Today i had an old friend throw an apple at my head in the middle of our morning service to help me "get people's attention" when i discussed the Fruit of the Spirit and living for Christ in a world that doesn't care. "The Easter Beating" is a hard message. That speaks out to a real world full of brokeness.
Holidays are a time when the Cambridge Corps family works together and that’s what we were doing. It was time to prepare our chapel for Easter. For many who would worship with us on Easter Sunday, it would be a first. Easter Sunday would be the time for lilies, shining white cloths, and a crown. We were in the process of draping the three wooden crosses on the platform with purple. The flowers soon would be scattered about with an array of darken shades of cloth. It was to help us visualize Good Friday. We would remember Christ’s intense pain, extreme loneliness and physical death. Death! Many were familiar with beatings, for many different reasons. But this was Christ’s death.
There was activity everywhere. The kitchen was busy arranging platters, creating salads of every kind, designing desserts and checking off the menu items as they went along. The dining room was filled with volunteers who were setting tables and arranging chairs. There were those who were outside washing windows and gathering trash. And in the chapel men were gathering who would sing in the men’s hours. The chorus was made up of men from our homeless shelter, from our staff, from our soldiery and those associated with the corps. They would sing, “The Old Rugged Cross”. For many of them, words like despised, shame and suffering were familiar. I was in the office making sure I had enough copies of the music.
As I continued to count out each sheet of music, Sam entered the office. He was the shelter director. During the day he ran a drop-in center for anyone who wanted to enter. They could wash their clothes, take a shower, see the clinic or use a number of other services available. At noon there was a meal which had anywhere from 150 – 200 in attendance. After 4:00 PM only the men who slept in the shelter stayed. Sam was very distressed. Now it was not unusual to see Sam distressed, but this was different. It was also just about noon, which would be his busiest time, so what was he doing in the office?
Then he spoke. As he began to describe the tragic event, the whole office was quiet. There had been a beating, such a vicious beating that there was a man dead. Sam continued. A handicapped man who could barely walk was beaten.
At the age of 46 years old, Ed was dead. He had received a brutal beating, which punctured his lung and caused other serious damage. Now, Ed was dead. Sam said, “Ed was a part of our program, our family. He was one of us.”
Ed was well known around our community. He stayed at many shelters. He was well known at The Salvation Army. He stayed in our shelter. It was at The Salvation Army Shelter where Ed rested his cane against the wall and pulled the covers up tight on a cold winter’s night. He was crippled. It was at The Salvation Army where Ed sought medical attention. He was seen at the clinic staffed by the Cambridge Hospital and was housed at The Salvation Army. It was at The Salvation Army where Ed would attend church, although not regularly. It was not uncommon to see him sitting in the back of the chapel participating. He would even go to the altar on occasion.
In fact, Ed even sang in the men’s chorus once or twice. The Salvation Army became the place where Ed found fellowship, clothing, food and where we attempted to introduce him to Christ.
Now, there was one more thing we would do for Ed. We would provide him yet another service. We would now perform Ed’s funeral service.
The funeral was made up of Ed’s friends, those men who spent time with him in the shelter and on the street. The men who often took their meals and washed their clothes at the “Army” would be there. There were family members who attended as well. Although they did not share his life style, they loved him. There were also those who tried to help Ed: counselors, clinic staff, and soldiers. There were reporters, investigators, and even a photographer. At the conclusion of the funeral service there were many who were kneeling at The Salvation Army altar.
Ed died from a senseless death. This beating had no meaning. What was the meaning of beating a crippled, handicapped man to death? Ed was not able to fight back. It was a cruel act. His death was a terrible waste and brought only pain. Ed had no choice he was murdered.
Yet, Jesus’ death brings life. The Bible says, “He was wounded for our transgression, he was bruised for our iniquity.” Jesus was beaten and died so that we might live. Jesus laid down his life it was not taken from him. He was God and yet He allowed himself to be put to death, for you and me, for Ed. He could have stopped the bloodthirsty crowd, but he died and rose again for you and me.
Because Christ died and rose again, Ed’s death, his brutal death, was final. However, Ed lives forever. Christ can make sense of such an unbelievable happening. He died so that we might live.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Seeing, Twenty/Twenty!
Just a few years ago I met a Christian couple. They were a middle-aged couple and their past was as rich in experiences as their present. Never doubting, God had plans for their future.
At first glance you saw a warm and gentle woman. How would you come to that conclusion at first glance? You just would! You would see her gentle demeanor, warm smile, and accepting eyes. She is one of those individuals whose reflection reveals a greater image than her own. When you looked at her you could see Jesus’ love in her eyes. And if you happened to see her as she caught her husband’s eye, you would see that same caring love.
He was outgoing, friendly, and anxious for activity. He could have been part of a Nike commercial, because his unspoken motto seemed to be, “Just Do It!” Carpenter, cook, painter, comptroller and “can-do-it,” he was always ready for action. I had heard that he took things in his stride and kept going, and I would later learn just why that was. Those who just met him, those who knew him for years, his wife, children and family, all valued him. My husband and I were blessed to meet this couple and counted them as Godly friends. We worshipped together. We enjoyed meals, conversation, laughter, and so much more.
Then came the night of the auction. Auctions are not my favorite, but the men worked hard to get everything together. We went home with treasures, some needed and some not. We went home pleased and ready for the next day’s adventures and usual commitments. However, the next day for this couple was anything but usual. Years ago he had lost the sight in one eye. So this optimist simply used his other eye. In fact, few people even knew of this happening. On this morning he woke to find that his sight was completely gone. The doctor confirmed that he had a detached retina in his seeing eye. Then started the doctor visits, surgeries, and waiting. Now the second surgery was completed.
I met his wife at the waiting area of the hospital. She was deeply concerned and yet she was calm and still. The phone rang and the doctor relayed to her the outcome of the surgery. As she shared the conversation with me she started by saying, “Well, it is kind of what I expected. He won’t have twenty/twenty vision, but he will see. Just how much he sees we won’t know yet.” I sensed that she wanted to be positive even though it was not exactly what she wanted to hear. But how many people do have twenty/twenty vision? With contacts, glasses, and corrective surgeries, many find their sight corrected twenty/twenty. He would have some sight that was positive.
We went up to the ninth floor where he was in recovery. He was eating crackers and greeted his wife as if she had been shopping or out for a walk. He was trying to put her at ease. How are you? When he heard my voice he asked how I was feeling. When his wife went for the car, he revealed that his pain was quite uncomfortable, but assured me that once he started the medication he would be all right. He didn’t want her to worry. How utterly selfless, how unbelievably caring! Two caring people faced with such difficult assignments and in this uncertain situation still able to put others first, especially each other.
How much sight will he regain? How will they cope with this situation? How will they put their affairs in order and get on with their lives?
What will they do in the next few months and years? All questions that cannot be answered right now, are questions that God will find answers for.
Jesus said that sometimes we have eyes to see but do not see. Is sight always our physical vision?
The Lord has shown this couple many pictures, which were not seen by their eyes, but rather their hearts. They have seen the shadows of insecurity and fear. They have walked together the road of pain and difficult moments. They have experienced caring and love along the way. They have traveled through the wildest storms of waiting and when the darkest clouds would seem to consume them, they could see Jesus.
“No tempest can my courage shake,
My love from thee no pain can take,
No fear my heart appall;
And where I cannot see I’ll trust,
For then I know thou surely must
Be thou my all in all.”
Will he ever see twenty/twenty, I don’t know. What I do know is that they both have twenty/twenty vision when it comes to seeing from the heart. I pray my heart would learn to see as well.
-----------------
Four weeks after his last surgery a group of us went out to dinner. It was a Sunday night and everyone loved getting out together. They almost didn’t come, but at the last minute they chose us over the Patriot’s Game. There was laughter until tears were rolling down my checks. What a great time! Someone asked if he could see any better. He said, “some.” And he said, “If I never see any better than I see right now, I will praise God for all He’s done.” In just two days he was to return to the doctor for a follow-up.
Monday afternoon he was “Promoted to Glory!” Without warning he felt a pain in his arm and he was very warm. Then he had a chest pain and his wife called the ambulance. He never saw the doctor. He closed his eyes in the ambulance and opened his eyes to see King Jesus! Twenty/twenty no, his sight is perfect!
At first glance you saw a warm and gentle woman. How would you come to that conclusion at first glance? You just would! You would see her gentle demeanor, warm smile, and accepting eyes. She is one of those individuals whose reflection reveals a greater image than her own. When you looked at her you could see Jesus’ love in her eyes. And if you happened to see her as she caught her husband’s eye, you would see that same caring love.
He was outgoing, friendly, and anxious for activity. He could have been part of a Nike commercial, because his unspoken motto seemed to be, “Just Do It!” Carpenter, cook, painter, comptroller and “can-do-it,” he was always ready for action. I had heard that he took things in his stride and kept going, and I would later learn just why that was. Those who just met him, those who knew him for years, his wife, children and family, all valued him. My husband and I were blessed to meet this couple and counted them as Godly friends. We worshipped together. We enjoyed meals, conversation, laughter, and so much more.
Then came the night of the auction. Auctions are not my favorite, but the men worked hard to get everything together. We went home with treasures, some needed and some not. We went home pleased and ready for the next day’s adventures and usual commitments. However, the next day for this couple was anything but usual. Years ago he had lost the sight in one eye. So this optimist simply used his other eye. In fact, few people even knew of this happening. On this morning he woke to find that his sight was completely gone. The doctor confirmed that he had a detached retina in his seeing eye. Then started the doctor visits, surgeries, and waiting. Now the second surgery was completed.
I met his wife at the waiting area of the hospital. She was deeply concerned and yet she was calm and still. The phone rang and the doctor relayed to her the outcome of the surgery. As she shared the conversation with me she started by saying, “Well, it is kind of what I expected. He won’t have twenty/twenty vision, but he will see. Just how much he sees we won’t know yet.” I sensed that she wanted to be positive even though it was not exactly what she wanted to hear. But how many people do have twenty/twenty vision? With contacts, glasses, and corrective surgeries, many find their sight corrected twenty/twenty. He would have some sight that was positive.
We went up to the ninth floor where he was in recovery. He was eating crackers and greeted his wife as if she had been shopping or out for a walk. He was trying to put her at ease. How are you? When he heard my voice he asked how I was feeling. When his wife went for the car, he revealed that his pain was quite uncomfortable, but assured me that once he started the medication he would be all right. He didn’t want her to worry. How utterly selfless, how unbelievably caring! Two caring people faced with such difficult assignments and in this uncertain situation still able to put others first, especially each other.
How much sight will he regain? How will they cope with this situation? How will they put their affairs in order and get on with their lives?
What will they do in the next few months and years? All questions that cannot be answered right now, are questions that God will find answers for.
Jesus said that sometimes we have eyes to see but do not see. Is sight always our physical vision?
The Lord has shown this couple many pictures, which were not seen by their eyes, but rather their hearts. They have seen the shadows of insecurity and fear. They have walked together the road of pain and difficult moments. They have experienced caring and love along the way. They have traveled through the wildest storms of waiting and when the darkest clouds would seem to consume them, they could see Jesus.
“No tempest can my courage shake,
My love from thee no pain can take,
No fear my heart appall;
And where I cannot see I’ll trust,
For then I know thou surely must
Be thou my all in all.”
Will he ever see twenty/twenty, I don’t know. What I do know is that they both have twenty/twenty vision when it comes to seeing from the heart. I pray my heart would learn to see as well.
-----------------
Four weeks after his last surgery a group of us went out to dinner. It was a Sunday night and everyone loved getting out together. They almost didn’t come, but at the last minute they chose us over the Patriot’s Game. There was laughter until tears were rolling down my checks. What a great time! Someone asked if he could see any better. He said, “some.” And he said, “If I never see any better than I see right now, I will praise God for all He’s done.” In just two days he was to return to the doctor for a follow-up.
Monday afternoon he was “Promoted to Glory!” Without warning he felt a pain in his arm and he was very warm. Then he had a chest pain and his wife called the ambulance. He never saw the doctor. He closed his eyes in the ambulance and opened his eyes to see King Jesus! Twenty/twenty no, his sight is perfect!
Friday, April 17, 2009
His Last Words!
Rev. Lowe Was a special kind of hero to me. As a teenager I loved listening to him speak. He was a retired professional wrestler and a redeemed alcoholic. One never knew what would come out of his mouth. He told some pretty amazing stories and usually had pictures to back them up. He taught me how to win at arm wrestling and many other skills useful to teenage boys. His funeral was on of the "best" i have ever been to. It was "rockin"! Thanks for remembering Rev Lowe, mom.
His Last Words!
“I’m going home to talk to the Lord about you!” were the last words of Rev. Lowe. He had just stepped out of the tavern and spoke these words as he grabbed the handlebars of his bicycle and began to throw his leg over the side. He stood balancing the bike with both feet on the ground and before he could pedal off, he dropped to the ground and indeed went home. As the medics struggled anxiously to revive his heart, Christ simply claimed the heart of his child for whom he died. Sunday afternoon on February 28, 1999, Reverend Willis Daniels Lowe was “Promoted To Glory!” What urgent message did he have for the Lord, which he would now share face to face?
It was not strange to see this 77 year old man ride a bike; it was his transportation. Nor was it strange to see it parked in front of the tavern. Years ago you would expect him to return to his bike in a condition, which hindered his riding. These days it was only the weather that held him back. However, he frequently left his bike in front of taverns. Rev. Lowe was a changed man and he was involved in intervention ministries.
Earlier that morning his bike was parked in front of The Salvation Army, while he attended church. For years he had done everything from professional wrestling to singing in the saloons. Now he used his booming voice and sang with gusto during the service. At twelve o’clock midnight on Christmas Eve 1998, you could have witnessed Rev. Lowe coming down the aisle dressed as a great high priest and singing, “Oh Holy Night!” He often carried spoons, shakers and other instruments to services. As he sang he would accompany himself. And never would he let an opportunity for sharing his witness, pass him by.
At the conclusion of this particular Sunday morning’s service he and another gentleman were at the altar praying for the release of their friend. The chains of alcohol just would not let their friend go. They prayed and concluded with the request: “God use us to help our friend.” Both knew from experience that the chains of addiction were released when the power of God was released. They meant business with God and they were ready for battle.
That afternoon they found their friend. He was not hard to find; in fact, they knew just where to look. He was in the tavern right down the street from the corps. Rev. Lowe left his bike outside and the two men entered the tavern. They headed right for their friend and were stopped by the bartender. However, Rev. Lowe confronted the bartender and it was more than a “flesh and blood battle.” It was the Lord’s own battle. The two of them walked their friend out and propped him against the building. Rev. Lowe felt his mission was almost completed. He would leave this needy friend in the arms of another. There was just one more thing. He turned and looked at his needy brother as he began to leave.
“I am going home to talk to the Lord about you,” and he did.
The memorial celebration for Rev. Lowe was thrilling, both in heaven and here at the Cambridge Corps.
Men, women, and children came from everywhere to say thank you and farewell. One after another told of how he had helped them, financially, physically, and spiritually.
At the service there was standing room only, and very little. His bicycle had a place of honor in the front of the chapel. Tambourines and drums were heard down the street, possibly as far as that famous tavern. Jesus Christ had changed his life. Family and friends who knew him in his younger years, saw him as a new man, the person he had become. Among those in the congregation sat the two men who had heard his last words. There was one who prayed with him that morning and the one who was the answer to his prayer. Neither man will ever be the same. They now attend the Sunday service and reach out to others. One is an adherent in The Salvation Army and the other a staff member. They too, have conversations with their Father.
We are thankful that God answered the request found in Rev. Lowe’s last words.
His Last Words!
“I’m going home to talk to the Lord about you!” were the last words of Rev. Lowe. He had just stepped out of the tavern and spoke these words as he grabbed the handlebars of his bicycle and began to throw his leg over the side. He stood balancing the bike with both feet on the ground and before he could pedal off, he dropped to the ground and indeed went home. As the medics struggled anxiously to revive his heart, Christ simply claimed the heart of his child for whom he died. Sunday afternoon on February 28, 1999, Reverend Willis Daniels Lowe was “Promoted To Glory!” What urgent message did he have for the Lord, which he would now share face to face?
It was not strange to see this 77 year old man ride a bike; it was his transportation. Nor was it strange to see it parked in front of the tavern. Years ago you would expect him to return to his bike in a condition, which hindered his riding. These days it was only the weather that held him back. However, he frequently left his bike in front of taverns. Rev. Lowe was a changed man and he was involved in intervention ministries.
Earlier that morning his bike was parked in front of The Salvation Army, while he attended church. For years he had done everything from professional wrestling to singing in the saloons. Now he used his booming voice and sang with gusto during the service. At twelve o’clock midnight on Christmas Eve 1998, you could have witnessed Rev. Lowe coming down the aisle dressed as a great high priest and singing, “Oh Holy Night!” He often carried spoons, shakers and other instruments to services. As he sang he would accompany himself. And never would he let an opportunity for sharing his witness, pass him by.
At the conclusion of this particular Sunday morning’s service he and another gentleman were at the altar praying for the release of their friend. The chains of alcohol just would not let their friend go. They prayed and concluded with the request: “God use us to help our friend.” Both knew from experience that the chains of addiction were released when the power of God was released. They meant business with God and they were ready for battle.
That afternoon they found their friend. He was not hard to find; in fact, they knew just where to look. He was in the tavern right down the street from the corps. Rev. Lowe left his bike outside and the two men entered the tavern. They headed right for their friend and were stopped by the bartender. However, Rev. Lowe confronted the bartender and it was more than a “flesh and blood battle.” It was the Lord’s own battle. The two of them walked their friend out and propped him against the building. Rev. Lowe felt his mission was almost completed. He would leave this needy friend in the arms of another. There was just one more thing. He turned and looked at his needy brother as he began to leave.
“I am going home to talk to the Lord about you,” and he did.
The memorial celebration for Rev. Lowe was thrilling, both in heaven and here at the Cambridge Corps.
Men, women, and children came from everywhere to say thank you and farewell. One after another told of how he had helped them, financially, physically, and spiritually.
At the service there was standing room only, and very little. His bicycle had a place of honor in the front of the chapel. Tambourines and drums were heard down the street, possibly as far as that famous tavern. Jesus Christ had changed his life. Family and friends who knew him in his younger years, saw him as a new man, the person he had become. Among those in the congregation sat the two men who had heard his last words. There was one who prayed with him that morning and the one who was the answer to his prayer. Neither man will ever be the same. They now attend the Sunday service and reach out to others. One is an adherent in The Salvation Army and the other a staff member. They too, have conversations with their Father.
We are thankful that God answered the request found in Rev. Lowe’s last words.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Sneakers
“Sneakers”
Major Betzann Carroll
Early in our ministry my husband and I were awakened by a telephone call. It had been a strenuous day in the Plymouth, Massachusetts’s corps and having just fallen asleep, it was difficult to answer the 2:00 AM call. The voice I heard was not familiar. I searched my memory trying to recognize the voice, but without success. She said, “Does The Salvation Army accept used clothes? I wanted to answer immediately “Of course they do, everyone knows that!” Yet I just listened. Her voice became shaky and hard to understand. She continued, “My husband has died and will not need these clothes anymore. They are in good condition, washed, folded and like new.
Several years later the daughter of one of the finest officers I have ever known called. She said. “Dad has served the Lord faithfully in his retirement.” It was true! He had come to rescue us when we were sent to a difficult appointment. He got our “books” in order and came often to help us keep our financial accounts straight. “Now that Dad is gone, it would be fitting for the men in your homeless shelter to get some use out of his clothes. There are socks, shoes, shirts, and all kinds of clean, folded, useable clothing.”
Several years later a similar request came from one of our Advisory Board Members in Cambridge. After sixty-five years of marriage, his wife was gone. She had beautiful clothes, some she had never worn. His great concern was, “Can you give them to someone?”
Why were clothes so important? Why were socks and shoes of such great concern to someone who had just lost a dad or their life’s partner? Why?
On Tuesday, April 27, 1997 my mother-in-law was promoted to glory. She had been another mother to me in the absence of my mother. Both of my husbands’ parents were visiting with us on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday prior to her death. They toured our corps, entertained family and friends in our parlor and slept in our room. They left Sunday morning and she died on Monday.
It was unbelievable. Now she would be buried from our corps. I tried to change the bedroom around and make it comfortable for dad. As I cleaned I found a pair of white sneakers. They did not belong to me and they were definitely not my husbands. They were mom’s and she left them there only four days ago. What would we do with these sneakers? They were new and in good condition. She would never wear them to move about the house, walk down the front steps or reach our daughter’s graduation in only a few weeks. What would we do with her sneakers? Why was it so important?
“Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. The cloth was folded up by itself separate from the linen.” (John 20: 6,7)
When Jesus died, he did not leave many clothes behind. The soldiers cast lots for his robe at the foot of his cross. There were those who mourned him. There were those who felt their hearts would beak. Yet, when it was finished there were no socks and shoes to bundle, nor sneakers to give away. Only grave clothes – what of the grave clothes? The exciting reality is the grave clothes were clean and folded and he did not need them, nor do we. Jesus conquered death!
The parting with a loved one’s clothes bring the realization that indeed they are gone. They will physically never again need anything. Yet we need. We need to know that life is not in vain. Reassurance is found in the fact that Christ’s grave clothes will never be needed, for he is robed in white. Brigadier now wears glistening clothes, pure and white. Mom may not be wearing sneakers, but…she is not in need. She’s in glory!
Major Betzann Carroll
Early in our ministry my husband and I were awakened by a telephone call. It had been a strenuous day in the Plymouth, Massachusetts’s corps and having just fallen asleep, it was difficult to answer the 2:00 AM call. The voice I heard was not familiar. I searched my memory trying to recognize the voice, but without success. She said, “Does The Salvation Army accept used clothes? I wanted to answer immediately “Of course they do, everyone knows that!” Yet I just listened. Her voice became shaky and hard to understand. She continued, “My husband has died and will not need these clothes anymore. They are in good condition, washed, folded and like new.
Several years later the daughter of one of the finest officers I have ever known called. She said. “Dad has served the Lord faithfully in his retirement.” It was true! He had come to rescue us when we were sent to a difficult appointment. He got our “books” in order and came often to help us keep our financial accounts straight. “Now that Dad is gone, it would be fitting for the men in your homeless shelter to get some use out of his clothes. There are socks, shoes, shirts, and all kinds of clean, folded, useable clothing.”
Several years later a similar request came from one of our Advisory Board Members in Cambridge. After sixty-five years of marriage, his wife was gone. She had beautiful clothes, some she had never worn. His great concern was, “Can you give them to someone?”
Why were clothes so important? Why were socks and shoes of such great concern to someone who had just lost a dad or their life’s partner? Why?
On Tuesday, April 27, 1997 my mother-in-law was promoted to glory. She had been another mother to me in the absence of my mother. Both of my husbands’ parents were visiting with us on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday prior to her death. They toured our corps, entertained family and friends in our parlor and slept in our room. They left Sunday morning and she died on Monday.
It was unbelievable. Now she would be buried from our corps. I tried to change the bedroom around and make it comfortable for dad. As I cleaned I found a pair of white sneakers. They did not belong to me and they were definitely not my husbands. They were mom’s and she left them there only four days ago. What would we do with these sneakers? They were new and in good condition. She would never wear them to move about the house, walk down the front steps or reach our daughter’s graduation in only a few weeks. What would we do with her sneakers? Why was it so important?
“Then Simon Peter, who was behind him, arrived and went into the tomb. He saw the strips of linen lying there, as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head. The cloth was folded up by itself separate from the linen.” (John 20: 6,7)
When Jesus died, he did not leave many clothes behind. The soldiers cast lots for his robe at the foot of his cross. There were those who mourned him. There were those who felt their hearts would beak. Yet, when it was finished there were no socks and shoes to bundle, nor sneakers to give away. Only grave clothes – what of the grave clothes? The exciting reality is the grave clothes were clean and folded and he did not need them, nor do we. Jesus conquered death!
The parting with a loved one’s clothes bring the realization that indeed they are gone. They will physically never again need anything. Yet we need. We need to know that life is not in vain. Reassurance is found in the fact that Christ’s grave clothes will never be needed, for he is robed in white. Brigadier now wears glistening clothes, pure and white. Mom may not be wearing sneakers, but…she is not in need. She’s in glory!
“Foot-Washing in The Salvation Army”
The following is my favorite of all of Mom's public articles. It also is probably the most widely known. When I was on a mission trip in South India and Salvation Army Captain asked me if I knew Major Betzann Carroll when he found out my last name. I said she was my mom and asked how he knew her. He explained that he didn't know her but that this article had touched him deeply, as he was stationed at a Salvation Army Hospital and had seen this kind of love from some of the nurses there.
“Foot-Washing in The Salvation Army”
Captain Betzann Carroll
January 26, 1993
Previously Published in "The Officer", "The War Cry (USA)" and "The Good News"
My arms were full and I was trying to do five things at once. I turned the corner to my office when someone yelled, “Mrs. Carroll! You have a telephone call on line one!”
Christmas is certainly a busy time in a Salvation Army Corps! Not only were my arms full with half a dozen last-minute “emergencies”, but also my mind was cluttered with details that needed to be finalized. Now there was the anticipation of what request would be waiting for me on the other end of the telephone.
I stopped dead in my tracks! The sight I witnessed before me changed my direction, my thoughts and even my life.
The little room across from my office houses a medical clinic for the homeless, the very people I was rushing around to assist. There are a number of wonderful programs to aid the homeless at The Salvation Army in Cambridge and sometimes in all the hustle and bustle I miss the beauty of them. The sight I was witnessing brought tears to my eyes.
An elderly man sat in a chair in the middle of the small clinic. His rough appearance didn’t seem to be an issue. Nor did the stale smell that lingered in the hall after him and intensified as one neared the clinic area. That was not the problem being addressed. I had often seen this man in the lunch line when he and his friends would line up for a hot meal, but now his face seemed to have a different look. On the floor was a plastic sheet carefully laid out and a basin of water. His feet were soaking in the warm water and a young woman, a nurse from the Cambridge hospital, which sponsors the clinic, was kneeling before him bathing his legs and feet. His lower limbs were an awful sight with ulcers and open, swollen soars.
As the woman spoke, her words were both warm and direct, “You must care for those feet and legs; they are in serious need of attention.” Her scolds were accepted almost as well as the bathing she provided. I could see Jesus in the nurse’s face. The whole picture before me seemed so compassionate, so necessary.
We still wash feet in The Salvation Army, along with legs and tear-stained faces. I can’t remember who was on the phone that day. I don’t remember if all the details were completed that day. Probably not, they seldom are. I do remember the elderly man sitting in the clinic chair at The Salvation Army. I think I will always remember. Jesus visited the clinic that day. He touched red, swollen feet and a lonely man’s heart. He touched me.
“Foot-Washing in The Salvation Army”
Captain Betzann Carroll
January 26, 1993
Previously Published in "The Officer", "The War Cry (USA)" and "The Good News"
My arms were full and I was trying to do five things at once. I turned the corner to my office when someone yelled, “Mrs. Carroll! You have a telephone call on line one!”
Christmas is certainly a busy time in a Salvation Army Corps! Not only were my arms full with half a dozen last-minute “emergencies”, but also my mind was cluttered with details that needed to be finalized. Now there was the anticipation of what request would be waiting for me on the other end of the telephone.
I stopped dead in my tracks! The sight I witnessed before me changed my direction, my thoughts and even my life.
The little room across from my office houses a medical clinic for the homeless, the very people I was rushing around to assist. There are a number of wonderful programs to aid the homeless at The Salvation Army in Cambridge and sometimes in all the hustle and bustle I miss the beauty of them. The sight I was witnessing brought tears to my eyes.
An elderly man sat in a chair in the middle of the small clinic. His rough appearance didn’t seem to be an issue. Nor did the stale smell that lingered in the hall after him and intensified as one neared the clinic area. That was not the problem being addressed. I had often seen this man in the lunch line when he and his friends would line up for a hot meal, but now his face seemed to have a different look. On the floor was a plastic sheet carefully laid out and a basin of water. His feet were soaking in the warm water and a young woman, a nurse from the Cambridge hospital, which sponsors the clinic, was kneeling before him bathing his legs and feet. His lower limbs were an awful sight with ulcers and open, swollen soars.
As the woman spoke, her words were both warm and direct, “You must care for those feet and legs; they are in serious need of attention.” Her scolds were accepted almost as well as the bathing she provided. I could see Jesus in the nurse’s face. The whole picture before me seemed so compassionate, so necessary.
We still wash feet in The Salvation Army, along with legs and tear-stained faces. I can’t remember who was on the phone that day. I don’t remember if all the details were completed that day. Probably not, they seldom are. I do remember the elderly man sitting in the clinic chair at The Salvation Army. I think I will always remember. Jesus visited the clinic that day. He touched red, swollen feet and a lonely man’s heart. He touched me.
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