Today we are starting a new series called Collide: Prepare for Impact. We have been talking about how Jesus is coming soon, and because of that, we have to recognize there is an inevitable collision between Christianity and culture. It is not a maybe. It is not something that only happens to pastors, evangelists, or missionaries somewhere far away.

It happens to ordinary people at work, at school, at the dinner table, or on a phone screen late at night. Truth collides with what feels true. Tolerance collides with conviction. Marriage collides with culture's latest definition of it. Abortion collides with the value of human life. Politics collides with the kingdom of God. Generosity collides with self-preservation. Forgiveness collides with what we think people deserve. And most weeks, most of us end up somewhere in the middle, preparing for impact, whether we realize it or not.

You see, God calls us to impact others with Christ's love. Paul tells us exactly what that calling looks like. He says,

"God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation... We are therefore Christ's ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ's behalf: Be reconciled to God" (2 Corinthians 5:18, 20).

That calling is not a program the church runs three times a year. It is who we are. But you cannot impact or influence someone you never reach out to, never contact, never touch in some way. Ambassadors do not stay behind the walls of the embassy. They go out. And once you go out, Paul tells us how an ambassador for Christ is supposed to carry themselves.

"Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone" (Colossians 4:5-6).

So if we take our calling seriously, we also have to be honest that contact will create friction, and friction will create collision. The question was never whether we would collide with the culture around us. The question is whether we will be ready when we do.

Think about what that looks like when it is no longer a question but Tuesday morning. A coworker mentions something at lunch that you know does not align with what Scripture says, and you feel that little tug: do I say something, or do I let it slide? A family member posts something online that makes your stomach turn, and you have to decide in about four seconds whether love means silence or a hard conversation. None of that is a sign that something has gone wrong in your walk with God. That is exactly the fault line Jesus told us we would be standing on.

Turn with me in your Bibles to Matthew chapter 10, where Jesus is preparing to send His disciples out for the very first time. This is their first mission trip, and right in the middle of commissioning them for ministry, He tells them something they never expected.

"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword" (Matthew 10:34).

That verse won't be showing up on a coffee mug anytime soon, but Jesus is not saying He came to start wars or cause violence. In fact, elsewhere in Scripture, He is called the "Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6) because He is the only one who can give us true peace with God.

You see, what Jesus describes here is not peace at all. It is a false peace, the kind that offers comfort without ever confronting the sin underneath it, the kind that calls something peace when it is really just denial. It is a peace that avoids friction instead of standing on truth, a peace that comes from never taking a stand on anything. It is the very peace the prophet Jeremiah warned against when he said,

"Peace, peace, when there is no peace" (Jeremiah 6:14).

And so Jesus is telling His disciples, and us by extension, that once we fully commit our lives to Him, a line gets drawn. Not because He is looking for a fight, but because truth, by its very nature, separates what agrees with it from what does not.

"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword" (Hebrews 4:12).

Notice where Jesus says that division shows up hardest. Not out in the street with strangers. At the family table.

"A man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Matthew 10:35).

He quotes the prophet Micah about a household torn apart from the inside, and He tells His disciples up front that some of the sharpest resistance they will face will come from people who share their last name. If you have ever felt the sting of a family member rolling their eyes at your faith, or going quiet when you bring up church, you are not experiencing something unusual. Jesus told us to expect exactly that.

"A man's enemies will be the members of his own household" (Matthew 10:36).

Then Jesus says something that sounds harsh until you really understand it.

"Anyone who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me" (Matthew 10:37).

He is not telling us to love our families less. He is telling us that our love for Him has to be the center around which everything else, even our dearest relationships, orbits. When that priority is in the right place, we end up loving people better, not worse, because we are loving them from the overflow of a heart that belongs to Jesus first.

Maybe that has already happened to you because of decisions you've made here, choices shaped by this church, this Bible, and this faith. A parent who stopped asking how church was going. A sibling who changed the subject the moment you brought up what God has been teaching you. That is not your failure. Jesus said it would happen, long before it ever happened to you.

And then He says it plainly.

"And anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me" (Matthew 10:38).

Everyone listening to Jesus that day knew exactly what a cross was. It was not a piece of jewelry. It was Rome's method of execution for criminals. When Jesus says to take up your cross, He means following Him is not a hobby you add to a comfortable life. It is a full identification with Him, cost included.

But look at where that verse lands.

"Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it" (Matthew 10:39).

That is the paradox sitting at the very heart of the gospel. In God's kingdom, the way up is down. The way to find your life is to let go of it for Christ.

And here is why we do not have to fear that kind of collision. The Holy Spirit is not optional equipment for the Christian life. He is the life, the strength, and the reason we can walk through collision without being destroyed by it. Before Jesus sent His disciples out to be His witnesses, He told them to wait for power. He said,

"Stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high" (Luke 24:49).

That is important because the same Spirit who saved you is the Spirit who sanctifies you, moment by moment, day by day. That same Spirit is the one who rises up in you with boldness the moment collision comes looking for you. And so you were never sent into that dinner table conversation, that office disagreement, or that family gathering alone.

A few chapters later, in the book of Acts, Jesus tells His followers the same thing, but differently. He tells them,

"You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses..." starting right where they live and moving out from there (Acts 1:8).

Notice the order. The power comes first, and the witness follows. God never asks us to produce our own courage for collision. He prepares the way and sends His Spirit ahead of the moment, not after it.

So, if collision with the culture is not just a possibility but a real promise, the real question is not how we avoid it, because we cannot avoid it and still be faithful to Christ. The real question is how we prepare for it. That is exactly where Jesus takes us next.

Go back a few pages to Matthew chapter 5, to the very beginning of this message, where Jesus calls His people salt and light.

To really understand what Jesus is saying, you must first recognize that in the ancient world, before anyone had refrigeration, salt was how people kept meat from rotting. It slowed decay. So, in verse thirteen, when Jesus says,

"You are the salt of the earth" (Matthew 5:13).

He is saying that Spirit-filled believers in a community are meant to hold back moral and spiritual decay, not by being harsh or self-righteous, but simply by being present and set apart.

But then he gives a warning, saying,

"But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled by men" (Matthew 5:13).

The greater danger to the church has never been an attack from outside. The greater danger is losing our distinctiveness from the inside. When believers start sounding exactly like the culture around them on truth, marriage, generosity, and forgiveness, we have lost the very thing that made us useful to begin with. Salt that tastes like everything else around it cannot preserve anything.

Light works differently than salt, but it makes the same point. Light does not shout. It simply exposes what is there and shows the way. Jesus says,

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden" (Matthew 5:14).

In other words, our lives are visible whether we intend them to be or not. Everything we do, everywhere we go, people are watching. So the only real question is what they see: a light hidden away, or a light put on display. Jesus makes it clear which one He calls us to.

"Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house" (Matthew 5:15).

And notice why Jesus says we let it shine. Not so people are impressed with us, but so...

"They may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven" (Matthew 5:16).

Impact was never about winning every argument. It is about living in such a way that people are drawn to God because of what they see in us.

That brings us back to the list we started with. Truth. Tolerance. Marriage. Abortion. Politics. Generosity. Forgiveness. Each one is a place where we decide whether to be salt and light, withdraw in fear or blend in for comfort. But neither choice honors what Jesus called us to. He did not call us away from the collision. He called us into it, prepared for impact.

Now, let's get specific, because Jesus did not leave salt and light as an abstract idea. No matter whether we are talking about truth, tolerance, marriage, abortion, politics, generosity, or forgiveness, salt and light mean the same thing every time. It means we do not back down from what God says. We speak the truth, but we never lose the love in our voice while we say it.

And what makes our presence in a colliding culture look like Jesus, instead of just another loud voice added to the noise of our culture, is what the Holy Spirit produces in us. The evidence, or fruit, of that Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

That is not our natural personality showing up. That is what it looks like when we are walking in step with the Holy Spirit, in the middle of a difficult conversation, a hard deadline, or a heated family gathering. You see, anybody can be loud, but it takes the Holy Spirit to be salty and gentle at the same time.

Think about the last time you saw someone handle a difficult situation with real grace, neither compromising the truth nor swinging a sword. That is not a personality trait. That is fruit, and fruit only grows one way, by staying connected to the vine. Jesus said,

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).

This is the doctrine of sanctification lived out in real time. God sets us apart, not to separate us from people, but to separate us from the unhealthy patterns of this world, so we have something different to offer them. A believer who looks, talks, and reacts exactly like everyone else around them has nothing left to season the conversation. Sanctification is not God making us less human. It is the Holy Spirit making us more useful, like salt that has kept its flavor and light that has not been covered over.

To prepare for impact does not mean bracing yourself for a collision you are just hoping to survive. It is not a defensive posture, tensed up or curled up, waiting for the world to come at you. It means stepping into every collision on purpose, salted with grace, lit up with the goodness of God, and trusting the Holy Spirit to give you exactly the boldness and love each moment calls for. You do not have to manufacture that ahead of time. You just have to show up ready to be used.

And so, what does that look like this week? It looks like staying in the conversation,

"Making the most of every opportunity" (Colossians 4:5).

Instead of walking away from it. It looks like texting back instead of going silent when a friend says something you disagree with. It looks like showing up to the family dinner even though you know a hard conversation might come up, because your presence, seasoned with grace, does more good than your absence ever could. Collision is not something to schedule around. It is something to walk into, ready.

This morning, as we close, there is one collision, more than any other, that determines how we can survive all the others. Long before Christianity and culture ever collided, sin and grace collided head-on, and Jesus pointed to it right there, at a simple meal with twelve ordinary men, on the night everything was about to fall apart.

He sat down with His disciples to celebrate the Passover meal, the meal that remembered Israel's deliverance from Egyptian bondage under the old covenant. But that night, He did not simply retell the old story. He brought it into something new. He took the bread and the cup that had pointed backward for over a thousand years and said, "This is my body, this is my blood, poured out as a new covenant." The old covenant pointed toward a deliverance that was coming. The new covenant, sealed at that same table, declared that the deliverance had arrived.

Judgment and mercy met there, and mercy won. Not because sin was overlooked, but because Jesus stepped into the full force of it in our place.

Every other collision we have discussed this morning gets its meaning from that one. It is the collision against which every other collision in your life is measured. Listen to how the apostle Paul described this moment:

"For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, 'This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.' In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, 'This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me'" (1 Corinthians 11:23-25).

The bread represents His body, offered as a sacrifice and crucified so that ours would not have to be. The cup represents His blood, poured out so that a new covenant could be written on our hearts rather than on stone tablets. The old covenant demanded that we keep the law perfectly. The new covenant in His blood gave us someone who kept it for us.

And notice how that passage ends in verse twenty-six,

"Whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes" (1 Corinthians 11:26).

In other words, communion is not only a look backward at what Jesus already did on the cross. It is also a look forward to what he promised he will do again.

"He who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon’" (Revelation 22:20).

The same Jesus who told us to prepare for impact and said a collision was coming also told us that He is coming back to end every collision for good. Every hard conversation, every family tension, every headline that makes your stomach turn, none of it is the final word. There is a day coming when the friction stops, the fault line closes, and the only thing left standing is His Kingdom. Hope

As we come to the table this morning, we remember the body given for us and the blood poured out for us. We come watching, we come ready, and we come prepared, just as he asked us to be for whatever this world brings against us this week. We don’t come to this table because we have it all figured out or because we’ve already won every battle we will face. We come because Jesus already won the one that mattered most, and every strength we need for the battles still ahead flows from what happened at the cross.

Graphics, notes, and commentary from LifeChurch, Ministry Pass, PC Study Bible, Preaching Library, and Sermon Central. Scripture from the New International Version unless otherwise noted.