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The War Cry | FEBRUARY 2014
year�olds in the Sunday school
class I taught wrapped themselves
around my heart when they put
their hands in mine and whis-
pered secrets in my ear. Members
of the corps became a supportive
family. How perfect it all was!
There were poignant moments
when as a congregation we united
fully in prayer and purpose. And
there was laughter shared with
other songsters and bandsmen at
a diner after rehearsals. Lots of
laughter! Tears of mirth streamed
down our faces as we recalled a
woman and her boyfriend who lis-
tened thoughtfully to an open�air
meeting. She seemed blissfully
unaware of the iguana perched on
her head. We relived a concert at a
church where we arrived ravenously
hungry but too late for the dinner
prepared for us. We were promised
that meal after the concert, so both
bandmaster and songster leader
conducted every item prestissimo to
finish in Guinness Book record time.
But over time a few flaws ap-
peared in the perfection I imagined
the corps to be. My eyes opened to
rivalries over leadership positions
and to friendships that included
some but excluded others. Disagree-
ments over issues big and small led
to long�harbored grievances. Mar-
riages I thought were idyllic turned
out to be in trouble, sometimes
permanently. I was crushed. These
people were not saints, I thought.
Maybe they're not even Christians.
More time passed. God found
ways to hold up a mirror to my own
shortcomings. There were simple
mistakes, of course, that reminded
me of my humanity. More than once,
I fell asleep at home and missed the
evening service. One Sunday, I con-
cluded the meeting by playing the
doxology we sang after the offering
rather than the traditional benedic-
tion. On another occasion, a friend
from the corps asked for a ride to
work. I responded gladly but when
the time came to follow through, I
forgot my promise. Only a grumpy
phone call alerted me to my failure.
And that was just the begin-
ning. There were times when with
freshly pressed uniform, newly
shined shoes and every hair in
place, I looked the picture of a Sal-
vationist eager to serve the Lord.
All the while, my heart was far
away from God and His will.
At last, with God's help I saw
my corps family as He sees it. I
saw that neither my fellow Salva-
The Montclair Writers Group meets monthly to develop
their gifts to communicate the Good News. When one
member moved to Puerto Rico, she so missed the nurturing
environment that she attended meetings via Skype.
One of the many small
groups of the corps
that meet regularly
to study the Bible
and encourage each
other's growth as
Christians. In addition
to organizing a coat
drive for the needy,
this group raked and
bagged leaves at the
home of a Salvationist
after his wife was
promoted to Glory.
"We desperately need each other
for this journey"
l