The General Conference of the United Methodist Church meets this year in Portland, Oregon. It meets every four years, and it is with great excitement for my family that it brings United Methodist leaders from around the world to Portland.

I come from a long line of United Methodists ministers. My Great-Grandfather was an ordained United Methodist minister. My Great-Grandmother was one of the very first female United Methodists ordained ministers in the Eastern United States. My Grandfather was a United Methodist minister. My father, my mother, my stepmothers (former and current), and the husband of my former stepmother (it’s complicated…) were ordained United Methodist ministers. My Mom, a family historian, also says that I have some great, great, greats who were also clergy dating back to the mid 1800s. My sister and I used to joke and tell the other that they needed to become an ordained minister so that we could continue the family line. We didn’t, but luckily our step-sister, Vanessa, became an United Church of Christ ordained clergy. She carried on the tradition of clergy in the family. Thank you Vanessa.

I never pursued ministry- though it certainly crossed my mind from time to time- but I did work for the United Methodist Church for ten adult years of my life. It was comfortable, I knew the people around me, I knew the history, and I felt I could somehow carry on the legacy of great-grands, grands, and parents.

Growing up, I was in the church at least a few times a week between church services, youth groups, weekly meetings, Sunday Schools, or days when I went in with my parents and sat and did homework. And I may not have been ordained, but I certainly preached from the pulpit. In front of an empty sanctuary, as a young girl, I would bang on the pulpit and give whatever form of sermon was in my seven year old mind at the time. As a youth, I preached now and again in front of an actual group of people. Ministry was, and always will be a part of my blood.

In my early twenties, it briefly crossed my mind that I could indeed become a clergy in the United Methodist Church. I told my Dad who promptly gave me the book (perhaps a book he had wanted to give me for a long time) that helps people explore their interest in ministry. I read the first chapter and realized that being a minister was perhaps not where my passion was at the time. I liked to tell stories and walk people through difficult times. But preaching from the Bible seemed uncomfortable.

When I think upon my childhood or early adulthood, I can’t NOT think about the church. The United Methodist Church is so full of history and tradition, and amazing people who believe in amazing things. People who are full of passion and who want to spread the word of which they believe so strongly in.

Of course, I also think of the “reality” of the church. Church meetings, early morning phone calls to my parents from parishioners who had greater needs than my own.

I think of the angry church members who left the church of my stepmom when they learned that she and my dad had gotten a divorce. I think of the church members who left the church because they didn’t agree with the inclusiveness that all my parents preach.

I think of the clergy who are simply human. As someone who worked in the administrative office of the church, I certainly learned that church members and ministers are people too. They get angry, they get rude, and they sometimes have unrealistic expectations. I learned that long ago as I lived with several clergy. But seeing and experiencing firsthand that all clergy were human sometimes made it hard for me to see beyond those faults and therefore listen to their words and messages. Unfair of me, but it’s true.

I left my job working for the Oregon-Idaho Conference Office (the administrative headquarters for churches in Oregon and much of Idaho) for a variety of reasons. I went to school and wanted to explore what education allowed me to explore. I also felt it was time for me to pave my own way in terms of a career that was apart from the history of my parents and grandparents.

I also, was increasingly aware of the church’s struggle with the stance on openly LGBTQ clergy who actively serve churches. And that forever and fundamentally changed me and my relationship with the church.

I was lucky- I was raised by parents who preached inclusivity. I grew up knowing and accepting people of all sexual orientations. The church I went to in high school was a reconciling congregation which meant it transparently and openly welcomed people from all walks of life.  The reconciling congregation badge is one I wore proudly. I would often introduce myself as a preacher’s kid and that our church was reconciling. Even before I understood the stereotypes and exclusion that many in the LGBTQ community experienced, I knew that no matter what, sexual orientation didn’t matter in the eyes of the God I believed in.

As I grew older, and the more I understood myself, those in the LGBTQ community, and those who support them, the more I became conflicted with the seemingly hypocrisy of saying, “Open Minds, Open Hearts, and Open Doors” but also not allowing those who are open with their sexual orientation if it is different than the “norm” of heterosexuality to preach from the pulpit. It made me uneasy. As if I, by working there, was saying that it was okay to put such limitations on those who want to be in the ministry.

I left the church when I left my employment. I now only go back if my parents ask me to attend church with them, and I’m a bit reluctant to do even that. Parts of me feel regret. My job with the Oregon-Idaho United Methodist Conference was one of the richest experiences of my life. It formed me as an adult. It gave me a family atmosphere at work that I so much appreciated. And needed. I made friends there that will forever be a part of my heart.

At the same time, at times, I feel that by leaving, I let my family legacy down. I gave up on the tradition. I also feel that I let those in the LGBTQ community, which I consider myself a part of, down. I didn’t stay and fight and make my voice heard. I took the easy way out. Quitting and then declaring my principles as a primary reason I left. I left those people who believe or feel as I did, to fight alone. Yet, it just didn’t feel true to myself to continue as a part of the church- either as a church member or as a part of the administrative team of the church business.

I am still a person of faith. I pray every day. I question every day. I try to be kind and mindful of others every day. I give as I am able to others in need. And I look to nature when I am alone. I am a person of faith. I simply no longer am a member of organized religion. Perhaps I will return, but for now, I am content.

Those who continue with the church, my Mom included who is the only parent left still in the active ministry, fight and try to use faith and reason to bring a change to this outdated rule of the church. I am so proud of all my parents and the many others who speak out against the dictation of what it means to be a person of faith- and those that feel that open members of the LGBTQ community cannot be clergy.

I am more aware of that struggle now than ever before. Every four years, United Methodists from around the world gather. Those chosen as delegates from their individual conferences are the top policy/rule making body. Every time they meet there are decisions to be made regarding everything from clergy pension to meeting rules to rules that affect few and rules that affect many.

In 1972, the homosexuality debate began at the General Conference level of The United Methodist Church. Today, in May 2016, that debate continues in Portland, Oregon as part of this year’s General Conference. It is my understanding that this year, more than 100 pieces of legislation regarding homosexuality are before the  rule making body that meets. (The politics and logistics of the United Methodist Church and how rules are made is quite complicated so I am fully aware this is a brief overview).

This year, once again, legislation regarding the full inclusion of homosexuals in every aspects of the church are before the voting body. Legislation regarding interpretation of homosexuality as a sin is before the body. Only the group gathered who have votes at General Conference can make changes to the United Methodist Book on Discipline and the Social Principles that guide United Methodists worldwide. And the changes before them this year are more hotly debated than ever.

Part of the reason is that the General Conference represent church members and leaders from around the world. So those in more conservative areas of the world, such as Africa, have votes just as those more progressive people do in other parts of the world. The tough thing for me is, I strongly believe everyone should have a vote. But it truly hurts my heart to think that there is so much misunderstanding and so much judgement toward those who identify as LGBTQ. I can’t get my head around it. I can’t get my heart around it. I can only get my prayers around it.

I watch my Mom, who has had the church in her life much more than I ever have. I watch her go to the General Conference session, as a visitor, and watch her struggle with these questions. My Mom knows that her father, and my Grandfather, would have been one of those people voting toward full inclusion. His heart was always faced toward progress in areas of social justice. He would be so proud of her, speaking out toward full inclusion- even in groups where that is not the common acceptance or belief. The thought of her leaving General Conference, knowing that the church once again voted to exclude those who simply love people of their same gender or who identify differently, breaks my heart. She gives herself to the church, day after day after day. She has more strength than me. I left before I had to stand up so strongly.

I do not have much leg to stand on as I thoughtfully watch this year’s General Conference session. I am not a member of any local church. I no longer work for a Conference. But in my heart, I will always be a person of faith and a United Methodist. I watch people who I dearly love, come out and identify as LGBTQ. They come out publicly, even though they know that the church as a whole has not yet voted for full inclusion. They come out and they risk losing their jobs, or their places in the church. That takes bravery. That takes love. That takes strength. That takes faith. I watch them, and am fully aware of their talents and passions for ministering to others. How can anyone say they are less of a clergy person, or less of a person in the eyes of God? Or even in the eyes of their peers? I simply don’t understand.

I think of the young people, who if full inclusion is not granted, who still want to serve as clergy in The United Methodist Church. I think of them as they look at going into ministry. But if they are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or have any other identification than heterosexual, I think of them  having to hide who they are so they can live their passion from the pulpit or by serving others. I think of them going to their Bishops, or their leaders, and telling them they are LGBTQ and want to serve. I think of them being told they must stay quiet if they want to follow their calling. That they have to choose between being true to themselves and sharing their faith. Who should ever be asked to make that choice?

This governing body who has shaped my family in indescribable ways – must keep up with the changing acceptance and love of those who identify as LGBTQ. Otherwise, the church may go beyond a point of no return. A point where those who live to serve, can no longer serve as themselves or as people they long to be.

As a child of a family with great history in the church and great history of serving the United Methodist Church, I watch these decisions being made with great sadness, great trepidation, and great pride in all my parents and in those who serve openly. I watch with hope. I watch with love. And I watch with faith.