Bearing Christ's Light, Preserving Christ's Truth: (Sermon for 8th February 2026 - Sexagesima)

preached by Jenny Pittaway LLM - Isaiah 58:6-10.  1 Corinthians 2: 1-5.  Matthew 5: 13-16.

It is human nature to enjoy getting complimented or affirmed.  It is even better when we least expect it. I am sure we all have had moments in our lives when someone praises us for a kindness act or congratulates us on an achievement that is important to us. It feels good.  And as part of the joy of an unexpected compliment, one that truly feels honest and without guile or an ulterior motive, is that we feel as though we have been truly seen.

 Well, today Jesus starts off with a huge compliment. “You are the salt of the earth…. You are the light of the world.” Jesus is not talking to particular individuals. He is talking to the crowds that are following him. They have come from everywhere to see him. They have come to see this man who promises so much and has, so far, delivered. They have come to listen and learn, to be healed, and to have their lives put back together. They have come in search of meaning, direction, and purpose. Some may not know exactly what they are looking for, but they still come because they know that “something” comes forth from Jesus. We stand among that crowd. We are one of them. We have come today to see this one we have heard about. We have come to listen and learn, to be healed, and to have our lives put back together. We have come in search of meaning, direction, and purpose. Jesus’ words are as true and applicable today as they were over two thousand years ago.

“You are the salt of the earth…. You are the light of the world.” Jesus does not stop there, however. There are profound implications to being named salt and light. It means that we are to flavour the world. We are to season and transform human existence in such a way that it reveals God in this world. It means we are to help people better see God’s life in theirs. It means we are to enlighten the dark places of the world. We are the means by which God flavours and illuminates life and the world.

So, what does this look like? What does this mean for us?  It is choosing a life of self-giving rather than taking and acquiring, vulnerability rather than defensiveness, and intimacy rather than isolation. It means you might, and probably will, get hurt.  It is loving God, your neighbour, your enemy, and yourself. Each time it means “choosing” to love, rather than following how you feel about someone.

It is looking another in the eyes, speaking a kind word, and acknowledging them as having been created in the image and likeness of God.  It is generosity with your compassion, time, and money, to care for and make a difference in the lives of the poor, the hungry, the homeless.  It is starting a conversation and rebuilding a relationship when what we mostly feel is indifference, pain, or anger.

The prophet Isaiah speaks to a people who were religiously active but spiritually hollow. They fasted, prayed, and performed rituals, yet their lives were marked by oppression, selfishness, and indifference to the suffering around them. God, through the prophet, declares:

“Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? “Isaiah 58:6–7)

Here, God redefines worship. True devotion is not empty ritual but active compassion. The fast God desires is justice, mercy, and generosity. When we live this way, Isaiah promises, “Then shall thy   light break forth like the morning… then shalt you call, and the Lord will answer” (vv. 8–9).

Isaiah’s vision is clear: the people of God are meant to be agents of liberation, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and sheltering the homeless. Their righteousness is not measured by ritual but by love in action. And when they live this way, their light shines—foreshadowing Jesus’ words in Matthew.

Centuries later, Paul writes to the church in Corinth, who were fascinated with philosophy, rhetoric, and human wisdom. Yet Paul reminds them:

“When I came to you, brothers, and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God with lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” (1 Corinthians 2:1–2)

Paul’s ministry was not about dazzling words or intellectual brilliance. It was about the simple, powerful truth of Christ crucified. He continues: “My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom but on the power of God” (vv. 4–5).

Paul’s humility echoes Isaiah’s call. Just as Isaiah warned against empty ritual, Paul warns against empty rhetoric. Both point us to authenticity. True faith is not about appearances—whether ritual or eloquence—but about the transformative power of God’s Spirit working through us.

There are some really difficult situations going on in the world today, and sometimes just the thought of responding to them all seems overwhelming, but we are called to be part of the mix of a people who care and are compassionate to the plight of the marginalized, the hungry, the persecuted, the lost voices and the forgotten.

Faith in the grace of God and a commitment to living like Jesus are not losing propositions. We are not called to necessarily win or succeed in these conflicts, but to be faithful to God’s promise and to the work in building God’s kingdom here on earth. And that simply takes love and compassion and the commitment to serve rather than the constant demand to be served. When we live like that, life becomes fulfilling, it becomes expansive and creative, happy, joyous and free.

Let us ask ourselves where is the salt and light in our lives? What does it look like? How does it show up?

Isaiah calls us to justice, Paul calls us to humility, and Jesus calls us to visibility. Together, they remind us that authentic faith is not about ritual, rhetoric, or secrecy. It is about compassion, simplicity, and radiant witness

Let us, therefore, loose the bonds of injustice. Let us proclaim Christ crucified with humility. Let us shine our light before others. For when we do, the world will see God’s glory, and our faith will rest not in human wisdom but in the power of God.  Amen.