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? It sounds like a simple question.
But it isn't. Not really. Why were the crowds
gathered around Jesus on the hillside long ago?
Were they curious? Were they looking for something
interesting to hear? Were they hoping to witness
a spectacle? Were they wanting a new discussion
topic for the walk home? When people gathered
around Jesus on the hillsides and in the streets,
they had their reasons. Some came because everyone
else was going. It had become the event, a spectacle,
the place where something might happen. Some
came because they were 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 the 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?
Not here to consume? 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
Because that's the invitation Imagine standing
on a salt plain Beneath a wide blazing sky and
you scrape together the white crust that is on
the ground Salt crystals mixed with gypsum and
rock and dust and all the 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, dissolves and disappears.
And what remains is only residue, useless powder.
Something that looks useful, but has no power
left in it. That is what people understand when
Jesus asks, 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 the religious devotion.
Yet they were still exploiting workers for their
own gain, quarreling with one another, 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. And if we're honest,
it's not only their story. We know how to do
impressive religious things. We can organize
service days. fast for days and raise money for
other countries, we can fill rooms with music
and emotion, and we can speak passionately about
faith, yet still ignore the injustices that benefit
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 anything in our lives to practice
it. salt on the surface, residue underneath.
And when the storms of life come, pressure to
fit in, the fear of others' opinions, the scarcity
that's in our shopping cart, if there's anything
truly of Christ that remains, everything else,
is any of it real? Because faith that cannot
endure or care for the suffering is salt that
has already lost its taste. At this point, we
might be thinking of Jesus as if he were saying,
try harder, do more, be better than the Pharisees.
That's not what he's saying. He says our righteousness
must surpass theirs, but not by effort, 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. You know the ones people
bring their joke gifts along, and you try to
grab one, hope it's one that's fun enough, and
maybe steal one that you like that someone else
had. Maybe it's one of those things, it's something
you got at Christmas, and you really didn't want
to keep it, so you re -gifted it at the party.
And so you come along with a huge, beautifully
wrapped box with a $5 Chick -fil -A card down
on the inside. You see everyone else start opening
the presents and your heart drops as you see
them open jewelry, wine, vacation trips. And
with only your gift and one other sitting there,
you tentatively pick up your own present, open
it up, laugh at the Chick -fil -A card inside,
and you're just glad that no one chose your gift,
so you don't have to feel ashamed at what you
brought. But the host suddenly walks over, grabs
that cheap gift card from you in a steal, even
though he saw you put that present under the
tree, and he says, I love waffle fries. and He
places the gift that He bought into your hands
because He loves you and He wants you there,
a gift that you could have never provided yourself.
That is the righteousness of Christ. Not earned.
Not proven. Given. And only the humble can receive
a gift. So before we point at the brokenness
of the world, with accusation and self -righteousness,
the Gospel turns the mirror gently toward us,
so we can see exactly how our righteousness came
to be. Because the moment we confess we are not
enough, Christ says, I am enough for you. And
for every place that our salt has lost its taste,
Christ forgives us completely. through the cross
and gives us his own life in our 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
the grace that is coming downward for us. 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 in 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
be hidden. Look around this community. I'm looking
at you. Doctors, teachers, engineers, planners,
caregivers, builders, problem solvers of every
kind in this room. Look around. Is it possible
God has already placed in this room all the gifts
that are needed to push back the darkness in
real and tangible ways? Not just our one -time
events, not just our good intentions, but sustained
shared work that makes hope visible in Houston.
Because light is not just an idea. Light is seen.
and its warmth is felt. So what if when two or
three are gathered in His name, or a hundred,
to use their gifts to evaluate and solve the
problems of this city, isn't it possible that
God is in our midst, even now, and will explain
the answers to injustice that we could not possibly
understand by ourselves? Because 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 leave unchanged. You're here because Christ
has called you. He has called you salt of the
earth. He has called you light of the world.
And the question today is simple. Not are you
ready to learn about salt and light today. Not
are you ready to think about salt and light today.
Not even are you ready to watch God make someone
else salt and light, and you say good job. 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 and move
through you. The church can stay busy. We can
organize events. We can fill the calendars. We
can make everything look efficient, productive,
successful. We can even convince ourselves that
every activity is the same thing as our faithfulness.
But Jesus did not say, you are the well organized
of the world. He 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 and get
inspired. You are now. Because the gifts are
already here. 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's
already doing. Will we be a people who loosen
the bonds of injustice? Will we be the ones who
share bread with the hungry? Will we welcome
the forgotten? Will we 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, He's not a burden placed on your shoulders.
This is an invitation placed in your hands. So
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. Watch what God will
do. Through ordinary people, who finally believe
the kingdom of the 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. Thanks be to God.