Seeing Salt and Light in Every Face

by Lori Wilson

A directee recently shared something that stopped me in my tracks. She had been praying with Matthew 5:13-16 - you know the passage: "You are the salt of the earth... You are the light of the world." But instead of the usual focus on being salt and light, she heard an invitation to see it. What if each person we encounter is salt and light for us? What if the person standing in front of us - this specific person, right now - has something that could illuminate our thinking or season our lives in ways we desperately need?

It sounds simple, but it changes everything about how we listen.

Think about how salt works in cooking. It doesn't just add flavor; it awakens what's already there, bringing out depths we couldn't taste before. And light doesn't create what we see - it reveals what was hidden in the dark. What if that's what people do for us when we actually pay attention? What if they help us taste our own lives more fully, see our circumstances more clearly?

But here's the uncomfortable truth I'm sitting with: How often do I dismiss the person in front of me? Not with obvious rudeness, but with that subtle discounting that happens when I've already decided someone isn't important enough, interesting enough, or similar enough to me. When I'm half-present because I'm cataloging their differences rather than receiving their gifts. When my ego quietly sorts people into "has something for me" and "doesn't."

I'm missing so much. All those opportunities for God to speak to me through the very people I'm tuning out.

And it works the other way too. How many times have I treated others as if their flavor has gone flat for me - as if what they offer does nothing for my life? I've become salt that's lost its taste to them, light hidden under a basket, because I've decided they're not worth the energy of showing up fully.

Jesus' teaching isn't just about being salt and light in the world - though yes, I want to reveal God's love wherever I go. But maybe it's also about receiving the salt and light that God places in every encounter, trusting that each person carries something sacred I need to discover.

My prayer these days is becoming simpler: Help me be present to the wonder of each person I meet. Help me receive the gift of presence that You offer me - disguised in ordinary faces, unexpected encounters, people my ego would skip right past.

What if everyone I meet today is salt and light?

What if I actually believed it?

Questions for Reflection

• When you think about the people you'll encounter today, who do you tend to dismiss or be half-present with? What would it mean to receive them as "salt and light"?

• Recall a time when someone unexpected illuminated something for you. What were the conditions that allowed you to notice? What was different about your listening?

• Where might your ego be leading you to discount someone's offering right now? What invitation might be hidden there?

• If you truly saw each person as carrying something sacred that could season or illuminate your life, how might your daily interactions shift - at the grocery store, in meetings, with family?

Prayer

God of unexpected encounters, 

Help me see what I'm missing.

Slow me down enough to notice the salt and light you've placed in the very people I might dismiss.

Teach me to listen as if each person carries something I desperately need - because they do.

Let me show up fully, not sorting or judging, but receiving the gift of each sacred face.

And when my ego wants to decide who's worth my presence, remind me: You're always speaking, always offering, always present - especially where I least expect You.

Amen.