I wonder, can you hear it faintly echoing from the past? The sound of footsteps walking along with the thumping of the bass drum? To have seen the drummer’s right arm wielding the stick and applying it to the drumhead, with the crest emblazoned on it! To hear the rising sound of music and singing as the crowd begins to get closer; as those uniformed Salvationists seem to appear out of nowhere with their standard lifted high, the Blood and Fire flag unfurled against the evening sky. I can almost hear them sing one of their early songs… 

They grumble at our music,

They grumble at our drum,

They grumble at the marching

To make the people come;

They grumble at our uniform,

They say it’s all display

But still we are the people

Who are bound to win the day.

And isn’t this what those Salvationists did in their day and time? They marched for victory and hope for the lost, the least and the last. It seems that the drum kept the time, acting as the metronome,  moving the Salvationist warriors along on their way to an open-air meeting.

As the invitation was given, the drum was often used as the penitent-form, the mercy-seat, the place of reconciliation. It was where those who sought the Lord knelt or fell down and found salvation. It was the drummer who had the honor of taking care of the drum and leading the group on the march. The drummer was the leader of those whose souls were on fire for other souls and whose hearts were clean for the work of witness and service.

How many have encountered the drum in this way today? Did you find deliverance at the drum?