As a 21-year-old, serving my first full-time church “gig” as youth director at Calvary United Methodist Church in Paris, Texas, I quickly learned just how influential Highland Park United Methodist Church was. My first annual conference took place at Highland Park, on the corner of the Southern Methodist University campus. I attended my first youth ministry workshop, led by the youth director of Highland Park, in 1981.
I’ll never forget a joke my senior pastor, Glynn Vickers, used to tell.
“I told the bishop,” Glynn would say in his deep voice that matched his 6’8” tall frame, “that I felt the Lord was calling me to preach to the rich at Highland Park.”
Kevin Slimp
Glynn was kidding, of course. He loved serving his small-town, almost rural congregation that tripled in size during his tenure.
Ten years later, I was serving as youth director at First United Methodist Church of Lakeland, Fla. It was what we now call a megachurch, big enough that I had several assistant youth directors, some ordained, who worked with me.
One summer, I invited a former youth who would go on to become my lifelong friend to intern during his senior year of college. Afterward, he accepted a position at a large church in the Texas Conference. After a couple of years there, he called to ask my advice. He had been offered the position of senior youth director at Highland Park United Methodist Church in Dallas.
He was a good friend, so I was straightforward with him. “Highland Park is the kind of church that could eat you up,” I told him.
He listened to my advice, then took the job.
I couldn’t blame him. That type of position was awfully tempting to a 26-year-old. I wish I could say my advice was wrong.
As the recent saga of Highland Park unfolded, I couldn’t help but remember the hundreds of youth I led in confirmation classes over the years. When explaining what it means to be a United Methodist, I always emphasized that as United Methodists we are part of one large church, not individual churches. It’s an important concept not shared by most denominations. It is a source of pride.
Somewhere along the line, HPUMC forgot that concept. Size can do that. Money can do that. Bad leadership can do that.
I grieve, albeit briefly, for my friends in the former North Texas (now Horizon) Conference of the United Methodist Church. One church, another body part, has been removed. I grieve a little for all who call ourselves United Methodists.
The good news is that we’re still one church. The Highland Parks of the world may go their own way, but The United Methodist Church remains one body. I believe we can still take pride in that. I know I do.
Kevin Slimp serves as publisher of UMInsight. This article is jointly published through a publishing partnership with BNG.
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