Jesus’ Beatitudes Still Speak Today

A serene landscape featuring Jesus teaching a group of followers while sitting on a rock, with a scenic view of mountains and a lake in the background, and a book open in the foreground showing a passage from the Gospel of Matthew.

Matthew 5:1-16

Following Jesus has always required a certain daring. Imagine being one of his first followers. You’ve just left everything familiar because this teacher spoke with an authority that felt like the very voice of God. You saw him heal what no one else could. You said yes to his call, but now what? What does he expect of you? What will this new life look like?

Matthew 5:1–16, often called the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, answers that question. Jesus draws his disciples out of the crowd and begins describing what life under his reign looks like. Not rules to earn God’s favor, but a picture of the kind of people his grace creates: the people of his kingdom.

Jesus’ descriptions, known as the Beatitudes, run counter to much of what our culture celebrates. Our world often says, “Blessed are the self‑sufficient.” Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” those who know they need God’s salvation. Our world says, “Blessed are the comfortable.” Jesus says, “Blessed are those who mourn,” because they can face grief honestly, knowing loss does not have the final word. Our world says, “Blessed are the winners.” Jesus says, “Blessed are the meek,” those strong enough to trust God rather than grasp for control.

These are only a few examples. I encourage you to read the rest for yourself and consider why these qualities stir something deep within yus. They paint a world we long for, yet they also confront us. We like mercy until someone wrongs us. We like purity of heart until loyalty to Christ costs us something. That tension is why Jesus ends this section with the surprising words, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.”

Richard Wurmbrand, a Romanian pastor imprisoned under communism, once witnessed ordinary Christians living these words under extraordinary pressure, responding to humiliation and torture with forgiveness, mercy, and even joy. He realized the Beatitudes are not for spiritual elites but for everyday people whose hearts have been reshaped by Christ.

Many people, whether committed Christians or even atheist, find themselves drawn to the Beatitudes. They describe a world we ache for: mercy instead of outrage, humility instead of self‑promotion, and much more. If these words stir something in you, consider why. Their power doesn’t come from sentiment but from the authority of the One who speaks them.

I invite you to open a Bible and read Matthew 5:1–16 for yourself. Listen to Jesus’ voice. Ask why his vision of life still reaches across centuries and cultures. You may find that what draws you is not just an idea, but a Person, who is God’s Son.

It’s easy to try to outrun God

Genesis 16

This piece begins a four‑part series exploring the story of Genesis 16 and what it reveals about God and the human heart.

God makes sweeping promises in Scripture: promises to prosper his people, to give them hope and a future, and more. But these promises begin small, like a seed. In Genesis, these promises begin with two people: Abram and Sarai. Everything God intends to do, make them a great nation, giving them a new land, and bless them richly, depends on one thing Abram and Sarai don’t have: a son. You may be surprised to know that all these promises are carried over into the New Testament, but not as a seed any longer but a mighty tree.

The lack of a son to Abram and Saria help explain their actions in Genesis 16. And it’s a problem that’s theological, psychological, and social all at once.

Theologically, God promised a great nation through Abram’s offspring. No son means no nation. Psychologically, Abram and Sarai longed for a child. Many today know that ache. Socially, Sarai lived in a world where a woman’s worth was tied to her ability to “build up” a family (Genesis 16:2). That pressure crushed her. It whispered that she was less-than, broken, inferior.

We may not live in her world, but we know that whisper. Every culture has its own way of telling us we’re not enough. One culture says, “You’re nothing without children.” Another says, “You’re nothing without a career.” Both fuel feelings of inferiority.

So Sarai, feeling worthless, looks for a shortcut. She turns to Hagar, her Egyptian servant, and proposes a solution that was perfectly acceptable in Canaanite culture, but not in God’s design for human flourishing. She offers her servant to Abram as a wife. Abram, instead of praying or waiting, simply “listened to the voice of Sarai” (Genesis 16:2). That’s Genesis-language for listening to a voice that, at least at that moment spoke contrary to God, rather than listening to the voice of God.

It’s easy to judge them, but we do the same. We rush ahead when God tells us to wait. We bend rules when we want something badly enough. We try to outrun God, and in doing so, we cut him out.

Genesis 16 invites us to see ourselves in Abram and Sarai. Their problem is our problem: Will we trust God to make good on his promises, or will we try to force them? Will we let God be God, or will we take matters into our own hands?

If you’ve never read this story, open a Bible this week and sit with Genesis 16:1–3. You may find your own reflection staring back. Next article we’ll evaluate the outcome of Sarai and Abram’s plan.  

No Scheme Can Out-Save God’s Plan

Genesis 12:10-20

Have you ever bent the truth just a little, just enough to avoid discomfort?

It’s Thursday night. You’re halfway through dinner when a text buzzes in: “Can you help Saturday?” You sigh. You don’t want to go. So, you and your spouse craft a reply: “So sorry, we’ve got commitments.” You actually have no commitments. The reply is smooth. Polite. No drama. But across the table, your 10-year-old heard every word. The discomfort. The collaboration. The carefully worded excuse. And your child’s learning, not just how to decline a request, but how to make deceit feel normal.

Multiply that by thousands of households, week after week, and what do we get? A society where truth becomes negotiable. Integrity optional. Why not be honest, and trust God to work out the relationship?

Genesis 12:10-20 recounts a more severe trail than a text message for help, Abram (later Abraham) faces a famine and is forced to seek refuge in Egypt. Fearing for his life, he tells his wife, Sarai, to pose as his sister. It’s a clever half-truth meant to protect them. But it backfires. Pharaoh takes Sarai into his harem, and Abram is powerless to stop it. His scheme works too well! He gains wealth but loses his wife and jeopardizes God’s promise. If Sarai becomes another man’s husband, how will she give birth to the son of promise (compare Genesis 12:1-3).

Have you ever eaten a stolen apple? It never tastes as sweet as you thought it would. You eat it in secret, and it sours in your stomach. But an apple handed to you by your father, picked with love, tastes sweet. You eat it out in the open, in the field.

Fear often drives us to schemes. But God calls us to faith, to trust in God. Jesus said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and is righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33).

The good news? God doesn’t abandon us in our foolishness. He miraculously rescued Abram and Sarai, not because they were clever but because He is gracious. He saves their marriage and protects his promise.

God still rescues today, most significantly through his Son, Jesus Christ (John 3:16-17).

If you’ve been hiding behind a small deceit, or letting fear drive your choices, bring it into the light. Call it what it is. Repent. Trust that God’s ways are better than your own (Isaiah 55:9). He won’t let you down. He keeps His promises.

No scheme of ours can ever out-save God’s gracious plan.

Learning From Lives That Point to Christ – Deep Roots, Part 6

Philippians 4:1-9

We end this six-part miniseries on Philippians 4:1-9, with one final piece of practical encouragement. The Apostle Paul turns our attention to something deeply practical: follow worthy examples. The believers in Philippi had learned from Paul, not just through his teaching but through his life. What kind of life was he living? Not one of self-promotion or comfort. He writes from prison, not to complain, but to rejoice: “What has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel” (Philippians 1:12). His concern isn’t his own safety; it’s that others might hear and grow in grace.

We need examples like this. People whose lives, like Paul’s, show us what it means to seek and follow Christ. Not perfect people, but faithful ones. If you don’t have someone like that in your life, ask the Lord to lead you to a mentor, a believer who has traveled a little further down the road than you. Their successes will inspire you, and their failures will teach you. The Christian life is not meant to be walked alone.

This passage, began with, “stand firm thus in the Lord.” Not in your own strength, not in your circumstances, but in the Lord’s perfect purposes for His beloved.

Years ago, when my wife and I lived on the rocky coast of Gloucester, Massachusetts, we often visited Halibut Point State Park. Large granite boulders stood against the crashing waves. Sometimes the waves rose so high they swallowed the rocks from view. If you didn’t know better, you’d think those waves could shatter them. But they never did. Generation after generation, those rocks endured.

We live in a time when the waves feel overwhelming. Markets shake. Nations tremble. Families fracture. Yet, there is a foundation that cannot be moved. Do you have a rock to stand on, one that won’t crumble under the crashing waves? If you do, are you standing on it? Stand firm in the Lord.

What will this look like in practice? Fractured relationships will mend, joy in the Lord will be evident even when circumstances seem dire, thoughts will be caught up in what’s worthy of our head space, and Christ-like examples will guide us.

What’s Worth Your Head Space? Deep Roots, Part 5

Philippians 4:1-9

Before Paul offers any practical help for anxiety or fractured relationships, he anchors everything with one call: “Stand firm in the Lord” (Philippians 4:1). Last time we explored the practical discipline of reasonableness; now we turn to the battlefield of the mind

In a world overflowing with noise, the Apostle Paul offers a gentle but firm invitation: think about what is worthy of your thinking. The Greek word he uses in Philippians 4:8 carries the sense of accounting, stacking up what is praiseworthy, noble, pure, and lovely. It’s not just about positive thinking; it’s about intentional thinking. What we dwell on shapes who we become.

So count what’s true. Not the half-truths or fear-driven headlines, but the enduring truths of God’s Word. Count what’s noble, worthy of respect and admiration. Count what’s pure, untainted by hidden agendas. Count what’s lovely, beauty that stirs the soul such as a child’s hug, a lake shimmering in sunlight, a melody that lifts the heart, Jesus’ life laid down at the cross for yours.

And count what’s praiseworthy in others. When was the last time you encouraged a fellow believer by saying, “I just love the way I see the Lord at work in you when…”? In a culture quick to critique and slow to affirm, Christians are called to be discerning, not cynical but Spirit-led. Not every news story deserves your attention. Not every social media post needs your engagement. Not every demand is yours to meet. Make your thoughts captive to Christ.

This isn’t easy. That’s why Paul reminds us earlier in his letter: “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you…” (Phil. 2:12–13). We’re not left to do this alone. God is at work in us, shaping our desires and strengthening our resolve. But we do have a part to play.

Pray daily. Read Scripture. Mend broken relationships. Seek help when needed. Be reasonable. Take your requests to God. And above of this, focus your thoughts on what is worthy. Let your mind dwell where Christ reigns, and your outlook on life will follow.

In a world that clamors for your attention, choose what’s worth your head space. Choose what’s true, beautiful, and eternal. In two words: choose Christ.

Joy That Surpasses Circumstance: Deep Roots, Part 3

Phillipians 4:1-9

Before offering practical techniques in Phillipians 4:1-9, the Apostle Paul urged his hearers to stand firm in the Lord. Now Paul will turn to what we might call practical techniques, by first commending his hearers to rejoice.

In a world that often equates happiness with comfort, success, or favorable circumstances, the Apostle Paul offers a radically different vision: “Rejoice in the Lord always.” This isn’t a suggestion, but a command. And it’s not rooted in naive optimism or denial of hardship. Paul writes these words not from a sunlit garden but a dank prison cell, chained for proclaiming the gospel. Yet his letter to the Philippians drips with joy, a word mentioned no fewer than sixteen times in just four short chapters.

This joy isn’t circumstantial. It’s relational. It flows not from what Paul has, but from who he knows. The Christianity we encounter in the New Testament is vibrant, radiant, and deeply rooted in Christ. It’s not the slow march of moral obligation, but the joyful dance of grace. When people meet Jesus in Scripture, they don’t become dour; they rejoice. Not because their problems vanish, but because they’ve met the One who walks with them through every storm.

Have you ever reconnected with an old friend and felt like no time had passed? That deep sense of belonging, of being known and loved? That’s the kind of joy Jesus offers, only deeper and ever constant. He’s not a distant deity with a packed calendar. He’s a present Savior, a faithful counselor, a friend who lifts burdens we cannot carry. He took our sin and sorrow and bore it to the cross, putting it to death so we could live free (Colossians 2:14).

Free from the exhausting chase for success. Free from the need to be accepted by everyone. Free from the illusion that life must go our way. We’re free to simply be loved, known, and secure in Christ. That’s where genuine joy lives.

So if your days feel heavy, if the clouds gather, remember Paul’s words. Rejoice, not because life is easy, but because Jesus is near. Joy isn’t a fleeting emotion. It’s a settled state of being, anchored in a relationship with the One who never fails.

Radiate that kind of joy. Not with plastic smiles or forced cheerfulness, but the deep, unshakable gladness that comes from knowing Jesus. That’s the kind of joy our world needs. And it’s ours in Christ.

Known by Being Known

Psalm 139

Who are you, really?

In an age where we curate versions of ourselves through social media and struggle under the weight of comparison, Psalm 139 offers us something far more grounding than image or achievement: the soul-deep truth that we are fully known and deeply loved by God.

This isn’t abstract theology. It’s intensely personal. The God who made the stars also sees you when you lie awake at night, thoughts spinning. He knows every word on your tongue before you speak it, every fear and joy behind your silence. He knows your history, your path, your comings and goings, as a companion. Like a hand gently cupped around a marble about to roll off the table, God’s presence hems us in, protecting us from ourselves and from a world that often forgets our worth if we’ll let him.

This kind of knowing can feel frightening. What if God sees what I’m trying to hide? What if He’s disappointed?

And yet, the Psalmist reminds us that God’s gaze is not a spotlight of shame, but the steady light of love. The One who saw you in the womb and spoke you into existence also sees the parts of you that feel unfinished or unworthy and calls them “wonderfully made.” What would happen if we saw ourselves that way? If instead of chasing approval, we rested in the truth that we were handcrafted with purpose?

Even in moments of pain or confusion, when we might want to flee, we discover we cannot outrun the God who pursues us, to lead us home. Like the poet Malcolm Guite writes, “You search me out and lay your hand upon me,” not to constrain, but to steady and guide.

Perhaps the most freeing realization is this: when we open ourselves to the God who knows us completely, we begin to know ourselves truly. We don’t have to pretend, or pose, or self-promote. We are free to live honestly, courageously, and joyfully, secure in the care of the One who knows us best—and still chooses us.

As George MacDonald, said, “I would rather be what God chose to make me, than the most glorious creature that I could think of. For to have been thought about—born in God’s thoughts—and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest, most precious thing in all thinking.”.  

To be known by God is not merely comforting. It is transforming.

Let yourself be seen. And in being known, come to truly know the One who loves you.