Tag: general conference
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Where Will You Stand?
It was on the day of my Ordination in 2012, that Rev. Joe Dipaolo presented me with a Book of Discipline from 1956. That deeply personal gift was significant because it was the first year that the Book of Discipline removed the ban on ordination for women. Joe presented it to me as a sign…
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Staying at the Table Together: Communion During COVID as a Global Conversation
As we are prevented from celebrating Communion together in person, may we seek to stay at The Table together in other ways.
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What are you fighting for?
Riding my bike along the narrow inches of shoulder between the paved road and the deep ditch, I struggled not to fall in the water, and thought about the children I was told had walked these same treacherous trails to come to church. It was about a decade ago, and I was in my first…
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When the hand that held you holds the stone
“I miss my dad,” I thought looking down at the creamed chipped beef on the plate in front of me in the Thunderbird Cafeteria outside of Canyon de Chelly. The last time I had seen my father, he was looking down over the railing into the entryway of the Dome in St. Louis where I…
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Grief on the Margins of UMC General Conference
Amidst the concentric circles that sat within The Dome in St. Louis this week, it was the outer ring that leaves my heart hurting most as I walk away. We gathered for this Special Session of General Conference to discuss human sexuality and bring to a conclusion the battle that had raged in the church…
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When Celibacy Conflicts With Faithfulness
Most young clergywomen are familiar with the predictable conversation that takes place when people encounter us for the first time in the wild. Scrunching up their face in puzzlement at my clergy collar, the woman cutting my hair, or the man ringing up my groceries will almost inevitably ask, “So can you get married?” In…
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The Table of Man
At the back of the hotel ballroom, I stood shaking from my encounter with the Spirit. Outwardly composed, the pen I held in my hand betrayed my secret, resisting being steadied each time I tried to set it to the page. I had just stood on the stage with simple straw basket and cup, and…
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We don’t live on crumbs anymore.
Crumbs. Gathering them used to be the first task of sacred ritual with my mother. I would sweep them into a pile, and off the edge of the table into my cupped hand, while my mother put the teapot on to boil. Brushing them off my fingers into the sink, the dance continued as she…
Hannah Adair Bonner 