As I sit here at my desk, a mourning dove lands on a branch of the pine tree outside the window. His sad lament is what first drew my attention and it takes me a few minutes to find him hidden within the branches. He allows me to take his picture, before flying off into a distant tree.
He is followed by a Blue Jay, a Junco, and a tiny sparrow; all flittering from branch to branch, too shy to wait for the camera to find them and zoom in.
The cry of the dove is replaced by the insistent warning chirp of a chipmunk which, I would assume, means that George (a large cat with an amazing likeness to Garfield) is out roaming the neighborhood.
The water is relatively smooth, with only a light ripple along its surface. A far cry from the white caps that rolled along during the last rain storm.
A boat slides slowly, silently by, its three occupants busy about their own adventure. I know not what that might be. Fishing, perhaps?
And as I contemplate my own day’s adventure, I am conscious of the Sunday morning sermon a couple days ago about being salt and light.
We are salt –
We should act as a preservative, slowing the decay of sin and godlessness around us by the lives we lead. And, like salt, our lives should be creating a thirst in unbelievers, not just for water, but for the Living Water – Jesus Christ.
We are light –
Our lives should be reflecting the light of our Savior into the darkness around us. We are called to be bright lights to those lost souls that we come into contact with, a testimony to what Jesus has done and is doing for us.
There is a choice to be made –
Whether to be salt and light, or whether to be ineffective, as salt that has lost its flavor or as a light that has been covered up.
Do we want to lose our usefulness? Do we want to dim the light so we no longer shine for Jesus?
Or do we want to flavor the lives of those around us with the love and grace that can only be found in the Lord Jesus and so shine forth as a beacon to those lost ones that we come into contact with?
Thank you, Pastor, for these thoughts and lessons.
© Drusilla Mott and https://drusillamott.wordpress.com 2018