In the past I have written about my love/hate relationship with the uniform. The wearing of it opens doors, no question about it. But it also smacks of exclusiveness, rendering the non-wearer as an outsider, not part of “the special club.” I love the concept that “WARrobe: Army Apparel,” (found on FaceBook) is promoting – the idea of uniform wearing as spontaneous, contemporary and culturally relevant – non-threatening to the “outsider.”

I took the photos above, my contribution to their promotional campaign because I think they’re on to something here. Now, I know this is not going down well with some for all the obvious reasons, but for me it is quintessential Salvationism in motion.

Salvationism is a two part word: Salvation + ism. The salvation part is never changing – the same, yesterday, today, forever (The conservative part). Ism, by its proper definition is “a movement” – always changing: “Mobile, fluid, robust, pulsating, progressive, maturing – Genesis in motion.” In other words, our methodology needs to stay relevant, inclusive and flexible in order to reach the last, the lost and least (The liberal part).

Commissioner Harry Reid defines it this way: "Salvationism is an engine-room kind of word, for within its robust, energy-exuding frame pulsates the heart of the Army. Here, the essential beliefs of the Movement, its active, maturing and progressive concepts, its love and service-centred ministries, all reside in a living, quick-to-respond balance for the benefit of mankind."

Several liberal “movement”-type phrases jump out at me: “…within its robust, energy-exuding frame pulsates…active, maturing and progressive concepts…living, quick to respond…”

For me, personally, Primitive Salvationism is an oxymoron because Salvationism is never primitive; it is always relevant, contemporary and spontaneous, spewing forth autonomy and individuality. That’s what makes it scary i.e., forcing one to look over the edge once in awhile.

Also risk is relative. One person’s risk is another person’s opportunity. One may see risk as opportunity, whilst another sees it as uncertainty. Risk-taking is entirely individualistic by definition. “Conforming risk-taker” is also an oxymoron. Doing it the way its always been done is not risky business; it’s called, safety, status quo.

I have assumed, perhaps wrongly, that the risk I speak about will be interpreted as good risk. Risks must always be taken for the right reasons, not the wrong ones. Also, you will find that good, calculated, risk-taking begins to dissipate as mission metamorphosis into institutionalism. Early day Salvationists were risk-takers for the right reasons. Let’s take this primitive concept and make it contemporary, sans the traditional, institutional regulations and regalia. For many that’s too scary (risky) to even think about.

JN

God Knows Where!

What short memories we have. I was the Divisional Commander in the Hawaiian and Pacific Islands Division when Hurricane Iniki hit the island of Kauai on 9/11 in the year 1992. Coincidently, nine years to the day later, 9/11 in the year 2001, I was the Territorial Commander, headquartered in New York when the World Trade Center buildings came tumbling down. In both instances, I was responsible for all of the disaster relief services administered by The Salvation Army.

I could recount the horror stories chapter and verse, regarding the arrogance and misuse of donated monies, but I won’t because what I write now will be forgotten when the next disaster strikes. Thus, I will keep this brief and channel my creative energy into something more productive. What I have to say is already written in a blog posted over at www.therubicon.org, titled “Show Us The Mission!”

Simply to say, what short memories we have. For some relief agencies, mission is paramount; for others it’s “Show Us The Money!” What the heck! “THE RED CROSS!” There, I’ve said it out loud. But hey, don’t just listen to me even though I was there first hand and saw it all myself up close and personal. Google “Red Cross Scandal” and your memories will be jogged big time. Here’s one post to get you started titled, “The Red Cross Coming Home to Roost: Remember 9/11 Anyone?” If you’re not into Googling, here are a couple of excerpts:

“Americans have a short and forgiving historical memory. Most can remember last year's Super Bowl champs and World Series winners, but few seem able to remember a $1 billion scandal involving the American Red Cross following 9/11, America's most disastrous terrorist or military attack on its homeland.”

“Jogging your memory a bit -- Red Cross was the flavor of the month following 9/11. Celebrities, corporations and foundations wrote million-dollar checks and performed or sponsored TV and live events ad infinitum; ad campaigns were rewritten as Red Cross appeals; media outlets pushed their name across the airwaves and online.”

“…served coffee and donuts to rescue workers at the World Trade Center site only to be accused of charging for them. (It later paid Daniel Bouley, New York's star chef, to cook for them after the news about charging for coffee was made public.)”

“Flash forward to Hurricane Katrina and you find the same unthinking, reflexive, robotic response from Diddy to Spielberg and hundreds of other celebrities, businesses and the unknowing public. Primal fear may be what motivates them but their trust is misplaced.”

“Read the New York Times of September 20th and this week's Time Magazine for just the opening salvos of what will become yet another American Red Cross "cause celebre."

As infinitum.

On second thought, I wouldn’t bother Googling all this stuff; you’ll have forgotten it when the next disaster strikes anyway. My apologies for enticing you to read this post, when there are so many more productive things worth doing.

By the way, Michelle Obama (whom I like and respect) has an ad running with a text message number for The Red Cross, as do a host of celebrities and events, including at “The Grammies” last evening. If you’ve forgotten the text message, let me jog your memory: “Haiti” 90999, and another $10 will go to, God knows where?

Hey! What's another Billion dollars, anyway!

Recasting the Bible in Our Own Image!

Barry Gittins has a great two-part post on, “I was a teenage fundamentalist,” over at therubicon.com, well written and insightful. Likewise, a must companion read to this post is found over at www.journal-new.com titled, “Putting the right spin on the Bible” (emphasis on the word, “right”).

Its essence is the human tendency to “Recast the Bible in our own image.” I love Pitts opening statement:

“So we may soon have ourselves a conservative Bible. Besides Fox News, I mean.”

Likewise his ending statement:

“Conservapedia’s effort to remake Jesus of Nazareth in the image of Dick Cheney suggests a future filled with more of the same. A conservative Bible? Lord, have mercy.”

This post is a must read, necessary to fill in all of the irreverent, but very relevant stuff in between.

Note: For some of you reading this, the right links can be found over at www.slightlyirreverent.blogspot.com.

JN

Tattoo Evangelism!

What an interesting phenomenon. I’ve thought about one, but at my age a tattoo and sagging, wrinkling skin don’t go very well together. The above are a few examples of those that can be found on the Facebook site: Salvation Army Tattoo’s.

This was created by Rob and seems to be drawing a lot of interest. Who knows, one day we may have a Territorial Tattoo Evangelism Secretary (TTES). Tattoos have always been important in the Hawaiian culture. For Rob’s Master’s thesis in Art at the University of Hawaii, he used tattoo art very creatively in his prints, each with a subtle spiritual theme. Subsequently, they were displayed in an art show and viewed by Hawaiian members of his beach ministry corps. Since they did the tattoos on each other, Rob was approached and asked if he would create a Jesus tattoo and use their skin as the canvas (I’m writing this from memory, so may not have the facts exactly right. If not, Rob will set me straight, but its close enough). Anyway, now I can proudly exclaim, “My son, the tattoo artist!” …For Jesus, that is.

I wonder, is there a Commissioner, active or retired, with a tattoo? Would I be the first? If so, I’m sorely tempted; that is if a wrinkle free patch of skin can be found. Maybe ArmyBarmy could run a competition in cyberspace to determine the design, followed by a podcast featuring the actual rendering? Wouldn’t that be a hoot? So long as God is glorified in it all, of course!

JN

The Naked Truth!

Interestingly enough, I copied a picture of The Naked Cowboy and the Clothes less Fringle (does have an apron on, both standing the July Kettle in Times Square, NYC) off Facebook yesterday, to accompany what was going to be a fun post today (including the YouTube link, which unfortunately no longer exists). The subject matter, however, has taken a significant turn making this post a little more serious than it was meant and/or ought to be.

It appears that DHQ has ordered the Corps Officer, Billy Francis, to remove the photos and the link because there were a few complaints. Oh my! How the Army culture has changed over the past Century in New York City. Diane Winston, in her book, Red Hot and Righteous, details a bit of that early Army cultural flair; a panache highly objectionable to a plethora of puritans during that day. Had HQ listened and the antics of those early pioneers quieted, the Army would not be the powerhouse that it is in America today.

Winston quotes an 1896 editorial in the War Cry “…we have commonly preferred to engage a secular place for our meetings…our greatest triumphs have been witnessed in theatres, music halls, rinks, breweries, saloons, stores and similar places.” Oh my! Theaters, breweries, saloons, wonder what the purists had to say about that? Had those in authority listened, where would we be today?

She further writes, “Similarly, its evangelical street workers invented ever more dramatic ploys…staged ‘trials’ of the devil…preached from coffins…and appeared as ‘specialty’ acts with names such as the Golden Minstrel, the Saved Cowboy, and the Converted Pugilist.”

Saved Cowboy, Converted Pugilist! And the cowboy’s not naked; he’s wearing SpongeBob Squarepants briefs and cowboy boots for goodness sake. Is that a tattoo of Christ I detect on his left shoulder? The truth is, if we continue to listen to the objectors, where will we be tomorrow? Where are we today? Not to worry, the objectors are far and few between because we’re playing it a little bit safer today. Now that’s the naked truth!

Stay tuned for a continuation of this theme in the next post.

JN

Round and Round!

It’s interesting how life keeps coming back round again. Think about it. We’re back in Hawaii now after a three hour delayed flight, not fun, screaming babies, hacking, coughing seatmates, late hour, 2:30 a.m. California time. Wake up this morning, 4:30 a.m. Hawaii time (7:30 West Coast), do the math, 5 hours sleep.

Off to Homelani Camp on the North Shore for the final Music Camp Concert, where nineteen years ago we were welcomed as Divisional Leaders, but held under a tent then: Same camp, new pavilion (house that Joe built), different campers, most not born then, and a rugged beach, probably the same sand and recirculated sea water pounding its shore.

What possesses us to be there? Two of our granddaughters are in the program, playing in the band, singing in the chorus, et al, just like their grandparents did at that age (different camps, mind you). Awards are given: Riley wins the Soloist competition, McKenna receives the Drama Award, Theory Medal and during the finale is crowned the camps “Honor Musician,” making the buttons pop, or in this case, T-shirt expand.

This is where the round stops, however, neither grandparent ever winning even a single award during those hither music camp years. For decades now, I’ve been outspoken against these kinds of awards, believing that every camper is a winner, and should be adjudged so… AND NOT BECAUSE I DIDN’T WIN, EITHER!

Thus it is I sit and write with mixed emotions this afternoon. Proud, yes, but also sad for those who tried so hard and came up lacking. What will that do to their little psyches? I know what it did to mine. In that sense, I guess the round hasn’t stopped… “round and round we go, and where it stops nobody knows.”

Still can’t get my head ‘round’ this award thing, or our rank thing for that matter. Why?

JN

Propinquity!

Married 43 years today. WOW! What an adventure! I’ve got to be one of the luckiest guys in the world. To understand that statement you have to know us, personality and disposition-wise. Everyone loves Doris; they tolerate me. No delusions on this front. Without her strength and balance, I’d probably ended up a client rather than a Commissioner.

It all began in San Francisco, at The Salvation Army School for Officer’s Training, of all places. We didn’t like each other at first for dispositional reasons: sweet and sour being the two opposing extremes. To this day she leans right and I lean left, canceling out each other’s vote in every election. Had I been nominated for General at the High Council, she would have voted against me, that’s how different we are: night and day.

But the staff and some cadets thought we would make the perfect couple, for some inexplicable reason. Thus they conspired to bring us together, led by the Education Officer, then Captain Bob Stillwell. When I walked into a classroom, the only vacant seat was always next to her. We found ourselves assigned to the same Field Training Brigade always. Everywhere I turned, there she was! Stillwell later confided to me that this was a clandestine, carefully executed, purpose-driven plan with the code name, “Propinquity” assigned to it.

Propinquity: Closeness, proximity, nearness in space, time, or relationship (Mirriam-Webster).

So it has been ever since, working (in propinquity) together as a team, mostly her assets balancing my liabilities. Whatever works!

Someone forgot to clue in the Personnel Secretary (then called the Field Secretary), however. I was commissioned to open a corps in Flagstaff, Arizona, she to assist in Farmington, New Mexico, with nothing but a wide expanse of Indian Reservation in between. Expedience took precedence over propinquity in this instance and thus it has ever been.

Adding insult to injury, we petitioned the Field Secretary for a June 4 wedding date because our good friends and session-mates had already claimed the weekend following, which would have been one year to the day following our Official Engagement (The rule being one year of engagement before you could marry). The response came back, “Permission Denied!” because it was one week premature. Regulation took precedence over propinquity and thus it has ever been.

Thankfully, Doris had friends in high places, the Chief Secretary, then Colonel Billy Parkins; he liked her. She wrote the appeal instead of me and voila! The decision was reversed. In this kind of instance, propinquity took precedence over regulation and thus it has ever been (nearness in relationship being one of the definitions). Her likableness has been my salvation many times over, no denying it here.

We still cancel out each other’s vote. She didn’t even nominate me for General. She loves band and songsters whilst I tolerate them. When I’m listening to Country/Western up full blast, base thumping on the stereo, she puts her “classically filled” ipod headset on. She still leans to the right, and I a little further to the left. In spite of our differences, we’ve grown closer together over these 43 years. Fortunately, in that time, God’s will took precedence over all of the intervening Field and Personnel Secretary’s tendencies toward expediency (which included a number of other silly appointments separating us needlessly).

It’s called Spirit-filled propinquity!