Reflecting His Light
Matthew 5:1–16 We’re not the source of the light, but we were made to reflect it.
You Are Already the Light
Matthew 5:1–16 — We’re not the source of the light, but we were made to reflect it.
For about two years now, one verse has shaped how I pray for our church. Jesus says, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.” Ever since I came to Grace Hill, I’ve kept getting drawn back to those words. They’re practically in our name. And my prayer has been simple: God, would you make us your light? Would you reflect yourself in us and through us to Morgan Hill, to Gilroy, and beyond?
So for November, we’re stepping out of our verse-by-verse walk through John and staying put in one place: the first sixteen verses of Matthew 5, the opening of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Our new series is called That They May See. I’d encourage you to read those sixteen verses a couple of times a week while we’re there. Who finds blessing in Jesus’ kingdom? What does it mean to be salt and light for the earth? And what does it mean for us to be Grace Hill?
Steer Left
The first time I had to drive on ice was a couple of years after I got my license. We don’t get much of it out here, but if you’ve ever lived somewhere icy, you know it goes against every instinct you learned on dry pavement. When you lose traction and you need the car to veer right, sometimes you actually have to steer left. It’s counterintuitive. I had to unlearn my instincts just to keep the car stable.
That’s a helpful way into the opening of the Sermon on the Mount, a section known as the Beatitudes (from the Latin word for blessed). Jesus sits down to teach a massive crowd, and the people he names as blessed would have cut against every instinct of his culture, especially in the Greco-Roman world. Everyone they would have called happy and fortunate is missing from this list. The people Jesus says will find true happiness, well-being and peace are the people who were most often shamed and cast out.
We tend to read the list today and nod along. Yes, these are the blessed people. But that’s mostly because we’ve inherited centuries of Christian foundation in our civilization. The list is still deeply countercultural. It’s Jesus teaching us to drive on the ice: You want to go right, but I need you to steer left.
Seeing the crowds, he went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, his disciples came to him. And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
— Matthew 5:1–12 (ESV)
Not a Gold-Star List
The first thing to say about this list is that these aren’t virtues to go out and achieve. Jesus is not saying, Look at what you’re lacking and figure out how to turn it into a virtue.
Take the first one: Blessed are the poor in spirit. That phrase describes someone who lacks faith, someone who is spiritually poor. You want to seek God, but you just can’t hear his voice. You wake up wondering whether he’s even real. You look at other men and women who can trust God for great things, and you feel stuck. I have no faith. I don’t know where God is. I don’t know if he’s going to move at all.
The great irony is that the church has turned this into a virtue. We hear “poor in spirit” and picture a holy monk or nun in a monastery with enormous faith. That’s the opposite of what Jesus is saying. It isn’t the spiritual giants, the great pastors who seem to have endless faith. It’s the people waking up and asking, God, where are you? And Jesus says, My kingdom has blessing for you. You are welcome here, even with your small faith.
The same goes for Blessed are those who mourn. We do not respond with, I’m not mourning today, so I’d better go drum some up. Jesus is acknowledging that we are going to go through hardship and intense loss. And in those moments, God has not abandoned you. The God of comfort is in your corner.
There have been moments in my own life when I’ve been poor in spirit, when I’ve been mourning, when I’ve been meek and hungry. And Jesus says, I have a place for you, even there.
The sad irony is that we’ve made the Beatitudes into something to attain so we can put a gold star next to our name. Jesus is offering the exact opposite invitation.
It Begins in Grace
These blessings ground everything Jesus is about to say in God’s grace. The people who don’t deserve it, who are overlooked by society, who are dealing with so much hardship and suffering: Jesus says, You have a place in my kingdom.
The entry point is grace, but this doesn’t leave us passive. The first five or six beatitudes read like descriptions of what happens to us. When I mourn, God provides comfort. When I’m lacking faith, I find I’m still welcomed in his kingdom. Then, starting around verse 7, they turn proactive. When God gives us grace, he emboldens us and sends us out to share it. I don’t only receive; it’s God’s grace that empowers me to show mercy, to make peace, to stand for the faith in a hostile world.
That trajectory, from grace to action, is at the heart of Reformed theology. God’s grace is the reason we exist, and because his grace is shining on me, I get to joyfully enter his mission.
You Already Are
Right after this incredible list of blessings, Jesus says this:
“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”
— Matthew 5:13–16 (ESV)
We’ll save salt for next week. There are some fascinating breadcrumbs there. For now, I want to stay with the light.
Notice that this, too, begins in grace. Jesus doesn’t say, If you try really hard, you can be the light. He doesn’t say, You’re all kind of dingy right now; get your act together, and then you can be the light. He simply declares it: You are the light of the world.
That’s Jesus’ identity for his children, his church. It’s not something we deserved or earned or contrived on our own. And the you here is plural. He isn’t just talking to you as an individual. He’s talking to us, together, as the church. According to Christ, we are already the light.
So what do we do with it?
Who Puts the Lamp on the Stand?
As I was reflecting on this parable of the lamp and the basket, something struck me. I’ve always put myself in the role of the person holding the lamp, deciding where it goes. Okay, I have this light. How do I make sure I put it in the right place, so the right people can see it?
But if Jesus has already said I am the light, then I’m not the one who puts myself on display. God is. I know, sometimes we’d rather stay in the shadows. It’s easier. It’s comfortable. But Jesus seems to say, If I’ve made you the light, then I’m going to put you on a hill, so that the world can see.
That’s where the title of this series comes from: That They May See. What does it mean that Jesus actually wants to put us on display?
Mirrors at a 45-Degree Angle
In Genesis, God makes humanity, male and female, in his image. We’ve explored as a church what this might mean.
One of my favorite illustrations is the thought of a mirror. Every morning, I see my reflection looking back at me, so I can make sure my hair is nice and everything’s tidy. Except to be God’s image has nothing to do with my physical looks. And in this case, it’s best to think of a mirror set at a 45-degree angle.
We’re not the source of the light. We’re like angled mirrors, reflecting his light out into the world.
And mirrors work in both directions. God scattered us like angled mirrors across his creation, so that when people look at his church, they recognize their Creator. His justice, beauty, light, and truth reflecting through our lives into a hurting world, and the pain and prayers of that world reflecting through our prayers back to God.
The first Jesus most people will ever encounter is the reflection they meet in you.
So the question becomes: Am I actually shining his character? His goodness, his love, his mercy, his grace? When people encounter me, are they encountering a reflection of their Creator?
What Are the Good Works?
Jesus’ next line might make some of us uncomfortable. Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. That’s a lot of pressure! My life might turn others toward Jesus or send them running.
We can’t do this alone, and God does not expect us to. The Sermon on the Mount points us in the right direction, but it is Jesus’ presence and power that empower us. One of my favorite Gospel commentators, Frederick Dale Bruner, summarized it nicely:
To read the Sermon on the Mount is to discover what it means to be Jesus’ disciples; to read it with faith is to receive power to be Jesus’ disciples.
— Frederick Dale Bruner, Matthew: A Commentary, vol. 1, The Christbook
So what are these good works? The simplest answer is to keep reading the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus talks about radical love for enemies, forgiving people even when they don’t deserve it, getting rid of lust and anger in our lives, and many more foundational practices of the kingdom of heaven.
If we practiced these teachings, the world would take notice. Whenever the church has embodied Jesus’ words with God’s help, the response has always been, Those Christians are different. What’s their deal?
That’s God’s intent for his church: that the world would look at us and realize we’re different. When the church starts acting just like the rest of the culture, we lose the very thing that was worth noticing.
Imagine if the Grace Hill elders came to me tomorrow and said, Tyler, we want you to stop preaching Scripture. It gets a little edgy, a little too confrontational, and we’d like to be more accommodating to the culture (I’d quickly be looking for a new calling). But say we did that, chasing relevance. We might go on existing as a social club. We would no longer be the church.
Part of shining God’s light is saying, We’re rooted in Christ. Christ alone is our foundation. Scripture alone is our authority. That’s how the light keeps shining, so that others can see and give glory to God.
Did Jesus Contradict Himself?
If you read on from chapter 5, you’ll soon reach an apparent contradiction within this very sermon. Matthew 5:16 says, so that they may see your good works. Then, just a few verses later, Jesus says this:
“Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven.
“Thus, when you give to the needy, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by others. Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”
— Matthew 6:1–4 (ESV)
So which is it? At the start of the sermon, Jesus says, I’m putting you on display. You’re the light on the hill. I’m not going to cover you up; I want everyone to see. A few verses later he says, Do it all in secret, so secret that your left hand doesn’t know what your right hand is doing.
Jesus knows what he’s doing, and it comes down to motivation. Why do I do these good works? Why do I practice enemy love and forgiveness and everything else Jesus commands?
In chapter 6, Jesus names an all-too-common temptation: If I do good works, people will like me. The key phrase in chapter 6 is “in order to be seen…” If my reward is the accolades, if I want people to see just how generous and loving and merciful I am so they’ll start to praise me, then I’ve got the whole thing wrong.
Being the light means living in a way that glorifies God and reflects his light, while I, in a sense, become invisible. When people receive whatever blessing I can give, they start praising God, not me.
That’s harder than it sounds. Honestly, there are times I really like it when people look at me. I like getting extra likes on something I post online. I like the pats on the back. But the prayer for God’s people is this: When I serve others, when I pray for others, when I give generously, I want people to glorify you, God, and not me.
“Automatic” Christianity
I love to cook; I’m in the kitchen a lot. Just this week, we left the house on an errand, and I had this nagging feeling: Did I leave the stove on? Maybe you know the feeling. We were gone about two hours, and in the back of my mind the worst-case scenarios kept building. The pot is burning. The house is going to burn down.
I didn’t need to worry. I had turned the stove off after all.
In fact, I’ve had that fear many times, and I have never once actually left the stove on. The reason is that cooking is so automatic for me. Turning off the stove when I’m done is so automatic that I forget I’ve even done it.
I think that’s what Jesus is getting at in Matthew 6:3. When you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. The only way that actually happens is if my generosity is so automatic that later that same day I might wonder, Did I actually do that? I don’t quite remember. It just happened. It flowed out of who I am.
He’s not saying, Make sure it’s secret; make sure no one ever sees what you’re doing. He’s saying that glorifying God with your life should be so automatic you might later wonder whether you did it at all, the way I spent two hours wondering about that stove.
That’s how the two passages fit together. Jesus says, You are the light. Now let that light shine so that people can glorify God. Not to glorify ourselves. Not to boost our own egos, or our own church’s. I don’t want people going around my town saying, Wow, Grace Hill is amazing. I want them to interact with us and walk away saying, God is amazing. God is so good. Maybe they even forget who it was that blessed them that day, but they remember their Creator.
Angled Mirrors in Morgan Hill
We’re one little corner of God’s worldwide church. But I think God has made Grace Hill like one of those angled mirrors and set it right here in Morgan Hill, so that when people look at us, they’re reminded of who made them.
May we, as individuals and as a church, live so automatically in God’s grace that we hardly realize what we’re doing, and simply overflow with his love, his grace, and his mercy to the people around us.
A Prayer to Close
Jesus, when I find myself at the beginning of the Beatitudes — mourning, meek, in spiritual poverty — come and grant your grace and presence.
Shine your light on us and make us more and more like those angled mirrors, reflecting your goodness, your grace, and your mercy out into the world.
Help us live automatically in your presence.
We love you, Lord. In Jesus’ name, amen.
This week:
- Read Matthew 5:1–16 a couple of times before next Sunday. Ask the series question: who finds blessing in Jesus’ kingdom?
- Pray through the Beatitudes: God, where am I on this list right now? How are you inviting me in?
- Then ask the second question: Where are you inviting me to embody this for others? Find one place to make peace or show mercy, and do it without needing anyone to notice.
- Pray for God’s church to be an angled mirror in their community and beyond.
