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Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.  Matthew 5:8

Being pure of heart doesn’t mean having a perfect heart. That’s good news because about the time I read the verse, I could feel a hopeless sense of inadequacy. I know that I’m not perfect and never will be on this earth. It would be tempting to throw up my hands. So, Jesus must be talking about something else.  Being pure in heart means ‘living with an undivided heart’.  My passions are not split between love for God and other lesser loves.  My inside world is not a divided kingdom.  By God’s grace, I live with an inner alignment where my heart is single-focused.

I feel it intensely when things aren’t right.  When my ego has crept in, when I struggle with mixed motives, when I’ve put on a disingenuous smile, I’m pretty miserable and ask the Holy Spirit for the strength to regain my spiritual equilibrium.  I long for that clear heart again.  

Knowing that it is those with an undivided heart who will see God, I find a lot of comfort in knowing that it is not the educated, nor the accomplished and admired, nor even the renowned Bible scholar, who shall see God. He reveals Himself in all of His glory to anyone who puts aside their idols and embraces Him as their one and only treasure. 

With competing idols removed, I don’t need to be impressive; I need to be true.  I don’t need to perform; I need to be authentic.  I don’t need to self-protect; I need to extend my heart when God nudges and know that He will catch me when there’s a disappointing outcome.  I don’t need to live in a civil war. Peace has been won and paid for by the blood of Jesus.  When I notice the first signs of anxiety, I will know that the kingdom inside needs attention.  If I address it and look upon the beautiful face of my Savior, soul and spirit alignment return.  

It’s so easy to be lazy, looking away, feeding wrong appetites.  Tune my heart to see You as You are until I am captivated again.  Amen

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.  Matthew 5:7

Could the takeaway message from God’s heart be this?  “The one who lives like Me will experience Me.”  I believe this is one of them.  God’s favor will be on the one whose heart is like His.  But there are some other applications as well. 

Consider this common scenario. A parent who raised their children in a harsh, unkind environment reaches the end of their life. When they are weak and need compassion, their adult children aren’t there for them. From a human perspective, why would they be? 

I recall an older movie where a mother in her 90s asked her son (who seemed to have no heart for her), “Who taught you to treat others with such cruelty?” Her son responded without emotion, “You did, Mama. You did!”  I think there is a well-known saying ~ ‘Show others how you wish to be treated.’

Even though I possess the spiritual gift of mercy, I need the Holy Spirit’s help every day to use it properly. Without Him, I might only want to reach out to those I believe deserve it, such as those who have suffered at the hands of others or those who have led a good life but have fallen on hard times. I might lack mercy for someone who has reaped a lifetime of sin. And what about someone who has committed a heinous crime? How much mercy will there be then? 

Mercy is something we ache for but also something we must give.  We cannot offer it as God gives it without the Holy Spirit’s help and power.  Only then will we feel what others feel.  Only then will we see behind someone’s behavior.  He will help us become more intuitive in recognizing the pain behind someone’s harsh words, controlling behavior, or punishing silence.  Something softer can arise in us to understand and offer healing instead of judgment.  This is the shape of mercy.  It’s love when it costs us.  

When it’s risky to show mercy, help me.  And show me when I need to extend mercy to myself.  Amen

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”  Matthew 5:6

This beatitude is about longing—a longing for wholeness and an ache for things to be made right. It’s about desiring what God desires.  He is eager to restore paradise, to put the world in order, and to bring shalom to everyone and everything. 

Unless we’ve become cynical and given up, we’ve carried this longing since childhood. From the first time we felt injustice and from the initial wound we sustained from imperfect love, we’ve walked around homesick for heaven. We knew that things were supposed to be different. 

If we are like Jesus, our hunger and thirst for righteousness will only grow as we age. It takes courage to ache for shalom. Unless we are sure of our Hope, we won’t wait well. We’ll find it’s easier to settle for imperfection and numb ourselves to the disappointments we feel. 

Are you, like me, longing for justice where there’s oppression and for mercy where there’s cruelty? 

Are you longing for peace in your relationships, for deeper sharing, and for love without manipulation or self-centeredness?  

Are you longing for an undivided heart where you can walk closely with God without conflicting motives? 

Jesus says that our appetites for these things will be filled because our hunger and thirst are alive and well. We are not wrong for having aching hearts; we’re connected to the heart of God. So, let’s continue to weep, fast, pray, and persevere even if most of the world is numb. Let’s stay awake and dare to kindle the faith that says beauty can, and will, rise from the ashes. Right now, the longing for it can feel like grief, but this ache is a gift. It keeps our eyes on Jesus. It keeps us on our knees praying for the restoration of things.  

In many ways, this can happen now. Jesus told us the kingdom is here. Paradise can be restored in hearts that are being sanctified. Jesus, in all His perfection, offers us Himself. He is Bread, and He invites us to eat. The Bread of Life satisfies. Our inner world can thrive even as our mortal flesh decays. We don’t have to wait for eternity to experience internal shalom. The Word and the Spirit will make all things new inside of us. The words of Jesus in this Beatitude are fulfilled now, in the heart of every child of God who pursues Him relentlessly and lives in His presence. 

Satisfy me, Jesus, not with easy answers, but with You. I won’t numb this ache. It’s not too much because You meet me in the middle of it. Thank you. Amen.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.  Matthew 5: 5

Have you heard the phrase, ‘Meekness is weakness’? It’s simply not true. And who would want to become meek if it were? Let’s explore what it really means. 

To be meek is to ‘possess quiet strength’.  It is personal power that has been surrendered to God.  For instance, when there’s a desire to lash out and set the record straight, He may lead us to be silent instead.  Strength is gentleness under restraint.  Moses was called “very meek, more than all the people on the earth.”  He led a rebellious, complaining people across the wilderness, carried their needs to God, and was patient with their weaknesses.  He didn’t lead by force but listened to God to shape his role, sometimes at great personal cost. 

When I am meek, I learn from the past and lay down my ego, but I don’t necessarily silence my voice. If God leads me to speak, I will do so from a place of spiritual rootedness rather than emotional reactivity.

I am a quiet, reserved person who filters my thoughts carefully before speaking, so I’m not one to say things I might later regret and need to apologize for. However, I also dislike confrontation. Sometimes I don’t speak up when I know I should. But meekness isn’t synonymous with being quiet. Jesus was meek when He turned over the tables in the temple because He had surrendered His right to use His power to His Father, even though He would have had the wisdom to know how to use it. 

What is the reward for being meek according to this beatitude?  It’s something more valuable than control, attention, and power.  We are told that we will ‘inherit the Earth.’   The promise of possessing the land was one that the Jewish people understood.  It comprised their early history.  They remembered their ancestors who were freed from slavery and embarked on a journey to the promised land.  Jesus wants us to know that instead of ‘taking the land for our inheritance’, we will ‘inherit it.’  It is a gift, not a conquest. 

The land we’ll inherit is spiritual ground ~ anointed influence with spiritual authority. 

The introvert struggles with being meek.  They have less trouble being quiet but often for the wrong reasons.  They hide out of fear and are self-protective for fear of confrontation.  Jesus says, “Come out, let me live through you.  I’ll show you how to be strong.”

The extrovert struggles with being meek, too.  They are prone to speak without being prayerful and taking charge before receiving orders.  Jesus says, “Restrain yourself. Your plans need to be shaped prayerfully by Me.  Surrender your need for notoriety.”

Lord, You promise spiritual influence if I first surrender. Whatever is gained is for Your glory, not mine.  Amen

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4

Mourning is the acknowledgement that something has been broken.  What should have been whole has been shattered.  It’s what erupts out of the soul when you stand in a place and dare to really see things as they are.  You won’t let yourself look away to feel better.  You feel the fracture and see the layers of it. 

Mourning does come naturally to an artistic personality type. I’ve been called an empathic idealist, and I’ll admit, I do live with a heightened sensitivity to pain. I mourn personal losses, but I also feel the pain of others’ sorrows. I sense the weight of their injustices, traumas, and broken relationships.  That has overwhelmed me at times, and I didn’t come up for air. I’ve learned that I must be intentional in avoiding imbalance.  I was meant to live in joy and in the enjoyment of God’s presence.   

When sorrow does touch our lives, we can know that Jesus does not dismiss our tears nor try to temper them with upbeat, cheery messages.  He wants us to know that our sorrow is sacred.  It is not evidence of faithlessness, but that we dwell near the heart of God. 

The world says, “Enough. Stop crying.  Stay strong. Move on.” 

Jesus says, “Cry here with me. You’re safe. You are seen, and I will comfort you.” 

You and I were created for more than this world offers.  More beauty, more connection, more peace, and when life disappoints, we mourn the loss as well as the painful differences between earth and heaven.  We were born with the seed of eternity in our hearts.  We remember what perfection feels like, and the ache of the Fall is in our bones.  It would be UN-natural not to feel it and react. 

I’m in my senior years. I’ve mourned many things. I can tell you with certainty that God meets His children when they mourn. He doesn’t just soothe; He transforms as we come to know Him in the travail He suffered while journeying to the cross. His comfort isn’t a band-aid; it’s communion. He does not explain away sorrow; He sits in it and feels it with us.

Comfort comes to us liberally – all the way to the dawn. 

I want to be a vessel for comfort because I’ve known You, my Comforter.  Amen

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  Matthew 5:3

The poor in spirit are those who reach the end of themselves and quietly admit, “I can’t do life on my own.” Being poor in spirit isn’t about self-hatred. It’s a profound and holy emptiness. This void is what opens the door to intimacy with God. Some people seem to connect with this vulnerable truth, where there is full surrender. They get to see the kingdom bloom within them. 

Jesus asks me every day to confront my fragile self-esteem. Daily, I’m invited to be poor, to peel away fear, until all that remains is a woman standing before God with empty hands. This is never a one-time awakening but an ongoing invitation to live without pretense or striving. For me, a woman who has spent her life on a stage, fighting the flesh and the urge to perform and impress, this battle must be intentional. 

I’ve heard it said that my greatest need is not to be loved, but to love God. As I love God, I am healed of preoccupation with myself. In the quiet inner chamber of my heart, I see the disparity between God’s holiness and my own fragility. I fall in love with a Father who is drawn to my need. The more I need Him, the more He enjoys it. When I empty myself, the kingdom of heaven opens to me. 

It’s as if God says, “You who feel small, unseen, and inadequate… you belong to My Kingdom. You don’t have to achieve or even sparkle to be worthy. Your need is the door.” For anyone who lives with deep longing, this beatitude is a precious promise. The more emptied I become, the more space there is for God’s presence to dwell tenderly and powerfully.

Lord, throughout my life, you saw me throw up my hands and give up.  I was angry that I needed You.  I thought I was ‘poor in spirit.’ I wasn’t.  Thank you for helping me empty myself with gratitude.  Amen

“At that time, the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps.The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep. “At midnight, the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’“Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps.  The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’” ‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’“But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut. Later, the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’“But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.  Matthew 23:1-13

In this story, ten young women wait for a bridegroom to arrive so they can start the wedding feast. All ten carry their oil lamps, but only half prepared by bringing extra oil. The other five assume they will be fine, believing their oil supply will be enough. Things might have gone well for all ten, but the bridegroom is delayed. This changes everything. During the wait, the differences among the women become clear. 

When they hear, “He’s here!”… they wake up. All of them rush to light their lamps, but five of them don’t have enough oil to keep them lit. Their lights are dimming because they didn’t plan ahead while waiting for him. Now, in a panic, they rush to buy oil, but when they return, the door is locked, and the bridegroom does not open it to them. 

The focal point of this parable is the oil and what it symbolizes – a person’s inner life. It’s about what the virgins did while waiting for their groom. Were they nurturing intimacy, focusing on faithfulness and obedience? The oil represents their hidden reservoir of love. 

All ten have lamps and look much the same from the outside but it’s not enough to look ready.  Not enough to be in the right place.  Not enough to have a lamp.  Only some have kept their flame of love alive through long nights of the soul.  Only some have prepared because they long to be ready when the Bridegroom arrives.

Some lead quiet spiritual lives with little or no fanfare.  They may be housebound, or intercessors, even understated worshippers.  Their lamps burn brightly, but they are overlooked in favor of those who are busy and visible.  In the end, it’s never about knowing facts about the Bridegroom.  It’s being known by Him.  It’s about a posture of watchfulness, fueled by faith cultivated in obscurity.  The five who weren’t ready weren’t wicked.  They were unprepared.

In the long night of waiting, don’t let me doze off and go to sleep.  Amen

“In a certain town there was a judge who neither feared God nor cared what people thought. And there was a widow in that town who kept coming to him with the plea, ‘Grant me justice against my adversary.’ “For some time he refused. But finally he said to himself, ‘Even though I don’t fear God or care what people think,  yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will see that she gets justice, so that she won’t eventually come and attack me!’”  And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God bring about justice for his chosen ones, who cry out to him day and night? Will he keep putting them off?  I tell you, he will see that they get justice, and quickly. However, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on the earth?”  Luke 18:1-8

This parable is usually called the Story of the Persistent Widow.  Persistence ~ A very difficult thing to maintain when odds are against you, when weariness sets in, when you see no progress to encourage you, and when you begin to doubt that there will ever be a reward for digging in your heels. 

This is one of my favorite parables.  It’s about a woman with no power, no husband to speak for her, and someone with no social standing.  She was absolutely alone in a world where justice was elusive for one who was so vulnerable.  But ~ she showed up every single day to plead with a judge who had no fear of God and little regard for people.  He seemed so cold and detached, the way Jesus described him. 

I wonder if this woman decided she would just not be ignored.  She just kept on asking.  She was not shy to keep the story of her pain at the forefront.  And finally, the judge gave in.  He relented.  It was not out of compassion that he relented.  She wore him down!  Her consistent pleading pierced his indifference. 

Jesus compared God, His perfect, compassionate Father, to the corrupt judge.  He encouraged His audience by reminding them that if someone unjust will give in to persistence, how much more will a God who loves with everything He has.  He gave everything in the gift of His Son to prove it. 

This parable honors quiet resilience.  Someone unseen by the world persevered in a form of worship – a holy defiance against the despair of giving up. She did not ask in faith, for the one with the power was not like God.  But we can ask in faith, knowing that the One with all power is for us, not against us.

Oh Father, You long for me to trust Your love, Your character, even when circumstances tell me I should give up.  I will not let go of You.  Amen

“Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and recline at my table?  Will he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink’?  Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded?  So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’”  Luke 17:7-10

This parable feels sharp. When I read it this morning, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to explore it. But I had a change of heart. This story from Jesus is not about being unkind. It’s relevant because I can often wrestle with my identity and my longing to be seen and valued for what I do. 

I believe Jesus was helping His disciples re-adjust their expectations of discipleship.  Because their relationship with Him was rooted in love, they were freed to serve from a deep place of identity rather than performance.  He wanted them to know that they were already loved and didn’t need to earn a place at His table by their good works. 

When the workers said they were ‘unworthy servants’, they did not mean they were worthless. They meant they owed nothing because of their service. They served for a different reason entirely – love and the joy of obedience. 

Have you ever had the thought that if you served God by doing something hard, He would bless you to compensate?  This parable dispels that kind of thinking.  Love is not a contract.  Service is not a business deal.  We take up our cross, not for blessing, but because we have been loved.  Paul said, “The love of Christ constrains me to live my life for Him.”  2 Cor. 2:14

I can’t do anything today to make God love me more than He already does. I can’t sacrifice myself on the altar of Christian service to draw more attention to myself. The love Christ demonstrated on the cross for me IS the driving force that burns in my heart. Love is the currency. Jesus is the treasure. I don’t need to work for attention and reward. Both are already mine. 

When You washed the disciples’ feet, You did not do it to be honored.  You poured Yourself out for love.  Thank you for the example.  Amen

The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground.  He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows – he does not know how.  The earth produces by itself; first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear.  Mark 4:26-28

You are someone who loves deeply, works quietly behind the scenes, and wonders if you’ve done enough to make a difference. There has been no immediate reward, no proof that something has begun in the spiritual realm. However, this parable assures us that planting spiritual seeds is enough. Something will take root because of the nature of the seed.  

It’s discouraging when we don’t see results right away.  Sometimes, over a decade, the outcome can seem bleak. But we don’t need to understand how spiritual seeds grow. We’re not the gardeners.  This brings peace to our anxious souls when we wonder if anything we’ve done matters. 

Jesus wants us to know that we can trust the process. We must keep sowing.  Seeds germinate—even when we can’t see a blade of grass. It’s hard to rest in the promises of a Husbandman who grows things in the dark, but holy things are birthed in the unseen. The root system must develop before any fruit appears, and that takes time.

There are prayers that you’ve prayed in faith. You’ve seen no results yet.  But prayers are never stagnant. They continue to live in God’s presence because every single word matters.  The tears you’ve cried matter.  Long after you got up from your bedside, God started working in ways you can’t comprehend. 

There are also scriptures you have quoted out loud.  You hung on to hope by a thread.  You still see no evidence that righteous outcomes are on the horizon.  But God’s word is a seed. Because you planted it, it will bear fruit.  Every scripture you stood in ~ is active.

God’s kingdom grows quietly, like seeds beneath the surface of the soil.  We can take a moment to breathe because even while we slept last night, God was at work.  And even when we step away today to do other things, God will still be faithful.  There is no expiration date to His promises.

I’m in good hands.  Those I’m praying for, You love and are invested in. When I can’t see evidence, my faith will stand.  Amen