Coming to the Army
by Major JoAnn Shade
“Coming to the Army” stories are fascinating to hear. As a teenager in the 1920s, Myrtle Cogswell was walking some of her 21 siblings to the Episcopal church when the music of the band and the exuberance of the worship drew her through the Salvation Army doors. Years later, Myrtle’s son first crossed the threshold of the Army in the arms of his mother, because he was born into the family. That’s my husband’s story. Mine’s a bit different, as I was hired to share in the ministry, first by playing the piano, and then ringing the kettle bell, working in the social service office, and spending summers at camp.
Others come for the fun of the gym, the fellowship of the Sunbeams, or the joy of the music. Still others come because they need groceries, hot meals, or support with their addiction struggles. No matter the origin of their story, millions of people come through the doors of The Salvation Army in the United States each year, and that is how it should be. But those on the inside often wonder what we might do to encourage some of these threshold-crossers to, as Jed Clampett suggested in the Beverly Hillbillies of my childhood, “Y’all come back now, y’hear.”
We can use our own “coming to the Army” stories to provide that encouragement to others. As we take to heart Fanny Crosby’s words “this is my story, this is my song” (from the hymn “Blessed Assurance”), we can remember and repeat our own story, and we can listen as well to the stories of others. What made the difference for us? Where are the common themes in our “coming to the Army” narratives, indeed in our “staying at the Army” narratives?
They are nestled in our stories, in the joy we found in the Army, and in the sense of belonging and embrace that drew us in. Those themes also include the discovery of a spirit of meaning and purpose. As theologian Frederick Buechner recognized, for many of us the Army became our calling, “the place where [our] deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”
The wide variety of our own stories serves as a reminder to keep every possible door and window open. Indeed, how can they hear if the doors are locked and the windows bolted shut? Ah, yes, we must consider safety, and we do love our air conditioning. But finding new ways to open doors, both to let the good news out and welcome our neighbor in—that’s the story we want to tell.
Some of the entrance doors can be tinged with shame, as being unable to provide for our families, facing addictions, or struggling with poverty can feel shameful to the visitor, especially if invasive questions are asked or eyebrows are raised. In the musical Glory! John Gowans offers the antidote: “Varied are the wants we name, the prayers we plead, yet essentially the same the grace we need.” No matter the door, once we enter, we belong. Indeed, we are “all seeking the same Savior.”
It may not be our grandma’s Army anymore, but that’s OK. Our changing doors reflect the world around us, but they still can swing wide if we let them. Let the invitation be clear and compelling, let the welcome be warm and genuine. Are you hungry? Come, the table is set. Are you lonely? Come, we will be with you. Are you looking for Jesus? Come, we’ll walk with you to meet Him.
Long acknowledged as a prolific and published writer, Major JoAnn Shade is a retired officer residing in North Canton, Ohio.
