Hi friends -
As I’ve shared here before, I was raised very religious. Growing up, I was in church every time the doors were open - Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night.
I went to a Christian high school, and I even won the superlative for Best Christian Character (totally a thing). My faith was a pretty big part of my identity.
As an adult, I have had a winding road in my thoughts and views about God.
At this point, I have more questions than answers, and I’m actually quite comfortable with that. I enjoy wrestling with existential questions of meaning, purpose, and the idea of a higher power. And I don’t necessarily feel a pressure to come to definitive conclusions.
Regardless of my thoughts and views on faith, one thing that has always remained is my love of old hymns.
When I got married, I walked down the aisle to “Be Thou My Vision.”
I get choked up anytime I hear, “It Is Well with My Soul.”
I feel a deep sense of unity and togetherness when I hear, "All Creatures of Our God and King."
Lately, the hymn that has been circulating in my mind is “Let There Be Peace on Earth.”
Do you know it? If not, it’s worth a quick listen…
The song has a rich background that is worth learning about.
The lyrics were written in 1955 by Jill Jackson-Miller. Her husband, Sy Miller, composed the music.
Jill had previously been an actress. She appeared in several films in the 1930s and was also featured in The Three Stooges.
But her personal life was painful.
After the collapse of her first marriage and the pressures of Hollywood, she fell into severe depression.
As a young adult, she attempted suicide, and surviving that crisis became a turning point.
Jill said, “When I attempted suicide and I didn’t succeed, I knew for the first time unconditional love… I had an eternal moment of truth, in which I knew I was loved, and I knew I was here for a purpose.”
Years later, Jill and Sy were leading a youth retreat in the California mountains. The group gathered there was intentionally diverse—teenagers of different religions, races, and backgrounds who, in another setting, might never have crossed paths.
The organizers wanted them to experience not just words about peace, but the living reality of it, side by side. It was in that setting, surrounded by young people trying to build trust across their differences, that Jill felt the spark of inspiration.
She pulled out an envelope from her purse and began scribbling the words that came to her: “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.”
I’ve carried that hymn with me through my own seasons of uncertainty and doubt. When the world feels especially divided—as it has at different times in history, and as it does now—it serves as an anchor for me.
Singing those words reminds me that peace is not just an idea for governments or institutions to legislate. It’s a daily, personal choice in how we speak, how we listen, and how we extend compassion.
Division is not new. The decades when Jill and Sy introduced this song were marked by the Cold War, segregation, and the stirrings of the Civil Rights movement.
Yet their response was to put a simple, singable prayer into the hands of young people: Begin with yourself.
Their wisdom serves as a reminder that, while we can’t always control the tides of history, we can take personal responsibility for how we respond in our own relationships, families, workplaces, and communities.
As therapists, this call is especially poignant. Our work is to sit with people in their most vulnerable moments, to walk alongside them in seasons of loss, anxiety, or despair.
Sometimes the best we can offer is not answers, but presence—reminding others that peace is possible, and that the first step often begins with the choices we make in our own lives.
This week, I’m holding onto Jill’s words as both comfort and challenge:
Let there be peace on earth,
and let it begin with me.
I’m curious how this lands with you today. If there are any reflections you’d like to share with me, I’d love to hear them.
Warmly,
Rachel
Rachel Ledbetter, LMFT
CEO/Co-Founder, Motivo
rachel@motivohealth.com
We have a similar sensitivity to the same songs. As a singer it’s sometimes hard for me to get through those you’ve listed because the emotions are so strong. I thank God for the ability to love, appreciate and connect through music. I’m going to suggest this song to my city choral music director as one we can use as part of new community healing events. We don’t have it all worked out yet but somehow our 100 member Chior can be calming influence as things around us keep getting crazy and scary. Instead of Christmas carols we sing songs like this on street corners near diners, or on the steps of Congress, or at places of mass shootings where flowers are left by grievers. I would very much welcome ideas from your other readers….
Love this! Thanks for sharing, Rachel.