“No one else was in

The room where it happened

No one else was in

The room where it happened

No one really knows how the game is played

The art of the trade

How the sausage gets made

We just assume that it happens

But no one else is in

The room where it happens”

These lyrics are famous for anyone who is familiar with the Broadway hit “Hamilton”. The first time I listened to this musical was when my wife surprised me with tickets to watch this play. Ironically, scoring Hamilton tickets is eerily similar to this song. Getting in the door to watch the play is nearly as hard as it was for those who wanted to be a part of the decision making back in Alexander Hamilton’s day.

I woke up this morning with the lyrics to this song swimming in my mind as I prayed about and for Special General Conference 2019. In less than 24 hours I’ll join thousands of my brothers and sisters in Christ to debate, deliberate, discuss and likely disagree with global United Methodists from literally around the world.

We are anticipating a great number of people joining our global gathering via livestream. The decisions that will be made during our three day conference will very likely have a long lasting impact on United Methodism as we know it. To be clear, the decisions we have made and some that we continue to delay have already affected the lives of countless people. Recently, I read the words of Chett Pritchett. “It’s too late for me” he wrote. His words will continue to haunt me long after our gathering in St. Louis.

Right about now, I would typically write about the local church that I am serving and how we are a church that boldly welcomes and affirms all people. Beyond lip service, I would write about how we as a church dig deep to live into our calling as followers of Jesus. But, I’m not serving a local church right now. In early November of 2017, I was diagnosed with an incredibly rare vascular disease. Less than 2 people in a million are diagnosed with this disease and about 90% of people who go undiagnosed in their first year of symptoms die.

Thanks to the Mayo Clinic, the highly capable doctors and nurses were able to properly diagnose me and worked with local physicians here in Seattle to begin a very aggressive treatment. The treatment was so invasive and my health deteriorated so quickly that I moved to disability status a few short months after I was diagnosed. I never wanted to be on disability, I am incredibly grateful for Bishop Elaine Stanovsky, District Superintendent Rich Lang and the cabinet for having the wisdom and foresight to remove me from full time service and help me take time off of work to focus on my health and family.

I haven’t served a church as a pastor since Christmas Eve 2017. For more than a year, my focus has been balancing my medications and moving closer toward remission as I focus nearly all my time on being with my family and living. Honestly, there were many times that I wasn’t sure if I would be alive to see Special General Conference 2019.

I’m not in remission right now. I am in a much better place mentally, physically and spiritually than I was a year ago. I hope to serve a church again as their pastor. I’ve learned this past year that remission or not, I will always live with this chronic illness that has changed my life forever. One definition of the word remission is “temporary recovery”. Recently I was talking to a good friend who is battling a particularly aggressive form of Cancer that is in stage 4. We talked about remission and he said, “I’ve learned that I’ll never really beat cancer, it’ll always be a part of who I am. But that doesn’t mean it has to control my life forever”.

In the life of the Church, we have moments of temporary recovery, seasons when we embody the love and grace of Jesus better than other seasons. It’s likely that these seasons of remission are precisely that, a temporary reprisal and opportunity to really be the body of Christ. In the first two chapters of the book of Acts, we can read about a time when early followers of Jesus were in a time of remission.

“42 They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. 43 Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. 44 All the believers were together and had everything in common. 45 They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. 46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” (Acts 2:42-47, NIV)

The truth I have come to peace with is that even though I have a chronic illness, that doesn’t mean that I’m always sick. My fragile humanness is more on display than ever before.

The United Methodist Church, as I know it, has a chronic illness of consistently finding ways to exclude and marginalize persons while telling them all along that they are of sacred worth. We have a chronic illness, but that doesn’t mean we have to always be this way.

Starting very soon, the United Methodist Church has an opportunity for our witness as followers of Jesus to move closer to match our deep love for the world that God has created. We can take one very positive step closer toward remission. How, why, what and who are invited into the proverbial room where it happens will be debated. The legislation we will deliberated and discussed with passion. I really don’t know exactly what will happen at this special gathering of the Church.

Leading up to this conference there have been countless gatherings in rooms meant to plan and prepare for the outcome each group is praying will work for. In the words of Hamilton:

“No one really knows how the

Parties get to yes

The pieces that are sacrificed in

Ev'ry game of chess

We just assume that it happens

But no one else is in

The room where it happens ”

I’ve come to taste the peace that passes all understanding this past year of my life. The peace of the Holy Spirit has emboldened me to care more about pieces that are often sacrificed in the name of the greater good.

My prayer this week is that the relationships we forge and the church we become moves closer to an authentic, honest and loving Church that I know we can be. That could mean that we separate with some parts of the body because we simply can’t agree on some of the most important aspects of what it means to be the Church of Christ. It may also mean that some people take a step away in order to move closer to health.

Whatever happens in the next week, I am praying fervently that we move toward remission. I know it my heart that even if we do, it may only be for a season or two. But, I’ve learned that a few seasons of health is worth everything.