Saturday, May 12, 2012

Sermon on Matthew 5:11-16


Matthew 5:11-16

11“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
13“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. 14“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.




How many of you have ever been up to Tellico? It's not to far from here, and it's beautiful country—especially in the fall, when God paints the hillsides with colors that never fail to catch my breath. If you've been to Tellico, you know that it's not exactly filled with four lane highways. Most of it is pretty rural.
A few years back, my mom rented a cabin out in the mountains with some friends who had come down for a weekend photography shoot. It's important to note here that this was before I bought my new-ish car, and the car I was driving was less than entirely dependable. I drove up to spend the day with them, and then we had dinner, and pretty soon the entire day had slipped by. I went to leave, and only then did I realize that it was really dark out there. They don't bother to put a lot of streetlights out on backcountry roads in Tellico. I doubt they do that anywhere, but at that moment I wasn't too concerned with everywhere else. I had driven out here exactly once, and suddenly my confidence was waning. I wasn't entirely sure that I'd be able to find my way home.
As I set out on the one-lane roads that winded their way from the cabin back to any road worthy of the name, I was intimidated by just how dark it was. My car's headlights fought a losing battle, failing to illuminate much of the road and all of the surrounding environment. I kept hoping that I'd make the right turns, because the realization struck me at one point that if I got lost and drove into a ravine, they wouldn't find my body for weeks, if I was lucky. What had been a scenic drive in the day was turned into a frightful experience in the dark.

The world is filled with places like that. There are places like that here in Chattanooga—places that you would approach with great fear, if at all, during the evening or night. I once had to go to Memorial Hospital at 2 in the morning to pick up Bess Jones, and I spent a good deal of time trying to figure out the best way to get there that would avoid many of the rougher parts of town. Lots of bad things go on in the night. The city of Los Angeles has had some success pushing crime out of some neighborhood parks by introducing strategically planned lighting. Many argue that this only relocates crime, but it does provide a safe place for people to gather, a place that was transformed by the introduction of light.

Most of the Bible describes the battle between good and evil as a battle between light and dark. The prologue to John's Gospel describes Christ as the light of the world, a light that comes into darkness. The darkness is said to not understand it, but it also cannot overcome it. That light shines forth, and it gives us a taste of what is to come, the image that is given to us in Revelation of the city of God, a city that will have no night, no darkness, because God will be our light.

Until Revelation, however, we continue to struggle with the forces of darkness, with the reality of evil in the world. Think of evil as a defeated animal in its death throes, violently thrashing about, claiming whatever victims it can on the way to its own destruction. We see evil at work in the world in so many ways—there is natural evil, of which we have evidence with every blue tarp that covers a tornado-ravaged roof. There is brokenness in death and disease, the breakdown of the human body—how many of you know someone who is sick with cancer or another disease? Then there is sin and evil in society, in the unjust economic imbalances and practices that keep so many poor and hungry. We have our own personal sin, the things we do and the things we don't do.

In the face of so many types and varieties of sin and evil, it feels a bit overwhelming to even talk about what we can do to resist? It feels like we're fighting a losing battle, even though we know that we're on the winning side. Every time we turn on the news we discover more examples of evil showing up and demonstrating that it still has plenty of force in the world. Holding on to good feels a bit like driving down a windy, one lane road in the mountains of Tennessee in the dark of night in an unreliable car with weak headlights—you think you know where you are going, and you know what your destination is, but in the meantime it sure doesn't feel very safe to be traveling this way.

The good news for Christians everywhere is that the darkness cannot win. Let me repeat that: it cannot win. No matter how dire it appears, no matter how depressing the news is, the darkness absolutely cannot and will not win. In Christ's death and resurrection, he has secured the future for all who are in Christ. The light of the world shines now and will shine forever, and there is nothing that darkness can do about that—but that doesn't mean that darkness will just give up.

What this means for us, though, is very, very important. The light of the world, Jesus Christ, has won the ultimate victory. What we are NOT called to do is sit back, rest on our laurels, and wait for Christ's final victory. This is not taking part in God's mission. I have said this before and I will say it again and then at least once more, we are called to join in with what God is doing, to partake in his mission during our lives. Christ is the light of the world, and he tells us that we are to let his light shine throughout the world. We are to let the light shine in us and live holy lives, avoiding sin and seeking to do God's will. Also, we are to let God's light shine through us, so that others may see us and, as Christ says, give glory to God. The entire purpose of our lives is to live in such a way that people see us and give glory to God. This is our goal!

What it means is that we're not supposed to flee from the darkness. We're not even supposed to be afraid of it. We're called to seek out the dark and plant a light there. Think of it this way—imagine that you are installing streetlights. You're called to do it in a way that is most helpful to drivers. Would you install them all right next to each other? Would you look for where other streetlights have been installed and place yours right there? No! You'd go to places like Tellico, where it's terrifying to drive around on dark roads, and install the streetlights there, to beat back the dark and give drivers the aid of light. You'd go to the darkest places, the places that are the most hazardous, and install your streetlights there! Otherwise you'd just end up with one really bright place amidst a dark world.

When we restrict our Christian practice to life within the church, this is exactly what we are doing. We're limiting the light of Christ by not letting it shine through us throughout our cities and communities. We're not helping those who dwell in darkness see the light, because the light doesn't move towards them. We're not illuminating dark places.

One final warning—one sign that we're doing this well is that we'll meet resistance. This is what Christ meant in the beginning of our passage. Those who are living faithfully will meet fierce resistance from the forces of evil. Christ tells us to rejoice and be glad, which seems crazy to do in the face of evil. You know the old saying 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me? We all know by now that's not true—words hurt plenty badly. It's hard to imagine rejoicing at harsh words hurled our way. Can you imagine us telling our children to sing: sticks and stones may break our bones, but harsh words will lead me to rejoice and be glad? It's crazy, right?
Well, yes, it is a bit crazy, but when we look through the eyes of Jesus, the world looks different. We have nothing to fear—the resistance that we meet may seem impressive, but it's like the Wizard of Oz—not nearly as scary when we peak behind the curtain. We need not fear rejection and hatred, because God has spoken the final verdict upon the cross—you are infinitely loved, infinitely valued, and accepted not because you are worthy, but because Christ loves you.

So let your light shine before others. Let Christ's light shine in you and through you, lighting up the dark places of the world, so that others may see our good works and glorify God in heaven. May all we do seek this singular purpose.

Let us pray

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