“The Light of the World”

Well, this morning, as we continue on in Matthew 5, here in the Sermon on the Mount, we carry on something we began last week, as we considered what it means to be the salt of the earth.

Jesus says to his disciples, you are the salt of the earth. And of course, when we speak of this or think of this, we can't help but connect it to the light of the world, which we'll begin considering this morning.

We often speak of the witness of a Christian as being salt and light, and that's coming right out of Matthew 5, 13 and 14.

You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. Now really, in some ways, we're beginning sort of a part one.

I won't fully call it that, but a lot of the practical application we'll take out of verse 16 next week.

In verses 14 and 15, we want to lay a broader foundation, with some application, but really lay down a broad foundation of where Jesus is going with being the light of the world.

And we're going to save verse 16 for next week, because it's a very helpful segue into verses 17 and following.

Jesus speaks of the light that shines as being good works. That's going to take us right into considering the law and the prophets in verse 17.

And so we want to hold verse 16 with what's coming. You'll notice that throughout this sermon, there's these little bridges that connect one passage to the next, and we don't want to miss those bridges.

Matthew 5, beginning in verse 14 and 15.

You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden, nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house.

We began this theme last week of the testifying activity that belongs to those who follow

Jesus. Jesus calls his people to be witnesses, both in word and in deed.

Who are these witnesses? Well, they're those that manifest the description of the beatitudes, everything we saw when we began

Matthew 5. And having described their character, we now move on to understand their activity, the way that they become salt and light.

You are the light of the world. Of course, we see that parallel to verse 13. Salt of the earth, light of the world.

So these two statements are brought together. They both have the same scope as far as influence.

It's not merely the light or salt of the home, not even of the workplace, not even of the city square, though that's all a part of this.

This witness goes out even to the ends of the earth. The scope is the earth entire. And so Christians being salt means the flavor of the world cannot stay the same around them.

Even a few granules. The presence of a Christian, wherever that presence may be found, will have an effect.

That change, however slightly it may be, will be a genuine change. This is the result of Christians being salt.

And so it is with light. Though it be two lumens, though it be just a little red dot on the old

VCR, where there's light it has an effect. However slight that effect may be, it's a genuine change, a genuine effect.

However small the light may be, light dispels darkness. Of course, darkness, and of course this is true in terms of physics, physical knowledge, but I think philosophically and theologically it's even more important.

Darkness has no substance of its own. Darkness is defined as the absence of light. That's what darkness is.

Darkness has no being. It's merely the void of the being of light. And so God separates light from darkness.

Why? Because he is light and he speaks into the light. And therefore the light, as it were, chases away darkness.

Not because darkness has its being or its substance, but rather it's all that opposes or withstands the influence of light.

Light dispels darkness. A small spark, a blinking nodule, the smallest micron width

LED you've ever seen, even that will dispel darkness. Now salt, as we see, has had this negative function.

We have a contrast between verses 13 and 14. Salt is biting. Salt is an antiseptic.

When you get that salt in the paper cut, you wince and you grimace. It prevents further corruption and decay.

This we began to explore last week. Well, light here in verses 14 and 15 doesn't have that negative function, but rather is presented in very positive terms.

To give light is to give aid. To give light is to give hope. Think of being a mariner on some 19th century whaling ship.

What would be your beacon of hope? Quite literally, it would be the lighthouse telling you where to stay clear from.

And that light piercing through the storm clouds would tell you that you are in safe harbor, even though the waves threaten you and you have no idea the rocks that lay beneath them.

And so we have this positive function. To give light is to give hope. To give light is to give aid and aid to the walk of the

Christian. Light shed along the path of the Christian. If salt is the sort of cessation of decay and corruption, then light is the promotion of all that is good and glorious.

As John Stott says, it's one thing to stop the spread of evil. That's salt. It's another thing to promote the spread of truth.

That's light. Now the Old Testament speaks at length of this positive imagery of light.

Really important we understand, and we don't do justice. This is one of the unfortunate side effects of having a little bit of time

Sunday by Sunday to exposit the word sort of line by line is it's very hard for us to get a sense of proportionality.

Where are there verses that are useful, inspired from the hand of the

Lord, and where are there verses that have occupied the imaginations and meditations of the saints for the past two millennia?

Where are the deep wells? And here, considering this imagery of light, we've come to one of these deep wells, and it's hard to convey that, the magnitude of that, in the time we have this morning.

But of course, if we just go back to the very beginning of Scripture itself, we find this imagery, don't we? What's the first act of creation?

God saying, let there be light. And so let there be light is the great commission of God's creation.

And as we unfold this story of God's creation and through the fall toward redemption, we find that not only let there be light as the great commission of creation, but go forth and be light becomes the great commission of God's redemption.

He raises up his people, the people of Abraham, and he says to them, go forth and be light.

Now, this is no longer just the work of creation, but rather God's work of redemption, light dispelling darkness.

And so he raises up his people, Israel of old. He commissions them to show forth his light, the light of his laws, the light of his character, the light of his worship, the light of his promise.

And they're to bear that light in witness to the world. And of course, if you've read the

Scriptures or if you're even faintly aware of the general storyline of the Bible, you know that the nation of Israel failed, greatly failed to be this light they were called to be.

They were called to be a light that would draw the nations to the worship of God.

But as Ezekiel says, their idolatry, their defiance toward God rather allowed the nations to profane the name of God, not to come into his worship, but to mock him and to mock his ways.

And so in light of that failure, in light of that fall, God promised a new covenant where God would purify for himself a people, call for himself a people that would reflect his glory and shine like a light among the benighted nations of the earth of these people.

He said they will observe his law. Why? Because he'll put it in their hearts. It won't merely be spoken to them.

It won't merely be bound, as it were, on their arms or foreheads. It will be in their very being by the indwelling of his spirit.

And so they will shine as light in the darkness. They will have the nations drawn to them in this way, seeing that light from afar and coming near to observe the holy conduct of their life and the worship of this true and living

God. The heathen will say, truly, God is among you. And so the whole

Old Testament is an anticipation of this promise. But one day

God would gather to himself a people to be a light to the nations and so fulfill his promise to Abraham that you will be a father of many nations.

We see in Solomon's dedication prayer in First Kings 8 this this great desire for the nations to come and know the living

God. We see in Isaiah. And if you remember from the time we began, Matthew 5, Isaiah is paradigmatic to understand the gospel of Matthew.

Indeed, that all of the synoptic gospels. The ancient prophet in chapter two describes the

Lord establishing his dwelling place, which is the holy hill, the holy mountain.

That word, of course, translators have to decide based on the context, based on perhaps the geographical reference.

Should we translate that as mountain or or hill? And that's very significant.

You have a holy hill, Jerusalem being, as it were, pictured as the city on the hill. But also

Zion is spoken of in much more glorious and grander terms as as the house on the mountain of the

Lord. And so you have a lot of imagery being combined and refracted through this language of Zion.

Chapter two, Isaiah says all of the nations will flow to it. Get the sense of water, but it's not streaming into a valley.

Somehow it's streaming toward the summit. That's the imagery of Zion. The nations like water streaming, flowing toward the summit of God's dwelling place.

Many people coming and saying, come, let us go up to this mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob.

He will teach us his ways. We will walk in his paths. So they're seeing that light and like water, though against physics, going uphill.

They, as it were, come to the very summit, to the very place that this light is radiating. And what's the result of that?

They know this God who's radiating this glorious light. They know his law. The Torah goes forth out of Zion.

They now walk in his ways. So as they stream back to the nations of the world, what is happening? They also are being liked.

Just like Moses went to the dwelling place of God on Sinai and he came back to the people at the base of the mountain with a shining face, a radiating face.

That's a Christian. That's a Christian. Moses almost doesn't even know.

That's the sense of the context, isn't it? He's sort of coming down and the people are like absolutely freaking out. And he's going, what, what?

He's sort of shining his floodlight face all around the camp. They're like, will you please cover and put that thing away?

It's like a Christian. You come out of worship. You have no idea. You have this floodlight face. You come near people and they're going, oh, get that away.

Like what? What? It's the radiance of communing with God, of worshiping

God. That's the picture of Isaiah chapter two. God promises he'll bless

Zion in this very way. Chapter 60 chapters, especially 60 through 66. So vital.

He says the Gentiles will come where the Gentiles will come to your light.

So the radiance of God shining forth, drawing the nations, that's what Israel was meant to convey.

The Gentiles will come forth to you, O Zion, the Gentiles will come forth to your light. Kings will come to your brightness.

Lift up your eyes all around and see. They'll all gather and come to you. You see what

Isaiah is saying? Don't be disheartened. The judgment has come and bowled over the nation.

You who will not bend the knee to bail. Take heart. Come to the mountain of the Lord and look all around you.

What's the farthest nations you see? It's like standing on the top of Wachusett on a clear day.

You see maybe Providence or you see Boston. It's like look all around you and see nations will come from afar to glorify you.

But. The radiance, in other words, of God is irresistible and the logic of God's promise.

It's because the radiance of God's bride is irresistible. The radiance of his people who are gathered in Zion is irresistible.

And so nations from afar, both east and west, tribes and tongues gather to join in the celebration of God's redemption.

The nations in this way receive the blessing promised to Abraham. But we cannot understand this blessing of Abraham, this promise of Abraham.

Unless we connect all of this, the mission of Israel to be light, the promise of Abraham to all of the nations gathering to Zion.

If we see that as the Abrahamic blessing, the Abrahamic promise, then we have to connect it to the

Abrahamic promised seed. In other words, the capital S seed of Galatians, the seed who is

Jesus Christ, the promised son promised to Abraham. And so Isaiah speaks to the mission, this mission that will encompass the very ends of the earth.

The gospel writers are all over that. The one who comes to be a light for the

Gentiles in Isaiah 42 and Isaiah 49. What's the epicenter of that light? It's the suffering servant.

The suffering servant is the light. And so now we see this glorious imagery of Zion and all of God's redemptive promise bound up to it.

And yet the light emanating from it, the very presence of God is the suffering servant. He's the light to the

Gentile, the one who gives himself over to be flayed, to be tortured, the one who bears the sins of his people.

Now he becomes a light to the nations of the earth. And we read of this suffering servant that even the remote islands will put their hope in him.

I have ancestors from one of these remote islands off the coast of the motherland in Scotland.

You read of reports of SIL or Wycliffe or Bible translators translating dialects.

There's still several thousand dialects that don't have a copy of God's word in their own tongue.

I've met many at that seminary that were training in certain unique dialogues from Indonesian islands.

And they were basically going to devote the next 40 years of their life to translating maybe a few books of scripture into that tongue.

That's a fulfillment of this promise from Isaiah. Even the remote islands will put their trust in you.

And again, Isaiah 60, verse 3, the Gentiles will come to your light. It's the light that radiates from us because it's the light we're beholding.

And what's at the very core of Zion? It's this glorious one who is crucified for his people's sins.

He is the light to the nations. And so all of the promises are bound up, as Paul says, every promise of God is yes and amen in Christ Jesus.

We cannot understand the promises of God apart from him. And so as we look at the unfolding promise of the gospel, we find that often it's illustrated, it's manifest in this imagery of shining light.

What do we know already about how Matthew's introduced this theme? How he references Isaiah 9, the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.

Those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined.

And is that some nondescript witness of God's people in some generic sense? No, it's connected to the very incarnation of the promised seed.

It's connected to Jesus entering into the dark death valley of this world. John's gospel, of course, perhaps more than any other place in scripture, begins to develop this light imagery.

And if you take that as a motif and work your way through John's gospel, it's absolutely profound. Maybe someday we'll work through John's gospel.

That light motif running all the way through Jesus' miracles and his self -presentation in John chapter 8, it's absolutely profound.

But in John 1, of course, John keys us into this imagery of God creating light, in fact, creating the world by light.

And then connecting that to Jesus, this firstborn of all creation.

The one who shines as a light upon a people who dwelt in darkness. And in John 1, we read, and him was life.

And the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness.

You know, if you're like me, maybe some of you here, you grew up in church and, you know, you grew up.

And when you were seven or eight or nine, you were enthusiastically singing, the light of the world is Jesus. Then you get to be 14, 15, 16.

I was a public school kid, and I was just like, this is pretty hokey and lame. I hope none of my friends see me singing this.

Like, if the Lord works in your life, you get to a certain age where it's like, amen, what a profound truth.

The light of the world is Jesus. You get to know that in the marrow of your bones. It's something that doesn't just lighten your heart.

It's something that grieves you because so many dwell in darkness and they hate his light. And so it takes on all this profound implication that Jesus is the light that shines in the darkness.

And John says the darkness didn't comprehend it. It's the glory of Isaiah.

It's the tragedy of John. The light shines in the darkness, hallelujah, men hated the darkness, men hated the light, they loved the darkness.

The Lord says of himself in John 8, I am the light of the world. He who follows me will not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.

And so Jesus came as a great light to shine before men, he says, I am the light of the world.

But here we are in Matthew five and he says, you are the light of the world. Well, how do we make sense of that? Which is it?

Is Jesus the light of the world or are we the light of the world as Christians? Yes. You know me too well.

Jesus is the light of the world, full stop. It can only be said of the

Christian that they are the light of the world because Christians are in him. We are the light of the world because we are in Christ.

We do not emanate that which hasn't been granted to us. We do not shine what hasn't been implanted within us.

It's because we're in communion with the one who is the light shining in the darkness that we become light shining in the darkness.

Listen to what Peter says in first Peter two, I hope you appreciate as we unpack, you know, Peter and so on.

You can see the deep roots from Jesus own teaching that begin to flower in bud in other epistles in the

New Testament. I hope you see that. Don't take these things for granted. What you see is Peter drawing from the nutrients and minerals of the

Sermon on the Mount, even as he's working these things out in his epistle. You, he says, drawing all the promises of Isaiah, all the promises of Zion, of God's people being a light to the nations.

He says, you are a chosen generation. You're going to be what Israel was meant to be by virtue of this new covenant in the suffering servant's blood.

You are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, his own special people that you may proclaim the praises of him.

Who what? Called you out of darkness into what? His marvelous light.

It's his light. So you once dwelt in darkness, you once colluded with darkness,

Christian. You weren't some passive, hapless victim. You loved it.

It defines you. You lived for it. Truly, you were bound in captivity to the misery of it, to the consequences of it, even to the guilt of it.

And yet, like some spiritual Stockholm syndrome, you loved your captivity.

You wouldn't leave. We are the light of the world because he who is light called us out of darkness into his marvelous light.

And so it's his light, see what Jesus is saying, I am, and again, this is not something you want to read past too quickly, he's he's identifying himself as God, as God, who is light, light, a very light,

I am the light of the world. You are the light of the world.

Notice that Jesus doesn't say you may be the light of the world. Some of you, I hope. He's saying to his followers, to his disciples, you are definitively the light of the world.

He doesn't say, listen, guys, this is great news. Someday you will be the light of the world. He doesn't say that.

He says, you are the light of the world right now. Even now, by virtue of what has been described in the

Beatitudes, you are the light of the world. Now, secondly, we see this next image.

We go from the light of the world to the city on the hill. You are the light of the world. And he says, a city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.

So, again, the light draws us to this broader framework of the Old Testament. We have the illustration of a city.

If we're going back to Genesis to understand this imagery of light, this motif of light, we ought to go back to Genesis to understand the motif of a city.

And when we do that, we find that the motif of a city is is along the lines of light versus darkness.

The city of the fallen one, the city of fallen man versus the city of God, the heavenly

Jerusalem, Zion. And so we find these contrasts. In fact,

I was thumbing through a book that mentioned Jacques Ellul, who was a

French Calvinist and wrote a tremendous book back in the 70s called The Meaning of the City. I think I mentioned it when we were in Genesis.

It's an excellent book that explores these things. And he, of course, is writing, you know, as as technology is beginning to to burgeon into society.

And he's actually seeing and thinking through very soberly the impact of technology upon Christian Salton Line.

And so he writes this book, The Meaning of the City in the 70s. And I think he he called a lot of where we are.

And if only he could see what technology has become even in the past 10, 15, 20 years.

But he begins by looking at the city and he connects these things, finding the rise of the Lamechian city, looking at Babel, this this arrogant city and and God's people, as it were, living in the plight, living under its shadow.

Of course, God's people bound to that evil city of Egypt under Pharaoh's tyranny and slavery.

Or Babylon, of course, the the full fruit that even Revelation takes up as this image of this this great city that enslaves all who come to her, intoxicates all who come to her.

And then, of course, Rome being spoken of in these very ways. And and so you find this imagery and we we can't tie it in some abstract way that it doesn't hit into the reality, the concrete historicity of these cities as they were

Babel, Egypt, Babylon, Rome. But we also understand as a motif, these things go far beyond the historicity that we have, as it were, this total package, this total illustration of a city and defiance against its maker, of the city of the fallen one, the evil one, the prince of the power of the air, of the city of all those who shake their fist against the way of the

Lord. And God's answer to that city is a city of his own desiring, a city of his own building.

Now, the city then as a symbol of godless society, as a sort of manifestation of man's arrogance, a place, a sort of threshing floor of persecution, the sort of intoxicating

Herodian dance of pleasure, sin and idolatry and all of the riches that cause the plight of the poor and the suffering and all of God's prophecies of inevitable doom upon it.

All of that is bound together. And Jesus says in light of that to his people, you are a city as well.

You're a city set on a hill, cannot be hidden. A lot of commentators say, we shouldn't read too much into this.

He says a city, he's simply making the point that you can't miss a city set on a hill, it's obvious and just move past it.

It's just like, I don't think we can be so atomistic in our reading. We shouldn't do that with light, we shouldn't do that with city.

Alan Noble drawing from Alol, he says, people are seduced by this city, again, read that large, because it promises to meet their every need and so it will make them independent of God.

You see from the very beginning, man organizes city as it were, nothing against city. God's glorious promise is a new

Eden, a new city, a city whose builder and maker is God. But you see from the very beginning in Genesis, this is man's way of managing the curse of getting around the effects and the consequences of their sin.

They need safety, they need provision. No longer is the earth going to cooperate with them. They're going to have to work by the sweat of their brow.

No longer is there going to be a sort of natural filial relationship between neighbor to neighbor, even between animal life and man.

And so all of a sudden you're vulnerable in this world. People will be out to get you. The world itself will be out to get you.

There'll be famine and drought and all sorts of needs. And so cities become, as it were, this picture of not only can we bypass the effects of the fall, but we can even build our way to God.

Babel, of course, wasn't desiring to build its way toward God in order to know him and worship him right.

It was to stand over against him. We will make a name for ourselves. We don't want to be named by his name.

So people are seduced by the city. It promises to meet their every need. That's the idea. The promise is you don't need

God, you don't need to be named by God. You don't need to have an understanding of God's will for this world that he has made or your life within it.

You can be independent. You can manage your own way through it. And that way, it almost seems to offer them some liberation.

You can be human in this freeing way. But in fact. What we know of the city, spiritually speaking, in the storyline of the

Bible is it makes people less human, makes them more like cattle. And so man in the city is used, consumed, eaten away, possessed in heart and soul.

The problems that are created by the city are the very problems it promised to solve. This is sort of the dilemma.

Again, this is a picture of fallen humanity, fallen society in a compact. And yet against this, we find this hopeful beacon, the promise of the city of God, the promise of Zion, the prophetic picture of God's reigning presence with all of his people gathered to him.

And this is picking up on the image of of a mountain, of a hill. As we said, it's interchangeable.

It's synonymous. But either way, you have an emblem of solidity. This is something immovable.

Cities rise and fall, but not Zion. Zion cannot be moved. Zion has its foundation fixed in the heavens.

It's unable to be thwarted. Its foundation cannot be shaken. This is Zion, the mountain of our

God. Now, who belongs to this city? The Lord says,

Zephaniah 3, I will give to the people's purified lips. All of them will call on the name of the

Lord to serve him shoulder to shoulder. You get this idea of everyone coming together, not as Babalites, not as Egyptian taskmasters, but as those who are called by the

Lord into his marvelous light. They stand shoulder to shoulder with purified lips, serving him, serving one another.

And he says, I will remove from your midst proud, exalting ones. You'll never again be arrogant on my holy mountain, but I will leave among you a humble, a lowly people, ones who take refuge in the name of the

Lord. So who belongs to the city? It's the people of the

Beatitudes. It's a humble and lowly people, a people with purified lips, purified hearts, hungering and thirsting after righteousness, ones who have taken refuge in the

Lord, even as it were, being shielded from persecution. Everything we've seen through Matthew up to this point.

Jesus shows us that the answer to the pride and the arrogance and the self will of fallen man, as it were, the manifestation of the fallen dominion of mankind is already begun.

Blessed are the poor in spirit. Theirs is the kingdom. Blessed are the meek. They will inherit the earth.

It's the logic of the city to become so strong, so noble, so powerful that it overtakes the world.

Babel didn't define for itself borders at which it would stop. Babel had a desire to not only make a name for itself toward the heavens and defiance against God, but to encompass the earth entire.

Jesus says, I'm building a city, too. And my city has people with purified lips within it, ones who call the name of the

Lord, and there are humble and lowly people. And guess what? They will inherit the earth. They will encompass the earth.

That's the imagery. And so Christians are that city on the hill.

Christians are the inauguration awaiting the full consummation of that encompassing inheritance.

Christians are the Zion of God going forth to war. The Lord, as Colossians 113 says, has delivered us from the power of darkness.

That includes our former ways, the world and all of its defilement. He calls us out of Babylon. He says, come out from her and be separate.

And as he's separating us from the darkness of the fallen city, he's taking us into a city of light.

And a city that is set on that holy hill cannot be hidden. That's the imagery here.

God separates his people from the darkness of the world because he gathers them together in his marvelous light. They no longer rot in the same flood of dissipation.

They have a new heart, new affections, new hope with new desires, new values, new allegiance, new understanding, a new calling because they're in a new kingdom and they have a new king.

That's a Christian. By the way, as we especially as we bridge toward next week to talk about some things practically or even later tonight, as we sort of consider this tension between how can we be for the world without being of the world?

And it seems like it's very easy to make a mistake in either direction. We'll talk about that tonight. Well, let us say well -meaning conservatives, well -meaning evangelicals treat culture as if it was neutral.

We can never afford to make that mistake. When you understand these two cities, you realize that there is no overlap beyond the commonalities that are true to some created order.

When you look at the values, when you look at the ethical systems, when you look at the telos, the goal, the trajectory of where they're going, there is no overlap.

They're utterly set against one another. And for that reason, culture cannot be neutral.

Rather, it always must be examined and confronted with the kingship of Christ. There's elements in culture by virtue of God's created order that will be fruitful and cause human flourishing.

But more often than not, because of man's fallen nature, even the things that ought to be fruitful become tools, mechanisms by which others suffer.

All too often, unfortunately, in the Christian church, to borrow Jesus' language with the

Pharisees, we're prone to tithe mint leaves and swallow camels. We just don't see these things. So you can easily gather 2 ,000 people to a conference about the latest cultural screech and some apology tour.

We want to keep our reputation up. And yet you can't get three people to come out to an abortion hearing in Louisiana.

Tithing mint leaves, swallowing camels. So we deny that culture is neutral.

Every form of culture must be weighed against the kingly claim of Christ. He's building his city.

He's gathering his people into his marvelous light and sending them forth as light toward the nations.

Sending them as light. There's this great monograph, though it's old, by a scholar named

Vogels. And he talks about the centripetal universal nature of God's covenant versus the centrifugal.

In other words, that which draws in and that which sends out, right? That which takes toward its center and that which causes to be spread from its center.

And he says God's promise to the nations, God's glorious light, has both of these effects.

Both of these dynamics. In a way, Christians are gathered and drawn to him. But for that very reason, we're also spread out from him, emanating forth his light.

And so how do we approach our culture? How do we approach the world around us? Well, Jesus tells us. As a city.

As a city. We have another image coming in a moment, but let's begin here. The first way that Christians engage the culture, the fallen city of man, the city of darkness, is as the city of God.

Citizens of the kingdom of God. Heirs of all of God's promises.

We approach as a shining city. A city on a hill that cannot be hidden.

Indeed, this hill rises to prominence over all the mountains of the earth. This is how the ancient

Christians, we go all the way back as reading the pseudo -Clementine homilies, and the homily three that you get already, they're looking at this imagery of the city that's set on a hill, and they say that's the church.

Understood? This is the gathered people of God. They are the light of the world. They are Zion, toward the nations of the earth.

I am the light of the world, Jesus says. I take you into my marvelous light, and you go forth with radiant faces, emanating that light into the darkness, and the darkest corners of the very ends of the earth.

So not only is the believer individually light, we'll get there, you're a lamp, but more importantly, and I think more profoundly, when we gather together, when we are the church, we are a city that is set on a hill.

This illustration, of course, has been used politically. Politicians love the image, and they want it to be true of their own realm, of their own border.

Reagan used this regularly, didn't he? JFK used this.

Of course, perhaps the most famous reference is John Winthrop in 1630, gave a famous sermon comparing

Massachusetts Bay Colony to the city that's set on a hill that cannot be hidden. We're going to actually pull out some of his material next week.

What does a shining city really mean? A city that can't be hidden. What does that really mean, as far as our witness as salt and as light?

Well, some of you have taken a flight before. I've taken my share of night flights, and you know when you're over the Atlantic Passage for hours at length, and you look out the window, and you might as well just be looking at a piece of black paper.

You can't see anything. But you get a little bit closer to the coast, and maybe you look at the little screen in front of you on the back of the chair, and you'll see a little map, and you realize you're coming toward Greenland, or you're heading toward the coast of Europe, or Ireland, maybe.

And so you look out that window, and you see the light dotting up around the coast. You're in the midst of darkness, as it were, looking out that window, and yet, though that light be so far from you, it's set before you.

And there's this hope. We're going to land soon. And soon, I can actually stretch my legs, and I don't have to be near this big sweaty guy or whoever you're kind of stuffed into.

Fly jet blue, right? Best leg room, right? No longer will you be confounded, but that light is almost offering freedom.

Fresh air. Food. That's not in a microwaved tray. It's like, you can't wait to get there.

We're a little bit closer in that experience to what it was like in the ancient world. I can't help but imagine that, this experience of traveling through the night, and then maybe coming over, looking past the valleys, and you hear the howls, and you're worried about thieves and robbers, and you see the shining light of a city afar.

Instantly, you feel this relief, this hope. What would that experience have been like for an ancient traveler, for a weary pilgrim?

That shining city in the midst of darkness promised provision, protection, refuge.

You're going to get torn apart, robbed, left for dead. But if you can make it to those walls, if you can get to that city, if you can go to the place that is emanating that kind of light, there you'll have safety, there you'll be protected, there you'll have refuge, there you'll have your most immediate needs met, maybe even your long -term needs met.

You'll never perhaps need to travel or wander again. And so this is our intention.

When Jesus says, you are salt, you are light in this way, we have to understand this illustration.

We are this to a dark world full of miserable and weary wanderers. Many of them, like the prodigal, they'll be too stubborn to actually want to draw near.

That light will be too costly, as we'll speak about in a moment. But to those who have been given eyes to see and ears to hear, when they see that shining city in the midst of their darkness, they will call.

That's what the church is meant to be. We know that to those who are perishing, Christians are a stench of death.

Paul says that. Just repulsive to people that the Lord isn't saving. But this fragrance of life to those that are being saved.

And so we can't expect that everyone will view the gathered people of God in this way, that everyone will view the church as this shining city in the midst of a weary and dark world.

We know the prodigal son didn't desire home when he had a wallet stuffed with cash.

It was only when he was about to eat pig pods that home even entertained his thoughts for a moment. But our intention is the same.

We are a shining city set in a dark, twisted and fallen world. We are living in midnight times.

And people are content because they're walking in pitch darkness. And they have a little flashlight.

I once bought, this was way, way back. I remember having a little mag light, a little aluminum mag light.

I thought it was so cool. It still had a little tiny glass bulb in it. And it took like these three little button batteries. It was the lamest, it was a mag light.

I'm like, this thing's awesome. It's going to be so cool. I took it home and turned it on. It was like a Christmas light.

I was like, what? And there's people in pitch blackness that have these little

Christmas bulbs. And they're content with that. What use is that to you? Are you going to navigate your life with that?

Are you going to ward off the threats, the powers, the principalities that want to consume you with that?

No, the city, the city is refuge. The city is protection. The city is light and hope and peace.

And let me tell you, as I say, we're living in midnight times. And the world right now, we're in a cultural moment where miserable travelers are replete, looking for the promise of refuge, looking for something solid, something hopeful, something stable.

You have TikTok influencers that as easy as saying what they had for breakfast will tell you how they tried to take their own life a few years ago.

That's the cultural moment we're living in. Where your life has such little value to yourself that taking other people's lives means nothing to you either.

That's the midnight that we live in. What then is this shining city that cannot be hidden and cannot be avoided?

And so foremost, as the people of God, as salt and light, we are a people of hope. And you need to know that if you're going to be salt and light in this world.

Be careful that your biting rhetoric and your serrated edge doesn't actually denigrate the hope that you are meant to offer to a darkened world.

You are the light of the world. Many will be repelled by you. And there are stands you need to take.

And there's places that your edge better be serrated. But never at the expense of the hope that lies within you.

The treasure that's in your jar of clay. Make that crystal clear. You are a shining city in this way.

Let me say this. The church then ought to be this beacon of light that offers the promise and the hope of refuge and safety to all who come into her walls.

And that means that our light is more like a lighthouse and less like a mosquito zapper. Wouldn't that be the worst thing?

That people are like, oh, what's that light? And they come through the walls of the church and we zap them to death. What are you doing here?

I can't believe your life. Look at you. Get out of here. We're not that kind of light.

We're not some fluorescent death bulb. We're the light of the world.

Salt of the earth. And in this sense, there's a lot of truth.

And we should think deeply about this old adage. What you win them with is what you win them to.

There's a lot of traditions. There's a lot of platforms. There's a lot of ministries that we would, to put it politely, take issue with.

There's a lot of men who are sort of nearing, if not on, our black list, frankly. It's easy to bandy about the claims of compromise.

It's easy to denigrate their ministry because of a stance or a position they've taken.

I'll just give you a case in point, right? You think of Alistair Begg, right? Just this beacon of light.

Again, not my go -to. I almost rarely listen to him. I have no issue with him. He's been wonderful.

And he had that really unfortunate take about whether to attend the wedding or not, right? I think that was last year. And all of a sudden, people were like, oh, he's dead to us.

He's dead. He said, listen, it's okay. Take that shot. Make that clear. Make that conviction known.

Rebuke. Exhort, right? That was a right response. And yet, don't denigrate what he's doing as light in the city of Chicago.

Understand, perhaps, that it wasn't the purist that has been the most attractive. It wasn't the ideologue who's burning with zeal that actually becomes salt and light in this way.

We have to parse these things very carefully. Because there's others who will try to do that as an excuse for error or for compromise.

By the way, I'm comfortable with those accusations. Why? Because Paul was comfortable with that in 1

Corinthians 9. The purists and ideologues of his day said, yeah, he's wishy -washy. He's a flip -flopper.

You know, one minute he's with the Jews, and he's like a Jew. The next minute he's with the Greeks, and he's like a Greek. And Paul says, yeah, that's right. In fact,

I'm happy to be a Jew to the Jews and a Greek to the Greeks. I'll be anything to anyone if I can get them to Christ. We need to be careful how we parse these things.

The point is that we are light. Do you view yourself as a city on a hill that cannot be hidden when you gather with the people of God?

When you go forth into the dark alleyways of the world, do you remember that you belong to this city?

And you emanate and radiate this light, but you're not a creature of the gutters. You don't belong to midnight, but you belong to the day, as it were.

Do you know that where you go? By the way, this point also asks the question, how do you view the church?

How do you view the church? Do you take for granted her refuge? Do you take for granted her light?

Do you take advantage of her refuge? Do you take advantage of her light?

I don't know why the Saturday morning men's study is shriveled to four people. And sometimes

I wake up and the alarm goes off, and I go, why bother? But I know for me,

I need that refuge. And I need that light. And I need that protection.

And sometimes it makes a world of difference to my finishing sermon preparation on a

Saturday. Whether I've gone in the morning to be with brothers or not. Do you take it for granted? Do you take advantage of it?

That's the question we all have to answer. We are as a city, set on a hill, shining in glorious transcendence.

We are the presence of Christ in a dark world replete with people terrorized by darkness.

Miserable in all that they cannot see and cannot find. That darkness hates the light.

But praise God, that darkness will never overcome the light. That's the promise of God. And so third, and last, the lamp of the house.

Jesus says, you are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.

Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand. And it gives light to all who are in the house.

We're looking perhaps more at the individual. This image of a lamp. The lamp even in the household, just around those who are immediately present.

And Jesus is making the point. If unsalty salt is not worth its salt. In other words, if unsalty salt is useless.

It's denying the very point of its existence. Then so also, lighting a lamp just to cover it is useless.

No one lights a lamp to keep the room dark. You light a lamp in order to chase away the darkness.

To diffuse the light. And that's what Jesus says. It gives light.

So much of our application next week will be stemming just from those three words. It gives light.

Light, he says, is what you are. He doesn't say, become light. He doesn't say, at some point in the future

I'm going to light you. He says, if you're a Christian, you are light. Some of you children, you go to bed at night.

I like to sleep in pitch black. I like a bear cave. I don't want any light if I can have my way.

When I married Alicia, she wanted every lamp on. There was a conflict when we got married. It's like, how is this going to play out?

Some of you children, you don't like sleeping in pitch black. So you have this little tiny nightlight that plugs into your socket.

And that little tiny bulb makes all the difference to you, doesn't it? In your dark room, that little tiny light in the corner makes all the difference to you.

What otherwise would be scary and anxiety ridden has actually become, from that little presence of light, actually gives you calm.

Helps you to be at rest. That's the presence of a Christian in a dark room. Jesus says his people give light.

My grandfather was in the merchant marines during World War II. By the way, I was looking this up.

The merchant marines, these liberty ships that were conveyed across the North Atlantic passage through the war, they suffered some of the greatest losses.

It took a long time for them to get recognized with veteran honors because they were technically part of a civilian service, government contracted.

But my grandfather was a merchant marine. He was a gunner on one of these liberty ships. They lost about 25 % of the ships during the course of the war.

And he said they had U -boat protocol all the time where every light had to be out. You couldn't even light a cigarette. Because when you were in the middle of the

North Atlantic and there wasn't clear light from the moon, if it was a cloudy night, he said you could wave your hand in front of your face and not see anything.

You couldn't see anything. If there was a U -boat periscope looking to sink you, all they needed was a cigarette being lit.

That's it. He talked about fumbling along the walkways, in and out of the doorways trying to figure out where he was and get his orientation on the ship.

It was perfect dark. Jesus says that's what human nature is like.

Since the fall, human nature is perfect dark. Apart from the influence of common grace, apart from God giving good things even to those who defy him, if he allowed nature to be in its full capacity as sinful as it could be, human nature is perfectly dark.

Pitch black. And what human nature builds, again, notwithstanding the influence of common grace,

God will never allow the evil of man to somehow overthrow or constrain his redemptive purpose.

In fact, he'll only allow it to the degree that it furthers or brings about his redemptive purpose. This is a very important answer to the problem of evil.

And yet, we recognize that this darkness, this human nature manifests itself in relationships and in structures and in ways of being and in cultural forms and in cultural structures.

We see that darkness all around us. And Jesus says, I am the light of the world who sends you to be light in that dark, pitch black space that you inhabit.

You are the light for that. You are the light for that. Not the guy sitting next to you.

Not the lady in front of you. You, as a Christian, are that light. I can't wait to jump into this next week.

We are the light. I'll leave it here. I'm skipping over so much, but I want to bring it forward next week again.

Let me close here. We are the light, and we have a message of light.

The Lord says, we will be effective because of what we are. We are lit lamps.

The whole point of lighting a lamp is to shine light into an otherwise darkened room.

No one uses a lamp in broad daylight. No one. The whole point is you light it because the daylight has not come.

And so when we witness the darkness and depravity around us, we have a sense of responsibility. You are the light of the world.

Are you in a dark home? Are you in a dark workplace? Are you in dark relationships, in a dark context?

Guess what? You are the light. Feel the responsibility of that. But as you weigh that out, also feel the hope.

Feel the opportunity. Listen. As you witness the darkness and depravity around you, have a sense of responsibility.

You are the light. But as you witness the darkness and depravity around you, have a sense of opportunity.

You are the light. Light. That's the greatest possible encouragement we could have this morning.

Light cannot be overcome by darkness. And where you are, you are light.

Lamps are for the night. An ancient oil lamp would be lit and put on a lamp stand, and that weak little wick would waver and flicker.

A draft in the room would almost ebb it out. And it would have to be tended to and gently covered and fanned back to flame.

But when the morning sun arose, that flickering flame wouldn't matter anymore. It would be utterly overwhelmed and absorbed into the daylight of the morning.

And everything that that little flickering, wavering, needy light could not make manifest, could not expose, when that morning sun arises, everything is made plain to see.

Things as they really are, not the shadows that seem to be, but things as they really are, are finally, fully and clearly visible to all.

And so Christian, you are a light like that ancient oil lamp. And you flicker and you waver and you scatter light inconsistently and you have so many needs because you're so faint and the slightest draft can cause you to winnow.

And yet you flicker and you persevere to waver and scatter that light, diffusing in sanctification ever greater light to come.

And when the true sun arises in consummate triumph, encompassing the heavens and the earth, your little wavering, flickering light is not only overwhelmed by, but absorbed to His light.

So you long for that day. That's why you shine your light into the darkness. Because though it seems like the darkness is so vast and your light is so small, you only have to endure the night.

The morning sun will arise. And your flickering light will be absorbed into it.

Will become part of it. And so you flicker and you waver in the hope of glory when no rude alarms of raging foes, no cares to break the long repose, no midnight shade, no waning moon, but sacred, high, eternal noon.

And that hope of glory causes you to tend to your flame. To take advantage of ways that you can add oil to the fire.

Because your heart, your prayer, your whole life is essentially the cry of Philip Doddridge.

Oh, long expected day begin. Dawn on these realms of woe and sin. I don't like this darkened realm.

I don't like this darkened room. I don't like the impact and effect it has on me. I get afraid of shadows.

I can't clearly see and fumble around. And so, oh, long expected day begin.

Dawn on these realms of woe and sin. Break, mourn of God, upon our eyes. Let the world's true sun arise.

I am the light of the world, Jesus says. And therefore, you are the light of the world.

A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. And there is a city that has no need of the sun.

A city that has no moon to shine in it. For the glory of God illuminates it. And the lamb is its light.

Amen? Let's pray. Father, thank

You for Your Word. Lord, go before us, we pray. As we consider these things later tonight, as we consider these things across the week, for the next

Lord's Day, Lord, we pray that You would plow deeply and implant this seed of Your Word, Lord.

That it would be fruitful in our lives. Lord, show us, as individuals, where we are to be like these clay lamps of old.

Let our flickering be more faithful than it has been. Let us not waver with the drafts and threats and embarrassments of man.

And Lord, where we collectively must gather as this compact city that cannot be hidden. This inauguration of the

Zion to come. Make our light glorious, Lord. Let us not be so consumed and focused on ourselves that we fail to be that beacon to weary travelers that are looking for hope and for refuge that can only be found in Christ Jesus.