“You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father." When we hear this passage from Scripture, it may be tempting to skip to the end—the exciting part, the part where we get to take action. We like to hear that we have the power to go out and change the world, and even secular culture is fond of the image of "letting our light shine." We are a nation of "do-ers," go getters, movers and shakers. It is something upon which we pride ourselves as Americans. But when we skip to the end, we miss what letting our light shine really means. The city did not make itself. The city did not choose to be on the hill. It did not drag itself, brick by brick, to a place where it would be a beacon to the world. No, it is only on that hill because it was put there under someone else's power. It was someone else who gave the city its influence, its significance, and the chance to "shine before others."
It is the Holy Spirit living and moving and breathing in you that will "make something of you." All you have to do is cooperate. You are the city on a hill. You and I, from the moment of our Baptisms, became those cities on a hill. We were placed there by God, with the help of our parents and Godparents. You may not have chosen it when it happened (if you were an infant), but you are there nonetheless.
You decide what people see. The home I grew up in sits on the side of a bluff in rural Wisconsin. If you have ever been in the country at night, far from the city, you know how still and complete the darkness can be. In it, everything seems close, intimate. Everything except the stars, which leap from the blackened sky with an intensity you can never see in the city. During the day, if you know where to look, our home can be seen from miles away. But at night, it almost completely disappears. When all the lights are off, you can barely spot the faint speck of light that is our doorbell. It's nearly impossible to see, and you can never be absolutely sure it's there, but if you look hard enough, it can be found.
But that's just it. The idea that hiding is an option is an illusion. Remember? You are a "city on a hill" which "cannot be hid." People see you. And they either see you living brightly and joyfully, or they see your boarded-up windows and "No Trespassing" signs. What kind of city are you? Are you a city full of light? Or one that has been closed up? I think most of us are a little of both. There are areas that we leave open—the safe areas that we're not ashamed of, or where we want affirmation—and there are others that are always closed. The challenge is allowing Christ into all of those places, both "safe" and "unsafe," so that He can make them all bearers of light. You don't have to shine on your own. God didn't place you up on that hill and then abandon you. He gave you the Holy Spirit so you could become something greater by His power than you could ever be on your own.
We never know how the way we live our lives will affect those around us. By the grace of God, may each of us have the courage to live boldly and joyfully in the glory of God, as shining cities on a hill. Unafraid. Unashamed. Unhidden. (This blog was previously posted on a page that is no longer active.)
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Nancy BechelI love the wonder of words, music, chocolate, and chopsticks. I believe in the power of truth to transform and inspire. Bacon is my friend. Archives
April 2025
CategoriesCopyright ©2022 Nancy Bechel. All Rights Reserved.
Whence the Adventure logo created with Canva. |
Proudly powered by Weebly
RSS Feed