Last week a fascinating, candid film on
BBC4 took an inside look at the Salvation Army’s national training college in
London. It followed some trainee officers – including Nick and Shelley Ward who
now lead the Salvation Army in Thurso – through a year of their course.
The film showed the Army’s impressive,
non-judgemental compassion as the cadets spent time on the streets of London,
interacting with people in need, listening sensitively to workers in a
lap-dancing club, an empathic presence.
We learned that some of the trainees had
their own personal struggles - with bad stuff in the past or with doubt in the
present – but were learning to ‘serve out of their weakness so that it becomes
a strength’ as a senior officer put it.
We also learned something of the
doctrinal beliefs of the Army, especially their attitude to what happens after
death. ‘Those who believe in Jesus go to heaven and those who don’t believe go
to hell. And they’re eternally damned forever’ as one officer put it uncompromisingly.
One of the TV critics described that
Salvation Army as we saw it in the film as being rather ‘like a loving and
dysfunctional family where doubt is the accepted partner of belief and
compassion triumphs over dogma.’ You could, I think, almost hear him saying ‘If
only we could have the compassion without the doctrine.’
It reminded me of George Herbert, the
great old poet of divine love who got cross with the complex ideas of
theologians, and focussed instead on the simple teaching of Jesus, ‘those beams
of truth’ – ‘Love God and love your neighbour. Watch and pray. Do as you would
be done unto.’ And receive Christ in the
bread and wine.
Many folk – and some of us Christians in
our more doubting moments – would go further these days, and ask ‘Do we need
religion? Surely love is the power which changes relationships and can change
the world if we’ll only let it.’
But on our clearer-seeing days Christians
make bold to believe that love is not an abstract force, but a person, for God
is love. And this love has chosen to reveal itself to us in Jesus.
That’s why George Herbert, in rejecting
dry theology is nourished by faith in a God who is there, whose love we can
respond to, and a Jesus who served out of his weakness so that it might become
a strength, dying and rising from death to offer the whole world healing and
freedom.
When it comes to what happens when we
die, many Christians, like that Salvation Army officer are convinced that only
by specific, personal faith in Jesus can we enter the place of light and joy
after we die. After all, didn’t St Paul describe the way to salvation in these
words: ‘If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your
heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’
That’s why Darron Boulton in the film
was so distressed – the gran who had rescued him and his brother from a
dysfunctional household and shown them boundless love died without ever having
expressed faith in Christ. ‘The thought of my beautiful grandma not being in
heaven horrifies me,’ he said.
But many other Christians, myself
included, worry about this. Didn’t Jesus talk about people embracing light
through the choices they make – to serve, to love? We believe some people
choose hell by rejecting every whisper of goodness and grace. But what about
those who don’t hear about Jesus, or have a distorted picture of him, or follow
another faith - good people though flawed like us all - who listen and respond
to those whispers?
Does God love people less than we
do? Surely God cares even more for
Darron’s gran than Darron does himself.
We are often so quick to make judgement
as to who is ‘in’ or ‘out.’ Can’t we trust God, who knows all our hearts, who
sees and encourages each flicker of love in us to judge fairly in the light of
our responses to those ‘beams of truth’?
I like to think that in God’s perfect
new world, when the wonder of Jesus’ work in healing a broken universe and
broken lives will be fully seen, that there will be far, far more people in
God’s kingdom than we had ever imagined.
George Herbert’s most famous poem is
about a Love which bids us welcome even though we are ‘guilty of dust and sin.’
Whatever our circumstances, the Love who is God reaches out to us in the name
of Jesus. Daily, all of us in the sometimes dysfunctional Christian family,
regardless of our disagreements, encourage ourselves and others to respond to
this wonderful, welcoming God.
(Christian Viewpoint column from the Highland News dated 16th January 2014)
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