A Life Poured Out: Calling, Courage, and Legacy
by Guest Contributor
Commissioner Nancy Moretz at home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in 2026. She says, “It’s great to be a Salvation Army officer!” (Photo/Kevin Diaz)
by Commissioner Nancy Moretz
Commissioner Nancy Moretz’s life is a testament to what can unfold when a woman trusts a divine calling with her whole heart. Her story is not merely one of endurance or faithfulness but of holy obedience lived out across decades, cultures, grief, leadership transitions, and institutional change—at a time when women’s leadership in many Christian traditions was (and still is) debated or constrained.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”
—Proverbs 3:5–6
When my husband died, I thought I would die too. I even prepared my children for that possibility. He was promoted to Glory on Thursday night, May 16, 2013, and it felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my body. We had been married 47 years, 7 months, and 21 days.
In those first hours of tears, numbness, and paralysis, I could hold just one thought: God is sovereign and I will trust Him. And I could hear Jesus’ question to Martha as if it were spoken directly to me: Do you believe in the Resurrection? I did then, and I do now. But to understand why my lifeline became “God is sovereign,” I need to go back.
Family, faith, and the gift of music
Truth is, I’ve been learning to trust God all my life, and my mother, Sally, led the way. My parents were young. They met at a Salvation Army corps in Brooklyn’s Bay Ridge—people called it “Brooklyn 8.” My father came from a Norwegian Lutheran background. My mother was raised Greek Orthodox, but her family returned to the Catholic Church after her father died. Some girls from school invited her to Girl Guards, and despite some hesitation, the smell of hot chocolate and the promise of cookies drew her into the corps. There she met Christ, found help for her struggling family, learned to play guitar and cornet, and eventually found Jim, my dad.
I was their first child, born in Brooklyn, New York. We later moved north to the Catskill Mountains, to a small hamlet called Samsonville. My childhood was bus rides to school, bicycles, swimming holes, and big views—along with the quiet conviction that being a girl did not place anything out of reach. Even then, I sensed God’s leading, and I trusted Him.
The local Methodist church shaped me through Bible school, faithful women serving, and Scripture learned not only from lessons but from hymns: “This Is My Father’s World,” “A Mighty Fortress,” “The Old Rugged Cross.”
And I still remember my mother singing faith into me, sometimes sitting me in her guitar case, telling me through song that God is with us, faithful, kind, and trustworthy.
The Salvation Army captures a heart
When I was 12 or 13, my family went to Kingston, about 45 minutes away, to attend a concert by the New York Staff Band, a Salvation Army brass band known for excellence. The sound of the band and the male chorus captured me, completely.
We were invited to the Kingston Corps to meet the musicians and welcomed into Salvation Army community life. After home visits from an officer, we became regular attendees and were enrolled as committed soldiers. I remember thinking, Someday I’d love to play in that band. Only later did I notice there were no women in it at the time. Glory—much has changed.
Nancy in her high school band uniform, and later with the “Heroes of the Faith” Timbrel Brigade. “High school marching band member—keeping in step with the music!” (Photos/Courtesy of Commissioner Nancy Moretz)
In youth fellowship we sang songs of commitment, and I had the sense that God was shaping me for His purposes. Later came opportunities to go to camp and music training. At Star Lake Musicamp in New Jersey, I had a spot with my cornet in the Star Lake Band. Many mentors invested in me, and God used their standards and encouragement as part of my foundation. I still treasure learning from Erik Leidzén, Richard Holz, and Vernon Post. Their investment in young people was not bound by gender or ethnicity.
The turning point
At 17, I left home with a plan: summer work in New Jersey, then college in New York state to study music and become a teacher. That was the summer of 1962. It was also the summer I experienced God pouring out His Spirit upon sons and daughters (Acts 2:17–21) not as theory, but as reality in my own life.
One day in August, as I was riding a bus toward Englewood Cliffs with the New York City skyline ahead, God’s call came with clarity: I was to become a Salvation Army officer, a minister in this movement.
On that bus, the Spirit anchored the call in me, and it seemed especially aimed toward the people of New York City. My age, gender, lack of resources—none of that felt like an obstacle to God. I was simply called. I didn’t go to my summer job that day.
The formal process moved quickly. Within 10 days, the call was affirmed; photos were taken in a borrowed uniform, and I was accepted for training. Some who were perhaps not as sure of my calling as I was warned me, half-joking and half-serious, “Don’t leave and come back. Stay in training.”
Lives joined in calling
I entered the School for Officer Training in the Bronx as a teenager; at 19, I was ordained and commissioned and appointed to serve. Training was demanding and competitive yet joyful, with men and women learning side by side. The structures of the time had male and female “roles,” but I was never prevented from learning, participating, and growing into a lifelong calling.
And then there was Larry, my sessionmate. He’d been called young at age 9 and waited 10 years to enter training. I barely noticed him at first. He was curious how a cadet could be called and accepted in 10 days. One evening he brought me a tray of dried fruit and asked, “Would you like to have a date?” I knew he didn’t just mean the fruit.
Our first date was memorable for all the wrong reasons. He took me to a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s Day, and I didn’t know what “à la carte” meant. We ate blueberry pie and he did most of the talking. As I watched him talk, I noticed his mouth was blue! Then I had the horrible thought that no doubt, so was mine!
Lieutenants Larry and Nancy Moretz on their wedding day in 1965: “The joy of marriage—a life covenant.” (Photo/Courtesy of Commissioner Nancy Moretz)
As we were walking back, I thought this date would be the last. But then he told me his life verse, which his father had given him: Matthew 6:33. “Seek first the Kingdom of God…” It matched the verse my own mother had written in my childhood Bible. Despite the awkwardness, I decided this was someone worth a second date.
We were engaged by December. After commissioning, we each spent a year in our own appointments, both in the city, me in Brooklyn and Larry in Staten Island. At 20, I entered the holy estate of matrimony and was embraced into the life and love of Lieutenant Larry Moretz.
Years of ministry—places, people, and lessons
From there, ministry moved at full speed: appointments in New York, Pittsburgh, and beyond—building congregations, learning street ministry, learning leadership by doing it. We were challenged to reopen the Yorkville Corps on the East Side of Manhattan, then off to the Times Square Corps.
Over time, many people taught us—officers, lay leaders, soldiers, employees. Rather than list them all, let’s put it this way: God rarely prepares a life in isolation. He uses community, models, and sometimes even hardship to form character.
Larry and Nancy Moretz as corps officers in Yonkers, New York, with two sons, and as corps officers in Hempstead, New York, with two sons and a daughter. (Photos/Courtesy of Commissioner Nancy Moretz)
Larry shouldered the administrative burdens while I birthed and cared for our precious children. What I didn’t realize was that he was also equipping me all along the way. Just when I thought I’d learned how to help lead a corps, we moved into youth work, and I learned to love teenagers, something that surprised me. We raised our children with the help of faithful Salvation Army communities in each place.
Later came service at Territorial Headquarters. The Youth Department was a special learning ground with Larry having the opportunity to liaise with the Boy Scouts of America. I discovered Bible Bowl, a Scripture‑based competition program used by the Church of the Nazarene, and brought the program back to THQ. In no time, the Army adopted it into Salvation Army life; many young people and adults dug deeply into the Word of God.
As my responsibilities expanded into divisional leadership, women’s ministries, and spiritual oversight among officers, I leaned on teamwork and, of course, Jesus, drawing closer still to the One who poured His Spirit upon me.
Reaching new heights
A great privilege for me was being invited by Commissioner Ron Irwin into higher leadership settings where married women historically had not always served. Progress can move slowly, but it moves. I was a full participant in the boardroom, cabinet meetings, and executive decisions—skills I would need.
Commissioner Ron also helped in a very practical way. For years, fear of flying had held me hostage. With his support, I took a 10-week course called Flying Without Fear at John F. Kennedy Airport. And God opened doors for me to minister broadly in two languages and two hemispheres.
In 1996, I attended the International College for Officers in London for advanced leadership training. For the first time since my cadet days, I was “on my own.” It felt strange not to be beside my husband. Yet that season clarified something liberating. Rank, birthplace, gender—none of that mattered compared with the calling to serve at the pleasure of the King.
I learned to bow low and stand tall as a spiritual leader wherever God placed me.
That experience changed how I led alongside Larry. We became stronger individually and better together.
In 2008, Commissioner Nancy Moretz speaks at U.S. Eastern Territorial Headquarters in West Nyack, New York. “The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
(Photo/Courtesy of Commissioner Nancy Moretz)
Authority to help, courage to stand
Our appointments took us to Chicago and beyond the mainland to Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and South America West, each place a lesson in culture, mission, and grace.
Larry taught me something I carry to this day: Leadership authority is not a right to be served. It is authority to help—to strengthen mission, tell truth with love, honor people, and care for souls.
He also taught me that sometimes leadership requires courage—what he called playing hardball—not for ego, but for the sake of mission when local conflict, apathy, or self‑interest blocks service. And through it all, we remembered that the battle is not against flesh and blood. Strategy involves prayer, compassion, love, and justice, all part of daily, faithful service. The battle is the Lord’s. It takes us all, men and women, an Army, a Salvation Army to win the world for Christ.
The Spirit’s quiet work
Now, back to 2013. After decades of shared life and ministry, everything felt swallowed up. I was empty. Torn apart. Alone. Finished—or so I thought—except for that persistent idea: God is sovereign and I will trust Him.
In Larry’s final days, he gave me gifts in words that became anchors to steady me. When we first learned that nothing more could be done, I started to ask, “Why?” He stopped me. We had never demanded “why” from God before, and we would not start now.
Commissioner Nancy Moretz holds a picture of her late husband, Larry, at her home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Commissioner Lawrence R. Moretz was promoted to Glory in 2013 after 47 years, 7 months, and 21 days of blessed matrimony. “Every good and perfect gift is from God,” she says. (Photo/Kevin Diaz)
He told me, clearly, that I would be fine without him. I didn’t agree—but the words “you will be fine” stayed.
Suddenly I was a 68-year-old widow and retired officer, brokenhearted and drowning in grief, about to learn again the healing ministry of the Holy Spirit.
‘Do not lose your first love’
About six months after Larry was promoted to Glory, my brother-in-law, Major Bill Bode, called and asked if I would come speak about world mission and overseas experiences. I listened, then answered honestly: “I’ve got nothing. I’m empty. I’m finished.” After a pause, he said, “Nancy, I don’t believe you.”
I was offended—until the Spirit used that moment to remind me of something deeper than feeling: calling. Then the message of Revelation 2:4 came to me this way: “Do not lose your first love.” And I heard again the same voice I had heard on the bus at age 17. The call came before Larry. God called me.
So, I went—weak in myself, strong in the Lord—and ministered. And I made a vow: I would not say “no” again to invitations to serve, if health and calendar allowed.
From 2013 onward, invitations came that felt outside my skill set. Yet God used those skills, and the empty space was empty no more.
Joy through pain
In 2015, my firstborn son, Larry, was suddenly promoted to Glory. The loss was more than I could bear. Yet in that season, my daughter‑in‑law, Joanne, became a comfort to me amid her own grief.
I was at Joanne’s home when then-Major Margaret Davis called and invited me to lead a women’s weekend with the theme “Joy.” Everything in me wanted to say, Why me? I’m empty. But at that very moment, Joanne came into the room and said, “God has given me a word, and that word is joy.”
So I accepted. And I was led to the hymn, “O Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go,” building sessions around its verses, especially: “O Joy that seekest me through pain / I cannot close my heart to thee.” God met us there, and again He filled what grief had hollowed out.
‘Eighty winters on my head’
Early one morning near the end of 2024, our Territorial Commander, Commissioner Ralph Bukiewicz, called and asked me to accept an appointment as Divisional Commander for Western Pennsylvania. Because of the vow I made in 2013, I couldn’t say no.
I did ask, with a bit of humor, whether he remembered I had “80 winters on my head” and “80 summers in my heart.” Without missing a beat, Commissioner Ralph referred me to Moses and asked, “How old was Moses at the burning bush?”
Brilliant!
That sent me to Scripture with fresh eyes. The 40‑year‑old Moses was not the same as the 80‑year‑old Moses. Years can deepen a leader in wisdom, steadiness, humility, gratitude, and courage for the gospel. In spiritual leadership, years can add credibility rather than subtract usefulness.
So off I went, singing in my heart, strengthened by Larry’s words—“you will be fine”—and trusting God to go with me.
As I walked into the office at Divisional Headquarters, the chair looked immense. The scope of technology, corporate responsibility, and spiritual leadership, plus the simple fact that I had never “commanded” anything, could have overwhelmed me. But something happened before I even arrived: The Spirit filled me with robust love for the people and places I was being sent to serve.
And with that came a holy boldness: “Yes, bring it on! But stay with me, Lord.” It was a short stay but productive and deeply fulfilling, and I was carried by a faithful team on mission.
Commissioner Nancy Moretz sits at her kitchen table at home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. “All my days and all my hours shall be Thine, dear Lord!” (Photo/Kevin Diaz)
A charge to the young, the old, and the called
I now have 81 years. God’s faithfulness in my past gives me confidence I can trust Him in the present and the future, until He calls me home.
I have no qualms about young people going into training early, because God sometimes calls that way.
And I have no qualms about older women—widowed or single—serving in leadership for a needed time, because God sometimes works that way too. His Spirit is poured out on us all.
I know God places each of us where He plans to use us. I know He must increase and I must decrease. And I know I can trust Him.
A plaque from my childhood home still hangs where I can see it, bearing a poem by missionary C.T. Studd: “Only one life, ’twill soon be past—only what’s done for Christ will last.” Beside it hangs another with Proverbs 3:5–6: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart … and He will direct your paths.”
And I know that I can trust Him!
About the Author: Guest Contributor
