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“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

The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat and went away.  When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared. The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’‘An enemy did this,’ he replied.  The servants asked him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’‘No,’ he answered, ‘because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time, I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’  Matthew 13:24-30

Jesus shares this parable to remind us that good and evil coexist, side by side, in our world.  In the story, the children of God are the good seeds while the children of the devil are the weeds. The harvest represents the sifting that God will bring about at the end of the age. Although we are weary of waiting, we cannot assume He is lenient on justice. He is slow to bring about the end for a reason and does things in His own time. 

Jesus said that pulling out weeds too early can harm wheat that isn’t ready to be harvested. If you are spiritually sensitive and compassionate, this can be tough. You’re the first to feel tension in the room, and it affects you before most others. You process relational dysfunction deeply and wonder if healing will happen fast enough to prevent you from reaching a breaking point. It’s tempting to handle the weeds by cutting ties and trying to bring fairness to situations instead of waiting on God. Oh, there’s probably something happening right now that you really want to set right.   

At the same time, Jesus isn’t telling us to ignore evil. We commit to living in a grace-filled coexistence. We don’t try to fix everything and everyone. God sees the field with the wheat and the tares and will harvest it in due time. Our role now is to flourish as wheat. We are not called to purify the field but to remain faithful while living among children of darkness.   

You might wonder if a grace-filled coexistence means we should let others harm us or live without boundaries. Absolutely not. Jesus moved with grace through dangerous times, but He also acted in truth. How did He know which to lean toward at any moment? By listening to His Father. 

Difficult people will always be around me. They will brush against me in my garden and often encroach on my space. I will turn toward the Light and shield my roots. I will remember that I am wheat, not a weed. I will grow in the life of the Spirit, extend grace when God asks, and keep my eyes on the prize. God has planned a wonderful redemptive ending, as beautifully depicted in this parable, and I can trust Him to govern wisely while I wait.

I’m so comforted that You know all about co-existence.  You walked here among good and evil, among the messiness of family and friend’s dynamics.  And you modeled it perfectly.  You’ve promised to help us.  Thank you.  Amen

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”  Matthew 7:24-27

None of us will set out to build a house on sand.  We understand all too well the inevitable result: the moment the first storm arrives; the foundation begins to crumble. It won’t take long for repeated storms to bring the entire structure crashing down. Even the highest levels of craftsmanship and architectural ingenuity can’t shield against this fate. Think back to the last image you encountered of homes ravaged by an F5 tornado. In those scenes, the distinction between a luxurious mansion and a humble shack vanishes. In the end, rubble is just rubble.    

This parable applies to my spiritual life.  Only I can determine whether my house will be firm against the current of our godless times and the relentless efforts of the enemy to destroy my faith and the stability I was meant to enjoy.

Without a strong foundation, I will have no divine perspective on anything that happens to me.  I’ll take everything personally and seek fairness, justice, and love from my self-created pedestal.  My life will unravel with me at the helm.

My home will be comprised of baby Christians who are battered by life.  Self-pity, resentment, and selfish ambition will be the ugly beasts at every breakfast table.  We will become a huddled group of sandcastles – trying to hold each other up when the wind blows. 

Churches built on shifting sand fill their pews with baby Christians. Community life is based on tradition and ritual rather than Spirit-driven energy.  People languish for lack of knowledge.  Individuals struggle due to a lack of understanding about the abundant life Christ offers them.

If you and I were to stand on a beach during a storm, we would be pelted with the sand that the winds kick up.  There would be nowhere to hide.  In and among the rocks however, we’d find refuge and protection. 

Give us the spiritual grit to fortify our foundations.  Amen