On councils, puzzle pieces and grains of wheat

This week I went to my first ever officers’ councils. It takes place every two years, but last time it ran Isaac was two weeks old, so I was otherwise engaged, and quite glad I didn’t have to go. As long as I can remember, all the officers in my life have been disappearing off to this mysterious thing called ‘councils’, and unfortunately, what often gets fed back is shrouded in the cynicism and negativity, that often show up when a large group of people gather together.

So when it was my turn to go to half a week of meetings for (one half of) all UK and Ireland Salvation Army officers, I went more than a little intrigued and absolutely determined to go full of positivity and with eyes to see what God was wanting to do.

I absolutely loved it.  We had a great time catching up with good friends, praying together, sharing stories, kingdom exploits and great food. 

At the minute The Salvation Army in the UK is in the middle of an administrative review that is going to require some dramatic changes, that will impact almost everyone on almost every level. Our top level leaders have born the brunt of the pain of the transition, but it felt that as everyone arrived there was a real atmosphere of tension and apprehension. That uncomfortable start paved the way for God to do some beautiful things over those three days. The speaker, Dr Bill Ury, is like a male Janet Munn, which was enough to make us love him entirely and immediately, and his teaching on holiness was inspiring and paved the way for some deep transformation to take place.

Xander and I are convinced that God has called us to The Salvation Army, to see new life come into places that feel dead, to bring in Kingdom culture, and to reimagine what the amazing calling God has given to the Army looks like in the twenty first century. We spend a lot of our time not at all sure what that looks like or where to go with it. We talk together a lot about how we articulate Salvationism in ways that engages both our amazing history and the current needs of our community. We pray and we dream, we try things out, we get a lot wrong and we see God graciously moving and guiding us through it all.

I was challenged this week that our stance on holiness - that God can and wants to not only save us, but make us holy, not just when Jesus returns, but now – is a key piece of the puzzle of what our role to play is in God’s massive plan to redeem the whole world. It’s one that we need to take up again, and champion.

‘We believe that it is the privilege of all believers to be wholly sanctified, and that their whole spirit, and soul, and body may be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ (Doctrine 10, Articles of Faith, inspired by 1 Thessalonians 5:23-24)

This has always been my favourite of our doctrines (if you can have one, it feels a bit like having a favourite child: immoral, but sometimes happens nonetheless. I guess I’ll have to see what happens as I have more children). 

I love that God doesn’t just save us from sin when we get saved, but he continues to work out his salvation in our lives, purifying us from sin, transforming us from glory to glory into the likeness of Christ. I love that sin isn’t inevitable anymore, that we’re not trapped there anymore. I love to see it in action, I love to watch my people look back on where Jesus has brought them from and discover how much they’ve changed without even noticing. I love that we’re not just sat here waiting for heaven, but that we can experience it here and now, and invite others into that deeply transforming reality.

And yet, I felt like my enthusiasm for holiness has been beaten out of me over the past years. I haven’t really thought about it, given it much head space, because sometimes it’s a doctrine that people struggle to believe, and I’d felt too browbeaten, like maybe it’s all just semantics anyway, an academic argument that causes more discord than does good.

This week I’ve been reawakened to the beauty of holiness, and my need to pursue holiness of heart and will, to make sure that every area of my life is surrendered to God, holding nothing back.

That’s where he can move. That’s where there’s power. That’s where there’s freedom, hope and transformation.

As we responded together, I watched God root out cynicism and bitterness, negativity and apathy from people’s hearts, the things that have help them back for years. I watched officers, of all generations, weeping at the mercy seat, crying on each others shoulders, wiping each others tears as they responded to the Lord. What can God do with any Army led by people who allow that to happen? I dare to believe: anything. We will be Fit For Mission in a true, deep, heart sense, in a way that no administrative review could ever achieve.

I admire and am inspired by the vulnerability of leadership that presses forward into the unknown, that acknowledges that we don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing, but chooses faith and to lean in to Jesus, that allows the Spirit to shine light into the cracks.

There was a beautiful Spirit-led moment of prayer for our leaders at the end, a moment of honour, acknowledgment, of submission, respect and trust, where God poured out his glory and his blessing. It brought great peace to my heart, and I pray it brought peace to our leaders who are facing a job I don’t envy in the slightest.

For a while I have been watching at the edges, seeing where God is moving, what he is doing at the grass roots, in the small places, through the mustard seeds and the yeast.

I’m now encouraged too to wait and see God’s moving from the top down and through the power structures too, as together we let this grain of wheat fall to the ground, face what looks like death, allow ourselves to be cracked open, cry out, ‘Help us, Jesus’ and watch Him bring to life our wildest dreams and whispered prayers, as only He can.