Writings

Confessions of a New Lieutenant

The day finally came. Our uniforms were cleaned and ironed. We had each epaulet and “S” angled and attached perfectly.  With bags and bibles in hand, we left the house and headed to the corps.  We arrived at our appointment, the South San Francisco Citadel, with wide eyes ready to take on the ministry that we had been given stewardship over.  My wife and I were led on a tour through the building complete with an explanation of great milestones and minor disappointments.   Without discussion, we could see the look in the eyes of the other, beginning to envision the possibilities for each room and usable space; and then we came to it...the chapel.

The place where countless hours of worship would take place over the course of our appointment was in our immediate grasp.  There I stood, using the majority of my senses to become familiar with chapel.  I noted the scent of the room, the feel of the pews, and I spent considerable time taking in the beautiful view of the pulpit and altars.  My son Anthony was able to break my gaze with a question, “Daddy, is that where you are going to do all of the talking?”  I looked at him intending on saying “yes”, but I was frozen in my tracks because although I knew he meant the time I spent giving one sermon, through his words I was reminded of the fact that I get to deliver God’s word on a consistent basis. The epaulets on my tunic instantly became just a bit heavier.

Just before exiting the chapel I closed my eyes and silently spoke the words, “Lord, I hope you know what you’re doing.”  As I opened my eyes, I was greeted with the vision of a statuette in the rear of the chapel.  It was sculpted to resemble Jesus passing a shepherd’s crook to an officer, and an inscription on the base of the sculpture read, “Feed My Sheep”.  I was reminded that, not only did God know what he was doing, but he had a specific plan for this corps which included my family and I being right here where he placed us.

Since that day, we have experienced all and more than what our training could have prepared us for.  The past three months have been filled with its fair share of achievements and challenges.   While taking the time to celebrate all that the previous officers have done, we have been able to come up with small steps to build upon the foundation that they have set.  The congregation has been supportive of the direction in which the ministry is going, and we haven’t often had to use the coined phrase, “We are just Lieutenants”.

Being an officer, a new officer, is a responsibility that hasn’t been taken lightly.  We have been told the stories, and been given countless illustrations, but the reality of it all is seen in the actuality.  I realized that a week ago when a woman drove up to the building after hours and sat in the driveway with her face buried in her hands.  I witnessed this scene from my office window and went to the front door.  As I opened the door and approached the car, she exited the vehicle.   I noticed then that she wasn’t alone; there were several children in the car and an adult male in the passenger seat.  The woman proceeded to explain to me that they had come across some hard times and wanted to know if we could spare some food.  The woman kept in motion away from the car stating that she didn’t want the children to hear the conversation and she asked if I could smile, so that those in the vehicle wouldn’t suspect that there was anything wrong.  The woman stated that the children were not yet aware of how bad the situation had become.   They were dealing with financial troubles because the husband had undergone a surgery that kept him out of work longer than expected or allowed, and as a result, she gathered all the courage she could muster to come and ask for food.  I was able to retrieve enough food for her to feed her family for a few days and pointed her to additional resources to address her current situation.

Before the woman returned to her car with the newly acquired provisions, I grabbed an invitational postcard and invited the woman to bring her family to our worship services.  In return, she offered a smile and shared a thank you for the generosity.  I explained that from the moment we met, her family became our family, and we would be privileged to have them join us.  I don’t know whether or not they will ever join us, but I know that the attempt was made and hopefully our dedication and concern was evident.

One of the greatest lessons that we have learned as new Lieutenants is that in this ministry we have not been tasked with an ultimatum of providing undeniable change; we have been given opportunities.   We are not responsible for saving anyone.  The saving is done by God; however, we can present the gospel message of Salvation.

Attached to that lesson is another lesson I have been taught, but had to experience first hand.  Don’t be afraid to get your heart broken.  Put your whole self into the ministry that you’ve been given stewardship of.  The ability to carry this out this means that we have to be sensitive to the people and places that God leads us, and we have to be prepared to share God’s hope with all that we encounter.  This can be done by simply handing a food box to someone in need, sharing scripture and praying on behalf of an individual or family, or taking part in any of the myriad of ministry opportunities that a Salvation Army officer has to “Feed My Sheep”.

Lieutenant Anthony Barnes
Corps Officer – South San Francisco Citadel
Golden State Division
Western Territory

The Rise of the Preacher

In 1915, Major John McRae, a Canadian medical officer attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade in Belgium performed the funeral ceremony for a friend killed by enemy gunfire.   McRae had seen enough blood, screams and suffering in his medical field station to last a lifetime.  After the graveside service, the officer wrote:

“In Flanders Fields the poppies blow between the crosses that mark
Our places, and in the sky, the larks still bravely singing, fly scarce
Heard amidst the guns below. We are the dead, short days ago we
Lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow. Loved and were loved and now we
Lie in Flanders Fields, where poppies blow between the crosses.”

The seeds of the red poppy lay dormant in the ground for years.  But when the ground is disturbed as in a battle, or dug up to bury the dead, the seeds germinate, take root and flourish.  Like the poppy seed, an officer may lie spiritually dormant for years.   Suddenly the ground of his heart is broken by the cries of the fallen.  Then the word of God takes root in his soul and he rises to preach with urgency because “the love of Christ compels (him).” (2 Corinthians 5:14).  The rise of the preacher today coincides with the rise of atheism.  The word “atheist” comes from the Greek “atheo,” meaning, “without God.”  The atheists say, “Smile, there is no hell.  The religious belief of any kind is irrational and the faithful are living in a fairy tale world.”  Atheistic writers are reaching the best-seller lists.  Some of their more recent books are, “God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything,” by Christopher Hitchen, “The End of Faith,” by Sam Harris and “The God Delusion,” by Richard Dawkins.  The book by Sam Harris has sold close to a million copies.  Is it for such a time as this that God has called you to be His strong preacher of the gospel?   John MacArthur said, “Now is the time for the strongest men to preach the strongest message in the context of the strongest ministry."

”I got the news the day I received my long service award pin.  My brother was missing at sea.  A consummate fisherman, he was out alone in his boat, miles from shore, challenging the dark and fathomless ocean.  On that day, my brother’s boat returned without its captain.  The deep waters of life have claimed many fellow officers.  Sturdy men and women from sessions past have left the ranks and are no longer able to care over their soldiery, as a shepherd cares over his flock.

There is a cost to being a preacher.   “The pulpit calls those anointed to it,” wrote Bruce Thielemann, “like the sea calls its sailor and like the sea, it batters and bruises.” Paul wrote, "I discipline my body, lest when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified." (1 Corinthians 9:27).  Corps officers who faithfully preach God’s message each Sunday know, “To really preach is to die naked a little at a time, and to know each time you do that, you must do it again.” (Thielemann)

Contrary to relegating the importance of preaching to a secondary status within the vast work of the Army, General Evangeline Booth pleaded, "Preaching is the big job in the Army.  It isn't sitting by a desk.  It isn't delegating authority.  It's the preaching.  You've got to preach!"

Paul said, “Woe is me if I do not preach the gospel!” (1 Corinthians 9:16).  The calling of the preacher is, “the big job in the Army.”  Have we forsaken our call and focused our precious time, talent, resources and energy on lesser jobs?

May the love of Christ compel you to “preach the Word. . . in season and out of season.” (2 Timothy 4:2)  May the love of Christ compel you to be God’s strong preacher, whose heart has been broken by the cries of the fallen.

(All scripture from the NKJV)