Unsalty salt

“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.”

— Jesus, in Matthew 5:13

What does it mean for salt to lose its taste; to lose its saltiness? Table salt—sodium chloride—is an extremely stable compound. It doesn't just lose its saltiness.

I recently finished a book by John Stott titled Reading the Sermon on the Mount. In it he explains how salt can lose its taste—the only way salt can lose its taste: by contamination. Salt can become so diluted with impurities that it's really no longer salt.

The obvious parallel is that Christians can become so contaminated with the world that we are no longer able to season culture. Apart from Scripture and godly community this drift can be surprisingly easy and unnoticeable.

I am the way

Easter Sunday my pastor, Mike Ashcraft, shared a message called Saved From What? The message featured interactions Jesus had with the thieves on either side of him at Calvary.

One thief said to Jesus "Remember me when you come into your kingdom". And Jesus replied to him "Today you will be with me in paradise".

During the Easter message a question was posed: what part of Jesus' reply matters most to us? With me? Or paradise? Do we come to Jesus to have our problems solved; to arrange our lives just the way we want them? Or do we come to Jesus just to be with him?

Before Jesus' death, a few came to Jesus just to be with him; most came for healing, for food, and to see him perform signs and wonders.

Like those early 'fans', when Jesus says "I am the way", we hear him say "I am the way to". But Jesus is the Way—path, trail, road. We need to be people of the Way (Acts 9:2), not people on the way to.

Microfasting

Did you fast anything during Lent? Do you ever fast? If so, why?

Some time ago I fasted from food for a few days and discovered something new. As my body weakened, my awareness of the Spirit and the spiritual side of me intensified. Before that fast, my served-on-demand flesh had obscured something hidden beneath.

In Luke 9:23, Jesus says: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me." What are we missing when we constantly cater to our flesh? Might denying ourselves in small ways train us to deny ourselves in bigger ways when we need to? 

What is it about you that will complain if you cut off its demands—even for a little while?