The Captain’s Christmas
by Colonel Richard Munn
It was a particularly busy Christmas season for Captains David and Ruth Innman and the folk of Anytown Citadel. And to be honest with you, this had rather taken them by surprise.
You’d think that after 10 years of officership, in three appointments, nothing would surprise them anymore. But this Christmas was a difficult one.
Upon reflection, David Innman knew why. First, the announcement came out from Washington that there would be no more FEMA money next year, and so there was turmoil in the social services community. Then, there was a large family convention in the city that very month, and so people coming from all over the country made travel difficult, especially transporting those kettle workers every night, and it also meant that every hotel, motel, and restaurant in town was packed.
Now on Christmas Eve, after days of disordered families shuffling through the gymnasium Christmas Toy Shop, and really too many parties for all the youth groups, and goodness knows how many nursing home visitations, and long hours counting money from red kettles, Captain Innman was ready for rest and family time.
This was one of his favorite moments in the season: the night before Christmas when they could be together as a family and spend a quiet evening at home.
Once again, though, Captain Innman was taken by surprise. What a surprise! Where shall we begin?
***
Well, Captain Ruth Innman, the kids, and some of the junior soldiers had just left to go carol singing. David had planned to go with them, but right now there was a distraction. A young couple were waiting in the lobby. “No,” he was told, “they don’t want a turkey, or toys, or food—they want to see the captain.”
“Can you believe it?” he muttered. “People look for help at the most amazing times. The night before Christmas!”
Waiting in the lobby were Jose and Maria. They looked tired, impoverished, scared … and she looked very pregnant.
***
A few blocks away, starting his night shift as the security guard of a large, impersonal office complex, sat old Sam Shepherd. He always felt strange in his ill-fitting uniform and never thought he would actually use the standard-issue firearm. He began completing his rounds as usual, wondering what lay ahead this Christmas Eve.
Sam was a lonely man, living in a small city apartment with no friends or family. One bad marriage, some foolish decisions as a young man, and the effects of long-term quiet drinking had left their toll on the once handsome GI. National and seasonal holidays always made him more melancholy. With a heavy heart, Sam Shepherd started his duties. Maybe he was imagining things, but he thought he heard some singing in the distance. “Couldn’t be, nothing happens out here.”
***
“You need accommodation tonight?” exclaimed an astonished Captain Innman. “Every place, every shelter, every agency is closed already.” He felt a surge of exasperation flash through his fatigue. But something was special about this young couple. He sensed the quiet, firm presence of God prodding him to be gentle here. There was a tenderness, an earnestness about these clients.
“Well, you could stay in the old apartment in the building.” It had long ago become a storage room, but there were mattresses and a Dwyer kitchen unit available.
“Gracias,” said Jose. “Gloria Dios,” prayed Maria.
Slowly our trio, Captain Innman, Jose, and Maria, made their way up the narrow stairs to the old apartment.
***
“It is singing!” Sam Shepherd said to himself. “No question about it!”
And there, skipping down the city street, were the Salvation Army captain and a dozen carolers and lanterns swaying in the cold night wind, colorful scarves and woolen hats all askew. They were laughing and chatting and singing, all at the same time: “Joy to the world, the Lord has come!”
Sam Shepherd opened the glass office door and watched them come near.
“Would you like a carol, mister?” chirped one of the kids. “What’s your favorite?”
Sam was taken aback by the whole scene, the energy and beauty of it all. He coughed nervously.
“I know,” said Captain Ruth. “Let’s sing ‘Angels from the Realms of Glory.’” And so they did.
Sam was suddenly filled with awe. To him this little band of Salvation Army kids seemed like a choir of angels. It seemed like a holy light shone about them. This simple act of kindness—just for him—touched his very heart. Years of despair and anger and loneliness were released. Tears rolled down his craggy face for the first time since goodness knows when.
At that moment, for Sam Shepherd, the Word became Flesh.
***
When our caroling band, and a smiling Sam Shepherd, arrived at the corps building, a nervous and perspiring Captain Innman showed everyone mom, dad, and newborn baby. Somebody captured the scene for Instagram, and that very moment it went global.
That night, as the Innman family finally drove home in the old corps van, clanking with stands and kettles, Captain David marveled at the mystery of the gospel.
A “hand to man,” and a “heart to God,” both were his privilege on Christmas night.
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers,” says Hebrews, “for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” (Hebrews 13:2, ESV)
“As you did it to one of the least of these … you did it to me,” said Jesus. (Matthew 25:40, ESV)
“Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is a child of God.” (1 John 5:1, NIRV)
