Not That Neighbor

It did not start well.

The dog seemed to come out of nowhere, shot across the road with a menacing rumble, and attacked my dog with fury. Shock quickly turned to anger and dismay as I pulled at my dog’s leash and shouted at the other dog, trying to determine the best course of action. My cries drew the attention of the vicious dog’s owners, who spilled out of their run-down farmhouse and, with some effort from all three of them, managed to get their aggressive dog away from us.

I was shaking. My dog, who had put up a good fight, was bleeding. Kneeling next to her, trying to assess the extent of her injuries, I became aware of the family patriarch, who owned the attacking dog standing over me, talking. Rallying my brain out of a state of consternation, I realized he was telling me I shouldn’t walk down the road with my dog until I called them first, so they could make sure their dog was confined. Anger began boiling up inside me as I rose up to face him. There was no way I was going to inform this sketchy character of my whereabouts (a bad enough plan), so that he could then nobly decide to follow the law and tie up his menacing dog.

Enraged, I let him know the exact plan I was going to follow: “You keep your dog tied up, or I will call the police!”

That may very well have been the last words I spoke to him. After that incident, I re-routed my walks and kept a low profile. But it was impossible to ignore this family, since their house was across the road from my husband’s small business. Technically, they were our neighbors. And as foolish and impossible as they seemed to me, they were also the neighbor that Jesus commanded me to love. When questioned about which was the most important commandment, Jesus responded, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:30-31, ESV). There doesn’t appear to be a loophole for unfriendly dogs or ridiculous requests. But I avoided them. We maintained a distant, cordial friendliness, mainly because my husband is a good peace maker.

Eventually, the combative dog died. Some time later, the father of the family died as well, leaving the wife and an adult son in the deteriorating house. That’s when the pit bulls moved in.

When their lawn became overgrown, the wife reached out to my husband to ask if it could also be mowed when one of his employees tended to the lawn surrounding his small business. We understood that she had some challenging health issues, so my husband arranged for their lawn to be mowed. A few times, when we had our own family or business gatherings, we shared some of the food with them. These were not hard things to do, but they were not very personal.

Then came the day that the son told my husband that he had gotten a job, but it meant he had to leave his mother alone for many hours to struggle with severe, active autoimmune disease and other chronic illnesses. He wondered if I could check in on her while he was gone. Like a modern-day Jonah, I inwardly groaned and enumerated to God all the reasons this was not going to work. Would she become dependent on me for every little thing, disrupting my workday? How much medical care would she need? Would the pit bulls try to attack me if I had to enter their house? What kind of burden was I taking on? With some hesitation, I agreed to send daily text messages, with the promise that I would go to the house if she didn’t respond or if she needed help. (It is with humility that I look back on this with the realization that I was quite focused on myself and how much of a problem it might be for me to do the thing God was asking.)

I was not prepared for all the warmth and welcome I received in response to my texts. I soon learned that Sonya (not her real name) was incredibly lonely and delighted to have someone with whom she could converse. Surprisingly, the texting format worked well for her, as she often was not up to doing much, but could still meet her basic needs and assure me that all was well. Some days the texts were short; other days they were long, and sprinkled with sunshine and flower emojis. She had many stories to tell about her life. Sometimes there was family conflict that she wanted me to assist her with in one way or another, but I did my best to kindly decline. Overall, she asked very little of me. She showed great interest in my family, especially my grown sons, whom she remembered as young boys. When I told her that I prayed for her, she replied with enthusiasm. She believed in Jesus, she told me, and had been greatly helped by a Christian Greif Share group when her husband died, but her health had kept her from going to church in recent years.

I decided to take her to the Women’s Bible Study at my church, although I had many misgivings about how it would work. For many weeks she told me she was not feeling up to it before she finally agreed to go. With some effort we got her across her deteriorating porch and icy yard, and into my car. Her excitement in getting out of the house for something other than a medical appointment bordered on the comical. She talked non-stop the entire way to the church with such a rush of words that I could scarcely keep up. I felt a small wave of panic as I pulled into the church parking lot and there was no let-up in the flood of her speech. I could appreciate her happiness to be out of the house, but it seemed to me to be approaching hysteria. I smiled and nodded reassuringly, but inside I was praying for help.

With a bit of gentle redirection and a lot of silent prayers for wisdom, we navigated the class and I think she was able to hear the lesson. Although I was scrunching my toes in embarrassment at her non-stop talking, it was hard not to appreciate her joy at seeing a few familiar faces and the sheer radiance of her face.

Not long after that she called me in a panic because one of the pit bulls had gotten loose and was running in the road and around my husband’s business. She was in no shape to catch it and she was worried that her son would be angry if anything happened to it before he returned from work. She begged me to find the dog and bring it home. “Yes, I’ll go right now,” I assured her. During the short drive, I found myself petitioning God again for help. “Please, God, I need You to help me catch this dog. I have no idea how to do it, or if I’m going to get bit. Please help me!”

When I pulled into the parking lot of our business, I immediately saw the pit bull running around the outside of the building. I cautiously pulled the car up as close as I dared and opened the door. The pit bull was standing right there, within arm’s reach. I saw my chance and without hesitating I grabbed for the collar. I’m pretty sure my eyes were closed as I braced for the bite that never came. But, amazingly, my hand was securely wrapped around the collar. I eased the rest of my body out of the car and attempted to steer the animal toward home, but she was exceptionally strong and it wasn’t going well. At that moment, one of our employees saw my predicament and ran to help me complete the mission. Sonya was practically in tears when we pushed the dog through the kitchen door. I still smile at that memory of God’s very practical answer to my prayer.

Sadly, Sonya’s health began deteriorating further, and she was unable to attend another Bible Study with me. Then her son contacted us to let us know that she had been taken to the hospital with some complications and the situation was not looking good. The family was not receptive to visitors, so I was unable to see her before she passed away.

Suddenly, after eighteen or nineteen months, the mission I had grudgingly accepted was over, and I was sad. I missed Sonya’s cheerful little texts, dotted with sunshine and flowers. I missed how she relished a beautiful day when the weather was fine and she was feeling well. I missed how grateful she was for very little. I was honored to have had a front row seat in observing how God cared for someone who felt forgotten by the rest of the world. In doing so, the Lord widened my tiny comfort zone and taught me a little about forbearance, forgiveness, humility, and compassion. I realized that he not only commands us to love our neighbor, but he chooses the very neighbors we are commissioned to love. Even when it doesn’t start out so well.

2026 Sandra Jantzi

Posted on March 9, 2026 by Sandra Jantzi 2

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 Hunger and Want of Christmas

“Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask,” said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit’s robe, “but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?”

“… From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet and clung upon the outside of its garment… They were a boy and a girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.”

“… They are Man’s,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware the boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased….”

– Charles Dickens in “A Christmas Carol”.

If you have lived on this earth long enough, you have pulled back the robes of pretense at some point to reveal this truth about humankind: Left to ourselves, we are hungry and insatiable. Maybe there is no time when this is more apparent than the holiday season when we ramp up our gratification efforts with buying, feasting, and lavishing.

In stark contrast, God provides us with sustenance that does not disappear when consumed. In the gospel of John, chapter 6, Jesus tells the people following Him: “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you.” Later, he reveals to them, “I AM THE BREAD OF LIFE; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” John 6:35

The first record of the Bread of Life came thousands of years before Jesus, when a nation of refugees found themselves trekking through the wilderness, driving their livestock and hauling their belongings because they had put their hope in promises of freedom. At first, it was exhilarating to shake off the bonds of slavery, but now the reality of their situation came into focus: they were exposed and dependent in a terrain that showed little kindness. Then came hunger pains and their children began crying for bread. Would slavery not have been better than death?

At just this time, bread was divinely provided to their camp, free and available to everyone. The only caution was that they must gather only what they needed for the day. With that, the picture changed and they were no longer exiles wandering in a hostile world. Instead, they were the children of Israel, tenderly cared for by God, surrounded with protection and grace.

Two thousand years ago, masses streamed to deserted places to see the mysterious Man Jesus working miracles: sick people made well, blind people given sight, frail people walking. Jesus didn’t just ignite curiosity, He ignited the hope that maybe God was nearer than they thought. That God cared about the tyranny under which they lived, their illnesses, addictions, fears, and losses. This glimmer of hope opened a hunger that had been rumbling in their very souls. They left the day’s work just to see Him and found Jesus so compelling that they stayed long and ran out of provisions.

Jesus saw their need and instructed his disciples to share five loaves of bread with over five thousand people. As the bread was broken and passed from hand to hand, it did not diminish. With that, Jesus proclaimed: “I AM THE BREAD OF LIFE”, and there were some in that crowd who knew they were looking at the only One who could nourish their bodies and their spirits. Here was God’s Chosen One, the Messiah. The One Who satisfies our hunger. The Bread of Life.

Like exiles and seekers, we, too need Bread. This world with its promises of fulfillment and a better life if we just have more- more things, more achievements, more experiences, more connections- ultimately has left many of us isolated and confused, with cravings we sometimes cannot control. No amount of money or time can satisfy our endless desires. Surely this hunger will be the death of us.

But there is an antidote for our relentless hunger. The same Jesus, who once broke bread to feed thousands and proclaimed, “I AM THE BREAD OF LIFE,” freely offers the gifts of adoption and eternal life with Him in Heaven. We believe and are saved, but we must also be fed. As we let go of the world’s false promises, we find the Bread of Life by spending time with Him daily to gather what we need to nourish our bodies and souls.

2024 -Sandra Jantzi

Posted on December 7, 2024 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

Led Where You Do Not Want To Go

It just so happened that the day my son started his military deployment, war broke out between Israel and Hamas. In the pre-dawn darkness he waved goodbye, and a few hours later I was watching news coverage of the Hamas attack. Conflict had already been raging between Russia and Ukraine and that situation had become quite desperate. There were perhaps hundreds of other lesser known but no less volatile struggles between tribes, governments, sects, and countries playing out the day he left.

My son was launched into another part of the world where there are threats and points of view I do not understand and where there are people with agendas who are also worried about the futures of their own sons. A place where peace is anemic, wobbly, and often shoved out of the way.

This has caused me to think more carefully about what God gave up in order to reach you and me. I’m guilty of glossing over that part of John 3:16 where it says, “God… sent His only begotten Son into the world” so I can get to the part where He offers everlasting life. But these days when I’m watching the world more closely and praying more fervently, I think about what a risk it was to send His only Son as a defenseless baby into a rough and tumble world to be cared for by faulty humans. My son is an adult who has been trained to be aware of his surroundings and potential dangers, despite my mind’s insistent memory of his panicked five-year-old face on the first day of school. But God sent his Son as a baby even though He knew full well that we were incapable of handling or understanding Him, so that in every way He would face the same trials and temptations that we do. The reason is simple. Because He also loves us with a great, longing tenderness.

If you have ever been a parent, guardian, or mentor then you know parental love. I miss my son in multiple ways, every day. The first few months of his life he cried constantly with a colic I could not seem to soothe. My husband and I walked him through sleeplessness and sickness, birthday parties, pets, and that sweet summer when his baseball team won the championship and he walked with a swagger for weeks. There are few things I wouldn’t endure to ensure his safety. But now, each day I mentally put him in God’s hands for God’s purposes. The outcome of which is up to God. At times, this feels like a place I do not want to go.

Recently, a book came to mind that I had not thought about for many years. “The Hiding Place” by Corrie Ten Boom chronicles her life as a Dutch Christian who, with her family, risked life and livelihood by hiding many Jewish people from the Nazis during World War II. Eventually her family was arrested and sent to a concentration camp. Corrie and her sister experienced unimaginable conditions: hunger, thirst, brutality, dehumanization, ridicule, threats, dangers, and filthy conditions. Ultimately Corrie’s sister and elderly father died during their confinement. Corrie evaded extermination through a clerical error and went on to be a witness for Christ in several countries.

What was striking was that Corrie did not set out to be a hero or an evangelist. She just knew she could not call herself a Christian and turn a blind eye to the discrimination and murder that was happening under Nazi rule in her hometown. The more she assisted, the more was asked of her. She found herself being led where she did not necessarily want to go as the danger of what she was doing increased. By this step by step release of what was important to her in order to embrace what was important to God, she was able to bring hope and accomplish what would seem impossible, even in Ravensbruck concentration camp while she was starving and infested with fleas.

It was Corrie who said, “Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts when God pries your fingers open.”

“You can never learn that Christ is all you need, until Christ is all you have.”

And this, “The measure of a life, after all, is not its duration, but its donation.”

She would know, because she lost everything in this world and still remained faithful to Jesus, even in her humiliation and grief. Because of that faithfulness, she brought rescue, hope, and the message of God’s salvation to thousands throughout her life and after her death.

No matter who you are or how good you are at controlling your circumstances, you will eventually be led where you do not want to go. Maybe it is a loved one’s sickness or disease in your own body. Maybe you have lost someone you love. Maybe something you really wanted, even something good, is not going to happen after all your efforts. Maybe you are saying a long goodbye, or maybe the goodbye did not happen and it’s too late. Maybe all the pieces you were trying to fit together have come crashing down around you in some way and hope seems to be sinking.

It might even seem like the end. But as you look around the landscape of this place where you do not want to be, there is another path. It may not look like a practical answer right now, but it is a path of no regrets. Now is the time to release what you thought you could not bear to lose and take a step toward God.

“The Lord is at hand; be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7, NKJV).

While He did not promise to make every situation rosy, He did promise His peace- not the world’s fleeting peace, but a lasting peace that is beyond our comprehension or control even in our darkest moments. What are you clinging to that might be keeping you from knowing that peace?

Sandra Jantzi

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Posted on November 13, 2023November 13, 2023 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

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