Hello, and welcome to this fifth message in our 2026 Epiphany Series, Manifesting Hope in Darkness. Today our theme is Hope Found in Community.

Most of you won’t know me. My name is Michael Ward, a retired United Church of Canada pastor currently serving Christ Moravian Church in Calgary as interim pastor.

Today’s Gospel picks up right where we left off last week. Jesus has just proclaimed the Beatitudes - those surprising blessings that describe the character of God’s Kingdom or Reign. They paint a picture of what a Jesus-shaped life looks like. And immediately after blessing His followers, Jesus turns from blessing to identity. He looks at this ordinary crowd - fishermen, farmers, mothers, labourers, the weary and the hopeful - and He says:

“You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”

Not a list of ideals to strive for, but a way of being in the world that reveals God’s presence and purpose.
Jesus begins with salt. And He speaks in terms of how He already sees us.

He doesn’t say, “Go be salty.” He says, “You are salt.”

In the ancient world, salt wasn’t the pure white table salt we know today. It was mined - full of minerals and attached trace elements that gave each grain its own texture and taste. Every handful was different. And no single grain changed anything on its own. It was the collective that seasoned.

Salt works by drawing out what is already present. It awakens flavours hidden within the food - makes it richer, more savoury.

And Jesus says: That’s you.

Your calling is not to impose something on the world. Your calling is to draw out the God‑given goodness already embedded in others and in creation.

When you listen deeply to someone who feels unseen… When you encourage another gently… When you stand with someone in their pain… When you help someone notice the grace already at work in their life…

You are bringing out God‑flavours. You are awakening what God has already placed there.

Then Jesus shifts the image:

“You are the light of the world.”

Light doesn’t create what it reveals. It simply makes visible what darkness hides.

And here’s something beautiful: white light is not one colour. It is the blending of many wavelengths - many colours.
Likewise, the church’s witness is communal. Diverse gifts, personalities, and stories forming one radiant presence.
Light is not meant to be admired. Light is meant to help others see.

When you act with compassion… When you speak truth with gentleness… When you choose justice over convenience… When you forgive when it would be easier to hold a grudge…

You illuminate possibilities others couldn’t see. Your life becomes a window through which God’s grace is glimpsed.
It’s important to notice that Jesus speaks to the crowd. The “you” is plural.

You all are the salt. You all are the light.

Salt works in combination. Light shines in spectrum.

A single grain of salt is tasteless. A single colour band is limited.

But together? Together they transform the environment.

The church’s witness is strongest when we blend our strengths and weaknesses, our stories and scars. We don’t have to be everything. We simply bring our part. God uses the whole community to season and illuminate the world.

Salt and Light Fulfill Their Purpose by Giving Themselves Away

Salt does its work quietly. It dissolves into the food and disappears, yet its presence is unmistakable in the flavour it brings out. Light works the same way. We don’t admire light for its own sake - we value it because it helps us see what is really there. Its purpose is fulfilled when it reveals what would otherwise remain hidden.

In the same way, Kingdom influence is not about being noticed. It’s not about drawing attention to ourselves. It’s about the quiet, steady transformation that happens when God’s love works through us. When we offer kindness without needing credit… when we serve without applause… when we forgive without fanfare… we are giving ourselves away in love. And in that giving, we become most fully who Christ says we already are.

Salt disappears into the meal. Light gives itself to the room. And disciples of Jesus give themselves to the world - not to be recognized, but so that others might taste grace and see hope.

Quiet acts of kindness. Faithful presence in difficult places. Courageous truth spoken gently. Forgiveness offered freely. Hope held on behalf of someone who can’t hold it for themselves.

These are the ways we “lose ourselves” and yet become who we truly are in Christ.

I believe Eugene Peterson captures the heart of Jesus’ words in his paraphrase of the Bible - The Message:

“Bring out the God‑flavours of the earth.” “Bring out the God‑colours in the world.”

God has already seeded the world with goodness, beauty, and possibility. Our calling is to help reveal it - to help others taste and see the goodness of God.

Salt and light are not about superiority. They are about service. They are not about drawing attention to ourselves. They are about drawing attention to God’s presence already shimmering beneath the surface of things.

So hear this good news:

You are already salt. You are already light.

Not because of your perfection, but because Christ has named you so.

Go into your homes, your workplaces, your neighbourhoods with confidence -  drawing out God‑flavours, revealing God‑colours, trusting that God uses ordinary people - people like you and me - to season and illuminate the world.
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May we live in such a way that others taste grace, see hope, and glimpse the God who is already at work in every corner of creation. Amen.

Today's sermon is offered by Pastor Mark Guevarra from Edmonton Moravian Church. This sermon was pre-recorded for our service, so the link is provided below along with the manuscript. We hope you enjoy this new sermon series and we hope that hearing the voices of our clergy from around Alberta will provide some new insights and opportunities to worship God.

Here is the link to Mark's recorded sermon: https://youtu.be/JN9T3Y8ApDY.

And here is the manuscript if you wish to read it:

​Sermon by Mark Guevarra
Good morning.
My name is Mark and I’m the pastor at Edmonton Moravian Church.
I am honoured to share my message with you today.
I am also eager to hear the messages from my fellow pastors from our sister churches over the course of the next several weeks in our epiphany series titled “Manifesting Hope in Darkness.”
 
We’ve just heard Matthew’s account of Jesus’ baptism.
For me, the central message is not just about who Jesus is, but who we are, and
where our dignity truly comes from.
 
Many people today struggle with dignity.
We live in a world that constantly measures our worth--
by appearance, influence, productivity, success, or failure.
From a young age, we learn that love often feels conditional:
You are valued if you perform well.
You are accepted if you fit in.
You matter if you prove yourself.
Over time, this can shape how we see ourselves and even how we imagine God sees us.
 
Among those who struggle with dignity are 2SLGBTQ+ people.
We grow up in a world where the norms are heterosexual.
From a young age, many 2SLGBTQ+ people feel less than since they are not like most people.
For me, I was careful about acting masculine to fit in.
This caused me to look down upon men who acted feminine.
Besides being gay, I’m a person of colour.
While I grew up in a multicultural context in Canada, I was also deeply aware about how different I was, particularly in contrast to the white standard and norm.
Growing up in the 80’s and 90’s there wasn’t as much representation in the media of people of colour.
This hyperawareness of my difference caused me to hate my ethnicity.
 
In time, I came to accept every part of me.
Much of that had to do with education, theological formation, but most importantly spiritual direction.
 
I recall going on a spiritual retreat in my 20’s and taking a full day reflecting on today’s gospel.
I learned to hear the words “You are my beloved child” not only directed at Jesus, but directed to me.
This forever changed my perspective on things.
Rather than seeing myself as other,
I saw my wonderful individuality as a gift given by God,
and that enabled me to see others as beautifully unique individuals, and
siblings in one human family.
 
In the gospel, we hear that Jesus comes from Galilee to the Jordan River to be baptized by John.
John is hesitant. He knows Jesus’ goodness, his authority, his holiness.
John says, in effect, “This doesn’t make sense. You should be baptizing me.”
But Jesus insists, not because he needs repentance, but because he chooses solidarity.
He chooses to step into the waters of human brokenness to be with us, and to make things right and whole.
 
When Jesus comes up from the water, we know what happens, the heavens open,
the Spirit of God descends like a dove, and a voice says:
“This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
 
Notice something important.
At this point in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has not yet performed a miracle.
He has not preached a sermon, healed the sick, or fed the crowds.
He has not proven anything.
And yet God declares love, delight, and identity.
The love comes first.
And then Jesus’ mission flows from it.
 
This moment reveals a foundational truth about dignity: our worth is not earned; it is given. Jesus is named “beloved” not because of what he has done, but
because of who he is in relationship to the one he called Father.
 
I hope you come to hear the words “You are my beloved in whom I am well pleased” as directed to you.
I hope you believe that you are beloved not because of what you’ve done but simply because you are a child of God.
 
I was baptized on December 25th 1980 and according to my parents, there was not dove descending upon me or a voice from heaven.
It was just the priest, my parents, my 3 year old brother, my godparents, and relatives, all witnessing the ritual and called to raise me to believing that I am God’s beloved child.
I was blessed to have so many faithful people in my life to teach me that truth, but even still I doubted it, as I’m sure you all have.
 
But claiming our dignity begins with believing this truth - not just up here in our heads, but deeply, personally, and courageously.
I recently presided at a funeral of a man who had a strong faith.
I believe that faith was rooted in him knowing in his heart of hearts that he was loved by God unconditionally.
He wasn’t perfect, but even in those time of weakness, he remained faithful to God.
 
Too often, we allow other voices to define us.
Voices of comparison tell us we are not enough.
Voices of shame tell us we are our mistakes.
Voices of fear tell us we must earn love or risk losing it.
Social media has become both a blessing some ways but also a curse by intensifying these voices.
 
But the baptism of Jesus reveals a God who loves first.
A God who names dignity before achievement.
A God whose love is unconditional, faithful, and unshakeable.
 
To claim our dignity, then, is not an act of pride; it is an act of faith.
It means choosing to believe God’s word over every other word that tries to define us.
It means saying, “I am not what I produce. I am not what I lack. I am not what others say about me. I am God’s beloved.”
 
This claiming of dignity has consequences.
When we know we are beloved, we are freed from the exhausting need to prove ourselves.
We can risk compassion instead of competition.
We can serve others not to earn worth, but because we already have it.
And we can manifest hope even amidst uncertainty, darkness, and even death.
 
Jesus’ own ministry flows from this identity.
After his baptism, he is led into the wilderness, where his identity is immediately challenged.
“If you are the Son of God…” the tempter says.
But Jesus does not argue. He does not perform. He stands firm –
rooted in the truth spoken over him at the Jordan.
Knowing who he is allows him to resist lies and walk faithfully into his mission.
 
The same is true for us.
When we claim our dignity as God’s beloved, we become more resilient.
We are less easily defined by failure or success.
We are better able to love others without fear,
because we are not operating from emptiness, but from abundance.
 
This dignity is not private or individualistic.
It shapes how we see others as well.
If our dignity comes from God’s unconditional love, then so does everyone else’s.
Every person we encounter—regardless of gender, ethnicity, ability, sexual orientation, or belief—is someone over whom God delights.
To claim our own dignity is also to honor the dignity of others.
 
At the Jordan River, God does not whisper love; God proclaims it. Publicly. Boldly. Without qualification.
And that same love continues to be spoken over us, again and again, even when we forget, even when we doubt, even when we struggle to believe we are worthy.
 
So today, the invitation is simple, but profound: listen again to the voice of God.
Let it speak louder than your fears. Let it interrupt your self-criticism. Let it heal what has been wounded.
 
You are God’s beloved. Not someday. Not if you succeed. Not if you get it all right.
Now. Always.
 
May we have the courage to claim that dignity, to live from it, and to reflect it to a world desperate to know it is loved.
 
Amen.