I promised God I would go wherever He leads me.
Most days that promise feels light.
Some days it feels heavy.
And this weekend, it felt like both.
Corpus Christi.
First Communion.
A Baptism.
Preaching.
And our pastor still stranded in Africa.
The work was full, and so was my fatigue.
By Sunday afternoon, I thought I’d rest.
Just a nap.
Just a moment.
But at four o’clock the phone rang:
“Deacon, where are you?
We are waiting for you to bring us the Body of Christ.”
And there it was—
on the Feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord—
my own body tired, my own spirit dull,
my own salt losing its taste.
But Jesus never said,
“Try to be salt… try to be light.”
He said:
“You are the salt… you are the light.”
Salt preserves.
Salt purifies.
Salt awakens flavor.
And when Jesus names us salt,
He is naming our identity—
the deep truth of who we are in Him.
Light does not try to shine.
Light shines because of what it is.
To be united to Christ
is to share in His radiance—
a light that flows from being,
not from effort.
So when the nursing home called,
it wasn’t a summons to duty.
It was a reminder of identity.
A reminder that discipleship is not performance.
It is union with Christ—
a transformed way of being
that lets His life shine through our tired bones.
And so I rose.
Still weary.
Still human.
But carried by grace.
And I brought the Body of Christ
to the Body of Christ.
And in that moment,
the salt found its taste.
The light found its flame.
And Christ, who called me,
was the One who carried me.
Prayer
Lord Jesus,Let Your life restore my salt and steady my light.
When I am tired, be my strength.
When I am dull, be my flame.
Make my being a quiet witness to Your love.
And let all I do lead hearts back to the Father. Amen.
