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William and Catherine Booth
William Booth
The Salvation Army founder, William Booth was born in Nottingham, England, on 10 April 1829.
Salvation Army founder General William BoothFrom his earliest years, William was no stranger to poverty. He was just 14 when his father died and was already working as a pawnbroker’s apprentice to supplement the family’s income.
As a pawnbroker, William saw poverty and suffering on a daily basis. By the time he finished his six-year apprenticeship, he had developed a deep hatred of it.
William, a fiery and impulsive teenager, became a Christian at 15 and began attending the local Wesleyan Chapel. There, he developed the passion that would be the driving force in his life; to reach the down and out of Britain's cities through the Gospel of Christ.
William, a talented preacher from a young age, went on to work as a travelling evangelist with the Methodist church. But it was through preaching in the streets of London's slums that he discovered his life's purpose and The Salvation Army was born.
Catherine Booth
The Salvation Army "mother", Catherine Mumford was born in Ashbourne, Derbyshire, on 17 January 1829.
The Salvation Army founder and Army mother Catherine BoothFrom an early age, she was a serious and sensitive girl with a strong Christian upbringing. By the age of 12, it's said that she had read the Bible through eight times.
At 14, Catherine became ill and spent a great deal of time in bed. She kept herself busy, especially concerned about the problems of alcohol. She wrote articles for a magazine, encouraging people not to drink.
But at 16, she came wholly into her faith. Reading the words, 'My God I am Thine, what a comfort Divine' in her hymn book, she realised the truth of them for herself.
A gentle woman with powerful appeal, Catherine would go on to co-found The Salvation Army and prove an inspiration to women in a harsh time.
Life together
Catherine and William met when he came to preach at her church. They soon fell in love and became engaged. During their three-year engagement, William continued his work as a travelling evangelist. Catherine was a constant support to William, writing him letters of encouragement on his travels.
They married on 16 June 1855.
Together, William and Catherine embarked on a lifelong journey to answer the call of God to bring the Gospel to the people. While William was a natural speaker, Catherine was a quiet woman and not at all accustomed to speaking at gatherings. It took time for her to find her voice, but she was driven by a conviction that woman had the same rights as men to speak. She grew into a courageous speaker, known for her gentle manner but powerful appeal, counselling alcoholics in their homes and holding cottage meetings for new faithfuls.
They were also parents to a growing family of eight children, who were brought up with a firm Christian education and a great love for their God’s mission. Two of their children, Bramwell and Evangeline would go on to be Generals of The Salvation Army.
In 1865, William, by now an independent evangelist, along with Catherine founded The Christian Mission. William preached to the poor while Catherine spoke to the wealthy to gain support for their financially demanding work. In time, she began to hold her own fundraising campaigns.
It was not until 1878 that The Christian Mission became known as The Salvation Army. Modelled after the military with William and his fellow ministers a part of God’s Army, seeking salvation for the masses. William was appointed the first General and his ministers became “officers”.
Catherine became known as “The Army Mother” and remained a strong voice on The Salvation Army’s ideas on social issues and matters of belief.
With its strong focus on the downtrodden and dispossessed, The Salvation Army began to grow beyond Britain’s borders. In William’s lifetime, the Army would be established in 58 countries and colonies. Its mission was and is still guided by William’s book “In Darkest England and the Way Out”, which maps out a revoluntionary approach to social engagement never before undertaken by a church.
Both Catherine and William worked tirelessly to bring the Gospel to all, establishing a movement in the form of The Salvation Army. But, on 4th October 1890, Catherine lost her ongoing battle with ill health. Her son, Bramwell, described her passing as “a warrior laid down her sword to receive her crown”.
William continued on for many years, traveling all over the world to oversee his growing Army. On 20th August 1912, William Booth was, in Salvation Army terms, promoted to glory.
Though passed, both William and Catherine continue to be guiding influences in The Salvation Army and stand as the mightiest examples of how God uses the ordinary to create the extraordinary.
was my life better back then
Our family serves in the Himalayan mountains, with the desire to see the church spread and flourish far into the unengaged villages confettied on these snowy peaks. The people here, as you might imagine, have a grit that I haven’t inherited from my suburban childhood. Wrinkled shepherds lead their goats to menacing heights with learned ease. If you peek inside a brightly painted cement home, you might see a woman browning onions over a fire, her daughter wringing out clothes, and her toddler sleeping to the buzz of cartoons. I’ve always dreamed of this sort of a place. As a middle-schooler, I read Jesus Freaks  aloud to the kids at my art table, and when playing Would You Rather  on the topic of death, I would argue that martyrdom is the best way to go out. If I could have seen the place where I would raise my children, I would have thought all of my dreams had come true. What I didn’t expect was that life here would feel like a meat-tenderizer to the heart. I didn’t see the grief coming in like a tidal wave. I’m learning a language that puts me in situations where I’m exposed and embarrassed. We are always the ones asking questions and bending our preferences to better serve those around us. Homeschooling five kids and cooking food from scratch doesn’t make me feel like Wonder Woman, but just very, very tired. How was I to know how sharp the sting of this calling would be, the pain of dying daily? I have formed a bad habit when I’m hurting. When too many guests come for chai and my character is as robust as the brown apple core in my toddler’s sticky grip, I exit mentally. I cherry-pick a golden memory and think how those were the days . Imagined Land of Yesteryear The past is a commonplace to run for escape. Isn’t the entire world wishing for life to go back to normal, before COVID reared its ugly head? How often do we pine after the freedoms of life before kids, only to ache for that noisy house a decade later? Don’t we wish relationships could morph back to what they had been before the argument? If only time could rewind the consuming cancer, the regretted affair, and the old age from surprising us. When the call to live in the present feels like cruelty, dealt out by God’s own hand, we can drown in self-pity and enter an ugly world. A world based on our memories of the past, but altered. Everything was right back then. Such good old days are often talked about in passing, and most people agree how much better it would be if only we could return. We don’t realize the damage at stake in allowing our brains and hearts to live in this imagined land of yesteryear. “We don’t realize the damage at stake in allowing our brains and hearts to live in this imagined land of yesteryear.” The worst part in exchanging the present for the past is that we can make ourselves gods. We become interpreters of what’s good and what’s not. We don’t lean on the Lord’s providence, but think we know what we need. We remember ourselves ten pounds thinner and everyone a lot happier than they truly were. We are most deceived about ourselves, the memories usually a highlight reel of us at our prime. Running Somewhere Maybe you aren’t tempted to live in the past like me. But Luke 15 makes a good case that all of us are running somewhere when the present feels difficult to swallow. Here are two sons discontent at home. When life isn’t what they want, the younger son runs to another country to feed his appetite for pleasure (Luke 15:11–13). Meanwhile, the older brother stays physically near his dad, but his heart is far from home (Luke 15:28–32). Where are we running when life is not what we want it to be? Perhaps we seek success, to create a comfortable home, or to be thought well of in our workplace and church. If we seek escape in these places, as I have in memories of the past, we won’t like where we end up. Life away from the Father is empty. Like a popped balloon, joy whooshes out and we are left limp, deflated. The sons’ attempts of finding life elsewhere leave them homeless and toiling like slaves (Luke 15:14–16, 29). Even if we have a lifetime of sermons in our head, do we live what we claim to know? If we did, how could we ever run from someone so ready to love us, who waits with unparalleled patience and pursues us wherever we are, however painful the present moment? God wants us home with him. So much so that he left perfection for a world writhing in pain. He took on the violence of hell so that his children wouldn’t have to. Home Among the Thistles Maybe we are at a crossroads. Perhaps, like myself, your shoes are well-traveled. You’ve also formed bad habits in order to escape the places where life hurts the most. You’ve called God names and aren’t certain you can live with the one who ordained life’s present pain. Look again at Luke 15 and dare to believe this is your story, too. The house is alive with music, and the table is set. You smell meat roasting in herbs and touch the silk of the slippers placed on your feet. See your Father run to embrace you. Hear his laughter that fills your heart with a happiness you were born to enjoy. “We can make our home among the thistles because God promises to be there too.” Or hear the father’s words to his older child: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (Luke 15:31). These words are for us, right now. Do we believe it? If so, we can make our home among the thistles because he promises to be there too. He will never, ever leave us. And because we have his promised nearness, all that is his is now laid before us as a feast. Every spiritual blessing is at our fingertips when we live at home in our Father (Ephesians 1:3). Especially  when our circumstances are January gray, he’s waiting for us to see the rainbow of his love. Black-Edged Envelopes Charles Spurgeon once testified, The worst days I have ever had have turned out to be my best days, and when God has seemed most cruel to me, he has then been most kind. If there is anything in this world for which I would bless him more than for anything else, it is for pain and affliction. I am sure that in these things the richest, tenderest love has been manifested to me. Our Father’s wagons rumble most heavily when they are bringing us the richest freight of the bullion of his grace. Love letters from heaven are often sent in black-edged envelopes. The cloud that is black with horror is big with mercy. . . . Fear not the storm, it brings healing in its wings, and when Jesus is with you in the vessel the tempest only hastens the ship to its desired haven. I am receiving more black-edged envelopes right now than I would care for. Dying daily has been less like Perpetua facing the beasts, and more like getting out of bed every morning to face the responsibilities of a calling that requires an unsavory dose of humility. This painful present, this everyday death is unnoticed by most, and as with the objects in a room when the lights are off, I can’t seem to find the outline of my old identity. And yet, the storm of today will not end in shipwreck. I’m not at the random mercy of the winds. The current rolling of thunder and high waves only assist me in getting home safe and sound. The presence of my Father and his continual invitation has repeatedly snapped me back from the past, allowing me to see the wonders in front of my face, like my children, the food on my plate, and the way the goats follow the voice of their shepherd down the valley with the sun dripping into the horizon.
