Howdy. Why are you here today? Not the polite
answer. Not the church answer. Not the answer
you've learned to say without thinking. Why are
you really here? That sounds like a simple question,
but it actually isn't. Why were the crowds gathered
around Jesus on that hillside long ago? Were
they curious? Were they looking for something
interesting to hear? Hoping to witness a spectacle
that day? Wanting a new discussion topic for
the walk home? When people gathered around Jesus
on the hillsides or in the streets, they had
their reasons. Some came because everyone else
was going. It had become the event, the spectacle.
The place where something might happen. Some
came hoping to feel something to hear something
meaningful, to carry away one good thought for
the week ahead, and some came because they were
desperate for life to be different. But here's
the question. Did they actually understand why
Jesus wanted them there? Because it's possible
to be near Jesus and still miss the point. It's
possible to listen to nod, to discuss, to make
it part of your weekly rhythm, and still never
ask what God is really doing. So I'll ask again
gently, but honestly, why are you here? Are you
here because this is your church and this is
what you've always done? Are you here for a quiet
moment, a familiar song? A thoughtful idea to
carry into Monday? Those things are not nothing.
But are you sure they are the reason? Because
the deeper question is not why you decided to
come. The deeper question is this, why does God
want you here? What if you are not here to observe?
You're not here to consume? What if you're not
even here just to feel encouraged? Because in
today's Gospel, Jesus does not gather the crowd
just to give them information. He gathers them
to tell them who they are. You are the salt of
the earth. You are the light of the world. Not
observers. Not spectators. Not religious consumers.
Salt. Light. Which leads to the real question
for us. Are you ready not just to learn about
salt and light, not just to admire salt and light,
but to be salt and light? It's an invitation.
Imagine standing on a salt plain beneath a wide
blazing sky. You scrape together the white crust
on the ground. salt crystals mixed with gypsum
and rock and dust and other minerals. This pile
in general is supposed to preserve your food,
to bring flavor, to sustain life. But the rain
comes. The moisture seeps in. The true salt,
the sodium chloride, it dissolves and it disappears.
And what remains is only residue. Useless powder.
Something that looks useful, but has no power
left in it. This is what people understand when
Jesus asked, how can salt lose its saltiness?
It reminds us of what Isaiah answered centuries
before. God's people were fasting. They were
praying. They were performing religious devotion,
yet they were still exploiting the workers. quarreling
with each other, striking each other with wicked
fists. They were doing everything religious that
was expected, but they were treating people with
violence like objects. They expected others to
give them what they expected. They looked faithful,
but the life of God had been washed out of the
pile. But if we're honest, that's not only their
story. We know how to do impressive religious
things. We can organize the service days. We
can fast for days and raise money for other countries.
We can fill rooms with music and emotion. We
can speak passionately about faith, yet still
ignore the injustice that benefits us. We can
protect our creature comforts while others struggle
to afford food or housing. We can discuss compassion
as an idea without ever rearranging our lives
to practice it. Salt on the surface, residue
underneath. When the storms of life come, the
pressure to fit in, the fear of opinions, the
scarcity in our shopping carts, is there anything
truly of Christ that remains? Everything else,
is any of it real? Because faith that cannot
endure or care for suffering is salt that has
already lost its taste. At this point, we might
think Jesus is saying, come on people, try harder,
do more, be better than the Pharisees. That's
not what He's saying. He says our righteousness
must surpass theirs. But it's not by effort,
but by its source. Isaiah shows the turning point.
True fasting is not performance, but humble repentance
before God. A heart honest enough to admit we
cannot save ourselves. Imagine you go to a white
elephant party. The ones where you normally expect
people to bring joke gifts and you're curious
to see what everybody gets, or maybe they bring
something that they just don't want to keep for
themselves after Christmas. And you come with
a huge, beautifully wrapped box with just a $5
Chick -fil -A card lying in the bottom. You see
everyone else start opening presents and you
are aghast because the presents have jewelry.
wine and vacation trips inside. With only your
joke gift and one other gift sitting there, you
bite your tongue, pick up your own present, open
it up in surprise, and laugh at the card inside,
glad that no one will choose your gift and that
you won't need to feel ashamed. But the host
suddenly walks over and just as you can steal
someone else's gift, grabs the cheap gift card
from you even though he saw you put that present
by the tree. And he says, I love waffle fries.
He places the gift that he bought into your hands
because he loves you. And he wants you there.
A gift that you know you could have never provided
yourself. That is the righteousness of Christ.
It is not earned. It is not proven. It is given.
with nothing in return. And only the humble can
receive a gift. Before we point at the brokenness
of the world with accusation and self -righteousness,
the Gospel turns the mirror gently toward us
so that we see exactly how our righteousness
came to be. Because the moment we confess we
are not enough, that's the moment Christ says,
I am enough for you. And for every place that
our salt has lost its taste, Christ forgives
us completely through His cross and gives His
own life in its place. Through His cross, He
takes our emptiness and in His resurrection,
He gives us life. And suddenly, righteousness
is no longer a performance, it's a relationship.
Not striving upward for grace, but receiving
grace that comes downward. Instead of blaming
others, we can start being honest about ourselves.
We become salt and light only because Christ
first became life for us. So if Christ is truly
alive and His people, what would that light look
like in the real world? Isaiah answers vividly,
Undo the injustice around you. Lift the burdens
of others. Feed the hungry. Welcome the homeless.
Clothe the naked. Do not hide from your own flesh
and blood. In other words, take care of your
family. And Jesus says that kind of life is a
city on a hill that cannot and should not be
hidden. Look around this community. Doctors,
teachers, engineers, planners, caregivers, builders,
problem solvers of every kind. Look around this
community. Is it possible that God has already
placed in this room the gifts needed to push
back darkness in real, tangible ways? Not just
one -time events. not just good intentions, but
sustained, shared work that makes hope visible
in this city. Because light is not just an idea.
Light is seen. What if in two or three or fifty
are gathered in His name to use their gifts to
actually evaluate and solve the problems of this
city? Isn't it possible that God is in our midst
and God will explain the answers to injustice
that we cannot understand by ourselves? When
the church lives this way, people do not merely
admire our programs. They glimpse for themselves
when the Kingdom of God is breaking in. So we
return to the question we started with. Why are
you here? You're not here by accident. You're
not here merely by habit. You're not here just
to listen and then leave unchanged today. You
are here because Christ has called you. Salt
of the earth, light of the world. The question
today, it's actually simple. It's not are you
ready to learn about salt and life. It's not
are you ready to think about salt and light on
Monday. It's not even are you ready to watch
God make someone else salt and light that you
can see from a distance. The real question is,
are you ready to be salt and light? Because everything
God has done in Jesus Christ was never meant
to stay at a distance from you. It was meant
to live in you. It was meant to move through
you. The church can stay busy. We can organize
our events. We can fill the calendars. We can
make everything look efficient, productive, successful.
We can even convince ourselves that being active
is the same as faithfulness. But Jesus did not
say you are the well -organized of the world.
Jesus did not say you are the well -scheduled
of the world. He said, you are the salt of the
earth. You are the light of the world. Not someday.
Not when you feel ready. Not when you finally
have everything figured out. You are now. Because
the gifts are already here. I see them right
now. The calling is already spoken. Christ is
already present among His people. So the question
is not whether God will act. The question is
whether we will step into what He is already
doing. Will we be a people who loosen the bonds
of injustice? Who share bread with the hungry?
Who welcome the forgotten? Who refuse to hide
from our own flesh and blood? Will we be salt
that preserves life? And light that makes hope
visible? not by our strength, not by our perfection,
but because Christ Himself is our righteousness,
our life, our light. This is not a burden placed
on our shoulders. It is an invitation placed
in your hands. Come be who Christ has already
made you to be. Come live the life that is already
yours in Him. Come be salt. Come be light. Now
watch what God will do through ordinary people
who finally believe the Kingdom of Gospel is
true. And even when our light feels small, His
light never fails. He is with you. He goes before
you. And He will finish the work He has begun.