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

Peace of Mind: Fleeting or Forfeited?

The COVID pandemic has deeply affected my life, and I know the business I co-own will never be the same. My propensity to troubleshoot, plan, control, and meticulously scrutinize details has been a big help in a pandemic-affected business. With some attitude adjustments and discipline, there were times in the summer when I thought I was killin’ it at making our business and life work in the midst of global upheaval.

But by January, my propensity to troubleshoot, plan, control, and meticulously scrutinize details left me waking up with generalized dread most mornings. An undefined worry. A dark cloud of anxiety that could not be rationalized away. A fear of everything and nothing. A gnawing, clawing, in the pit of my stomach that would come and go, but mostly perch darkly in my soul. The smallest changes and the slightest criticisms felt crushing. No one was more surprised than I.

In the midst of this, I became fascinated by the ancient narrative of a tribe of wandering people. This tribe was enslaved by another nation when several overwhelming plagues came upon their captors. After massive national losses, the captors decided to set the tribe free. Right away they regretted that decision and pursued the departing tribe into the desert. At that point the tribe managed to miraculously cross to the other side of a large body of water while their pursuers were destroyed and drowned.

A few pages later, the tribe is wandering in the wilderness, disgruntled and hungry. They hangrily address their leader: “If only the Lord had killed us back in Egypt” [where they were enslaved], they moaned. “There we sat around pots filled with meat and ate all the bread we wanted. But now you have brought us into this wilderness to starve us all to death.” (Exodus 16:3).

Given that they had just been freed from slavery and witnessed the destruction of their pursuers, it would be kind of a funny story except that it smacks too close to home. I would like to believe that I am like the tribe’s reluctant yet heroic leader, Moses. But I know that my default is to complain and to descry what I think I lack. And despite God providing for me -and the Israelites- in practical ways, I sometimes falter in my ability to see God at work. Instead, I allow my mind to scurry from crisis to crisis. I breathe a sigh of relief when a problem is resolved, and fail to see the larger picture: that God is good and He cares about the details of our lives.

The real irony for me is that the pandemic has brought me to my knees twice. The first time, I relinquished control over my days and ways of doing life while my husband and I re-invented our business and put up with the same pandemic hassles the rest of the world was experiencing. The second time, it brought to light a quietly destructive pattern in my own mind. The same thinking ahead, troubleshooting, and controlling that served me well in one area led to endless ruminating about even small problems and things that I have no power to control. That thinking was always there, but it took a pandemic to expose it to the bright light of day and help me to see how lethal it was for me. My anxious thoughts were like a prison.

I share this personal struggle because I not only hear the echo of my voice in the complaining (and anxious) tribe of Israelites wandering in the desert, but also in the voices of people who are struggling to figure daily life out in a world that has become uncertain.

But truly, we are no worse off when the answers aren’t clear and we don’t have it all under control.

I’ve come to realize that no matter how involuntary it may seem, my anxiety is a sin (yes, ouch!) because it shows a pattern of thinking that excludes God’s work in my life. Lucy Maud Montgomery said it best: “To despair is to turn your back on God.”

This isn’t to say that you or I should blame ourselves for being anxious. Anxiety is a sin in the same way that disease and death are results of the corruption present in the world. There are levels and types of anxiety that require medical intervention. I firmly believe that if there is a positive way to eradicate someone’s suffering, it should be considered. But I think it is also right to take ownership of the things I can do something about, even if the work is hard. Ultimately, the anxious person has to face their thoughts… and take control of them.

What I am suggesting is that if I truly believe that Jesus is my Savior and that God cares about my future, I can trust Him to provide the grace I need- when the time comes. In the interest of disciplining my mind to think in ways that are more profitable for me and those around me, Philippians 4:5-8 has been a great help: “The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, 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 your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy- think about such things.” (NIV).

The application is that we must mentally stop ourselves, several times a day, from ruminating on a problem or worrying about how it will work itself out hours or months or years from now. We must allow ourselves to experience the current moment, with all of its sounds, smells, and sights; and remember that the Lord is at hand in that very second. Thank Him for that time, no matter how bad or good it may seem. Ask Him for help in seeing that He is there, and also in finding solutions for the day- just this day. Tomorrow, which is not even guaranteed to happen, will take care of itself.

On one recent instance, I was enjoying a moment of Spring sunshine and thanking God for the warmth when I suddenly thought of Jesus telling the people of Jerusalem how He wanted to protect them as a mother hen protects her chicks under her wings (Matt. 23:37) and how in the Psalms it talks of taking refuge in the shadow of God’s wings until the storms of destruction pass by (Psalm 57:1). The image of this in my mind was so strong that I felt a great deal of relief and comfort. That is how God thinks about us- He is caring and compassionate, present in every detail, longing to protect us. These small but no less meaningful moments are one of the ways God brings healing to an anxious mind through His word and through making Him our focus.

This is grace for today, very much like the manna that was provided for food for the ancient Israelites, but lasted only for the day in which it was gathered. And it has slowly dawned on me that perhaps God wants you and me to trust Him daily for our very being and all of its needs in a more personal way. To do this, one must believe that God is good, trustworthy, and that He does care in a very personal way. To believe anything else is to forfeit peace of mind.

Posted on April 11, 2021 by Sandra Jantzi 0

WordforWord

An encouraging word in an ordinary world.