Booth's Army
by
Commissioner Wesley Harris
Some of the
evangelical missions which began in Victorian England were
short-lived. So
what gave permanence to that led by William Booth?
It may have been the fact that in addition to a focus
on personal spiritual renewal
there was the aim of achieving social salvation, caring
for body as well as soul. A growing social work won acceptance
and that has been the case throughout our history. People who
would not join the Army supported it for the sake of its good
works. Then there
was the adoption of a strikingly different mode.
In 1878 William, his son Bramwell and George Scott
Railton were discussing a Christian Mission Report.
It stated that the mission was a ‘volunteer army’.
At the time in England the ‘volunteers’ were a
part-time militia, a kind of ‘dad’s army’ and Bramwell
objected that did not want to be a ‘volunteer’ but a ‘regular’
or nothing.
Thereupon, William crossed out ‘volunteer’and substituted
‘salvation’ and at a stroke of the pen made a huge difference.
In essence
nothing changed.
We were – and still are –a Christian mission.
But we were also an army mobilized by God.
Commissioner Catherine Bramwell-Booth – a granddaughter
of the Founders - told me that the introduction of uniforms
was not the result of an edict from headquarters but the
desire of Salvationists to show whose side they were on.
The army was out to win the world for Jesus.
World conquest was the aim.
In 1890 the Army
Mother was promoted to Glory after a long and painful battle
with cancer leaving William sorely affected.
His daughter Emma was killed in a train crash in the
USA.
His daughter Catherine and sons Ballington and Herbert
were lost to the Army perhaps because the pacifying influence
of their mother was no more.
William’s health was poor but his passion was unabated.
Hostels for the homeless, work for unmarried mothers and
addicts and migration schemes multiplied
Salvationists
were meant to be warriors not wimps. Although infinitely
compassionate towards the needy William was demanding on
himself and also on his comrades in arms
When I was a young officer my mentor was retired
Commissioner George Jolliffe who as a young officer had been
private secretary to the Founder and actually lived in his
house. He told me that, after the promotion to Glory of the
Army Mother, he
would sometimes hear the tinkling of a bell in the Founder’s
bedroom and an urgent voice would call, “Jolliffe, I can’t
sleep, let’s work’.
Then, notebook in hand he would go and take down a
letter or an article for an Army paper.
(William was a prolific writer so that from the first
English edition of
The War Cry in December 1879 until he was promoted
glory in December
1912 one or more of his writings appeared in
every issue.)
The Founder was
completely focused on mission and was not seeking worldly
honours. When
offered the freedom of the city of
London
he said, “Jolliffe, go and tell them I don’t want it” - not an
easy thing for him to do!
Later however, William was persuaded to accept the
honour and a cheque with it which went straight into Army
funds.
William Booth
had a holy expectation that at an early date the world would
be won for Jesus and that the Army would have a major role in
that. Certainly,
the global spread
of the movement was remarkable.
Country after country was invaded.
European countries, the
United States,
Canada,
Australia,
New Zealand,
India
all were added to the Army roll-call and in times when travel
was much more arduous than today the General visited even
remote parts pf the growing Army empire..
As he got older the pace of his life seemed to
increase; he was not only called but driven.
The flame of his passion grew ever brighter.
I asked George
Jolliffe the secret of the Founder’s drive.
He told me that it was his belief in hell.
He really believed that if people were not saved they
would go to a lost eternity. For that reason he would feel
personally bound to challenge his cab or train driver about
their need for salvation.
And he would feel that the spread of his army of
Salvation was a matter of urgency
because millions were going to hell.
He received an honorary doctorate from
Oxford
University
not in recognition of what he had achieved as a social
reformer but for his achievements as a spiritual leader.
Fair enough!
For twenty two
years after the passing of his beloved wife William was the
inspiration of his growing Army and travelled tirelessly to
inspect the rapidly growing work around the world, conducting
crowded meetings and discussing his social schemes with heads
of government.
Where he had once been ridiculed he was now honoured as a
‘citizen of the world’. But the
first and last passion of William Booth’s life was to
get people saved and his followers caught something of his
magnificent obsession so that all they met expected them to
issue a spiritual challenge.
It went with the uniform!
While he would rejoice that his Army is now larger than ever
he would be disappointed at a dearth of soul saving,
particularly in western countries. A Salvation Army without
salvation meetings would have struck him as unthinkable and
empty Mercy Seats reason to redouble prayer and effort.
In 1912 William
Booth made his last public appearance in
London’s
Royal Albert Hall and declared that although he was going into
dry dock for repairs he was still determined to fight to the
very end. By this
time he was blind and needed a wooden hand rest to enable him
to write straight across a page. (I have a
cheque for fifty pounds he received for his work that
same week, duly endorsed with the Founder’s distinctive
signature. It must have been among the last cheques he
endorsed.)
His fighting
spirit was maintained to the last when on the 20th
of August he was promoted to Glory and
no doubt received his Master’s ‘well done’ . According
to Richard Collier in The General next to God, at the last
minute Queen Mary unexpexctedly decided to attend the
huge memorial service in the
Olympia
building. She was
shown to a seat next to a woman who had once been a
prostitute. The woman
had brought two roses which she had placed on the coffin as it
was carried down the aisle.
Possibly not recognizing the person to whom she was
speaking, she told the Queen,
“He cared for the likes of us!”
It was a worthy epitaph.
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