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About the Book
"The Missing Link of Meditation" by Bill Winston is a guide that explores the relationship between meditation and spiritual growth. Winston emphasizes the importance of developing a consistent meditation practice to connect with God and experience transformation in our lives. He shares practical tips and insights to help readers deepen their meditation practice and strengthen their faith.
William Booth
General William Boothâs early life
William Booth was born in Nottingham in 1829 of well-bred parents who had become poor. He was a lively lad nicknamed Wilful Wil. At the age of fifteen he was converted in the Methodist chapel and became the leader of a band of teenage evangelists who called him Captain and held street meetings with remarkable success.
In 1851 he began full-time Christian work among the Methodist Reformers in London and later in Lincolnshire. After a period in a theological college he became a minister of the Methodist New Connexion. His heart however was with the poor people unreached by his church, and in 1861 he left the Methodists to give himself freely to the work of evangelism. Joined by Catherine, his devoted wife, they saw their ministry break out into real revival, which in Cornwall spread far and wide.
One memorable day in July 1865, after exploring the streets in an East End district where he was to conduct a mission, the terrible poverty, vice and degradation of these needy people struck home to his heart. He arrived at his Hammersmith home just before midnight and greeted his waiting Catherine with these words: âDarling, I have found my destiny!â She understood him. Together they had ministered Godâs grace to Godâs poor in many places.
Now they were to spend their lives bringing deliverance to Satanâs captives in the evil jungle of Londonâs slums. One day William took Bramwell, his son, into an East End pub which was crammed full of dirty, intoxicated creatures. Seeing the appalled look on his sonâs face, he said gently, âBramwell, these are our peopleâthe people I want you to live for.â
William and Catherine loved each other passionately all their lives. And no less passionately did they love their Lord together. Now, although penniless, together with their dedicated children, they moved out in great faith to bring Christâs abundant life to Londonâs poverty-stricken, devil-oppressed millions.
At first their organisation was called the Christian Mission. In spite of brutal opposition and much cruel hardship, the Lord blessed this work, and it spread rapidly.
William Booth was the dynamic leader who called young men and women to join him in this full-time crusade. With enthusiastic abandon, hundreds gave up all to follow him.
âMake your will, pack your box, kiss your girl and be ready in a weekâ, he told one young volunteer.
Salvation Army born
One day as William was dictating a report on the work to George Railton, his secretary, he said, âWe are a volunteer army,â
âNoâ, said Bramwell, âI am a regular or nothing.â
His father stopped in his stride, bent over Railton, took the pen from his hand, and crossing out the word âvolunteerâ, wrote âsalvationâ. The two young men stared at the phrase âa salvation armyâ, then both exclaimed âHallelujahâ. So the Salvation Army was born.
As these dedicated, Spirit-filled soldiers of the cross flung themselves into the battle against evil under their blood and fire banner, amazing miracles of deliverance occurred. Alcoholics, prostitutes and criminals were set free and changed into workaday saints.
Cecil Rhodes once visited the Salvation Army farm colony for men at Hadleigh, Essex, and asked after a notorious criminal who had been converted and rehabilitated there.
âOhâ, was the answer, âHe has left the colony and has had a regular job outside now for twelve months.â
âWellâ said Rhodes in astonishment, âif you have kept that man working for a year, I will believe in miracles.â
Slave traffic
The power that changed and delivered was the power of the Holy Spirit. Bramwell Booth in his book Echoes and Memories describes how this power operated, especially after whole nights of prayer. Persons hostile to the Army would come under deep conviction and fall prostrate to the ground, afterward to rise penitent, forgiven and changed. Healings often occurred and all the gifts of the Spirit were manifested as the Lord operated through His revived Body under William Boothâs leadership.
Terrible evils lay hidden under the curtain of Victorian social life in the nineteenth century. The Salvation Army unmasked and fought them. Its work among prostitutes soon revealed the appalling wickedness of the white slave traffic, in which girls of thirteen were sold by their parents to the pimps who used them in their profitable brothels, or who traded them on the Continent.
âThousands of innocent girls, most of them under sixteen, were shipped as regularly as cattle to the state-regulated brothels of Brussels and Antwerp.â (Collier).
Imprisoned
In order to expose this vile trade, W. T. Stead (editor of The Pall Mall Gazette) and Bramwell Booth plotted to buy such a child in order to shock the Victorians into facing the fact of this hidden moral cancer in their society. This thirteen-year-old girl, Eliza Armstrong, was bought from her mother for ÂŁ5 and placed in the care of Salvationists in France.
W. T. Stead told the story in a series of explosive articles in The Pall Mall Gazette which raised such a furore that Parliament passed a law raising the age of consent from thirteen to sixteen. However, Booth and Stead were prosecuted for abduction, and Stead was imprisoned for three months.
William Booth always believed the essential cause of social evil and suffering was sin, and that salvation from sin was its essential cure. But as his work progressed, he became increasingly convinced that social redemption and reform should be an integral part of Christian mission.
So at the age of sixty he startled England with the publication of the massive volume entitled In Darkest England, and the Way Out. It was packed with facts and statistics concerning Britainâs submerged corruption, and proved that a large proportion of her population was homeless, destitute and starving. It also outlined Boothâs answer to the problem â his own attempt to begin to build the welfare state.
All this was the result of two yearsâ laborious research by many people, including the loyal W. T. Stead. On the day the volume was finished and ready for publication, Stead was conning its final pages in the home of the Booths. At last he said, âThat work will echo round the world. I rejoice with an exceeding great joy.â
âAnd Iâ, whispered Catherine, dying of cancer in a corner of the room, âAnd I most of all thank God. Thank God!â As the work of the Salvation Army spread throughout Britain and into many countries overseas, it met with brutal hostility. In many places Skeleton Armies were organised to sabotage this work of God. Hundreds of officers were attacked and injured (some for life). Halls and offices were smashed and fired. Meetings were broken up by gangs organised by brothel keepers and hostile publicans.
One sympathiser in Worthing defended his life and property with a revolver. But Boothâs soldiers endured the persecution for many years, often winning over their opponents by their own offensive of Christian love.
The Army that William Booth created under God was an extension of his own dedicated personality. It expressed his own resolve in his words which Collier places on the first page of his book:
âWhile women weep as they do now, Iâll fight; while little children go hungry as they do now, Iâll fight; while men go to prison, in and out, in and out, as they do now, Iâll fightâIâll fight to the very end!â
Toward the end of his life, he became blind. When he heard the doctorâs verdict that he would never see again, he said to his son: âBramwell, I have done what I could for God and the people with my eyes. Now I shall see what I can do for God and the people without my eyes.â
But the old warrior had finally laid down his sword. His daughter, Eva, head of the Armyâs work in America, came home to say her last farewell. Standing at the window she described to her father the glory of that eveningâs sunset.
âI cannot see it,â said the General, âbut I shall see the dawn.â
We Murder with Words Unsaid
Never since have so few words haunted me. In the dream, I sat in a balcony before the judgment seat of God. Two magnificent beings dragged the man before the throne. He fell in terror. All shivered as the Almighty pronounced judgment upon him. As the powerful beings took the quaking man away, I saw his face â a face I knew well. I grew up with this man. We played sports together, went to school together, were friends in this life â yet here he stood, alone in death. He looked at me with indescribable horror. All he could say, as they led him away â in a voice I cannot forget â âYou knew?â The two quivering words held both a question and accusation. We Know A recent study reports that nearly half of all self-professed Christian millennials believe itâs wrong to share their faith with close friends and family members of different beliefs. On average, these millennials had four close, non-believing loved ones â four eternal souls â that would not hear the gospel from them. What a horror. âHow then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard?â (Romans 10:14). Incredibly, the eternity of human souls, under God, depends on the instrumentality of fellow human voices. Voices that increasingly will not speak. But what about the rest of us? How many people in our lives â if they stood before God tonight â could ask us the same question? Weâve had thousands of conversations with them, spent countless hours in their presence, laughed, smiled, and cried with them, allowed them to call us âfriendâ â and yet â havenât come around to risking the relationship on topics like sin, eternity, Christ, and hell. We know they lie dead in their trespasses and sins (Ephesians 2:1â3). We know that their good deeds toward us cannot save them (Romans 3:20). We know they sit in a cell condemned already (John 3:18). We know they wander down the broad path, and, if not interrupted, will plunge headlong into hell (Matthew 25:46). A place of weeping and gnashing of teeth. A place of outer darkness. A place where the smoke of their anguish will rise forever in the presence of the almighty Lamb (Revelation 14:10â11). âAnd they will not escapeâ (1 Thessalonians 5:3). We know. We Say Nothing More than this â much more than this â we know who can save them. We know the only name given among men by which they must be saved (Acts 4:12). We know the only Way, the Truth, the Life (John 14:6). We know the one mediator between God and men (1 Timothy 2:5). We know the Lamb of God who takes away sins. We know the power of the gospel for salvation. We know that our Godâs heart delights to save, and takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked (Ezekiel 33:11). We know that Jesusâs atoning death made a way of reconciliation, that he can righteously forgive the vilest. We know he sends his Spirit to give new life, new joy, new purpose. We know the meaning of life is reconciliation to God. We know. But why, then, do we merely smile and wave at them â loved ones, family, friends, co-workers, and strangers â as they prepare to stand unshielded before Godâs fury? What do we say of their danger, of their God, or of their opportunity to become his children as they float lifelessly down the river towards judgment? Too often, we say nothing. How Christians Murder Souls I awoke from that dream, as Scrooge did in A Christmas Carol, realizing I had more time. I could warn my friend (and others) and tell him about Christ crucified. I could shun that diplomacy that struck so little resemblance to Jesus or his apostles or saints throughout history who, as far as they could help it, refused to hear, âYou knew?â I could cease assisting Satan for fear of human shade. My friend needs not slip quietly into judgment. And my silence needs not help dig his grave. I could avoid some of the culpability that Spurgeon spoke of when he called a ministerâs unwillingness to tell the whole truth âsoul murder.â Ho, ho, sir surgeon, you are too delicate to tell the man he is ill! You hope to heal the sick without their knowing it. You therefore flatter them. And what happens? They laugh at you. They dance upon their own graves and at last they die. Your delicacy is cruelty; your flatteries are poisons; you are a murderer. Shall we keep men in a foolâs paradise? Shall we lull them into soft slumber from which they will awake in hell? Are we to become helpers of their damnation by our smooth speeches? In the name of God, we will not. God said as much to Ezekiel. âIf I say to the wicked, âYou shall surely die,â and you give him no warning, nor speak to warn the wicked from his wicked way, in order to save his life, that wicked person shall die for his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your handâ (Ezekiel 3:18). Paul, the mighty apostle of justification by faith alone, spoke to the same culpability of silence: âI testify to you this day that I am innocent of the blood of all, for I did not shrink from declaring to you the whole counsel of Godâ (Acts 20:26â27). Am I an Accomplice? We warn people in order to save their lives. Paul did not allow his beautiful feet to be betrayed by a timid tongue. He âalarmedâ men as he âreasoned about righteousness and self-control and the coming judgmentâ (Acts 24:25). The fear of people-pleasing did not control him â lest he disqualify himself from being a servant of Christ (Galatians 1:10). Now today we are not first-covenant prophets, or new-covenant apostles. Many of us are not even pastors and teachers who âwill be judged with greater strictnessâ (James 3:1). But does this mean that the rest of us will not be judged by any strictness? Do not our pastors and teachers train us âfor the work of ministryâ (Ephesians 4:11â12)? Should I appease my own conscience by merely inviting others to church, hoping that someday they might cave in and come and there hear the gospel? My pastor did not grow up with my people, live next door, text them frequently, watch football games with them, and sit with them in their homes. But I did. And as much as some of us may throw stones at âseeker-drivenâ churches, the question comes uncomfortably full circle: Do I shrink back from saying the hard truth in order to win souls? Is my delicacy cruelty? My flatteries poison? Am I an accomplice in the murder of souls? If Not You, Then Who? Recently, a family we care about nearly died. They went to bed not knowing that carbon monoxide would begin to fill the home. They would have fallen asleep on earth and awoke before God had not an unpleasant sound with an unpleasant message startled them. We, like the carbon detector, cannot stay silent and let lost souls slumber into hell. If they endure in unbelief, let them shake their fists at us, pull pillows over their ears, roll over, turn their back to us, and wake before the throne. If we have been unfaithful â where our sin of people-pleasing and indifference abound â grace may abound all the more. Repent, rise, and sin no more. Mount your courage and ride like Paul Revere through your sphere to tell them that God is coming. When the time comes to speak, tell them they stand under righteous judgment. Tell them they must repent and believe. Tell them that Jesus already came once. Tell them he bore Godâs wrath for sinners. Tell them he rose from the dead. Tell them he reigns over the nations at the Fatherâs right hand. Tell them that, by faith, they may live. Tell them that they can become children of God. If we, a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, his people left here after conversion to proclaim his excellencies (1 Peter 2:9) will not wake them from their fatal dream, who will? God, save us from hearing those agonizing words, âYou knew?â Article by Greg Morse