The Salt and the Light

Transcript

Good morning, saints. If I haven’t had a chance to meet you yet, my name is Andrey. I’m a member of this beautiful church body, and I have the immense privilege of serving here as one of the staff pastors. If we haven’t met, I sure would like to.

Friends, we just wrapped up our study of John’s Gospel, and next week we’ll begin a three-part miniseries on Romans chapter 1. But today, we’ll look briefly at one very important, albeit small, section of the best sermon ever preached—Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. By the way, if it’s been some time since you’ve read through the Sermon on the Mount, or if you’ve never read it, I encourage you to sit down this week and read Matthew chapters 5 through 7 in one sitting. Hear it as one continuous sermon. I think it will bless and encourage you, and help you imagine yourself among those first listeners, hearing Jesus teach about the whole of Christian life.

Today, we’re looking at Matthew 5

, where Jesus speaks of salt and light. Saints, if you’re able, would you please stand for the reading of God’s Word:

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet. You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

This is the Word of the Lord, saints. Thanks be to God. Please be seated.

Would you join me for a word of prayer?

Father, would you open our eyes to see in your Word what you need us to see? Spirit, would you correct the things that I might say or be tempted to say that are not reflective of what you want your people to hear this morning? Would you correct my words even as they leave my mouth and land in people’s ears, and impart them on our hearts in the way that you would have us live these truths out? Jesus, we thank you that it is only in you that we come to your Word and have understanding. It’s in your name we pray, amen.

When I was a college and young adult pastor at the church I served before coming to Trinity, I stepped into that ministry by walking through the Sermon on the Mount. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty and wisdom of this sermon in seminary that I knew, as I began preaching to college students, I wanted to walk through it with them. It was a huge blessing—at least to me. You’ll have to ask them.

Why the Sermon on the Mount? What makes this portion of Scripture so invaluable for the Christian life? In it, Jesus takes the broader theme of the kingdom and what it means to be a citizen of that kingdom. He addresses people’s presuppositions—religious, cultural, political, societal, family structures—and reframes them. He often says, “You have heard… but I say to you.” He doesn’t uproot everything, but he shows there’s more than outward appearance or mere behavior. There’s something deeper, something at the inner level that changes how we think about lust, murder, generosity, prayer, and so on.

Jesus is reframing how his listeners—and Christians throughout history—think about being citizens of the kingdom, children of God, born again. The section we’ve just read is arguably one of the most familiar parts of Jesus’ sermon. These metaphors—salt and light—are well-known, often used to describe how Christians are to operate in the world. But because of their familiarity, I want you to imagine hearing them for the first time. Picture yourself at Jesus’ feet, listening to this wise teacher, trying to wrap your head around his revolutionary words.

Coming out of the Beatitudes, we enter the body of the sermon. In the Beatitudes, Jesus lays out what it means to be blessed, to be happy, to flourish. Jonathan Pennington, in his commentary, calls this “the Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing.” Jesus frames what blessedness looks like.

Let me read the beginning of chapter 5 to frame the salt and light metaphors:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

Jesus challenges the idea of what it means to be blessed—not just for his original listeners, but for us today. He redefines success: it’s mourning, meekness, hungering for righteousness, being a peacemaker. After defining happiness and blessedness, Jesus tells his followers what to do with that blessedness as citizens of the new kingdom.

If the Beatitudes describe the essential character of Jesus’ disciples, the salt and light metaphors indicate their influence for good in the world. In other words, the Christian is saved for something—not just saved and “chilling.” The Christian is saved to do something with that salvation.

It’s interesting that the people described in the Beatitudes seem weak and unimpressive, yet Jesus says they are to exert a healthy influence in the world—even as a minority. Jesus knew their strength was not their own. The world may hate and persecute the church, but the church is called to serve that world. As Rudolf Stier wrote, “This must be your only retaliation: love and truth for hatred and lies.”

Jesus is saying that it’s impossible to follow the kingdom’s norms in a purely private way. The call to blessedness is also a call to public witness—to shine your light, to live outwardly so others see your blessedness in practical ways. The righteousness of your life will attract attention—even persecution. There is no such thing as an undercover Christian. Nowhere in the New Testament is this presented as an option.

There’s a story about President Woodrow Wilson, who once encountered D.L. Moody in a barber shop. Wilson said, “Every word he uttered, though not in the least didactic, showed a personal interest in the man who was serving him. Before I got through, I was aware that I had attended an evangelistic service, because Mr. Moody was in the next chair. I lingered after he left and noticed the effect his visit had on the barbers. They talked in undertones. They did not know his name, but they knew something had elevated their thoughts, and I felt I left that place as I should have left a place of worship.”

That’s how we should be, saints. Our presence should bring light and joy and the blessings of God to those around us. In these four verses, Jesus gives a mandate for Christians to influence the world. This is not a suggestion.

Let’s look at each metaphor separately. First, “salt of the earth.” Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth.” This isn’t just a compliment or a catchy title. He’s telling his disciples what they are, which defines what they do and how they live. We should ask, what did salt mean to his listeners?

R.C. Sproul, in his commentary, offers a helpful framework: salt’s zest, its function as a preservative, and its provocation of thirst. Let’s consider each.

First, salt adds zest to life. In the ancient world, salt gave flavor to food. As Christians, we’re not called to remove ourselves from the world. While we should flee sin and bad influences, Jesus calls us to be present in the world, not to isolate ourselves like monks. In John 17

, Jesus prays, “I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one… As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world.”

We are not simply salt of the earth; we are salt for the earth. Christians are often perceived as killjoys, but of all people, we should be the most joy-filled. We know the Creator of all good things and should show the world the joy God has granted us in Christ. We should add spice to this world as representatives of the true King, knowing that this is just the beginning and that eternal joy awaits us.

Salt is also a preservative. In the ancient world, salt preserved food from decay. One of the church’s tasks is to display God’s common grace to the world—kindness and the preservation of good, true, and beautiful things. While critics point to evils done in the name of Christianity, history shows that Christianity has preserved and advanced much good: challenging pagan practices, elevating the status of women, founding universities, inspiring the arts, starting hospitals and orphanages, and sowing the seeds of abolition. Where Christians have been obedient to this command, they’ve preserved what is worth preserving.

Even now, God uses his people to slow the rot and decay of the world. The only thing that keeps the world from self-destruction is the influence of Christ and his people. God said he would use his people to bless the world and make his Son known. We are not called to give up or complain about how bad things are, but to preserve what is good by loving, persevering, and doing good—even to our enemies.

The third function of salt is to provoke thirst. We are to make people thirsty for the living water Jesus offers. Jesus said to the Samaritan woman, “Whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again.” To provoke thirst, we must be salty. Jesus warns against salt losing its saltiness—something that could happen with Dead Sea salt mixed with minerals. If we’ve allowed the world to contaminate us, we may lose our saltiness. The difference between a Christian and an unbeliever should be profound—not only in what we profess, but in how we live.

If your life is not different from the world around you, that should set off alarm bells. Jesus says it’s not possible for salt to not be salty. Your life should be so joyful and meaningful that it provokes thirst in others. As Peter writes in 1 Peter 3

, “Always be prepared to offer a defense for the hope that is in you,” and to do so with gentleness and respect.

The salt metaphor shouldn’t be read strictly one way. Salt is essential, useful, and distinctive. The loss of it is devastating. If the saltiness in us is Christ in us, what we show the world is that we belong to him. If that’s missing, perhaps Jesus is missing—or we’ve become too entrenched in the world.

Now, the second picture: “You are the light of the world.” After the salt image, Jesus gives another title. But wait—Jesus is the light of the world! Why does he call his disciples this? Because it’s his light, given to us. It’s a borrowed light, a reflection of his. If we have this light, it cannot be hidden. When someone is rescued from darkness, they begin to radiate the light of Christ, and it’s noticeable. Their decisions, families, relationships, and pursuits change.

Just as salt preserves against decay, light brings truth and rescues people from darkness. When we shine the light of Christ, people see him in us. When you were saved, did your unbelieving friends notice something different? Did it open doors for conversations about Jesus? That’s what he’s talking about—your light will shine, and people will want to know why.

During the Protestant Reformation, the motto was “post tenebras lux”—after darkness, light. The reformers saw that the world was covered in darkness, even the church. But equipped with the Word of God and led by the Spirit, God’s people acted, and light burst forth. We are still recipients of that blessing today.

Note that Jesus speaks of a city on a hill—a community. The call is for every Christian to be light, but also for all these little lights together to be a bright beacon to the world. When Christ came into the world, engulfed in darkness, he told his disciples to shine the light he brought. He didn’t call them to a private, quiet life. No one lights a candle and covers it up. That light needs to be placed on a stand to light the whole house. Jesus says, let your light shine like that, so others may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

This light is a contribution Jesus gives to a dying world—his grace, shared through his people. So, friend, live in such a way as to be a noticeable, positive force for good, showing to whom you belong. The world will see your mercy, your care for those in need, your kindness and patience, your navigation of adversity. God will be glorified in you. That’s our mission: to glorify God. Whatever you do, it should manifest his light. That’s what we are—salt of the earth, light of the world, for his glory.

A Christian’s character is described in the Beatitudes; a Christian’s influence is seen in these verses. No one can experience the blessings of the Beatitudes without being born again, and no one can be salt and light without being given new life, a new heart, and a new mission.

Friends, I encourage you to evaluate your life. Think about how you move through the world, your identity, your choices, your priorities. See where you stand before God, and whether your standing influences how you live. Consider this great and weighty calling—the privilege of being salt and light, of showing Christ and making him known for his glory.

As I preach this, I recognize that the call to live this way is not easy, especially when life is challenging. Many of you are dealing with loss, grief, illness, financial struggles, uncertainty. The trials and pains of this life are many. Yet Jesus calls every one of his people to be salt and light. This means intentional Christian living, doing good in your community and workplace, shining the truth of Jesus wherever you go. But it also means rejoicing in the midst of trials and suffering, finding comfort and hope even when circumstances don’t make sense. It’s living out what Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 6:10: “as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.”

The life we live, whatever the present circumstances, is lived in light of the one who loved us and gave himself for us. That’s a beautiful life—a life worth sharing.

So saints, can I encourage you? I know it’s hard. I know it’s painful. Many of you are in the thick of it. But the way you experience pain and suffering makes Jesus known to the world and allows you to be the salt and light he called you to be.

Would you pray with me?

Our Lord and our God, we don’t know all the ways you will use us, but we know you will never let anything in our life be wasted. As we endeavor to make you known to a world that so desperately needs you, please help us. Help us to be the salt you’ve called us to be. Help us to add flavor and point others to the Creator of all good and beautiful things. Help us to preserve good and beautiful things in the world around us. Help us to live in such a way as to provoke thirst for you. And may what we do, what we say, and how we move through the world emanate your light to a world trapped in darkness. Use us however you see fit. We ask in the name of the one who is worthy of all glory—Jesus. Amen.

Thank you.