Picture it, there we were, my wife Hannah and I back in 2021, kicking around the idea of packing up our lives and leaving behind the cozy, maple-syrup-soaked hills of Vermont. Now, let me tell you, Vermont isn’t just where we were born and raised. No matter where we’d end up, Vermont would always hold a special place in our hearts. Even if all my family had scattered like leaves in the wind, it would still be tethered to the Green Mountains.

I remember the day it all changed. We were clawing our way out of the pandemic fog, and life as I knew it was shifting faster than a New England weather forecast. The Inn I worked at was being sold, and I had hit my limit with everything about the state I once adored. So what did I do, I came home, kicked the door open, and announced with dramatic flair, “That’s it. We’re moving!”

Now, to set the stage, you need to know this wasn’t my first declaration of this kind. Every six to nine months, I’d hit my breaking point and proclaimed, “We’re outta here!” And every time, Hannah would calmly remind me that if I wanted to move, I’d be doing it solo because she wasn’t leaving our families. But this time was different. This time, she looked me in the eye and said, “Okay. Where are we moving to?”

I won’t lie, I nearly fell over. But once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I did what any sane man would do: I started packing boxes. We didn’t have a destination yet, mind you, but we were moving.

Now, Hannah and I had a plan, or so we thought. We were going to North Carolina, back to the Blue Ridge Mountains where my parents had grown up. I love those mountains, the air, the views, the wilderness. Nothing beats an early morning in the Blue Ridge with the mist rising like a promise from God. Well, we prayed and told the Lord, “We’re heading to North Carolina.”

And you know what God did? He laughed.

Instead of North Carolina, God redirected us to Georgia. At first, I didn’t panic. I thought, there are some decent mountains up near the SC/TN line. We’ll be fine. But then came the real kicker: we weren’t moving to the north Georgia mountains. Nope. God pointed His heavenly GPS straight at Savannah.

Savannah. Where the only mountains are made of sand, and the closest thing to wilderness is a swamp full of gators. Do you know what Savannah doesn’t have? Mountains. You know what it does have? Beaches. And let me be perfectly clear…I hate the beach!

The beach has people (ugh), sand that infiltrates every crevice of your body (double ugh), and salt that refuses to leave you alone. My son learned this the hard way when he tried to drink ocean water. Bless him. And you don’t even have to get in the water to feel the salt; it’s in the air, on your skin, and stuck in your car for eternity. The last time I had this much salt and sand in my trunk, it was from winter road grit back in Vermont.

But here’s the thing about all that salt: it sticks to you in ways you’d never see coming. Even after you wash it off, your skin feels… different; softer, healthier, like someone just peeled back three layers of Vermont-grade winter skin and let you start fresh. And wouldn’t you know it, my allergies practically packed their bags and moved out when we hit the coast. That salty air works its magic, even if I avoid the beach like it’s a family reunion you weren’t ready for.

That’s the funny thing about salt, it’s relentless. Once it’s been added or applied, it’s there for good. You can try to scrub it away, dilute it, hide it, but it’s already done the work. And if it’s in a soup, sure, you can add a little water, but let’s not kid ourselves, the salt isn’t going anywhere. Take a pot of water, throw in a spoonful of salt, and let it boil all day long. You’ll end up with nothing but an empty pot and a crusty ring of salt clinging to the bottom like it owns the place.

Salt doesn’t just flavor, it stays, it lingers, it transforms. Let me tell you, as someone that owns a car that was from the North. Even the salt from the roads leaves their mark. We are now seeing that in how quickly it rusted out from the wet, salty GA air. Whether it’s on your skin or in your soup, it leaves a mark that’s impossible to ignore.

Matthew 5:13, where Jesus tells His disciples, “You are the salt of the earth,” is way more than a catchy metaphor, it’s a rallying cry. This isn’t just about sprinkling a little flavor into life; it’s a call to action, a challenge to influence, preserve, and transform the world around us. And if we want to fully grasp the weight of this statement, we’ve got to understand how people used salt back in Jesus’ time. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t just for flavor

Back then, salt was essential. People living in that region often got their salt from the Dead Sea, but this wasn’t the neat little NaCl you have dumped all over your McDonald’s fries. It was a blend of salts, packed with a variety of uses that went way beyond seasoning. Jesus’ audience would’ve immediately picked up on the many layers of meaning in His words, and we’re going to unpack a few of those now.

First, salt preserved food. Without refrigerators or freezers, people relied on salt to prevent their food from spoiling. When Jesus called us the salt of the earth, He was reminding us of our role in preserving what is good in a world that constantly trends toward decay; morally, spiritually, you name it. And this is where hospitality plays a huge role. When we open our homes, our tables, and our lives to others, we’re preserving the goodness of God’s grace and truth. Sharing a meal or offering a listening ear might seem small, but these acts preserve something sacred in a world that’s starving for connection.

Salt isn’t just about preservation, though; it’s also about flavor. Think about how bland food is without salt. (Ever eaten an unsalted dish? Tragic.) Salt enhances and brings out the best in whatever it touches. That’s our job as believers, to bring out the best in others and in the world around us. When we embody Christ’s love, joy, and kindness, we add richness to life. And when we host others with genuine care and offer encouragement, kindness, and maybe a slice of pie; we’re seasoning their lives with something that leaves a lasting impression.

Salt also had medicinal purposes in ancient times. It was used to clean wounds and promote healing. Let’s face it, life leaves people banged up. As the salt of the earth, we’re called to be agents of healing. Hospitality can be a powerful tool for this. A welcoming home, a warm meal, or even a heartfelt conversation can provide the balm someone needs to start healing emotionally or spiritually. We’re not just called to stand by and watch people hurt; we’re called to roll up our sleeves and bring healing where we can.

Here’s a lesser-known fact: one of the top three salts from the Dead Sea was potassium chloride (KCl). Its main use was fertilizer. Gardeners today know it as potash, and it’s a key ingredient for helping plants absorb water and grow stronger. This adds another dimension to Jesus’ words. As salt, we’re not just preserving or seasoning; we’re enriching the soil around us, helping others draw closer to God and bear spiritual fruit. Hospitality plays a big role here too. When you mentor a new believer, create a welcoming space, or even just encourage someone in their faith, you’re helping to fertilize the soil of their lives. You’re helping them soak up God’s living water and produce fruit that lasts.

Here’s the kicker: Jesus didn’t say, “You are NaCl, so go season life,” or “You’re KCl, so stick to fertilizing.” Nope. He said, “You are salt.” Period. That means we’re called to be all the salts in the sea, all the time. We’re not limited to one role. We’re meant to preserve, season, heal, and help others grow, sometimes all at once. And unlike literal salt, we’re not limited to doing one job at a time. We can be healing someone’s wounds while seasoning their life and helping them grow in Christ.

This is where I must drop a line from Bill Belichick: “Just do your job.” That’s it. Don’t overcomplicate it. Don’t stress whether YOUR fruit looks bigger or YOUR’S is prettier than someone else’s. If you focus on helping others heal, grow, and thrive while staying watered by being connected to God yourself, the fruit will come. Abundantly.

Hospitality is one of the clearest ways to live out this salty calling. Think about your home or church as fertile soil, enriched by the salt of love, kindness, and encouragement. How can you make it a place where others feel nourished and supported? Maybe it’s as simple as inviting someone over for coffee or offering a prayer for someone who’s struggling. These small acts of hospitality can have a huge impact, helping others feel seen, valued, and loved.

Here’s the truth: a salty church is a thriving church. When we’re committed to preserving God’s truth, enhancing the lives of those around us, and helping others grow spiritually, we create a community that’s irresistible. People are drawn to places where they feel loved, supported, and challenged to grow. Communities where churches actively engage in hospitality often see lower rates of loneliness, higher levels of trust, and more opportunities for spiritual and personal growth.

As Christians, we’re called to preserve the moral fabric of society, enhance the quality of life, and foster spiritual growth. That’s what it means to be the salt of the earth. And when we live this out, we glorify God and draw others to Him. A salty church, one that preserves, seasons, heals, and helps people grow and becomes a beacon of hope in a world that desperately needs it.

Living as salt requires action. It means being intentional about fostering connections and creating opportunities for others to experience God’s love. Maybe that looks like reaching out to someone who needs encouragement, offering mentorship, or opening your home to a neighbor. Maybe it’s sharing your testimony or praying with someone who’s struggling. Whatever it is, let your actions point others to Christ.

Matthew 5:13 calls us to be salt, to influence, preserve, enhance, and heal the world around us. Through Godly hospitality, we create spaces where others can encounter God’s love, drink deeply from His living water, and bear fruit that lasts. So, let’s commit to being the salt of the earth. Let’s preserve what is good, season life with God’s love, heal the broken, and help others grow in their faith. And remember: JUST DO YOUR JOB! If YOU focus on being the salt God called YOU to be, YOU’LL see the fruit, in YOUR life and in the lives of those AROUND YOU.

And remember, Stay Salty my Friends.