The Sun of Righteousness Rises Across the Palmetto State

Tony Wolfe

Tony Wolfe

Tony Wolfe is executive director-treasurer of the South Carolina Baptist Convention

When I first moved to Columbia from Texas in the spring of 2023, several South Carolinians told me to brace myself for the summer heat. “There’s nothing like it,” they said. “It sticks to you.” They weren’t wrong. I grew up in Baton Rouge, so the humid summer heat is nothing new to me. But we moved here from the Dallas area where the summer heat was a different kind of torture altogether. Summer in Columbia is as it was in Baton Rouge — like a pressure-cooking rice steamer. In Dallas, it was more like a concrete oven. Either way, it cooks on high heat. Today, my crispy red skin is a testament to the South Carolina sun, which shows no mercy to either relaxing fishermen or hardworking yard mowers.

Throughout Scripture, “the heat of the day” refers to the hottest and most critical segment of working hours. Kings wanted to win their battles before it (1 Sam. 11:11), shepherds wanted to relax in the tent during it (Gen. 18:1), and those who worked through it expected to be compensated fairly for their efforts. So, when the landowner in Jesus’s parable distributed one denarius equally to all who worked in the vineyard that day, regardless of how long they had labored in the sun, the full-day workers were frustrated. “These last men put in one hour,” they complained, “and you made them equal to us who bore the burden of the day’s work and the burning heat” (Matt. 20:12). A long day in the hot sun was worth more, they thought, than a hot minute in the evening breeze. But the landowner responded directly: “Don’t I have the right to do what I want with what is mine? Are you jealous because I am generous?” (20:13–16).

All Christians are workers in God’s vineyard. We have been sent into the fields to sow, to cultivate, and to reap with gospel intentionality. What we don’t know is whether we have come to the field early in days, in the heat of the days, or late in days. The gospel of Jesus Christ has beamed brightly for two thousand years, but “concerning the day or hour” of the landowner’s return, “no one knows” (Matt. 24:36). So, what are we to do? Put in the work under the sun as long as we have breath, trusting that God will come at the end of the day and reward us for our faithfulness.

I don’t know when Christ will come again, but I do know the fields are white unto harvest and we have been hired to work them. To be honest, some mornings, when I wake up working within our Baptist partnership, feel like a fresh breath of cool morning breeze. Other times, I feel like it’s a backbreaking sweat-fest in the August midday sun. I don’t know if we’re close to the end of the day, but I do know that God has called us to this field, in our time, together. And I plan to give it everything I’ve got.

As part of our Give + Go initiative for 2025, we have launched the first wave of a widespread media-based gospel saturation campaign. We’re calling it “The Jesus Change.” At thejesuschange.org, you’ll see easily shareable stories — graphics and videos — that highlight the gospel of Jesus Christ in short, relatable bursts of content. Every single response is followed up on by a real live SCBaptist who shares the gospel and points the responder to a local SCBaptist church. This is just the beginning. This fall, look for initiatives like this to flood the markets on streaming services, billboards, and targeted social media advertising across our state. Please share these stories every chance you get. May the Sun of Righteousness “rise with healing in his wings” (Mal. 4:2) across the Palmetto state this summer and this fall. SCBaptists, roll up your sleeves and put the plow to the field. It’s hot, but we’ve got work to do.