When A Word Changes Everything

I was about eight years old when I noticed that Jesus had started showing up at our house.

A man called Reverend Martinson stopped by to talk to my parents about Jesus, God’s Son. I can’t remember the exact reason my parents decided to start attending church, but Reverend Martinson followed up by coming to our house after we showed up at his church. These visits were so unusual that our whole family was assembled in the living room to listen to Reverend Martinson’s words. I was often situated on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, taking it all in.

Up to that point, we were occasional churchgoers, mostly on holidays or for weddings. But suddenly (to me, anyway) we began consistently attending a very traditional Baptist church, complete with steeple, balcony, heavy wooden pews, choir, and pipe organ. We participated in a host of novel activities, like eating tiny bread cubes and singing out of a very large book of songs to the thundering accompaniment of the organ. I found the stained glass windows quite fascinating, especially the way the light streamed through the colors so brilliantly on sunny days.

But now Reverend Martinson sat in our living room talking about Jesus. The Jesus he spoke of didn’t live in stained glass, frozen in an image of benevolence. I was both captivated and uncomfortable with this Jesus he described. A Jesus who had lived long ago, died a horrific death to save us from sin and separation from God the Father, rose to live again, and lives still- redeeming all who believe in him.

My mind swirled with new words and concepts I could not fully absorb. Crucifixion. Sin. Repentance. Resurrection. Salvation. Redemption. Faith. Eternity. And a mysterious figure, the Holy Spirit, who would come to dwell within us.

Even at the age of eight or nine, these words created a deep unrest within my being; a guilt, a kind of festering dread. I would try to dismiss it. I would think it was gone. But there it was again. Something not right. Something needing resolution and relief. I couldn’t reason it away or fix it on my own.

Although I protested the “loss” of Sunday morning and was too shy to attend Sunday School, we continued to attend church every week, and secretly, I was engrossed. I loved the billowing notes from the pipe organ, balanced by the comforting tones of the piano. I loved the choir’s harmonies and shiny robes. I couldn’t get enough of the poetry and images from the hymnal. I was so impressed when we sang “When Morning Gilds The Skies”, I later looked up the word “gild” in the worn Merriam-Webster Dictionary at home. Eventually, I found such a kind-hearted and gentle Sunday School teacher that I agreed to attend her class.

Even so, the internal unrest continued until the day I said the word “yes”.

The organ was playing one of my favorite hymns, “I Need Thee Every Hour”, and I was wrestling with the feeling of private dread and discomfort when Reverend Martinson suggested that those who wanted to put their faith in Jesus Christ as Lord of their lives might come to the front of the church so he could pray with them.

The congregation sang: “I need Thee every hour/ Most Gracious Lord/ No tender voice like Thine/ Can peace afford/ I need Thee, Oh I need Thee/ Every hour I need Thee/ Oh bless me now, My Savior/ I come to Thee.” *

Awkward but determined, I stood up and stepped over the necessary feet to get to the aisle. I remember the creak of the wood floor and how we finished all five verses of the hymn while I stood alone next to Reverend Martinson at the front of the church. I also remember the flood of peace and relief as I prayed for God’s forgiveness that morning.

The Word says that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23), even though we were created in his image (Genesis 9:6). But the Word also says that God loved us so much that he gave his only Son as a sacrifice for our wrongs and rebellion against him, so that whoever believes in Jesus will not die in that state of rebellion, but have a peaceful relationship with God and life (John 3:16 & 17). That is the simple message I heard, but it was the Holy Spirit that created the internal unrest and desire for peace with God that ultimately led me to him.

I’m so grateful that he saw me all those years ago, sitting in the last row of pews at First Baptist Church of Carthage, NY. What a gift that he did not consider me too insignificant or young to offer forgiveness and salvation.

That day, the truth of God’s Word changed my life and marked the beginning of a journey of growth. Since then, there have been times I’ve gotten off track and taken detours. But God’s Word, the Bible, has always been there to guide me back to the certainty of his love and my need for salvation. The truth is, the Word has the power to change us. Rather than focusing on experiences and how I feel, it is the steady, unchanging Word of God that has provided clarity when I’m confused, hope in my despondence, and health when my spirit is bruised.

Salvation isn’t just about saying “yes” once. Putting faith in Jesus is a start. It takes countless more “yeses” for faith and fellowship with God to grow. Yes, I will humble myself in this situation. Yes, I will sacrifice my time or resources over here. Yes, I will forgive this person again. Yes, I will give up “my time” to worship God. Yes, I will visit the new family who visited the church. Yes, I will show love and kindness to the shy, awkward child in class. Yes, I will do the hard thing. Yes, I will allow myself to be changed by a loving God. And yes, I need him. Every hour.

*”I Need Thee Every Hour” by Annie S. Hawks and Robert Lowry, 1872; Public domain.

2025 Sandra Jantzi

Posted on November 2, 2025November 2, 2025 by Sandra Jantzi 0

Dealing With The Darkness

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It’s one of those memories that stands out because of its unexpectedness: A glorious autumn day, golden sunlight shimmering through the kaleidoscope of colors in the rolling Adirondack foothills. The air is still warm but there is a touch of fresh coolness that pushes away any lingering heat and humidity. It makes you want to breathe in deeply. Trees are approaching “peak” color- flamboyant shades of red, orange, yellow, and green- as they mark the end of a flourishing summer season. It makes up for a hundred dreary days. I turn toward my grandfather and remark about the glorious colors. He looks squarely back at me and acknowledges, “They are pretty, but I hate to see them.”

Stunned out of my admiration of the scene, I ask him why.

“Because it means winter is coming,” he responds, scanning the landscape as if it were already covered in stark frost.

I’m surprised. Up until that point in my young life, I saw our northern winters as a simple trading of activities. Skating instead of swimming. Skiing instead of hiking. Then I remember he has difficulty walking in the best of conditions, but ice and snow make it treacherous and impossible to navigate alone. That was the obvious part of his story.

Decades later, I realized there was more to his dread than slippery conditions and cold. It is the unrelenting darkness that I now find myself battling every year.

These days it has a label: Seasonal Affective Disorder. For me, the world seems dark and heavy. Well, it is dark. At the lowest point, there is a little over 7 hours of light before we begin adding minutes of daylight again. I also live in the “shadow of the Great Lakes” where cloudy days are plentiful due to the moisture swept up from the surface of the lakes. Ice and snow can make it harder to navigate, harder to get outside. Lethargy creeps in. Low mood. Life and work start to feel overwhelming. The overwhelm seems never-ending. Anxiety grabs hold of those perceptions and I wake with an undefined feeling of dread.

Are the days really heavy? I guess that’s where my state of mind comes in. I do like winter. The refreshing cold, the sparkle of frost, the different textures of snow, the way it makes the world look so stark and yet so pure. The stillness of a winter’s night. The crispness of the air. Still, if I am not vigilant, I begin to feel heavy and despondent despite my best campaign against it. February, when daylight finally becomes noticeably longer, is often my hardest month.

How is a lack of peace consistent with a proclaimed follower of Jesus? Shouldn’t I be walking in freedom and peace of mind? The reality is that I am living in a fallen world. For things to be different I’ve discovered that I have to act in ways that go against the grain of how I’m feeling. Ways that align my self better with my Creator, who knows me and cares about my struggles. These actions work only when I am disciplined and attentive to doing them daily. Like a soldier, I have to be vigilant. Here is my battle plan:

-Brisk outdoor activity or an indoor workout when the weather is bad. I truly look forward to skiing, snowshoeing, and hiking with my Great Pyrenees, who loves winter like no other. Many days I get up early so we can get 30 – 40 minutes outside before work. These pre-dawn moments have become a savored time of prayer and listening to my Bible app before the onslaught of work activity and distractions. The beauty of those moments makes up for any inconvenience in getting there.

-Light therapy. Long ago I purchased a light lamp but didn’t realize there is a protocol for making it work. I won’t describe the entire process here, but for those interested I suggest checking out the work done by Dr. Andrew Huberman, a neuroscientist who has done extensive research in this area. He can be found at http://www.hubermanlab.com or on the Huberman Lab podcast.

-Hear me out: Cold showers. I know, I know, it’s already plenty cold outside, why add to the misery? Again, I refer to Dr. Huberman on this, and others have done a great deal of research in this area too. Dr. Huberman does an excellent job presenting the science and do’s & don’ts. Some people prefer ice baths, but I find cold showers to be effective, fast, and easy to execute. I can share from experience that doing this gets easier with repetition.

-Spiritually speaking, I return every winter to the theme of Jesus as the Light of the World. Winter is a time when the world seems particularly dark to me, not just in a natural light sense. It is vitally important to my spiritual life that I remain consistent with daily time in prayer and the Word of God. I cannot emphasize enough how important this consistency is.

John 8:12 says, “Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the Light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the Light of life.’ ” There is a promise and hope that I do not have to struggle in darkness, but as I follow Jesus daily I can have an abundant life. A life of inner peace and freedom from darkness and anxiety no matter what else is happening. The ability to walk in guiltlessness, to recognize I have a place in God’s family, to accept new ways of thinking and behaving that lead to life, not death.

This is not a “name it and claim it” mentality. Instead, like dear Pilgrim in “Pilgrim’s Progress” (John Bunyan), I put one foot in front of the other, receiving grace hour by hour, learning as I go and making many human mistakes along the way. It is as Paul says in Philippians 2:12, “Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” When despondency is a companion, keep walking toward the Light.

From that perspective I can sometimes utter a prayer of thankfulness for this struggle. Would I have sought God and clung to Him as tightly if I hadn’t had this gnawing darkness of soul pursuing me? What human trials could be our strength when illuminated in the brilliant light of God?

Sandra Jantzi, February 2025

Posted on February 22, 2025February 22, 2025 by Sandra Jantzi 0

The Servant and the Undeserved Gift

As I opened the letter I felt a jolt of disbelief when a check dropped onto my lap. Perplexed, I could not understand why this man would be sending a check. Back then, I did not think of him as a servant, but I realize now that’s exactly what he was.

When we first met he was in his nineties, but there was nothing about him that suggested the feebleness or detachment that so many who reach that decade exhibit. He was in remarkably good health and I don’t remember him mentioning any ailment more than in passing. Whether this was by choice or because he had the fortune to know few illnesses, I don’t know. He was tall and lean, slightly bent with age but his bending forward gave one the impression that you were the sole focus of his attention. And you were. He spoke pleasantly, with the charm of his southern roots- and always about the subjects that interested his company. He looked you in the eye and sought reasons to smile at you. He could disagree with you in a way that made you feel you had been heard and valued, even though his convictions were strong. In the few years I knew him before he passed, he made such a marked impression that to this day I frequently compare my behavior in any given situation- even my Christian walk- with his.

His name was Paul Swope, and he was my husband’s grandfather. Born in Virginia to Mennonite parents, he eventually moved to Ohio where he married, raised a family, was active in the community and church, and worked well into his nineties. He carried himself with a rare grace, humility and kindness. We enjoyed his company so much that my husband and I packed up the kids as often as was practical and drove three hours just to spend a weekend with him. In between visits, he wrote us letters. Some addressed to my husband, some to me. The letters were always encouraging, praising our efforts. He always seemed to think the best of us.

I never saw him join in gossip or sarcasm. But his lack of participation was never cold or self-righteous. When he picked up the conversation, his words were kind. I’ve asked his family and even his own children do not remember hearing him say anything negative about anyone.

My husband tells of a story involving an individual who had been the source of much conflict and grief in the family. This person had once helped my husband transport a vehicle a few hours’ drive to his grandfather’s house. Upon their arrival, Grandpa Swope stepped out of his kitchen door to offer a glass of water to the person who had brought so much offense to his family. He had every right to hide inside and pretend he didn’t see the person- just let the moment pass. Instead he took the opportunity to show kind-hearted forgiveness, not allowing his pain to excuse him from following the example of Jesus. I think of the times I could have laid down my pride for someone whose soul might have benefitted from compassion rather than my sense of justice.

Salvation and forgiveness is free, but true Christianity will cost you something. Earnest followers of Jesus soon learn that they will be letting go of their own pride, plans, and prejudices to become a servant. I have rarely seen this exemplified in another person as well as in Paul Swope. I felt it most when I was the undeserving recipient of that kind of love.

The day had really just been awful. Hugely pregnant, I had waddled uncomfortably through my workday as a school social worker. Driving home I was preoccupied with some of the more desperate cases with which I worked. As well, my husband and I had just bought a house and were trying to prepare it for the arrival of our first baby. Finances were already stretched when we realized that we could not start any additional house projects until we replaced the roof. It was expensive. It was discouraging. But we started scrimping and saving even further. That particular day was one of those “everything-I-touch-goes-wrong” types, and I remember feeling defeated when I pulled the car into the driveway and switched off the ignition.

Too tired to get out of the car, I began flipping through the day’s mail and found the letter from Grandpa Swope addressed to me. Tearing open the envelope, I found the check that dropped out was also made out to me, not my husband. I scanned the letter for an explanation. ”…On our last visit I remember you mentioned that you had hoped to make some improvements on the new house before the baby arrives, but the roof would need to be repaired instead… Please accept this gift so that you may make those improvements sooner rather than later…”

Tears rolled down my face, not just because I had received an undeserved gift from a generous and good-natured man. More than that, his actions had painted a picture of what God is like at a time when I felt beaten down:

God cares about the things that concern us.
God gives gifts that we do not deserve and have no right to receive.
When God adopted me into his family, I was all in. There are no in-law “outlaws” in the family of God.

Paul Swope exemplified humble servanthood in his daily life. I am so grateful to have known him, not only because he was such a remarkable person, but because his Christian walk has given me much to consider. Jesus said, “Freely you have received, freely give.” (Matt. 10:8) When I realize how very undeserving I have received God’s gift, I am motivated to give that much more. Would my willingness to give of myself -to be a servant today -change someone’s life?

“…be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Ephesians 5:1-2

Posted on January 14, 2024January 15, 2024 by Sandra Jantzi 1

On Ending Well: An Open Letter To A Pastor

It was desperation that made me do it.

My ears perked up when your weekly message ended with the familiar reminder that the pastors are available to meet with people experiencing various issues in their spiritual walk.

A troubled relationship with one person had created ripples of conflict in other areas of my life and I had found myself in what I thought was an inescapable and intolerable situation. I was certain I was right, but that provided no resolution to the conflict in which I was engulfed.

The multiple facets to my situation were like hundreds of strands in a knot with which I wrestled inwardly day and night. I could not see another way and I was emotionally distraught. I don’t like to ask for help, but I had come to the end of my own resources. I emailed you for a recommendation to meet with someone in our church counseling ministry, but you and your wife offered to meet with me instead.

I’m not sure what I was expecting but I know I did not expect that what I learned in our meetings would eventually alter the curve of my Christian walk forever. I know I did not expect the level of compassion that you both showed me. So often we avoid asking for help because we don’t want to dispel the church myth that we have it all worked out, and appear weekly with shiny, happy smiles. I’m utterly grateful for that compassion. When you began to slowly unravel my knot in the light of scripture, and I saw that my problem was deeper than the other person, your compassion made the hard admission of my failings so much easier.

When it would have been possible to get involved in the details of my conflict, you kept the focus on God’s Word, the Bible. It was with skill that you applied those ancient Words to my wound. I remember you telling me that no matter how wrong I thought someone else was or how badly I felt I had been treated, I was still answerable to God for my own behavior. Well of course I knew it at some superficial level, but that day it got my attention and I realized that my failure to live by that very concept was probably keeping me from growing spiritually. Although I hadn’t realized it before, I think I (and many others) believed that some poor behavior is justifiable. Some wrong reactions are admissible. But Jesus didn’t add an “except when” to the charge to love one’s enemies. It became clear that if I was going to go on saying that I believe in God, I was going to have to humble myself and do what He said. Even the hard things. The cost of which, of course, was my own pride and comfort.

As a result of our meetings, the Sermon on the Mount, perhaps Jesus’ most famous words, took on new life. And I have to tell you, I felt a fair amount of dismay when I measured my behavior against those hard words. “Love your enemy.” “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.” “Pray for those who persecute you.” “Forgive us… as we have forgiven others.” “Lay up treasures in heaven where neither moth nor rust destroy… for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” “Judge not, that you be not judged.” “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” “Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.” “The gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’, will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.”

When I thought nothing would improve, you showed me the passage in Habakkuk 3 with this charge: “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength…” I saw then that everything I was clutching and clinging to and thought I needed in my life was transient. When I accepted that I would live in whatever set of circumstances I was given and sincerely look to God for strength, I cracked open a treasure chest of gratitude and contentment that is unreduced in each new situation. It’s a daily, sometimes hourly choice. It is hard. But it is life-changing.

So many of us Christians seem to be consumed with the pursuit of something better in our current lives. By that I mean a nicer climate, a prettier house, a more fulfilling job, time to ourselves, a place where we agree more with the politics and mandates. All good things. But I unexpectedly found a prize in embracing the difficult things that I thought would lead to unhappiness. Like raging rivers we blast haphazardly through the rocky chasms of our lives, noisy and full of emotion, thinking we have some say in where we are going. The hardness of life in God’s masterful hands can direct to a sharpened awareness of His purpose and personality, leading to the still waters of grace and peace where there was none.

Your emphasis on God’s Word, and your encouragement to read it every day at every opportunity had a huge impact on my life. I had already been a Christian for a long time when we met, but I admit that up to that point reading the Bible was something I checked off the list everyday like any other chore. Sometimes it was hard to muster a lot of excitement for that duty. However, I came to realize in our meetings that God’s Word is one of the main tools on this earth that He uses to change me. When I am tired of the me that botches things up, struggles to forgive, and becomes too focused on myself, there is an amazing remedy at my disposal; God’s own words and the account of His interaction with other humans who have failings just like mine. I am privileged to have free access to those Words and the thrill of what this means has not diminished with time.

It should be said that in the midst of my struggle, I saw you and your wife also working to model the very things you were encouraging me to do. With the host of personalities and situations you both encounter, I can see that this would be no easy task. You were both unrelenting in that pursuit.

It was a challenge for me to share this personal story. I wrote it two months ago and wavered about whether to publish it. I finally did for a couple of reasons. One is that I’m sure there are other people out there who are in similar situations to mine, battling a situation that seems to have you down for the count. There are a lot of voices out there claiming to provide help. I encourage you to find the person in your life who can skillfully lead you through the Word of God, because that’s what changes lives.

Secondly, in a world where there is an abundance of ineffective and sometimes even abusive spiritual leaders, I am so genuinely grateful for those who have worked uncompromisingly to stay true to the message of Jesus Christ in word and deed; encouraging, coaxing, and cheering the rest of us on.

I saw a great illustration of this the day my youngest son reached his goal of a sub-five-minute mile at a high school track meet. Every ounce of his energy and focus was on the goal, the painful mental battle playing out on his face. The opponents were close on his heels as he rounded the last curve of the track. Out from the crowd of spectators, my older son- also a competitive runner- joined him, running parallel to his brother, just outside the track. As my husband and I watched from the upper level, we could hear our older son above the roar of the crowd shouting, “GO! YOU’RE ALMOST THERE! YOU’VE GOT THIS!!” He ran and cheered all the way to the end. That is what a pastor does.

To my pastors, and pastors everywhere: Thank you.

Thank you for continually encouraging us to keep running this race, pressing us to run better and faster. Thank you for reminding us that we’re almost there- that we can end well. What you do really does make a difference.

Sandra Jantzi

Posted on April 1, 2023April 2, 2023 by Sandra Jantzi 3

WordforWord

An encouraging word in an ordinary world.