Matthew 5:13-20
I’m not one to comment on the weather these days. Seems like everyone else is doing plenty of that and there is really nothing more to be said about it. We all know it has been a tough winter. I am beginning to forget what my yard looks like underneath all the snow, everything on my calendar now has an implicit question mark-depending on our snow emergency level for that day, and when I walk out the door I brace myself for the smack of freezing air that will hit my face. It’s cold, snowy and bleak. Spring seems far away.
I’m sure you noticed that I am pregnant. You may be wondering if every pastor in the Maumee Watershed District is a young woman having babies, but really it’s just me and your pastor. My due date is March 25, so my countdown to Spring has been going on for some time. The runny noses and aches and pains of winter have been many for me, and I have found myself longing for Spring. Both for the day I will hold my baby and the day when I can look outside and see sunshine and green again. The empty trees and cold winds of winter can create in us a sense of longing. Longing for new life, for clear driveways, for outdoor fun and mostly for the feeling of the warm sun shining down on our face. February is a time of year when many of us find ourselves longing for light.
And so it is nice to hear in our Gospel reading today about light. Bright shining light. And we hear about it from someone, who like us is longing to see it, feel it, experience it. Jesus delivers the words of this passage and he is looking for light. He is preaching for his followers to be light. He is longing for those who hear his words to let his light shine within and through them. He is longing for more light in the world.
And I can understand why. Much of what we know of Jesus’ life is difficult times. He sees a lot of people suffering. He sees death, illness and despair among people of all ages and social status. We know that when he arrives somewhere he is often met by a crowd of people in need of physical healing. A people longing to be restored, be whole.
We also know that he encounters a lot of resistance, many hardened hearts. He has pharisees criticizing his every move, people plotting against him, disciples lacking faith and some people even trying to throw him off a cliff. Jesus sees a lot of judgment, hypocrisy, frustration, bitterness … a lot of darkness.
And everywhere- both then and today, there are people who are longing for a savior. Hopeful hearts wondering if he is the one they have been looking for, wondering if salvation has come, if God is here. People who are longing for a messiah, a light to enlighten the nations.
And so Jesus asks his followers … us … to be light. He says, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” In a sea of illness, pain and suffering, a society of hardened hearts, resistance and disbelief, in a world of longing and hopelessness, Jesus calls on those who hear him to be light. To be different. To push against the darkness. To answer his longing, be the people God calls us to be, be the way in which the light of Christ can shine in the world.
So what does this mean to be light? Does it mean random acts of kindness, kind notes in the mail and a smile for others to see. Perhaps. But just when we think we can get comfortable, Jesus reminds us that we are to live for God, not for ourselves, and so, that means discomfort, doing things that are challenging, putting in effort. Being the light of the world means more than just a wink and a smile, it means a life lived for Christ, and, as Jesus clarifies in this passage, a life lived adhering to the law.
Right after his talk about salt and light, Jesus reminds his listeners that he is not here to erase all that has been done before him. Following Jesus does not mean we throw the words of the prophets and the commandments of God into historical record and oblivion. Rather, following Jesus, being the light of the world means we obey God, we strive for righteousness. It means that we love the Lord our God with all our heart and all our soul and our neighbor as ourselves.
This is about radical obedience. Self-emptying love, genuine discipleship. It is about reordering our life to be in line with God’s call. Not just being happy or comfortable or nice for a day. This is a call to work for justice as the prophets implored, to worship God only as the Old Testament teaches and to hand over selfish needs for the good of the community, including the poor and forsaken. This is what it means to let your light shine. This is the light Jesus is longing for.
And I don’t think Jesus is the only one longing for this light. Aren’t you longing to experience the light of Christ in another person? How wonderful is it when we find examples of God’s love and peace in our world. When we meet someone who genuinely cares about others, about us. When a voice is willing to speak against the dominant voices of criticism, hopelessness, violence, darkness, selfishness and materialism. Isn’t it inspiring when we find people who live not for money, or material things but for Christ. When the radical love of Christ interrupts our day. When the peace of Christ breaks through the chaos. When the light of Christ casts out our own darkness. Yes, we too are longing for light, longing to find it in others, to be warmed by it, to watch it spread, to have our own light uncovered, unhidden. We are longing to feel the warmth of the son of God. Longing for resurrection hope. For genuine experiences of God’s love.
I want to share with you a time when I recently felt the light of Christ through the genuine love of another. It was just this last Christmas Eve. Since my husband is also a pastor, I have grown accustomed to worshiping on Christmas Eve without my family. Last year I kissed my then 1 year old and my husband goodbye and went to lead worship watching other families sit together in the pews, knowing when I got home my husband would be at his second service and my son would be asleep. So this year I was so excited to worship with my family. It was a busy day of gift-wrapping and preparing our holiday travel for the week, and then I put my now 2 year old son in his brand new suit complete with a vest and tie and we went to church. It was crowded and very warm. It was also my son’s usual dinner time. When we came to the part in the service when the lights dim and we sing Silent Night, all was calm and quiet … except my son’s whining. I tried everything to get him to be quiet. I knew if I carried him out he would start yelling and it’s hard for me to hurry these days, plus the automatic lights in the hallway would come on and light up the back of the sanctuary. When the singing stopped he wanted his tie off, he was sweating. He started to head to the fellowship hall for his usual coffee hour bagel, but I told him we were going home. That is when he freaked. His first temper tantrum … in front of everyone. I eventually had to pick him up and carry him literally kicking and screaming to the car where we sat for 30 minutes until he calmed down enough to get into his car seat. I was embarrassed, tired and frustrated. I wanted to throw a tantrum of my own.
It was Christmas Eve and as I went to bed that night I wasn’t thinking about God incarnate and the amazing birth of Christ, rather I was wondering if I was a terrible parent and how many more public meltdowns I must endure. Mercifully, sleep came, but not for long. My son came in to wake me up a few hours later. I walked him back to his bed, and 15 minutes later he was back in my room. The third time I was scolding him, I was exhausted and he was sobbing. Somehow though, my night time discipline strategies and irritation gave way to compassion. I sat down on his bed and he climbed onto my lap. He laid his head on my shoulder so that our cheeks were pressed together and he clung tightly to my pajamas. I felt his tear-soaked cheek and hugged his little body that was snug in his Santa Claus pajamas, and I sang “Silent Night” and rocked him until his head grew heavy and his eyes were closed.
In that moment, somewhere between 2 and 3am early Christmas morning, somewhere between asleep and awake, I had an overwhelming sense of the light of Christ. After all of the holiday chaos, the shopping and visits to see Santa and expectations and wrapping presents, I was finally able to let go and open my heart. I understood God with us, God’s intimate love, God longing for a relationship with humanity. My son showed me the light of Christ by embracing me with open arms, needing me, longing for me and loving me not because of anything else except who I am. Forgiving me for the many parenting mistakes I make and just wrapping his arms around me. And I in turn was able to give mercy, forgiveness, kindness and genuine love. I was able to set aside my own ego and desires for comfort to be the loving presence of God for another. In the darkness of his bedroom, the light of Christ was shining.
And I know that is something I will long for many times in my life. When I am frustrated by others, when I want to be mean, when I want to turn to despair, I will remember that moment and long to feel Christ’s light again. And I know that one day, there will come a time when I won’t have a little child in my house Christmas Eve night, no one will be calling for me at 2am and the comfort of my pillow will seem small compared with the warmth of that memory, that night when I was embraced by the light of Christ. And I will long to feel that again.
The light of Christ is real. It is here to be experienced, in our brave battles for justice, our kindness toward others and our simple, quiet moments. It is here to be uncovered and shared with others by living out the law, loving God with all our hearts and our neighbors as ourselves, ridding our hearts of selfish desire and longing for Christ. So let us live with longing. Let us look for and long to see others shining in the light of Christ. Let us hear Christ’s longing for us to let our light shine. And let the light of Christ overcome all darkness within and around us so that others may see our good works and give glory to our God in heaven. Amen.
I’m not one to comment on the weather these days. Seems like everyone else is doing plenty of that and there is really nothing more to be said about it. We all know it has been a tough winter. I am beginning to forget what my yard looks like underneath all the snow, everything on my calendar now has an implicit question mark-depending on our snow emergency level for that day, and when I walk out the door I brace myself for the smack of freezing air that will hit my face. It’s cold, snowy and bleak. Spring seems far away.
I’m sure you noticed that I am pregnant. You may be wondering if every pastor in the Maumee Watershed District is a young woman having babies, but really it’s just me and your pastor. My due date is March 25, so my countdown to Spring has been going on for some time. The runny noses and aches and pains of winter have been many for me, and I have found myself longing for Spring. Both for the day I will hold my baby and the day when I can look outside and see sunshine and green again. The empty trees and cold winds of winter can create in us a sense of longing. Longing for new life, for clear driveways, for outdoor fun and mostly for the feeling of the warm sun shining down on our face. February is a time of year when many of us find ourselves longing for light.
And so it is nice to hear in our Gospel reading today about light. Bright shining light. And we hear about it from someone, who like us is longing to see it, feel it, experience it. Jesus delivers the words of this passage and he is looking for light. He is preaching for his followers to be light. He is longing for those who hear his words to let his light shine within and through them. He is longing for more light in the world.
And I can understand why. Much of what we know of Jesus’ life is difficult times. He sees a lot of people suffering. He sees death, illness and despair among people of all ages and social status. We know that when he arrives somewhere he is often met by a crowd of people in need of physical healing. A people longing to be restored, be whole.
We also know that he encounters a lot of resistance, many hardened hearts. He has pharisees criticizing his every move, people plotting against him, disciples lacking faith and some people even trying to throw him off a cliff. Jesus sees a lot of judgment, hypocrisy, frustration, bitterness … a lot of darkness.
And everywhere- both then and today, there are people who are longing for a savior. Hopeful hearts wondering if he is the one they have been looking for, wondering if salvation has come, if God is here. People who are longing for a messiah, a light to enlighten the nations.
And so Jesus asks his followers … us … to be light. He says, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” In a sea of illness, pain and suffering, a society of hardened hearts, resistance and disbelief, in a world of longing and hopelessness, Jesus calls on those who hear him to be light. To be different. To push against the darkness. To answer his longing, be the people God calls us to be, be the way in which the light of Christ can shine in the world.
So what does this mean to be light? Does it mean random acts of kindness, kind notes in the mail and a smile for others to see. Perhaps. But just when we think we can get comfortable, Jesus reminds us that we are to live for God, not for ourselves, and so, that means discomfort, doing things that are challenging, putting in effort. Being the light of the world means more than just a wink and a smile, it means a life lived for Christ, and, as Jesus clarifies in this passage, a life lived adhering to the law.
Right after his talk about salt and light, Jesus reminds his listeners that he is not here to erase all that has been done before him. Following Jesus does not mean we throw the words of the prophets and the commandments of God into historical record and oblivion. Rather, following Jesus, being the light of the world means we obey God, we strive for righteousness. It means that we love the Lord our God with all our heart and all our soul and our neighbor as ourselves.
This is about radical obedience. Self-emptying love, genuine discipleship. It is about reordering our life to be in line with God’s call. Not just being happy or comfortable or nice for a day. This is a call to work for justice as the prophets implored, to worship God only as the Old Testament teaches and to hand over selfish needs for the good of the community, including the poor and forsaken. This is what it means to let your light shine. This is the light Jesus is longing for.
And I don’t think Jesus is the only one longing for this light. Aren’t you longing to experience the light of Christ in another person? How wonderful is it when we find examples of God’s love and peace in our world. When we meet someone who genuinely cares about others, about us. When a voice is willing to speak against the dominant voices of criticism, hopelessness, violence, darkness, selfishness and materialism. Isn’t it inspiring when we find people who live not for money, or material things but for Christ. When the radical love of Christ interrupts our day. When the peace of Christ breaks through the chaos. When the light of Christ casts out our own darkness. Yes, we too are longing for light, longing to find it in others, to be warmed by it, to watch it spread, to have our own light uncovered, unhidden. We are longing to feel the warmth of the son of God. Longing for resurrection hope. For genuine experiences of God’s love.
I want to share with you a time when I recently felt the light of Christ through the genuine love of another. It was just this last Christmas Eve. Since my husband is also a pastor, I have grown accustomed to worshiping on Christmas Eve without my family. Last year I kissed my then 1 year old and my husband goodbye and went to lead worship watching other families sit together in the pews, knowing when I got home my husband would be at his second service and my son would be asleep. So this year I was so excited to worship with my family. It was a busy day of gift-wrapping and preparing our holiday travel for the week, and then I put my now 2 year old son in his brand new suit complete with a vest and tie and we went to church. It was crowded and very warm. It was also my son’s usual dinner time. When we came to the part in the service when the lights dim and we sing Silent Night, all was calm and quiet … except my son’s whining. I tried everything to get him to be quiet. I knew if I carried him out he would start yelling and it’s hard for me to hurry these days, plus the automatic lights in the hallway would come on and light up the back of the sanctuary. When the singing stopped he wanted his tie off, he was sweating. He started to head to the fellowship hall for his usual coffee hour bagel, but I told him we were going home. That is when he freaked. His first temper tantrum … in front of everyone. I eventually had to pick him up and carry him literally kicking and screaming to the car where we sat for 30 minutes until he calmed down enough to get into his car seat. I was embarrassed, tired and frustrated. I wanted to throw a tantrum of my own.
It was Christmas Eve and as I went to bed that night I wasn’t thinking about God incarnate and the amazing birth of Christ, rather I was wondering if I was a terrible parent and how many more public meltdowns I must endure. Mercifully, sleep came, but not for long. My son came in to wake me up a few hours later. I walked him back to his bed, and 15 minutes later he was back in my room. The third time I was scolding him, I was exhausted and he was sobbing. Somehow though, my night time discipline strategies and irritation gave way to compassion. I sat down on his bed and he climbed onto my lap. He laid his head on my shoulder so that our cheeks were pressed together and he clung tightly to my pajamas. I felt his tear-soaked cheek and hugged his little body that was snug in his Santa Claus pajamas, and I sang “Silent Night” and rocked him until his head grew heavy and his eyes were closed.
In that moment, somewhere between 2 and 3am early Christmas morning, somewhere between asleep and awake, I had an overwhelming sense of the light of Christ. After all of the holiday chaos, the shopping and visits to see Santa and expectations and wrapping presents, I was finally able to let go and open my heart. I understood God with us, God’s intimate love, God longing for a relationship with humanity. My son showed me the light of Christ by embracing me with open arms, needing me, longing for me and loving me not because of anything else except who I am. Forgiving me for the many parenting mistakes I make and just wrapping his arms around me. And I in turn was able to give mercy, forgiveness, kindness and genuine love. I was able to set aside my own ego and desires for comfort to be the loving presence of God for another. In the darkness of his bedroom, the light of Christ was shining.
And I know that is something I will long for many times in my life. When I am frustrated by others, when I want to be mean, when I want to turn to despair, I will remember that moment and long to feel Christ’s light again. And I know that one day, there will come a time when I won’t have a little child in my house Christmas Eve night, no one will be calling for me at 2am and the comfort of my pillow will seem small compared with the warmth of that memory, that night when I was embraced by the light of Christ. And I will long to feel that again.
The light of Christ is real. It is here to be experienced, in our brave battles for justice, our kindness toward others and our simple, quiet moments. It is here to be uncovered and shared with others by living out the law, loving God with all our hearts and our neighbors as ourselves, ridding our hearts of selfish desire and longing for Christ. So let us live with longing. Let us look for and long to see others shining in the light of Christ. Let us hear Christ’s longing for us to let our light shine. And let the light of Christ overcome all darkness within and around us so that others may see our good works and give glory to our God in heaven. Amen.
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