By: Rev. Stephanie York Arnold
November 17, 2025
I went somewhat begrudgingly to my first Connectional Table meeting in the Philippines last month. It’s not that I didn’t want to go, but the journey would take around 30 hours, and I wasn’t sure what to expect since I had never participated before. So, there was some anxiety and a bit of dread about making the trip.
Luckily, as happens so often in my life, the experiences I expect the least from are often the ones that end up being the most meaningful. I am so grateful to have encountered the culture, people, and beauty of the Philippines—and to have spent time learning from and alongside others on the Connectional Table.
Maybe, like my spouse, you’re wondering: What is the Connectional Table? It’s the place where ministry and money meet—where we coordinate the mission, ministries, and resources of The United Methodist Church. The table has 49 members representing agencies, bishops, ethnic caucus groups, jurisdictions, and central conferences. We gathered to consider how to live out our newly crafted vision statement as we seek to form disciples of Jesus Christ who, empowered by the Holy Spirit, love boldly, serve joyfully, and lead courageously in local communities and worldwide connections.
Our schedule was full—worship, missional experiences, plenary sessions, and small-group discussions.
What struck me most was learning from and about my siblings from different cultures. I was invited by GCSRW Board members, Bishop Ruby Nell Estrella, bishop of the Manila Episcopal Area and Jennifer Ferariza-Meneses, executive secretary, Board of Women's Work, Philippines Central Conference to spend a day with women and youth leaders from across the Philippines. Some of the women traveled up to 16 hours by bus to meet with me and our GCSRW Board President, Bishop Delores Williamston, bishop of the Louisiana Annual Conference. During our time together, we worshiped and shared stories of their ministry and culture. I was deeply inspired by all they do to support those most in need in their communities. They expressed a desire for greater partnership in sexual ethics resources and training. Then, with incredible generosity, they shared a meal with us and offered meaningful gifts to remember our time together.
Throughout the week, as I got to know other Connectional Table members, I had vulnerable conversations with people who live oceans away yet care deeply about the same issues—issues of inclusion and how we measure our success in reflecting the diversity of our worldwide connection. I was reminded that I often view things through my own cultural lens, and understandably, not everyone shares that same lens. Yet we often share common values. Listening deeply invited me to imagine releasing some of the ways I think things should be done and to begin building deeper trust in my peers to discern how best to carry out our shared vision and mission in their own context -- even if their way looks different from mine.
That may sound easy and obvious, but it isn’t. For instance, I learned that our siblings from Europe would likely never ask someone to indicate their “race” on a form or to identify their sexuality or gender. Why? Because their lived history makes such questions deeply uncomfortable. Asking about “race” conjures memories of Nazism and its obsession with defining a “supreme race.” That history shapes what information feels appropriate to collect. They know the dangers of creating lists that categorize people by gender, ethnicity, or sexuality. They reminded me that the desire to gather this kind of data is largely American—it fits our context, but not necessarily theirs.
What our diverse contexts care about is our shared value: that all people should have the opportunity to be empowered and represented. The question becomes, then—how might each context express and measure that value differently?
This was a fascinating and humbling conversation for me, as GCSRW is mandated to “monitor” The United Methodist Church’s equity—particularly in how women and other marginalized groups are offered leadership, representation, and voice. So, what might monitoring look like in a church striving not to be colonial or heavy-handed with an American approach, but instead rooted in shared values, trust, and adaptability?
I didn’t leave the Philippines with all the answers to how we might better engage our worldwide church or how we might need to restructure to meet the changing demands. But I left inspired. I left seeing our denomination through a wider lens. I left wanting to be the kind of person who can let go of my own perspective long enough to truly appreciate and learn from another’s.
That long journey to a part of the world I had never experienced was instrumental in opening my heart and imagination to new realities. Thankfully it is helping me envision more clearly how we might move forward together.