Corps officer love

by JoAnn Shade

“I

love being a corps officer.”  These words burst out of my mouth about 9:30 p.m. one recent night.  It was a full moon, I had been in the building all day, I had driven to the Cleveland airport and back, shopped for a dinner for 160, and I was now dragging into the corps parking lot at the end of a long, long day, needing to unload all those groceries!  Yet as exhausted as I was, there was no edge of flesh-eating sarcasm to my words.  I do truly love being a corps officer.

In the hours since, I have asked myself a one-word question: Why?  I’m not overly fond of the off-black pantyhose that I have to wear, and I’m eternally grateful that the Army bonnet has been laid to rest for good.  It’s no secret that I do struggle from time to time with regulations and practices that try their best to handcuff my (at times) unbridled spirit.  But despite my occasional arguments with the organization, I love what I do day-to-day.  So why?  How, indeed, do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.

First, because as a corps officer of a thriving urban center in mid-America, there is literally never a dull moment.  I never know what any given day will bring when I enter the Army building.  This week, we’ve had visits from the county commissioners, a German television crew filming a documentary on economic conditions in Ohio, postal fraud agents investigating a robbery across the street, and a donor that handed me a check for over $6,000.  We’ve received donations of six skids of chocolate, jars of pennies from a first grade class, and 80 head of ostrich (alive).  I never know when the opportunity will come to dry a tear, calm a fear or to plead a penitent’s prayer with another.  I have some ADD tendencies, and I seem to fit right in!

Secondly, I love what I do because I learn so much from the people I meet.  For a long time, I thought I was doing this because of what I could do for other people, for the less fortunate.  Ah, the arrogance of that thinking.  I’ve come to realize that I know so little, and that I need so badly to receive from my brothers and sisters that, by position, I am supposed to be leading.  I need to learn about doing unto others from Jim, and about walking in faith from Maxine.  I need to learn how to weep from Carie, and how to wrestle with demons from Frank.  Others help me to forgive, to be generous, and to sing when I don’t feel like singing.  They teach me, too, about baby steps, about accepting what I can’t change, and about having courage to do what I must do.  I learn every day from the people God directs through the doors of The Salvation Army.  Thank you, dear ones, for patiently teaching.

I also love being a corps officer because I am privileged to witness daily the faithfulness of God.  He has provided and protected, healed and restored.  Our pantry shelves groan under the weight of 350,000 pounds of food each year, and we have not suffered Old Mother Hubbard’s fate, for there is always something to give.  When we needed vegetables for a special dinner, they came, with carrots the first day, then broccoli, and finally fresh cauliflower to make up the California medley.  Four auto accidents in one month (none their own fault) plagued our staff, but no serious injuries.  An invasive brain tumor fell into the surgeon’s hand, and we claimed it as the miracle it was.  Men and women who have escaped from the pit of hell have found redemption and recovery.  God has not only shown up, He has hosted the party and allowed us to sing along with the angel choir.

I love being a corps officer because it allows me to be who I am.  I can preach in my own style, I can make music as a part of my job, and I can explore the scriptures daily.  I can be a bookworm at times (lots of times, according to my kids).  I can think up new ideas and watch as staff team members implement them.  I get to hold the new babies, eat some of that donated chocolate, give gifts of words, cookies and care, and make chicken broccoli casserole.  I can be tough and tender, courageous and vulnerable, and even outrageous once in a while.  I can be at rest, winsome, passionate, free and filled with hope.  I know who I am in Christ, and I can bring that woman to work with me!

Today, I would have to say that most of all, I love being a corps officer because I have been privileged to be a pastor to a people.  When I was ordained, I claimed this verse from Acts 20:28: “Take heed, therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood.”  Now I know that they are God’s church, his chosen people, but this little flock belongs to me and to Larry too.  We’ve been there when the babies have been born and when the saints have died.  We’ve been there when the alcoholic has fallen one more time, and we’ve felt the sting of betrayal when the one we’ve trusted has stabbed us in the back.  We’ve wept late into the night, sat in twenty-four hour diners, prayed ‘til the sun came up, and welcomed new believers into the family.  I have dozens of sons and daughters, scores of sisters and brothers, and a number of adopted mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles and grandparents.

And that’s why I wept this morning as I walked the labyrinth.  Entering the pathway, the direction suggested is to release.  Two weeks ago, I needed to release an anxiety over the days ahead which was engulfing me.  Today, I was led to release my people, my flock, to the care of other shepherds, and to the ultimate care of the Good Shepherd. Their faces came to me, one by one, and I began to say good-bye, trusting them to the One who loves them so much more than I ever could.  It was time to release my people.  For you see, I am not going to be a corps officer much longer.  My days in this sacred role are numbered, twenty-two days to be exact.  Right now, it stinks. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression; I’m all over the place with the patterns of grief, just haven’t made it to acceptance yet.  I am understanding the truth of C.S. Lewis’ writing:

To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one…Wrap it carefully with hobbies and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in a casket…of your own selfishness…there it will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

Will I get through this?  Yes.  God is faithful to his daughter, and will continue to be.  Will it be difficult?  Absolutely.  Am I, usually the stoic ice maiden, tired of weeping?  Yes.  Am I done weeping?  Nowhere near.  Is this sorrow for a season?  I believe so.  Some will say that I got too close, that I didn’t keep appropriate distance, but appropriate distance for me is deadly.  My sin is distance and detachment; I had to engage intensely for the sake of my soul.  So, while I’m not sorry, I know a depth of sorrow that is painfully heavy.

Yes, for these reasons and many more, I know now why I love being a corps officer, and why I am struggling so with the leaving.  It is obvious that I did what I needed to do, that I loved well and deeply.  Would I trade these days, even with the tears?  Not on your life.  For even as we pray our good-byes, we know that God will be present, and that He is able, more than able:

• to accomplish what concerns me today.
• to handle anything that comes my way.
• to do much more than I could ever dream.
• to make me what he wants me to be.

Postcript:  These words were written four years ago.  After a two-year (unexpected) hiatus at DHQ, we are now back in a corps setting.  Initially written for my personal catharsis, I share it today with the hope that it might speak to a heart or two.

Writer: Major JoAnn Shade serves along with her husband as a corps officer in Ashland, Ohio, USA. She is a corresponding member of the International Doctrine Council of The Salvation Army.

2 Comments to Corps officer love

1. JoAnn,

   I had never read this before. What a blessing you are to me today. This is exactly how I feel about officership - I can’t believe they pay me to have this much fun every day! Be blessed!
Howard on September 4th, 2008

2. I know what you mean JoAnn, about the joy of being called to be a minister to, of and for people. I have been saddened over the years that there is a concept of promotion from the field, or in my case as a Methodist minister, from pastoral ministry. You mention the notion of an over-seer, but isn’t this only half of the task? Isn’t it also a balance of being an under-rower as well?

   I love the idea of being an under-rower, a word Paul uses for minister. (1 Corinthians 4:1) The Greek word huperetes is a truly great word for us because we are all called to carry on “the work of the ministry”. Huperetes came to mean any subordinate acting under another’s direction; but the literal meaning of the word is also quite instructive.

   “A servant; a subordinate; an officer or assistant of inferior rank; hence, an agent, an instrument.”

   Knowing one’s place is surely the first principle of ministry and once under-rowing is written on the heart, the notion of servant-hood becomes a way of life.

   I know there are theological differences as to whether the words, “do this in remembrance of me” are an authentic rendering of the original words of Jesus, but remember what Jesus did before the last supper; he washed the disciples feet. Surely his example alone is a good basis for such ministry.

   For Bonhoeffer, the liberating gospel of grace and the magnetic summons to discipleship seems to cry out from the incarnate, crucified and risen One who reveals God’s power in weakness and God’s lordship in servanthood. Oh that others would shout from the heart “I love being…….an under-rower!”
Paul Colings on September 6th, 2008

Leave a comment