It’s unfortunate that it’s so easy for many churches to have a vision that, at least implicitly, extends as far as their four walls. There is comfort and safety in staying hidden, in secluding ourselves in the corner. But, like a candle that is put under something, soon the oxygen will run out and the candle will cease to burn. We need to frame our ministry in a way where we are intentionally engaging those around us, and interacting with the community that God in his providence has put us in.

Jesus told his disciples exactly what they were, “You are the light of the world.” And he told them exactly what he expected them to do, “A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16). There it is. We are the light of the world, and that light is either under a basket or shinning as a city on a hill. What we have been given–which the Apostle Paul tells us in 2 Corinthians is nothing less than the “light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ”–isn’t to be kept a secret but communicated; not contained but spread; not hidden but seen. As Matthew Henry once wrote, “The disciples of Christ must not muffle themselves up in privacy and obscurity, under pretense of contemplation, modesty, or self-preservation, but as they have received the gift, must minister the same.”

Despite this high calling, it’s unfortunate that it’s so easy for many churches to have a vision that, at least implicitly, extends as far as their four walls. There is comfort and safety in staying hidden, in secluding ourselves in the corner. But, like a candle that is put under something, soon the oxygen will run out and the candle will cease to burn. We need to frame our ministry in a way where we are intentionally engaging those around us, and interacting with the community that God in his providence has put us in. To me, this is a unique feature of ministry in a small town. If I can be so bold, it’s simply far more challenging for a church to remain unseen in a small community. While the country church is no longer the center of the town–the way it was a hundred years ago–still, it’s extremely difficult to get lost in the numbers when there are no numbers! To add to that, we don’t get the flexibility (if you want to call it that) to define the parameters of our community the way a church in downtown Seattle or Manhattan might–appealing to the young and hip, or intellectual elites. This isn’t a bad thing even if it comes with challenges of its own.

It would be naive, however, to think that a small town church doesn’t have troubles in this area, too. Is it harder to stay hidden and labor in obscurity? Yes. Is it harder to define our own community? Yes. But our witness can be dim and our interactions almost non-existent. Granville Hicks, whom I’ve mentioned before, was reflecting in his book Small Town, about his paradigm shifting realization of the lack of real and personal involvement he had with his community. He wrote:

On the whole, however, we did not belong to the town. The physical setting of our lives was pure Roxborough–rather austere, rather exciting. Roxborough snows, the colors of a bright winter day, spring mud, the stony soil, summer droughts, cool nights for sleeping and warm nights for growing corn, the depth of frost in the ground, the depth of water in the well, the flashing tails of frightened deer, the fox tracks on a snowy morning, the red of maple buds in April, the shad blown storm–all this became the shape and substance of our existence. But the part of life that was not physical, that was intellectual and professional and social, had little to do with Roxborough…If I stopped to think about the matter at all, I realized that Roxborough could scarcely welcome [me] with enthusiasm, and I asked only to be left alone.

Though he wasn’t offering insight into Christian ministry, I think what he has written here is worth reflecting on. Could that be said of many churches whether in a small town or a big city? Have we, in our failure to engage intentionally and meaningfully, asked to be left alone? I think many of us have. And then we wonder why people don’t notice or give us a hearing. Now, I don’t expect the world to welcome the church with enthusiasm, “You will be hated by all for my name’s sake” (Mark 13:13), and “In the world you will have tribulation” (John 16:33). But I do expect the church to take heart, because we labor for one who has overcome the world, and in so doing he has given us every corner of the world–including our communities–to be a field ripe for the harvest. We are the light of the world, but will we hide it, or will we set it upon the hill.

Kyle Borg is a minister in the Reformed Presbyterian Church of North America (RPCNA) and serves as pastor of Winchester Reformed Presbyterian Church in Winchester, Kan. This article appeared on the church blog and is used with permission.