A Lover in the Salvo Ruins

Do not abandon the ruins urges Nathanael Homewood

“You should go to another denomination.”

The accusation stood out prominently on my Facebook page amongst the normal minutia of pokes, LOL’s and profile pictures.  They were serious and thought-provoking words.  Words that pierced.  I could not just dispense with them.

It was not the first time I was told I didn’t fit in.  Nor was it the first time someone implicitly, or explicitly, questioned my denominational devotedness.  I responded to the charge with some long-forgotten sterile phrase portraying heroic martyrdom and claiming loyalty to the Salvation Army.  The reality, though, was being exposed in my immaturity and loveless loyalty toward the Salvation Army.  I was struggling — grasping desperately at unfulfilling answers — as I attempted to illuminate why I love the Salvation Army.

I must reaffirm, first and foremost, that I do love the Salvation Army — without knowing how, nor why, nor from where.  The Army nurtured my faith as a child, sustains it as an adult and dares now to keep me in its employ.  I write as a youngster with inestimable passion to see the Salvation Army as God’s church, yet I am an outcast.  Herein I elucidate my reasons for loving the Salvation Army.

Explicating my love for the Salvation Army is a difficult task that cannot solely find its voice in theological, ecclesiological or soteriological justifications.  Nor is it a purely doctrinal affair.  It is not for the Salvation Army’s cultural and aesthetic distinctions - for I do not entirely embrace the uniform, its unique form of clergy, the flag, the bands nor the military metaphor.  It is not even based on the kisses and prayers of our Commissioner Mrs. Francis - though my appreciation of those cannot be understated.

I have long searched for an acceptable metaphor to help explain my ambivalence.  For a long time I found that voice in a quote attributed to Augustine of Hippo: “The church is a whore, but she is my mother.”  But this image is distorting in its application.  For I witness no whoredom in the Army’s leaders, laity, theology, doctrine or missiology.  What Augustine’s phrase does poetically capture, however, is the tenor of my love, which is not blind to our faults but actually loves those interstices.

R.R. Reno provides a much more appropriate figural interpretation in his book In the Ruins of the Church: Sustaining Faith in an Age of Diminished Christianity.  Reno has penned a stunning argument for remaining within his denomination, which can apply - potentially with greater efficacy - to the Salvation Army.  The metaphor is obvious:  the church is a ruin which we live amongst.  The biblical example of the metaphor comes poignantly from the story of Nehemiah.  Though Jerusalem has been conquered, Nehemiah refuses to remain in the comforts of life with the Babylonian King.  Instead he pleads that he be allowed to return, redeem and reside in his city, now a city of graves.  He wants to live in a place of defeats and failures.  With King Artaxerxes’ blessing, Nehemiah returns to a ruined Jerusalem to live, to love and to lead.  But these are more than ruins, for they are where the living God resides.  There amongst the ruins is redemption.

This metaphor of a ruined church captures both my imagination and my deep affinity for the Salvation Army.  In many ways, she is broken.  She lies in shambles. And yet I love her all the more for it.  In the same way that Nehemiah was drawn back to the rubble, I am inexorably drawn to the Salvation Army.  Perhaps it is ecclesiastical sadism, but I feel most comfortable around places and people that are broken.  I do not seek a church that is triumphant, powerful, or impressive.  I demand not theological perfection, abundant coffers or stunning liturgical standards.  I, like Nehemiah, crave the ruins, find beauty in their brokenness and believe them to be suitable for human habitation.  This is why I love the Salvation Army and dwell in its ruins - for in these ruins God chooses to reveal Himself.

If we accept this ethic of the ruins, we must do so with the perseverance and commitment of Nehemiah.  It cannot be treated like the romantic ruins of old Scottish castles, the Parthenon or the Great Wall.  We cannot merely be tourists engaging the nostalgia of long-lost generations.  Instead, we have the unique opportunity to both seriously and humbly reflect on the grandeur of the past, yet also look forward to the mammoth task of reconstruction.  Ruins do not create paralysis based on pessimistic assumptions; instead they inspire us to the greatest and most fulfilling work.  They inspire deep thinking and, above all, a reliance on the revelation of God.

One of our first reconstructive projects needs to be our theology.  Russell Rook - a theological and thinking hero of mine - has effectively drawn this out in a sermon called “The Rethinking Army.”  The Rethinking Army celebrates the tendency of the past to give preference to action over theology.  We have as a denomination - to a large degree - avoided theology for the sake of pragmatic function.  We have proudly assumed the identity of spirituality and theology with our sleeves rolled up.

That practicality has been graced with some great theologians - names like Phil Needham, Catherine Booth and Fred Brown.  To date, this shamelessly pragmatic approach has served us well in our attempt to minister amongst and with the marginalized.  But in the ruins of our denomination we must realize that we have ridden pragmatics as far as we possibly can.  It is time for the theological horse to catch up and pull the behavioural cart - to borrow a metaphor from General Clifton.

So the rethinking Army thinks deeply, creatively and humbly to inform and further our missiology.  This theological void demands dialogue, discussion and dissent.  We must facilitate the flourishing of theological options.  We recognize that we do not have it all right, that we do not have it all figured out.  And in this humility, a rethinking Army may emerge.  Nothing excites me more about the Army’s potential.  From these ruins, we inhabit a unique temporality that witnesses the beauty of our theology in the past and the future.

Embracing the ethic of the ruins is not as dramatic or pessimistic as it sounds.  Loving the ruins is actually our denominational bias, the providential gift of our denomination.  In and amongst ourselves we embrace the broken, the ruined and the devastated.  I recently attended a corps which I have designs on making my home corps.  The service was, respectfully, atrocious.  We sang songs of no theological sense (these aren’t the days of Elijah!), to a CD on which the vocal tracks drowned out the voices of the congregation.  This may have been a blessing, though, as ne’er has a less-musical group assembled.  The sermon was pop-psychology at its finest - being at church is fun and your life will be more fun if you attend.  And for good measure, we were instructed that there is a right way and a wrong way to hit someone over the head with the Bible.  Hopefully one of those ways avoids creating headaches and lawsuits!  Yet afterwards I rushed home to call my girlfriend and explain how much I loved church.

Despite that less-than-flattering description, I really loved church that day.  I had walked into that sanctuary alone, frightened, feeling my way around a new town, new school and new friends (or lack thereof).  Nobody greeted me at the door and there was very little conversation as everyone exited in single file so they could shake the Captain’s hand.  Yet throughout the service, I felt peace and shalom - I was at home.  And this was easily explained because in that service, as we sat together as a community, there was absolutely no pretention.  Each of us sat there with our brokenness etched on our faces.  My loneliness and fear were distinctly marked on my face - I was myself.  Our commonality was that we were broken, ruined persons.  And nobody was dressed particularly well, which put me at ease as I realized on the way in that my shorts have a permanent stain unfortunately situated on the buttocks.  There were no theatrics (aside from the man playing an air guitar in the front row), only people amidst the ruins.

If we adopt the ethic of the ruins, we must force ourselves to ask certain questions: In Zimbabwe, can we continue to be so closely tied to the figurehead of Robert Mugabe and the Zanu-PF?  Does our internationalism require rigid hierarchy?  Is officership an acceptable leadership model?  Does Trinitarian theology occupy a place of prominence in our missional vocation?  Is there a better model for the redistribution of funds between territories?  These questions and more could result in exhausting work.  But this is the work we commit ourselves to if we embrace the ethic of the ruins.

Dwelling amidst the ruins is also a critique of flight and evasion.  Do not abandon the ruins.  I am hesitant to write this, considering the large number of friends who have recently left the denomination. However, I vigorously advocate that Salvationists remain within the denomination.  Let us cease chasing fanciful mirages of the perfect, splendid and triumphant church.  Instead, embrace the vocation of dwelling amidst the Salvo ruins in which you will discover acceptance, theological space and fellow ruined and hurting people.  There is refuge in the ruins.  If the ethic of the ruins is not a critique of leaving, it at least offers an alternative to flight and evasion.

Finally, we must realize that the more we embrace our ruined nature, the closer we become to the crucified Christ.  For in his crucifixion, Jesus Christ clearly identified with the ruined and broken.  As Christ’s crucifixion is followed by resurrection, so also the cruciform ruin of the church leads to the hope of rebirth and new life.  This is illustrated when Thomas meets the risen Lord and remains yet unconvinced.  Seeing was not sufficient.  He needed to touch and engage the disfigured and crucified Christ.  Jesus allows Thomas into his disfigurement as a sign of the resurrection hope.  Similarly, the church, in its ruins, is a signpost of the resurrection.  For this reason, we must embrace the ethic of the ruins.  Counter to human comprehension, it is the ruined and disfigured that points to the resurrection, not the triumphant and powerful.

This metaphor of the Salvation Army as broken ruins encourages and sustains me.  It provides me with something palpable.  And it inspires me.  So months later, and following far too much obsession, I am prepared to respond to a Facebook comment remembered only by me.  I lovingly choose to remain a soldier of the Salvation Army; I can do no other.  For her ruins embody the very narrative of Jesus Christ: crucified form and resurrection hope.  The Salvation Army remains a flesh and blood embodiment of Christ.  From a ruined form to a ruined world, the Salvation Army heralds the very redemption of that broken world.  Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray.

(For further reading on the idea of remaining in the ruins see R.R. Reno’s In The Ruins of the Church, or his follow-up article following his move to Catholicism: Out of the Ruins)

Writer: Nathanael Homewood is currently working on his Masters of Divinity at Yale University.  He is also a Mission Consultant to the Youth Department in the Salvation Army Canada & Bermuda Territory.  With a passion for social justice and a missional Salvation Army he has the honour of facilitating youth and leaders in both.  And he has the great honour of seeing youth desperately trying to be like Jesus of Nazareth - an inspiration to his own efforts for the same.

19 Comments to A Lover in the Salvo Ruins

1. Interesting stuff Nathanael. I like what you said about the theological challenge facing the Army:

   “So the rethinking Army thinks deeply, creatively and humbly to inform and further our missiology. This theological void demands dialogue, discussion and dissent.”

   I couldn’t agree more. I hope and pray that leadership will have the wisdom to welcome and encourage such discussion and dissent. I see The Rubicon as one of the few places where this happens.

   Where can I find the sermon you referenced by Russell Rook?
James Pedlar on October 29th, 2008

2. Amen! I agree with you and am always excited by the Army’s potential.

   P.S. I’m glad that I’m not the only one who enjoys the kisses and prayers of Commissioner Mrs. Francis.
Eric Himes on October 29th, 2008

3. Nathanael, you know that I always appreciate learning from you, especially on “how to love the Army”, but is it possible that you misread both Augustine and Reno by substituting unfailing commitment to the Church with loyalty to a denomination like the Salvation Army? Are they not talking about loving something bigger than the Army and a loyalty more profound than would be accomplished should I attend the same *kind* of church I did when I was growing up?
Amy on October 29th, 2008

4. Nathanael, I am not commenting because we have similar names, but because I totally loved your article. Thanks for taking time to think and share.
Nate Irvine on October 29th, 2008

5. The first response I had to your article was a degree of sympathy…I’ve been struggling too with the pretense at ‘everything is ok’ amidst all the decline and the disintigrating Army in many of the parts of the world.

   I’ve been struggling too with my own part in it, which has actually led me to a serious year and a bit where I’ve really had to assess if I would stay or not.

   Like you, I’ve decided to hang around. Its a decision made in the hard rocks of resolution!

   However, let me comment on your Nehemiah analogy. Yes, Nehemiah was willing to give up Babylon to go back to the ruins but what really, really strikes me is that it wasn’t actually the love of the ruins that attracted him, but the love of God and his ‘Kingdom’. More than that, his purpose in going back, from the very beginning was to rebuild.

   Now, I’m not so much interested in rebuilding a splendorous Salvation Army in terms of meticulous musical deportment, shiny uniforms and all the rest, but I am interested in rebuilding an Army that takes its place once again amongst the poor and marinalised, the lost and the least, and to enter as their heroes providing them with the means to rise like the pheonix out of the ashes of both the ruins of ‘church’ and the ruins of their lives.

   I know that we have to begin work in the context of ruins, but we are here to build Kingdom community, which although may not be shiny and ‘corporate’, it is certainly wholesome and a shadow of the Kingdom to come. ‘Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done.’

   We need to hear the word from afar, in our exile, that we are in ruins but our motivation should be to hear the Lords call to work to rebuild the walls to create a place of shalom so that all can come and rest in the city of God.
Andrew Clark on October 29th, 2008

6. Nathaneal, I really appreciated your article. You’re digging at some deep truths. I think that there maybe a place between your piece and Amy’s point that is worth exploring. I think that Augustine and Reno are talking about the Church with a big ‘C’ rather than a denomination. But then again I think that the future of TSA may come from a closer refelection of what it means to be church with big ‘C’.

   This is obviously somewhat counter-intuitive as we generally like to dissuade people from looking outside the Army in a bid to review our own identity - an aside, I remember the corps where I grew up witnessed an outrage of heretical, “Burn the witch!” proportions when someone testified that they viewed the Army as their church, “We’re not a church! We’re an Army, a Corps!” came the less than liturgical response - but if we really do want to know who we are, even historically speaking, we do have to look around. In short we have to take account of the church. After all, our forefathers did!

   I recently was taking part in a teaching series on Army doctrine. While listening to someone extol the importance of SA doctrine for SA identity I found myself trying to identify which part of those 11 statements are uniquely SA. The answer is obviously none of them. As you point out while methodologically inventive, we’ve never been particularly theologically innovative and, what’s more, some of us would say our most infamous attempts at theological innovationvhave boredered on the embarrassing but let’s not get bogged down on that right now.

   My thesis is this, our doctrinal indentity is the result of us begging, borrowing and stealing theology from the church. All this, the Lutheran view of Justification, Evangelical view of Scripture, orthodox view of the trinity, Arminian view of Salvation, etc. informed our movement and drove our mission. It was by trying to understand the Church with a big ‘C’ and then locate our place within it, as what would one day become a church with a little ‘c’, or corps with a little ‘c’ if that makes us happier- that we found out what it meant to be that part of God’s people which we now know as The Salvation Army.

   If history isn’t enough to get us to look around at the wider church, then eschatology certainly should be. You see, I’m not sure there will be a Salvation Army in heaven, not in the way we know it at least. The great bible narrative sees the Church in her climactic state as ONE holy, catholic and apostolic church. A church not broken or in ruins but prepared as a beautiful bride for her lover. In this moment denominational, racial, historical and doctrinal differences and fractures will be utterly healed and we will be the Church, with a big ‘C’, for the first and last time.

   At my local corps we’re working hard with local churches to bring the church together and increase the impact of our mission. By coming together we are no less TSA, in fact our distinct identity stands out more when there are other traditions, cultures and congregations to stand alongside and work with. In this context, we often say that we’ll probably not see the Church with a big ‘C’, that eschatological vision of Jesus/ bride, in our lifetime. But that doesn’t stop us working together and becoming the church with a bigger ‘c’ in the here and now. In this way we fulfill God’s hope for all of our denominations.

   So in conclusion, - this was only meant to be short but blame Nathanael because he really got me thinking - the thing for us to do if we want to be more like TSA is to get out more, look around, find out what God has done, is doing and will do in the church and make sure that we don’t get left behind.

   Russ
Russell Rook on October 29th, 2008

7. I’d personally rather get off my rear end and do something about make the church less dysfunctional than sit and hear people saying something that basically amounts to ‘live with it’. That is because, while we will always have to live with a measure of conflict and communication problems, etc, the natural dynamics of any human community because we are human, to give up confronting church brokenness, failure and dysfunction means giving up on holiness - personal, relational holiness as worked out in everyday life. And I believe we CAN make progress, we CAN grow in holiness, and church culture, even the army’s seemingly impossible to change church culture, CAN make real progress toward becoming community visibly transformed.

   One difficulty is we are using the need to be missional as an excuse to avoid dealing with stuff that is more difficult - namely the quality of our community life and the holiness evident in the way we relate, live, care, love, work and serve together. For people to see Christ in us, we need to be church in an integrated way. Just telling each other to ‘love one another’ doesn’t cut it. We need to set aside time and attention to working through together and implementing what that means in practice. Otherwise we just mill our way through one crowd of needy people trying to help them while leaving another, sometimes equally sized trail of church-wounded people behind us as we go. That, to me, is a zero-gain situation. Nehemiah rebuilt. The way I read those passages I do not feel they are giving me permission to wander off into helplessly thinking ’twas ever thus’ and ‘there’s no perfect church’. So there’s no endeavour toward holiness either?
   The most dramatic sign of the resurrection is our having the guts to tackle the hard stuff.
Eleanor Burne-Jones on October 29th, 2008

8. Homewood, quite the elegant piece. I respect the honesty. But, come on, you know where Reno ended up! And you know why. It’s because the post-Reformation ruins aren’t really ruins at all. They’re more like New New York in Futurama, built on top of the Old New York such that the Old City is lost (almost) entirely. And, to continue stretching the analogy, it’s not guys like Bender who thrive in the ruins or underbelly of New New York that love their city the most.
   Rather, it’s Frye who is able to remind the others of the Old New York that dwells beneath, and indeed supports, New New York. Those are the real ruins: the ruins without which, even though broken down and worn with age, New New York has nothing to stand on.
Rob Snider on October 29th, 2008

9. Good stuff Nathanael. One main concern:

   Who gets to engage in this new ‘rethinking’ of the SA? As far as I can tell, we don’t have the theological pedigree to have any kind of broad-ranging, transformational discussions at this point. All of our Territorial Symposiums and Theological Meetings tend to feature beautiful, hard-working, well-meaning folk who are by no means theologians, nor necessarily even ‘thinkers’. To many of them, and even more so to the people they represent, places like The Rubicon are unaccessed, unaccessible havens of elitism (and probably liberal to boot!) that do nothing but bash the Army they love. I do not agree with that assessment (always) but the point remains that we have very few venues to engage in this kind of conversation, and very few people who really can do so, if I understand the agenda properly (and this just thinking about the N. American context).

   Perhaps it is true that we must endeavour, in the ruins, to create new models instead of trying to fight with the old. To do that I firmly believe, along with Russ, that we must look outside of ourselves. But perhaps we also need to celebrate the old, to allow space for people to continue to express themselves as they have always loved to do so.

   BTW, I also very much agree with Eleanor concerning a community of holiness in the midst of mission. That is a tough balancing act, one we are trying and often failing to figure out in my context.

   Grace,

   Aaron
aaron on October 29th, 2008

10. Nathanael: You possess an obvious flare for writing and thinking. I hope your article becomes widely read by those of us who claim The Salvation Army as our home church, and that as a result we wrestle through issues and practices currently producing large areas of stagnation. I don’t think The Salvation Army is in ruins in all areas, whether ‘areas” is interpreted as geographical, worship, discipleship, or social justice. To be sure, though, we are in a state of ruin in each of these areas to some degree or another.

    I hope, too, we wrestle through issues of theology (study of God) and orthodoxy (the right way of thinking – and who is it that determines what our right way of think is??). As an example, I would love us to re-think our position on the sacrament of Eucharist. Don’t get me wrong: I fully understand and accept our theological position that participation in the Lord’s Table in not necessary to salvation. But how much fellowship do we miss, both with other believers and with the Holy Spirit, by not reverently observing this sacred practice of the Christendom? For me, the same is true of the sacrament of baptism: not necessary to salvation; but why did Jesus Himself say, “All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you”? And please, let’s not go down the pothole pitted road of equating dedications to baptism and “love feasts” to the Lord’s Table as they are not in fact equal, theologically or practically.

    I hope we wrestle through issues of uniform wearing, uniform standards, uniform as effective witness tools in various parts of the world in the 21st century. I hope we wrestle through issues of allowing our practices, whether knowingly or unknowingly to isolate us from the world at large. The command to “be in the world but not of the world” hardly supports the notion of isolation or insulation.

    I hope we wrestle through issues of demanding certain traditional programmes in each local setting while remaining completely ignorant of asking if they fit or meet the needs of each given local community.

    I hope we wrestle through issues of “preach[ing] our distinctives” as one of our generals recently so passionately preached. What are our distinctives? Are our distinctives more important, more theologically sound, more orthodox than the rest of Christendom?

    I hope we will wrestle through the issue of preaching the pablum of “pop-psychology” and purposefully drive toward preaching the solid food needed to grow saints and to keep an army in fighting form.

    I hope we wrestle through issues of postmodernism and emergent church. I hope we wrestle through issues of what it means to be a missional follower of Jesus in our glocal (global and local) settings.

    And I hope we will find the courage to do all of this against the backdrop of being true followers of Jesus Christ first, soldiers, adherents, and members of The Salvation Army secondarily.
Jim Irvine on October 30th, 2008

11. Nathanael- I´m so glad your brain is not like the back of your 4WD vehicle (whatever you North American´s call them!!!) you drove me around in!

    Thanks for the clarity and incisive thinking!!
Gordon on October 30th, 2008

12. I’ve long felt the most resonant biblical image for The Salvation Army where I serve is exile, of which the destruction of Jerusalem is an antecedent. I think we’ve had our fill of secular organisational theory; we need to reflect theologically on our condition, especially concerning decline. So thanks for doing that with humour and depth. There’s a lot of insight. However, I find myself dissenting from your main line of thought and conclusions, feeling that your leitmotif, “the ethic of the ruins” (why ‘ethic’?), misapplies two biblical images. It’s clear you welcome constructive dissent, so here goes:

    The first is Nehemiah in the ruins of Jerusalem. As I read it, he was grieved and appalled at the condition of his city. It was ugly, not beautiful, and utterly unfit for human habitation. The national memory of its former glory invoked an urgent passion to work to bring an end to the shame of ruination. At the risk of sounding like a granite-faced Evangelical of the old school, deploying Nehemiah in the ruins as a metaphor obliges us to speak the anti-zeitgeist vocabulary of judgment and repentance. The ruins represent the brokenness of a people guilty of systemic, repeated sin. The Army I know may be in that place now, but that’s the last place I want it to remain. “Theological perfection, abundant coffers or stunning liturgical standards” – these are a straw man. None of us expect these, but we are seeking an Army beyond ruination: powerful in mission, holy in character and an embodiment of the coming Kingdom. In some parts of the world, it’s like this and it’s wonderful.

    This is where I’m confused by your piece: on the one hand you write of “redemptive promise” and the “mammoth task of reconstruction” (amen!); on the other you seem to like the Army the way it is, seeing this even as ecclesiastical vocation and a pre-requisite for embracing broken and ruined lives. The latter idea might gain credence in Canada, but would it hold in Seoul or Mizoram? Where you illustrate “ruin” using a corps’ atrocious but inclusive meeting, I would want instead to cite exclusive praxes or idolatrous pride in deportment or music in stagnating corps as “ruin”. A restored, not a ruined, Army celebrates and includes the excluded, and this need never be an apologia for mediocrity. Only if we are being restored can we help bring that same grace to others.

    Secondly, the image of Christ crucified. Paul’s idea of Christian embodiment of Christ crucified does not express imperfection, mediocrity or the exilic consequences of judgment. It expresses death to sin and identificational, redemptive suffering. I want The Salvation Army to embody Christ crucified in these two senses and embody Christ resurrected in realised “new creation” hope and spiritual power.

    Nehemiah chapter 12: “…rejoicing because God had given them great joy… The sound of rejoicing in Jerusalem could be heard far away”. That, resonant with Acts 2 in the same city, is an image of The Salvation Army I long to see restored in my lifetime. Let’s get to work on the ruins so as to consign them to history.
Matt Clifton on October 30th, 2008

13. A thoughtful essay - thanks. I am one who doesn’t seem to fit very well, but have stayed, not so much because I love ‘the Army,’ but because I see what God can do through it, in spite of us. We will cease to be effective in the work of the Kingdom when we can no longer see our own brokenness.
JoAnn Shade on October 30th, 2008

14. Nathanael, great piece. It is easy to sense your passion to see a re-birth awakened within this Army. I share this with you. My heart cringed as I read the description of your would-be home corps - all too many of our corps are like this. Canned music is the least of our worries, unfortunately. Pop-psychology and pop-culture have taken hold of our pulpits (or lack thereof in an effort to appear post-modern) and have not been undergirded with solid Biblical truths on which the popular can stand. Unfortunately we hear more from John Maxwell and Joel Osteen than we do Peter and Paul.

    I believe with all my heart that God breathed life into The Salvation Army for the purposes of leading the charge into the dark places of this world and rescuing his most precious, lost children from the very clutches of evil - in every form. We did this once without much regard, really. It wasn’t until the world began to notice that we began being careful in how we advanced the front lines. I do believe that if we are to become a “rethinking Army” we will need to re-evaluate our present standing in society. Perhaps it would be better for us to forego the annual Thanksgiving Day football game so that we could reconstitute our efforts toward a venue with more eternal dividends? Would we even be allowed to rethink such things?

    Nathanael, you have a deep desire to see the Army go deeper theologically. I would give anything to see this happen. How do we do that? Surely there are things within the ruins that we must let go of. Could it be that the very ruins themselves need to be released? What is trapped there that deserves to be reclaimed? Could the ruins be looked upon as an altar of remembrance as we travel on toward the future - whatever that future might be?
Rob on October 31st, 2008

15. I really appreciate your piece, Nathaneal. I didn’t read Reno’s book, and if I had I’m sure I might have a more thorough understanding. What I’m left wondering is if you mean that one must remain broken to be effective. Nehemiah’s wall was successfully built - it did not remain a ruin. Further, speaking without metaphor, we are healed by Christ’s stripes. So, it seems to me that we are to move beyond our brokenness. That is to say, that healing is to take place and be demonstrated, with all glory going to the Savior. When the credit is properly placed on Christ, then we can still claim that our human weakness reflects his strength. But it seems to me that his restorative power should be celebrated. I almost read you as saying that we should celebrate a lack of victory. As you have said, the death of Christ is a signpost of his resurrection, but where would we be if we dwelt only in Friday and never got to Resurrection Day? I might be more encouraged by a church that let me know I was welcome in my brokenness, but that I didn’t have to stay that way.
Amy Reardon on October 31st, 2008

16. I am going to have to second James’ praise of therubicon. I really appreciate some of the insights that have been left here. Considering my tardiness in realizing the responses to the article I will try to respond accordingly below.
    First, I think my lack of proficiency and immaturity as a writer perhaps plagued this project (I’ll keep practicing!). For that I apologize. I may have bit of more than I can chew with the metaphor and the attempt to use it two ways (the Army as a ruined ecclesiological unit, and the Army as a beautiful group of ruined persons). My apologies.
    Amy – I appreciate your comment about big ‘C’ Church. However, I am pretty confident I haven’t misread Reno who was explicitly attempting to outline his reasons for remaining Episcopalian (2 years later he became Catholic as Rob alludes to). But it is possible that your comment misreads (or I miswrote) the project at hand which was to convince myself that my love for the Army was genuine, of some lasting value to the Kingdom and most importantly, that amongst what I have called the ruins there is a reason for staying that is profound and potentially more potent than leaving. I recognize that there is something profound about loving the Church – I just think that sometimes we miss out on the profundity of loving the Salvation Army and staying with her.
    Andrew, Eleanor, Amy and others: I think we are in agreement on the Nehemiah analogy. We want to be part of rebuilding an Army that takes its place amongst the poor and marginalized etc. I am not sure where you are reading anyone saying “live with it” or “twas ever thus.” My argument is not that we accept the ruins as status quo – in fact the very opposite. But on the other hand we need to accept and recognize that despite our best efforts to “hear the Lords call” we will remained ruined and flawed until the Eschaton. Assuming this to be the case my argument is that we learn lessons from our ruins, namely: we have some reconstruction projects that need our attention and that in our ruins, if we are honest and forthright about them, we can be signposts of the resurrection hope. Sorry if my writing failed to communicate this. In no way was I trying to say that we need to remain in our current ruins in order to be effective.
    Russ: As always you continue to inspire me and make me think. Amongst the brilliant points in your comment your final conclusion is noteworthy: “So in conclusion, the thing for us to do if we want to be more like TSA is to get out more, look around, find out what God has done, is doing and will do in the Church and make sure that we don’t get left behind.” Thanks!
    Aaron: Surely you didn’t mean to generalize Salvationists as not necessarily even ‘thinkers.’ That seems hyperbolic.
    Gordon: Thanks for taking a shot at my cleanliness. You know my views – hygiene and cleanliness are overrated!
Nathanael Homewood on November 2nd, 2008

17. I have really been struggling with The Salvation Army based off of its doctrine. I grew up in the Army, but honestly…the more I study the Bible and the true great father’s of the Christian faith, the more problems I see within the Army’s theology.

    When I first noticed such problems I wanted to help - I wanted reform. Like Aaron said, these venues don’t really exist.

    This is probably the first insightful view that I have seen on the necessary reformation of the Army. I’m glad that I’m not the only one out there who sees a need for reform.

    But how can this reformation take place? And do the Army’s soldiers have adequate theology for this change to take place? A two-year associate degree followed by continuing education doesn’t seem adequate for this to take place.

    I don’t have all of the answers, but I have a lot of unanswered questions that make me doubt the Army.

    Thanks for giving me a glimpse of hope.
Nate Merchant on November 2nd, 2008

18. Nathanael,

    My comment was made partly to reflect a reality, partly to bring up what I think will be a difficult issue.

    Of course there are thinkers in TSA, but I said that many of those who in the past have participated in our Territorial theological discussions have not necessarily been those with a firm or subtle grasp of Scripture or theology, nor were they expected to be. This is no knock on anyone, just pointing out that if we’re going to pretend to talk theology (rather than simply distinctives, or form), we should know what we are getting into. I would not feel qualified to truly engage in this process myself without further study.

    I am suggesting that there is not a wide spread emphasis on careful theological thought throughout our movement. We attract people who are active, not really contemplative, and we do not expect the same kind of theological background or expertise from our officers as many other denominations would expect from their leaders and pastors. We tend to produce Army historians, rather than theologians. There is not, I would suggest, a high value put on theological study, and it is therefore not our strength. We have many other strengths, and we don’t have to copy anyone. But if we are wanting to talk about a rethinking, we then need to have the tools in our belt to do so.

    So if we are engaging in a ‘rethinking’, certain questions arise. Will there be a wide spread recognition for a need for a rethinking? One that goes beyond discussions of uniforms and worship styles? One that has the understanding, support, and weight of the current administrative structure?

    And if there is, who gets to play a part? Is it open to everyone? Does that make sense, if people may not have the background or ‘abilities’ (or gift mix I guess) to be involved? Is it elitism if it is not thrown open, and will it have any legitimacy if it is not seen to be an open, participatory process by the rank and file?

    I believe in the possibility, and I love the active, simple nature of TSA, but I see the potential for many people to be frustrated in the ruins if they do not see some quick rethinking going on. I think there may be a lot of work to do before it will truly happen.

    But I also suggested in my first comment that a possible way forward is to create new models and new ways of thinking within the old ways, still loving and blessing what has gone before (and still exists), but at the same time trying something new. That’s what I’m currently devoting my life to, and I guess we’ll see how it turns out.

    Grace,

    Aaron
aaron on November 3rd, 2008

19. Thanks Nathanael for an honest and thoughtful reflection.

    We look for the ideal, the perfect church - and think we see better options in other traditions. We need to keeping working for the ideal - always realising the flawed nature of humanity. The redeemed stand with the rest of humanity and we share that nature.

    My prayer is that Salvationists will love God with all they have - and that includes their minds. The engagement of our critical faculties is vital if we are to be open to new ways of ‘being Army’ that are relevant to our age and culture(s)and are God-honouring.
    In the process we can honour the best of our past, but not be bound by it. Nor we cannot deny the mistakes of the past for to do so condemns us to repeat them.

    We have plenty of activists who can do the rebuilding. The thinkers need all the encouragement we can give to shape the future.

    Thanks for sticking around.

    Graham
Graham on November 7th, 2008

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