National Salvation Army Week: May 12-18, 2014

In 1865, William Booth founded The Salvation Army in London, addressing both the physical and spiritual needs of desperate individuals roaming the streets. Fifteen years later in 1880, The Salvation Army began its work in New Jersey. Since then, The Salvation Army New Jersey Division has provided humanitarian relief and spiritual guidance to millions of people across our great state.

The Salvation Army New Jersey Division demonstrates hope and healing in many ways. Those addicted to drugs or alcohol find a network of rehabilitation programs; children born into poverty discover camps and educational opportunities; and those who are lonely and forgotten receive friendly visits and gifts through the year. Our services result in shelter for the homeless, food for the hungry and relief for disaster survivors. The Salvation Army’s commitment to serve is demonstrated daily at our 28 Corps Community Centers, 101 Service Extension Units and through our unwavering support to Hurricane Sandy survivors over 18 months after the storm.

National Salvation Army Week is a time to thank our generous donors and volunteers who allow us to accomplish all that we do. Without your support, we would not be able to provide stellar programs and services statewide. We also thank the Township of Union, City of Newark, City of Camden and City of New Brunswick for issuing proclamations recognizing National Salvation Army Week.

All are welcome to join our National Salvation Army Week luncheon on Monday, May 12th at Ria Mar, 25 Whitehead Avenue in South River. The event will begin at 12:00PM and honor our retired senior volunteers. For tickets, please call New Brunswick Corps at 732-545-1477.

On Tuesday, May 13th, we will honor the women of our Hurricane Sandy Recovery Group in Hazlet. From 9:30AM to 2:30PM, the ladies will get their hair and nails done, and participate in a craft project at our 1444 Hazlet Pavilion office. Lunch will be provided as well as gift bags and photos to memorialize the day. From 3:00PM to 5:00PM, the group will enjoy desserts, coffee and tea at Drew’s Bayshore Bistro.

During this week, I encourage everyone to celebrate The Salvation Army’s 134 years in New Jersey, and join our mission to serve those in need.

Donald E. Berry, Major
Divisional Commander, The Salvation Army New Jersey Division

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Invisible

With their latest song "Invisible," the band U2 recently joined with Bank of America to raise funds for (RED) to fight AIDS. As lead singer Bono explains the inspiration behind the song, he remembers coming out of a subway station and feeling unhip in a crowd of people. He recalls that people "didn’t see you in the crowd, you were just invisible."

This feeling of invisibility combined with a desire to be seen is highlighted in the song's chorus:

I’m more than you know
I’m more than you see here
More than you let me be
I’m more than you know
A body in a soul
You don’t see me but you will
I am not invisible

This is a feeling shared by millions each day, the feeling that we are just part of a crowd; the feeling that we are invisible to most around us. If we're honest, we don’t see many of the people around us each day. They are just invisible, nameless people who cross our path and are gone. It may be the mom at the grocery store struggling to provide nutritious meals for her family, or the businessman in the seat across the train who commutes 2 hours each day, or the homeless man at the train terminal who is trying to keep warm.

In Matthew 19:19, Jesus tells us to "love your neighbor as yourself." As a member of The Salvation Army, I believe that these "invisible people" are my neighbors. I am humbled to be part of a movement that reaches out to the invisible to "meet their needs in Jesus' name without discrimination." Whether it’s a food box, family programs or shelters, the invisible are seen by The Salvation Army.

Perhaps, like me, you want to focus more on the invisible around you. I would encourage you to reach out to your local Salvation Army to donate your time making the invisible visible.

Written by Richard Pease
Divisional Controller

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What Love Looks Like

I am completely and painfully heartbroken.

The past 48 hours have been a whirlwind of tears, hope and despair.

Shaheed was driven down to Monmouth County on Saturday by his friend James and James’ son Tremaine, with the joyful expectancy of starting our documentary film on Sunday afternoon. After some GPS trouble, the trio arrived at my dad and stepmom’s house to a warm welcome. The six of us went out to dinner and had a blast sharing stories and laughs. While James and Tremaine headed back to Essex County, Sha stayed at my parents’ home for the night before joining us at Shore Vineyard Church on Sunday morning.

Sha smiled from ear to ear as countless church family members greeted him, praised his story and encouraged his walk with Christ. When our Pastor Brett Conover gave him a hug and a kiss during worship, my eyes welled up with tears, knowing how much that meant to Sha.

“I’ve never experienced anything like this. I want more.”

Overcome by his contagious grin, my heart softened as I watched a man learn what love looks like.

After church, we set out with my dad to start filming in front of the Neptune house Sha grew up in. Thankfully, this didn’t bother the current owner! As wonderful as the weekend was so far, it became clear that Sha wasn’t quite himself. He looked drained and sickly. When I asked him what was wrong, he hesitated to answer.

“Sha, it’s just me. It’s ok. You can tell me the truth.”

And finally, on the curb of a sun-drenched street, the truth came out. Sha is a heroin addict.

He held his head in shame and admitted to lying about parts of his story. As easy as it would have been to react in anger, I actually grew excited. God had brought a 53-year-old homeless, handicapped, heroin-addicted black man and a 27-year-old none of those things white girl together for a purpose - what we thought was just a short film. Instead, it seemed God had paved the way for Sha’s freedom from addiction. What an honor to play even the smallest role in this!

“I’m ready because you believe in me.”

Not entirely sure what to do next, my dad and I drove Sha to Jersey Shore Medical Center’s Emergency Room, where he remained for two days, detoxing without any medication. Sha’s social worker at the hospital said they don't provide the services he needs. She gave me a list of numbers to call with a warning that he would have to leave the hospital this morning.

I’m quite certain I’ve gone cross-eyed from calling every possible detox/rehab number that I could find statewide. To my sorrow and stress, absolutely no one would admit Sha into a program. Some had several week-long waiting lists, some weren’t handicap-accessible. For one reason or another, it seemed every door was closing, and Sha would end up back on the street. Thank God for my coworkers who saw me crying on numerous occasions today as I sunk into helplessness.

“God, you brought all of this together. Now, we need you to make a way. You must make a way for Sha.”

While I attempted (and failed) to pull myself together at work, my dad and stepmom went to visit Sha at the hospital, only to find him sitting in the parking lot by himself. He had been discharged with nowhere to go.

My parents, who demonstrated heavenly grace throughout the weekend, brought Sha back to their house to clean up as we furiously prayed for a solution. James came up with some ideas, and they fell through. I found two potential leads, and they fell through. I grabbed my tissue box for the umpteenth time today as my phone rang.

“Nan found needles and drugs in Sha’s pocket. We kicked him out of the house.”

My heart sank. I had spent the past two days trying desperately to help a friend who gave me his honest-to-goodness word that he wanted to be clean. And now this.

The police came to my parents’ house to dispose of the drug paraphernalia and decide what to do with Sha. By God’s grace alone, an officer who is “human first” offered to take Sha to the train station and pay for his ticket to wherever, rather than arrest him. And just like that, Sha was gone.

I have no idea where he is. I have no idea if I’ll ever see him again, if he’ll die on the streets or if he’ll stay clean.

This is new territory for me. My emotions have never run this wild for a man who was a stranger only a few weeks ago. A man who has cheated death multiple times and passed on an opportunity for new life. I can only pray that Sha is safe and takes recovery into his own hands. I did everything I could do for him, and even knowing that truth still leaves me broken.

I’ve been saying over the past month that “this is kingdom stuff,” because it is. This is the stuff of faith. I have seen things in my parents this weekend that rival anything I could ever ask of them. I’ve even seen things in myself that scream true transformation. I could not have relentlessly survived this experience without Christ, nor can I get through the days to come without His steadfast love. Sha is in His hands, and I cling to the hope that someday soon, he’ll come home.

Written by Elyse Jankowski
Community Relations Associate

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HIS World: Flowers Grow in the City

Batty Hattie, they call her, as she waits in line for the hot food from our soup van's serving window. "Crazy as a loon …..and a thief too." That's what they say about her to our workers who visit the streets of the city nightly.

She wears dated but dressy church hats from the thrift shop. The kind you see on older matriarchs as they go to Ebenezer Baptist on Sunday...Except these have street dirt and years of dust layered on the felt and satin ribbon. Along with her tattered man's sport coat, ("big pockets"), they form her street clothes ensemble.

"Gave up her own children, so she could walk around the streets talking to herself and screaming at the passing cars" the street wise said, "Don't mess with her" "She'll cut you soon as she looks at you" they warned us when she first started coming around, "Threw her out of the psycho ward for threatening the doctors."

"Where do you sleep?" one of our staff ask her when she didn't list an address on the meal sheet. No answer, just the vacant stare of one who is somewhere else...Somewhere you can't touch her with your words.

One night while she was getting her helping of rice, stew and vegetables, gravy splashed onto her hand. Volunteer Carol quickly took her hand and gently wiped the warm gravy from her knuckles and wrist. Their eyes met and somewhere, from that distant place, her eyes lit with the warmth of a human touch. "Thank you," spoke a soft quiet voice that none of us had ever heard from Hattie. Wise beyond her 28 years, volunteer Carol smiled and said, "You’re very welcome, Hattie...Can we sit down and just talk?"

That's how we got to actually see Hattie's place - In the midst of cracked cement walks and the mud lawns of the projects that hadn't seen grass in years, there was a somewhat, still slightly-white, little piece of dollar store fence that bordered a tiny garden. No food growing (it wouldn't last till it was ripe in that neighborhood), just flowers crowded between the building wall and the cement curb of the dumpster. Nothing you'd see at the Home and Garden Expo. No, their beauty far exceeds pampered, sheltered "miracle grow" blossoms; for they reflect the beauty of a soul that, though hidden, will not die, and somehow still clings to memories of beauty.

I wish I could tell you that Hattie has turned her life around, become an upstanding citizen, a "success" story, but I cannot. In a crowd, she still gets the little "Right of way path" of a "crazy woman;" still dines, sidewalk café, at the Army van.

But she has found a place where she can sit down for a few moments, let the wildness fade from her eyes and talk to another human being. She lets us touch, gently; the soul that still lives deep inside nourished by a small patch of beauty next to a dumpster.

We pray that the food of the soul, given in the form of Christ-like love, will blossom someday into a new creation in her life. Until then, we talk, pray, and serve meat with gravy over rice...in faith.

Written by Major Charles Kelly
Spiritual Formation Officer
Men's Fellowship Officer

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