Why Can’t We Just Be Humanitarians? by Elizabeth Glass Turner
The brilliance of the World Methodist Conference is still shifting through my mind, light through a suncatcher hanging on a window. The days in Houston were color, sound, faces, laughter, weeping, worship, intensity, frustration, revelation. I met people and forgot names. I met people and remembered names. I saw textiles woven with Methodist patterns, saris shimmering, archbishop caps velvety and









