William Booth Wouldn’t Want Me, And That’s Ok (Short Read)

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

William Booth (1829–1912), his wife Catherine Booth (1829–1890), and a group of friendly zealots began The Salvation Army in the late 19th century. I, as a Salvation Army Officer, am part of that continuing legacy. But I’m pretty sure William Booth wouldn’t want me. That’s ok though. Here’s why I’m a Salvationist anyway.

Anti-Intellectualism in The Salvation Army

In the early days of the Army, a young American with an academic education in Theology and experience as a preacher and pastor in the Methodist church, wanted to join the Army as an Officer. He was Samuel Logan Brengle (1860–1936).

Brengle did not get the reception he wanted. Eventually, he would become the father of Salvationist holiness theology, though not without difficulty.

William Booth did not trust Brengle. He disliked his education, looked down on his experience, and thought that his nice middle-class background wouldn’t fit with the Army.

The Inimitable Brengle Vs. William Booth and Co.

But Brengle wouldn’t be suppressed. He went back and asked again until eventually he was accepted for Officer training in London. He was already an experienced minister. More worrying for the Booths, he had several degrees. He had been recognised as a gifted preacher with a bright future.

Bramwell Booth (1856–1929), William Booth’s son, wanted to make sure that Brengle knew his place. He gave him the job of cleaning and blacking the boots of the other cadets. Brengle came to terms with it by reminding himself that Christ had washed his disciples’ feet. That meant he could polish the boots of his fellow cadets.

You can read more about that story here.

William Booth’s Particular Kind of Army

William Booth surrounded himself with people from poorer backgrounds with limited education. People who were passionate, loud, rough, and eccentric. They would go to prison for their convictions. Or hide in a coffin to make a dramatic entrance for their preaching.

They were fanatics. Some even gave away their blankets in winter. One wore sackcloth in protest.

Belonging Without Being Chosen

I have grown up in the Army. I’ve worked for the Army almost my entire adult life. Now I am a Salvation Army Officer. Yet I’m not convinced that William Booth would have wanted me in his Army. But I believe in the Army and what it stands for. That’s why I am a Salvationist.

I am, by inclination and gifting, an academic. My favourite things to do are study, read, theorise and debate. I care about the application of that learning to lived reality. But I also care about getting the theory right.

I’ve got a PhD and have been published in journals. If I applied to William Booth to join his Army, I don’t think he would have wanted me. At least, I’d have ended up polishing people’s boots to remind me of my place!

But sometimes it’s not just Booth. A fairly anti-academic tendency remained in the Army until the late 20th century. My interests would have been misunderstood, looked down on, or seen as unimportant. I wouldn’t have belonged. Sometimes, in some places, it can still feel like that.

I’m More Of A Hobbit Than A Warrior

I am not rough and ready. Nor am I willing to look silly. I am eccentric, but in the sense of playing Warhammer and liking Time Team. Not in the sense of preaching on street corners, putting on street plays, or leaping out of a coffin.

I am not about to grind myself into dust to try to bring about the second coming. My creature comforts, spending time with my family, and going on holiday are all important.

I worked in homelessness services for about a decade. But my particular flavour of neurodiversity meant I’ve not been the most personable. I struggle with small talk and keeping a conversation going. Not great for a support worker! Or for someone in ministry, some might say.

I’m not one for squatting down in the gutter and starting a conversation. Nor sitting on a park bench next to a stranger to talk to them. Give me a problem to solve or a deep conversation to be held, and I’m your guy. Chatting to strangers and small talk over a cup of tea, and you’ve lost me. So why am I a Salvationist?

The Salvation Army Doesn’t Belong To William Booth

So it’s likely that William Booth wouldn’t want me, but that’s ok.

The Army doesn’t belong to the shade of William Booth. It belongs to God. Since it was God who called me to be an Officer, I don’t have to try to measure myself against anyone else.

My Salvationism isn’t determined by William Booth.

REFLECTION SPACE — Called as You Are

Scripture: 1 Corinthians 1:27 (NRSV)

“But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

— 1 Corinthians 1:27 (NRSV)

A Prayer to Begin: Help me, Lord, to trust that your call on my life is not a mistake. Remind me that you do not choose as the world chooses. You see what I cannot see in myself. Amen.

Reflect: Who has made you feel like you don’t quite fit? What might it mean that God called you anyway?

A Broader Approach to Leadership

There is a drive to promote certain forms of leadership at the moment. I want to remind my colleagues that they don’t need to be anyone but who they are in order to be a worthy Officer.

Innovation and pioneering projects are possible for people who are quiet, introverted, and patient.

Passionate kingdom building and evangelism are possible for people who aren’t lovers of people. Including those who struggle to start a conversation, for the neurodivergent and the shy. Successful and positive ministry is the promise of faithfulness, not a certain type of person.

It’s okay to be who you are, even if that’s different.

The Army is a living, evolving, changing creature. It does not remain the same. It needs lots of people with diverse skills, personalities, interests, and ways of doing things.

The Army doesn’t belong to William Booth. It never did. Nor does it belong to any one person, ideology, or movement. It belongs to God alone.

William Booth may not have wanted me, but that’s ok, because God does.

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