Project Hail Mary reminds me that we task people with saving us without their consent all the time.

I saw a quote recently by Eugene Cho, founder and former senior pastor of Quest Church in Seattle, Washington, which said: “The Salvation Army will die if it loses the commitment it exhibited in the past for creativity.” My immediate reaction? Oh no! The Salvation Army can’t die! We need it! My second reaction? Well, if it’s not creative, then

When Jesus said, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12), it is more than an intellectual statement; it is a promise of relationship as we share the light that dwells with and within each of us.

The world needs people who are grounded in the presence of Christ—people who are steady enough to listen, compassionate enough to carry grief and courageous enough to love their neighbours without agenda.

Last fall, I visited Glace Bay, N.S., where The Salvation Army serves a homestyle meal for lunch every week, and met Robert. Stepping into any new situation for the first time can be difficult, but Robert embraced the challenge. He arrived one Thursday and found a warm welcome to a new community—a place of acceptance, a place where he was

In 2021, this territory adopted its first strategic plan, setting before us a clear vision for 2030: “We are an innovative partner, mobilized to share hope wherever there is hardship, building communities that are just and know the love of Jesus.” Over the past five years, that vision has guided us well. It has helped us make necessary decisions, address important realities and prepare ourselves for the future God is shaping.

The Salvation Army was founded to serve both worlds—body and soul—but over time, they can feel disconnected. Our corps can become consumed with maintaining programs, buildings and schedules. At the same time, our social service ministries often carry the load of engaging the community. If William Booth walked into one of our corps today, what would he see?

In a world that often celebrates charisma, influence and outward success, we were reminded that true leadership—especially spiritual leadership—flows from the integrity of the heart.

The word empathy has become contentious, particularly in some Christian circles.

At its heart, Wake Up Dead Man is a locked-door mystery about a church that has adopted a posture of defensiveness, shutting out those it doesn’t understand in favour of protecting a group of faithful, yet closed-off, congregants who are terrified of the world. But that’s not the whole story.