Pastor’s Corner: July 2025
The latest thoughts, news, and information from Pastor Justin
My United Methodist Journey
Next week is Annual Conference in the Pacific Northwest, and I have truly enjoyed serving as the coordinator of worship for our gathering. Suddenly this week, I had to fly home to Mississippi for a family memorial. While planning and preparing for the PNW Annual Conference from afar, a flood of emotions surfaced. As I often do when feelings run deep, I turned to writing.
I have long been a devoted United Methodist Church nerd. Since my college days as a young adult lay member, I cherished attending the Mississippi Annual Conference of the UMC. For me, it was like a family reunion — sometimes dysfunctional, yes, but a family reunion nonetheless. The worship services were always powerful, the one place where I truly believed we were united across our differences. I still remember how deeply moved I was during the ordination service, especially when we sang “Lift High the Cross.” Though I transferred to the Pacific Northwest Annual Conference in 2019 and have not physically attended the Mississippi AC since, I have remained connected by watching every session.
The last three sessions of Annual Conference in Mississippi have been particularly hard and frustrating to follow.
Here is why.
In 2013, I was ordained as an Elder in Full Connection in Mississippi. As a closeted gay clergy person, I knew the road ahead would be difficult, but I was committed. I served wonderful churches, had incredible parishioners, engaged in amazing ministries, and sought to live faithfully and with integrity. I committed myself to singleness and celibacy, served on the Peace with Justice committee, the General Commission on Religion and Race’s board of directors, and helped secure over $250,000 in disaster relief funding through UMCOR. I did my best to abide by the Book of Discipline — though none of us follow every rule perfectly.
Many told me I had gifts in worship leadership and prophetic ministry. I was told I was a leader, a connector, and that the Mississippi Annual Conference needed me. I was assured God loved me no matter what. Colleagues encouraged me to be authentic. Mentors supported me as I navigated ministry and my identity. And yet, much of that support faded over time. As Lauren Oliver wrote, the Mississippi annual conference made me feel like “a nonperson, a shadow, a ghost.”
As more mentors assumed conference leadership roles, and as the annual conference increasingly pushed away young clergy, female clergy, progressive clergy, and clergy of color (and those at intersections of these identities), my sense of belonging shifted to fear. Eventually, I knew ministry in Mississippi was no longer where I could thrive.
A difficult story: In 2015, while deeply involved in flood relief ministry in the Mississippi delta, a damaging rumor spread in Greenville. Friends with children stopped inviting me over; people acted distant. One friend hesitantly told me that some church members were spreading false rumors that I had been convicted of sexual misconduct with a minor. This was utterly untrue — I had never been arrested or accused. It emerged that someone had Googled my name and confused me with another Justin White convicted of abuse. This malicious attempt to “out” me as gay deeply harmed my ministry and trust within the community.
I sought counsel from trusted District Superintendents, but politics and fears of “outing” me led to advice to stay silent rather than confront the issue. Those who had once supported me abandoned me. I went from beloved child of God to problem and thorn in their side.
The lack of support and accountability for those who wished me harm led me to request a new appointment in 2015. Instead, I was offered a difficult appointment with low pay, dependent on grant writing, and little affirmation of my gifts. I declined and nearly relinquished my credentials.
Thanks be to God, a friend connected me to the Pacific Northwest Annual Conference, which welcomed me fully as an LGBTQ minister. Twelve years after ordination, I am feeling affirmed, seen, and loved in the fullness of who I am. This makes witnessing the events of the current Mississippi Annual Conference all the more painful.
Clarity on the disaffiliation process in the Mississippi Annual Conference remains elusive. Under the current Bishop’s and others’ leadership, the handling of disaffiliation has been marked by a troubling lack of transparency and integrity. Instead of upholding both the letter and spirit of the 2020/2024 General Conference which removed the paragraph in our Discipline allowing churches to disaffiliate, I have witnessed and heard of underhanded actions that undermine the law and the church’s witness.
Rather than fostering unity and grace, these actions that have been perpetuated by the top of the power structures in Mississippi, have sown division and confusion. The process, which should be prayerful and just, has been manipulated to fit political agendas. Clear guidance is absent, especially from the Bishop, and clergy and laity are left uncertain and disenfranchised.
I have seen clergy and churches act in ways that contradicted the Discipline’s call for voluntary and respectful disaffiliation. The bishop’s public blessing of those leaving the UMC and even protecting a process that is directly in violation of the Book of Discipline, contrasted with the withholding of grace from LGBTQ clergy, clergy who have performed LGBTQ weddings and the many faithful congregants who remain, reveals a painful double standard.
The culture of protecting institutional reputation at the expense of vulnerable people continues. Clergy who live out their conscience have been marginalized or silenced. Many have had to move for fear of retribution from a Bishop who loves to hand out church charges without grace, much less, due process. Accountability for unethical or harmful behavior remains lacking for those at the very top who have made these decisions.
I do not seek recognition from those who refuse to see my full humanity. But I implore those who claim to support inclusion to speak up for transparency, accountability, and justice. Where is the public apology for the slander that sought to destroy my ministry? Where is the blessing for all LGBTQ siblings who remain or have left to live authentically?The United Methodist Church in Mississippi that called, loved, affirmed, commissioned, and ordained me has yet to fully see me. Until it does, I will continue to work, pray, and love, holding onto hope that the church can become the body of Christ for all people.
Ministry is not easy, but it must be holy. What has happened — and continues to happen — in the Mississippi Annual Conference is anything but holy.
A word about my new home
Since transferring to the Pacific Northwest Annual Conference, I have found a place to live and work where I can truly thrive in ways I never imagined possible. I am deeply grateful to be part of a community that affirms and celebrates the fullness of who I am. Here, I have experienced support, love, and ministry opportunities that have nourished my soul and vocation.
Yet, I lament that this affirmation and freedom could not happen in the place I call home — Mississippi — where over 2,000 miles separate me from the community that ordained me. It saddens me that many LGBTQ clergy, clergy allies, and laity in Mississippi remain marginalized or feel forced to leave in order to be fully themselves.
I hold hope and prayer for the day when the Mississippi Annual Conference will embrace all its children fully, offering grace, clarity, and justice. Until that day, I remain committed to loving both my new home and the home I carry in my heart. May God grant us clarity, courage, and compassion. Until then, we work and love. May it be so.
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