A friend reminded me recently that even more important than “going to church” is “being the church.” After all, Jesus said we are to be the “salt and light” of the world.

Theologian George McCleod once wrote: “I am for recovering the claim that Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves, on the town garbage heap, at a place so cosmopolitan they had to write his title in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek; at the kind of place where cynics talk smut, soldiers gamble, and thieves curse; because that is where Christ died, and that is what Christ died about, and that is where church people ought to be, and what church people should be about.”

Salt and light not just in the church, but in the world.

As I read that, I thought about a group from our Presbytery that for a while offered a theology discussion class that met in a bar. They called it “Theology on Tap.”

I also thought about my friend Robert McCary. Robert was the full-time youth director at Community Presbyterian Church out in Atlantic Beach. He now does much of their pastoral care. He still spends at least a portion of his time each week out surfing at the break behind the church. He claims it is in his job description.

Years ago, when I worked there, I learned pretty quickly that he knows every lifeguard. He knows most of the surfers in the water—young and old—many of whom do not go to his church or any church. And I have seen that often he’ll have people want to talk to him, to share their problems with him, even ask him for advice—not only because he is a leader in their community—but also because Robert has a reputation for being a good father, a good husband, and a man of deep faith. It is clear that he truly loves and cares for people.

I also thought about some in my congregation who have been mentoring high school students in need. And others who go out in the elementary schools to pack backpacks full of food; others still who visit the elderly, or who sing or play bells in nursing homes at Christmas. I could go on.

Today, I pray that you would reflect for just a few moments on the ways in which you are the salt and light—not just in the church but out in the world.

Let us pray: Draw us closer to you, O God, that we would commit our very lives to walk in your ways; that our actions and our very lives would make a difference— that they would indeed bring light and hope; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

During World War II, when allied armies marched into Germany on their way to Berlin, retreating German soldiers would switch road signs and destroy landmarks in an effort to confuse their enemy. To an extent, it worked. I understand that many followed false markers only to end up in the wrong place.

I remember when Hurricane Andrew hit south Florida, I was in Costa Rica on a surf trip. When we flew back into Miami, there were no street signs, no stop lights—nothing. It took us forever to find the interstate! I’m told that even people who lived there all their lives had trouble finding their way around. Buildings, homes, and bridges were gone. All the landmarks that helped them get their bearings had been washed away.

Today, to say we live in a day and age of monumental change is a huge understatement. Just think about technology. And on top of that, our cultural values and norms have also shifted tremendously. Sometimes it is hard for us to get our bearings.

We need landmarks. We need reliable signposts.

In our tradition, we hold that worship, scripture, and a community of faith can all help us navigate the complexity of life. The truth is, there are signposts all around us. Some of them were handed down to us, others we must seek out.

My prayer is that you would return again and again to the ones that become significant to you. And as you do, may you find yourself rooted in a tried and true path.

Let us pray: God of Hope, I pray especially today for those who feel lost or lonely in life. I ask for them the right people to surround them. I ask for healing and grace. And for all of us, may we continue to turn to and trust the landmarks that have guided people of faith from generation to generation. Amen.

There’s a story about a father and son who went to lunch together one day. When the waiter brought the food, the father said, “Son, we’ll just have a silent prayer.” Dad got through praying first and waited for the boy to finish his prayer. His son sat with his head bowed for an unusually long time, and when he finally looked up, his father asked him, “What in the world were you praying about all that time?” With the innocence and honesty of a child, he replied, “How do I know? It was a silent prayer.”

The truth is, sometimes, silent prayers are the best ones.

I once heard a pastor ask the question: Have you spent the same amount of time worrying and talking about your difficult, confusing situations as you have spent in silence listening to what God might have to say?

A friend once told me his spiritual discipline is to turn off the radio when he’s in the car alone. Another friend with small children shared that she would climb into the closet to hide first thing in the morning so she could have 10 minutes of prayer. However it looks for you, I hope you can find a few minutes each day to sit and listen.

In Habakkuk, we read, “...the Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!”

Luke tells us in chapter 5: But now more than ever the word about Jesus spread abroad; many crowds would gather to hear him and to be cured of their diseases. But he would withdraw to deserted places and pray. (Luke 5:15–16)

Let us pray: Grant us your grace and strength, O God, that we would be able to carve some quiet into our lives. In that space, heal us, guide us, lead us, and grant us the fullness of your peace. Amen.

In 2 Corinthians, chapter 4, Paul writes, “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed… So we do not lose heart.” 

And then he makes this amazing statement, “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day…”

For Paul, his faith made a difference in how he lived and in how he faced the challenges of life. I know you’ve seen this in people. Maybe you’ve experienced it yourself.

I remember when I was a young pastor, just getting my feet wet. Our Children’s Ministry Director came to talk to me. She shared that a relatively young member of our congregation (in his early 50s) had been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. “You really need to go see him,” she said.

I went, but I was nervous. I wasn’t sure what to say. However, when I arrived, much to my surprise, he was in good spirits. He laughed easily. His wife even joked, “I don’t know what’s gotten into him these last few months.” He replied, “Well, when you know your time is short, you realize how precious it is.”

I didn’t say this, but I’ve known plenty of people who wouldn’t take it so well. I’ve certainly known plenty of people who have instead grown bitter and cynical.
When we held hands to pray before I left, I could feel his inner strength. He was confident that death would not have the last word, and he knew that in the time he had left, he still had something to offer.

His faith made a difference in how he lived. It was a witness to me. The visit was a sermon I needed to hear. And so that sermon and that witness today becomes my prayer.

Will you pray with me? Gracious God, I pray today for all of those who are listening or reading this message. I pray that whatever challenges they might be facing in life right now, they would not lose heart. Strengthen and renew our inner spirits day by day. Grant us your courage, presence, and peace. We ask in Christ’s name. Amen.

Psalm 25 is a prayer. It begins… To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

In the Hebrew language, the soul is literally your neck and was used as a metaphor for your entire life. If you think about your neck, it’s this narrow passage through which all that gives you life must pass. Your thoughts, your gut feelings, your food, your nerves, your blood, and your breath all pass through to the rest of the body. Your soul is what holds you together. It is your very life.

By praying I lift up my soul, we are saying, God, I am handing you my life—my thoughts, my feelings, my worry, my anxiety, my joy. This is a profound description of prayer. I trust you with all that I am.

The Psalm is beautiful. It continues to pray through a whole range of human emotions and need. It covers everything from our need for forgiveness to our need for guidance and hope. Whoever wrote this Psalm believed that our faith offers us a path that leads to God’s peace. And it begins with surrender.

Let us pray, using Psalm 25 as a guide: To you, O God, I lift up my soul, all that I am, and all that I’m going through… In you I trust. Help me to know your ways and teach me your paths. Lead me… for you are the God of my salvation, and for you, I wait. Be mindful of your mercy, O God, and of your steadfast love. Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions. Turn to me and be gracious to me. Relieve the troubles of my heart, and bring me out of my distress. Consider my trouble, and forgive all my sins. O guard my life and deliver me, for I take refuge in you. Amen.