Square Peg, Round Hole

It came as a subtle warning. “Do you remember what happened to “Mrs. Smith?” Because I’d come to my denomination as an older teen, I didn’t know what happened to Mrs. Smith, but I soon discovered that in the organizational memory of my church, Mrs. Smith stood out as someone who had strayed outside the lines of acceptable theological thought. I don’t know the details, but the consensus was that because of her liberal (and perhaps heretical) leanings, she and her husband were forced out of ministry (because in the Salvation Army, husband and wife have to serve in ministry together – generally if one goes, the other does as well unless they choose to divorce).

The words came at a time in my life where I was reading deeply in Catholic writers such as Henri Nouwen, Joyce Rupp, Richard Rohr and Joan Chittester, and apparently that was causing some discomfort to my denominational leader(s). I was also beginning to write publicly, and apparently what were seen as my radical leanings (quite moderate in the grand scheme of things) were of concern. “We don’t want you to go the way of Mrs. Smith,” was the implied message.

My path to the Salvation Army came by way of the Presbyterian Church and many years of piano lessons, when, at age fifteen, I was hired to play piano for Sunday meetings. My adolescent theology had been formed int eh pews and classrooms of the reformed tradition, and sprinkled with the energy of Young Life, a longing for social justice long before it became a buzzword, and the searching of a seeking yet questioning heart. As a young adult, I was captivated by magical summers at Long Point Camp that provided me with a sense of community and purpose, and became involved in a dating relationship with a young Salvationist. God was calling, and I claimed the Salvation Army as the destination I understood through Frederick Buechner's definition: "The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet." 

I didn't choose the denomination for its specific theological stance any more than most people choose a church by studying its doctrines or by-laws. Rather, I chose it (or was chosen by God for it) for the way my faith and my social concerns could co-exist and flourish. Through my years of active officership (34, years, 16 days to be exact), I self-defined as a square peg in a round hole, but I made it work, committed to coloring within the company's doctrinal lines from the pulpit, although tossing in a quote from time to time from a less conservative thinker (sometimes even a Catholic). In my writing, I think I pushed the edges gently for the most part, more on the praxis side than the doctrinal side of things. Amazingly, "they" even invited me to be a corresponding member of the International Doctrine Council for a few years. 

Years of inner city ministry sharpened my understanding of God's preferential option for th poor, and the challenges of Kroc Center development in a small Ohio city brought deep gladness to my ministry experience. I focused on what I could do within the broad boundaries of ministry, and not so much on what I couldn't do.

Now, in what is defined organizationally as early retirement at our own request, I still fall under the "law" of the Salvation Army, for retired officers can lose their rank and even pension if they stray too far (think Mrs. Smith). So while I do not face the challenges that active officers do, I am hopeful that my membership in a social media group of progressive thinkers won't endanger my retirement nest-egg. As I read of the angst some of my friends are experience as they try to navigate the minefield of political correctness (and sometimes survival) within a (mostly) theologically conservative organization, I am tempted to whisper my own warning to them: remember Mrs. Smith. Don't be foolish. Don't cast away a beloved ministry or your (and your spouse's) livelihood because you threw caution to the wind. Jesus himself taught us to be "wise as serpents and innocent as doves" (Matthew 10:160.

 I understand, from the perspective of older age and hopefully some wisdom, that those words do need to be said from time to time. But I also want to remind my brothers and sisters that sometimes we are called to be Mrs. (or Mr.) Smith. Not to the point that we deny the existence of the Trinity or convert to Scientology or Nuwaubianism, but to the place where we think deeply, read widely, engage in respectful conversations, and pray for discernment, “hating what is evil and clinging to what is good.” Be wise, be courageous. 

While it seems as if I could say much more on this topic, for now one final thought comes from Henri Nouwen, whose experience in the Catholic Church has often encouraged me. “Loving the Church often seems close to impossible. Still, we must keep reminding ourselves that all people in the Church - whether powerful or powerless, conservative or progressive, tolerant or fanatic - belong to that long line of witnesses moving through this valley of tears, singing songs of praise and thanksgiving, listening to the voice of their Lord, and eating together from the bread that keeps multiplying as it is shared. When we remember that, we may be able to say, "I love the Church, and I am glad to belong to it.”