As a generational Methodist, I can recall stories of my grandparents driving up from Crisfield, Md., to Philadelphia to attend Annual Conference at Tindley Temple. I recall the stories of the great preaching, the intensely Holy Spirit infused worship and the serious church training sessions. I remember their pride as they talked about buying land and building churches. What they had as a part of the Central Jurisdiction was a configuration where they as the dehumanized could find both voice and power within the sacred spaces of their manmade pigmented pen. There was strength, style, success, and structure at work among their gatherings, limited only by their own design.
What the Central Jurisdiction provides now for African American Young Adult pastors is a template. It is a North Star for the possibilities of hard work, Holy Spirit-filled ministry. It is an example of the fruit of sweat and shout, of prayer and pressing, of struggle and success. What the history of the Central Jurisdiction lays before the feet of young adult African American pastors is a mantle. A mantle to be picked up and not mimicked but added upon, a double portion. As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Central Jurisdictions transition, we do so today with prophetic sobriety, knowing it is we young adult African American pastors who have been called to pick up the mantle and carry it forward.
Image by Flickr user markus spiske. Used under Creative Commons License. Cropped from Original.
Ron Bell Jr.
Pastor Ron Bell Jr.
Pastor Ron Bell, Jr. of Arise Church in Wilmington, Del., is a creative soul, a musician, and a nationally recognized new church start consultant and a coach. He has also served as Director of Congregational Development for the Peninsula Delaware United Methodist Conference, and is finishing a Doctorate of Ministry. He's the author of a new book, Bigger Than Hip Hop. This article is reprinted with permission from UMC LEAD.