The Storm

I've always loved storms--good, long, loud Texas storms. I love falling asleep to the sound of steady rain on my windows, wind blowing through the trees, and lightning lighting up the sky. Maybe they were scarier when I was a child, but I don't remember that time of my life. All I remember is feeling safe.

Of course, I haven't always felt completely safe in storms: there have been times I've panicked and worried like the rest of us. And of course, some storms should be feared. I've seen the devastation from storms in the past: tornadoes, hurricanes, lightning storms all have the capacity to elicit major damage--damage that I've seen and experienced, and worked to help clean up. 

I've realized over the years that there are two ways that people can react to storms: panic and fear (and in turn, isolation), or they can gather together and work together to achieve some pretty incredible stuff in the face of panic and fear and devastation.

Last Tuesday night, I arrived at the Manila airport as it was beginning to rain. We all knew it was coming, so we weren't too worried...until our bus was short 17 seats (we had 20 in our group). Some of our group went into the airport to wait while three of us stood in the rain to watch the luggage (which was, by the way, getting soaked). The rain began to pick up as we waited for transportation for over 30 minutes. Finally, our transportation arrived, we got all the luggage loaded, and we were on our way to Tagaytay, Philippines where our hotel and the GYPC-LA was located. 

Traveling was slow, as we had to stop to avoid hitting fallen trees. The wind was so strong it pushed the cars while we were driving. The rain was so hard it made it hard to see. All we knew was that we were wet and cold, and ready to get to our warm beds. 

We pulled up to the CCT, and immediately knew something was wrong. We were quickly ushered inside without our bags (to be unloaded for us), and informed that we could not be placed into hotel rooms because of damage done to the hotel already. Instead, we should gather only what we needed and head into a large gym to wait. 

None of us knew how bad the storm really was--it wasn't like the Texas storms we were accustomed to. No loud thunder, no bright lightning. Just steady rain and loud gusts of wind. 

Eventually, I dozed off on the stage, wrapped in a rain coat and my airplane pillow under my head. I woke up periodically to the sound of crashing glass and bending steel. We didn't realize how bad it was until the following morning as we all woke up and started to look outside. 

Truthfully, none of us really knew how devastating it was until we made it to the fishing villages of Rizal and saw how it affected their livelihood, and got out into the city to see how crazy it all had become so quickly. When we asked locals about it, they simply told us this is what they do: they just keep going. Just keep repairing. Just keep living. Typhoons are just a part of their existence. They choose to gather together and make things work because there is no other option. Isolation is not a choice. Resiliency is the only way to survive. 

The typhoon was not the only storm we encountered. While it was tangible and visual, it was not the only storm we weathered at the GYPC-LA. 

This other storm was one I expected, but hoped could be weathered with more grace. At the GYPC-LA, we were set to deal with the same issues that the general conference faces, and that people around the world are facing daily. The "issue" of homosexuality in the Book of Discipline and in our local churches. I knew that we were divided, but I didn't realize just how polarized that division was.

We spent two days of legislation trying to work through the wording in the Book of Discipline and four pieces of legislation pertaining to these words. Feelings were hurt, emotions ran high, and there seemed to be no way to approach this topic with grace and love. Each person felt they were right, and there was no convincing anyone of anything different. The storm raged in and between and among us, and it looked as if there was no way we could ever repair the damage that had been done. 

But there was one piece of legislation that was different. The approach was different. The words were different. The conversation was the same, but because the author of this legislation took the time to really get to know people on each side of the argument, they were all able to see each other as human beings who simply wanted to offer the most love.  And so perhaps for the first time, people looked past their biases and preferences and simply saw a way to offer love. 

The vote on this storm was the closest it could have been: 54 votes for and 54 votes against. A TIE. 

During our time in the Philippines, we all knew that we had lived through a huge storm. 80 people in Tagaytay were killed. We survived, and survived well. However, had we not been surrounded by men and women who worked tirelessly and continuously to provide for us, our time as refugees in a giant gym would have spanned much longer. We could have stayed wet and hungry and without any place to go, but instead we were well-fed, and were found warm, dry places to stay. The staff at each hotel we stayed in worked around the clock to provide for us. There was no isolation, only gathering together to make things work because there was no other option, just resiliency. 

And so after the example set for us by our Filippino family who provided so well for everyone present, the young people of the UMC joined together in beautiful, tangible ways at the end of our convocation. While our beliefs remained polarized and our legislation did not pass, for the first time we the Global Young People's Convocation were able to see that there can be compromise in our denomination. There can be a way forward. We can work together to find a resilient way to move into the future, because for us there is no other option. 

On our last night together, we danced together as if there was nothing between us, because there really wasn't. We worshipped together as if there was nothing between us, because there really wasn't. We laughed together as if there was nothing between us, because there really wasn't. 

Sure, our minds hadn't been changed, but we were able to recognize that that which unites us is and will always be stronger than that which divides us. The love of our God and the love of our Church prevailed. 

So we voted almost unanimously that last night to produce a statement of unity. Not because we sorted out all of our differences or came to be of one mind, but because we were able to clearly see that that which separates was no match for that which unites us. 

I am so proud to have been a part of this convocation which, in my opinion, has gone to show that weathering the storm together is so much more fruitful than seeking to go about the business of life in isolation. I have so much hope after seeing that with genuine conversation and open hearts, there really can be a way forward. I have so much love for my people-my church--which I believe can find a way through this that does not relish in victories or votes won, but in seeking perfect love. 

The storm might not be over, but for now, I take respite in knowing that we can make it through...together.