THE JOY OF WITNESSING

THE JOY OF WITNESSING Matthew 5:13-16 With grateful acknowledgement of these sources of direction and inspiration: the Holy Spirit; the Word of God; Franklin Graham, The Name; D. James Kennedy, Led By the Carpenter; Max Lucado, In the Eye of the Storm; James Sire, Why Should Anyone Believe Anything at All?; Chuck Swindoll, Simple Faith April 28, 2004 Given by: Pastor Rich Bersett [Index of Past Messages] Introductory A man walked into a little mom-and-pop grocery and asked, "Do You Sell Salt?" "Ha!" said Pop the proprietor. "Do we sell salt! Just look!" He showed the customer one entire wall of shelves with nothing but salt-Morton salt, iodized salt, kosher salt, sea salt, rock salt, garlic salt, seasoning salt, Epsom salt-every kind of salt imaginable. "Wow!" said the customer. "You think that's something?" Pop said with a wave of the hand. "That's nothing! Come look." And Pop led the customer to a back room filled with shelves and bins and cartons of salt. "Do we sell salt?" "Unbelievable!" said the customer. "You really do sell salt!" "No!" said Pop. "That's just the problem! We never sell salt! In twenty years you're the first person who ever came in and asked me for salt. But that salesman from the salt wholesale company-Hoo-boy! Can he sell salt!" We in the church are not called to sell salt, but we are called to be salt. We are also called to be light. Let's investigate those metaphors for a few minutes as we listen in to the next installment of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men." Matthew 5:13 "You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16 The General Character of the Teaching In the original language of this text the "you" is emphatic. Jesus just finished favorably comparing His followers with the persecuted prophets, indicating that those who chose to follow Him would face insults, persecution and false accusations just as Jesus would, and did. With the emphatic "you", He seems to be underscoring the point that those who chose to be His disciples were the very ones God would use in declaring His purpose to the world. What we do not find here, in spite of how you may have heard it preached and taught, is any harping on the part of Jesus that the disciples should go out and try to be salty and full of light. He simply said, You are…salt and light in this dark and dying world. You are God's chosen preservative and divine influence. But His comments are decidedly declarative and not imperative. This teaching is not a charge to become salt and light or to work at becoming saltier or more like light. It is rather an encouraging celebration of the truth that when a person comes to God through Jesus, God makes them into something. You see, followers of Christ are changed by the gospel. And it is this very change that makes them influential in the world. People notice when other people change for the better. The world is used to people going from good to bad or from bad to worse-that's the natural direction of sinners-moral entropy. But when someone becomes better, morally speaking, it is cause for those around them to sit up and take notice. The critics of President George W. Bush have pointed their fingers at his past and his history of drinking and carousing. But what stops them short is the fact that he has changed. It is his testimony that God has changed him. We're all sinners and it's pretty hard to continue criticizing someone who has repented and changed. When God gets hold of a person, forgives him and brings him into His family, calls him into Christ and enter into him by the Spirit, change begins to happen. And the world takes note. Christians are not perfect. It isn't perfection that others notice-they're wowed enough by moral and ethical change for the better! But it's the work of God in their lives. This process of change, theologically called sanctification, is designed by the Lord to influence the rest of the watching world in three ways: 1) it is attractive like light, 2) it serves as a preservative like salt, and 3) it is often repulsive to the world, which leads to persecution and insults. That's the general character of the teaching. Jesus is brings an encouraging word along with a discouraging warning. Follow me and I will change you from the inside out. When the world begins to notice that change in your life and lifestyle, they will be positively influenced and affected by it. You'll be doing some good in this world, fulfilling your purpose. Then, they will turn on you, in one way or the other. Even then you will be able to be glad and rejoice in spite of it, to endure and be victorious, "because great is your reward in heaven…" (Matthew 5:12) The Command in the Teaching I mentioned that the tone of the teaching is encouraging and that it is not a strong hortatory command. But there is a command that is folded into the teaching. He does not say, Get salty and be more light, but He does warn against hiding the light. Follow the reasoning. God is changing you and making you radiant to the world around you. Don't hide or cover up that light so that it can't reach others. Even with the metaphor of salt the same thing is implicit. He says, what if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? The implied answer is, It can't! Once its flavoring and preserving qualities have leached out of salt, it is worthless! "It is not longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men." The challenge is the same as with the light metaphor. God has made you light, reflective of His own character and glory-don't hide it, let it shine. God has made you salt, don't lose your saltiness. How does a believer hide his light or waste his saltiness? Here are a couple of suggestions: 1. Spiritual sloth (really, an outgrowth of idolatry) If we're not careful, our concerns for the things of this life, our comfort and self-satisfaction will crowd out our responsibility to keep the bowl off our lamp and to keep our salt about us. There's an easy, one-question quiz that will help you determine whether or not you're covering your light or leaking your saltiness. The question: When is the last time you clearly influenced another person toward Christ? If it wasn't yesterday or this past week, there might be reason to ask yourself Why not? Inherent in our faith there is a desire, an ache, to see others come to faith in Jesus like we did. We can't medicate away that ache with the ointment of sloth. We have fellow believers all over the world standing tall for Christ, many in the face of persecution and threat of death. We are called to do our part, and if something in our lives is hampering it we must eliminate it. Same is true corporately of the church. We must keep God's mission first & do what it takes. 2. Walking by sight, not by faith (thinking more of the momentary trial than the eternal reward). You know, it's just easier to avoid sharing Christ with others. But it is our calling to witness to others about Christ's saving love. What we need to keep in mind is our ultimate reward. We who have trusted Christ get heaven one day. When we keep our focus on that hope, being salty light-bearers is a no-brainer. There's another way we walk by sight instead of faith. That's when we start making judgments about whether a person will be responsive to the gospel. We think, Oh, he'll never obey the gospel-why share with him? I'm glad people I know didn't say that about me and give up on me. Trying to decide who will and who won't just isn't our job in the first place! We are share Christ, period. We rely on the Holy Spirit's leading and power to do so as clearly and compellingly as we can, but we know that we do not convict or convince anyone. 3. Fearing men more than God (being to worried about offending-pride) Max Lucado, In the Eye of the Storm, page 73 Dear Friend, I'm writing to say thanks. I wish I could thank you personally, but I don't know where you are. I wish I could call you, but I don't know your name. if I knew your appearance, I'd look for you, but your face is fuzzy in my memory. But I'll never forget what you did. There you were, leaning against your pickup in the West Texas oil field. An engineer of some sort. A supervisor on the job. Your khakis and clean shirt set you apart from us roustabouts. In the oil field pecking order, we were at the bottom. You were the boss. We were the workers. You read the blueprints. We dug the ditches. You inspected the pipe. We laid it. You ate with the bosses in the shed. We ate with each other in the shade. Except that day. I remember wondering why you did it. We weren't much to look at. What wasn't sweaty was oily. Faces burnt from the sun; skin black from the grease. Didn't bother me, though. I was there only for the summer. A high-school boy earning good money laying pipe. . . . a summer job. For the others, it was a way of life. Most were illegal immigrants from Mexico. Others were drifters, bouncing across the prairie as rootless as tumbleweeds. We weren't much to listen to, either. Our language was sandpaper coarse. After lunch, we'd light the cigarettes and begin the jokes. Someone always had a deck of cards with lacy-clad girls on the back. For thirty minutes in the heat of the day, the oil patch became Las Vegas-replete with foul language, dirty stories, blackjack, and barstools that doubled as lunch pails. In the middle of such a game, you approached us. I thought you had a job for us that couldn't wait another few minutes. Like the others, I groaned when I saw you coming. You were nervous. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you began to speak. "Uh, fellows," you started. We turned and looked up at you. "I, un, I just wanted, uh, to invite . . ." You were way out of your comfort zone. I had no idea what you might be about to say, but I knew that it had nothing to do with work. "I just wanted to tell you that, uh, our church is having a service tonight and, uh . . ." "What?" I couldn't believe it. "He's talking church? Out here? With us?" "I wanted to invite any of you to come along." Silence. Screaming silence. The same silence you'd hear if a num asked a madam if she could use the brothel for a mass. The same silence you'd hear if an IRS representative invited the Mafia to a seminar on tax integrity. Several guys stared at the dirt. A few shot glances at the others. Snickers rose just inches from the surface. "Well, that's it. Uh, if any of you want to go . . . un, let me know." After you turned and left, we turned and laughed. We called you "reverend," "preacher." And even "the pope." We poked fun at each other, daring one another to go. You became the butt of the day's jokes. I'm sure you knew that. I'm sure you went back to your truck knowing the only good you'd done was to make a good fool out of yourself. If that's what you thought, then you were wrong. That's the reason for this letter. I thought of you this week. I thought of you when I read about someone else who took a risk at lunch. I thought of you when I read the story of the little boy who gave his lunch to Jesus. His lunch wasn't' much. In fact, it wasn't anything compared to what was needed for more than five thousand people. He probably wrestled with the silliness of it all. What was one lunch for so many? He probably asked himself if it was even worth the effort. How far could one lunch go? I think that's why he didn't give the lunch to the crowd. Instead he gave it to Jesus. Something told him that if he would plant the seed, God would grant the crop. So he did. He summoned his courage, got up off the grass, and walked into the circle of grownups. He was as out of place in that cluster as you were in ours. He must have been nervous. No one likes to appear silly. Someone probably snickered at him, too. If they didn't snicker, they shook their heads. "The little guy doesn't know any better." If they didn't shake their heads, they rolled their eyes. "Here we have a hunger crisis, and this little boy thinks that a sack lunch will solve it." But it wasn't the men's heads or eyes that the boy saw; he saw only Jesus. You must have seen Jesus, too, when you made your decision. Most people would have considered us to be unlikely deacon material. Most would have saved their seeds for softer soil. And they'd have been almost right. But Jesus said to give . . . so you gave. As I think about it, you and the little boy have a lot in common: --you both used your lunch to help others. --you both chose faith over logic. --you both brought a smile to your Father's face. There's one difference, though. The boy got to see what Jesus did with his gift, and you didn't. That's why I'm writing. I want you to know that at least one of the seeds fell into a fertile crevice. Some five years later, a college sophomore was struggling with a decision. He had drif6ted from the faith given to him by his parents. He wanted to come back. He wanted to come home. But the price was high. His friends might laugh. His habits would have to change. His reputation would have to be overcome. Could he do it? Did he have the courage? That's when I thought of you. As I sat in my dorm room late one night, looking for the guts to do what I knew was right, I thought of you. I thought of how your love for God had been greater than you love for your reputation. I thought of how your obedience had been greater than your common sense. I remembered how you had cared more about making disciples than about making a good first impression. And when I thought of you, your memory became my motivation. So I came home. I've told your story dozens of times to thousands of people. Each time the reaction is the same: The audience becomes a sea of smiles, and heads bob in understanding. Some smile because they think of the "clean shirted- engineers" in their lives. They remember the neighbor who brought the cake, the aunt who wrote the letter, the teacher who listened . . . Others smile because they have done what you did. And they, too, wonder if their "lunchtime loyalty" was worth the effort. You wondered that. What you did that day wasn't much. And I'm sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts had been wasted. They weren't. So I'm writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving you lunch to God. He did something with it; it became the Bread of Life for me. Gratefully, Max [Lucado] 4. Quenching the Spirit (not growing through listening and obeying) I summarized earlier that God saves us and then begins to work in us from the inside out this process of change (2 Corinthians 3:18). It is in our power to resist that process, to say No to God's Spirit and stubbornly refuse to grow. When we quench the Spirit in this way, we grieve Him (Ephesians 4:30). We also retard the influence God wants to have on the world around us through us. Jesus said it is like placing a bowl over the lamp, like deliberately making ourselves unsalty. The Condition Inherent in the Teaching I want us to be reminded again that the Sermon on the Mount was preached to a group of pre-Christian people who were deciding to follow Jesus. He had not yet died and been resurrected, but He would be soon giving His life. And when He spoke to these people He was describing what it would be like to follow Him. Some of what He says seems impossible for people to do. But remember that those who become Christians are given not only the forgiveness of their sins, but also the Holy Spirit of God to live in them and empower them for godly living. You and I can never be salt and light people for God until we give our lives to Christ. If you have not yet accepted Jesus as your Savior and begun the exciting life of following Him as Lord, you can come to Him today. He has made it possible for you to have a completely new life through Christ. He has made it possible for you to grow to maturity in Him as part of His Church. He has made it possible for you to find purpose and fulfillment in your life by serving Him. The invitation is open to you to receive His salvation and His mission. He said, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30.     [Back to Top]