Blessed are the Broken
This blog post is adapted from a talk given at Christ Church Abingdon, UK in February 2022. The Bible excerpt referenced is Matthew 5:1-12, also known as the Beatitudes.
Content Warning: This sermon includes references to miscarriage.
Does this image resonate with you? If you can’t see it, it basically shows a man being pelted with lemons on one side and with bottles of lemonade on the other side. We can presume that he’s trying, as the saying goes, to make lemonade when life gave him lemons. His head is on the table in despair. We can assume from the image that there are too many lemons and the man does not have enough time or capacity to make any more lemonade.
As I was thinking and praying through this evening’s sermon last Sunday morning, this image came to mind. I feel like many of us are in this place at the moment. We’re trying to make lemonade out of lemons, but there are too many lemons and we’re too overwhelmed by that to even contemplate making any more lemonade.
Tonight’s sermon is called ‘blessed are the broken’ and here’s why. Having done lots of reading and thinking and praying over the past few weeks, I think I had previously completely misunderstood the Beatitudes. I had thought of them as a list of aspirational qualities. And even those I couldn’t quite place as good things, I figured there must be something I was missing. The more I thought about it though, the more I realised that these weren’t actually things I wanted. I wanted to be blessed, but I didn’t want to mourn or be persecuted. And, at the same time, I don’t believe God delights in our pain and suffering, even if pain and suffering are sadly inevitable in this life. So, what are these verses all about?
My beautifully alliterated three point plan this evening goes like this.
Facts
Framing
Faith
Facts.
Here’s the conclusion I came to: Jesus is simply telling us a list of truths, facts if you will. They’re not necessarily commands and perhaps not even to be understood as instructions. He’s opening the Sermon on the Mount by laying the foundations for his entire ministry. And the foundation of his ministry is that he has come to change everything. We can see from the very beginning of the book that Matthew’s Gospel was set up from the very beginning to highlight and identify Jesus as someone who was and did the unexpected.
So, when Jesus begins his ministry by telling his growing crowd of followers that the meek shall inherit the earth for example, he’s claiming something actually quite revolutionary. We have sometimes understood meek to mean humble, but the original Greek connotation for this word would be something closer to just being weak. It wouldn’t have had an admirable connotation. It might do now but only perhaps because we view it through this lens of the Beatitudes, but back then, the crowd listening to Jesus were probably a little confused as to why the weak ones would be able to claim such an inheritance.
But this is the reality of the kingdom - the last will be first. We hear this again in Matthew 20:16 and Mark 10:31, and a few other places too. For me, growing up, when I read that the kingdom of heaven belonged to the poor and I read that the last would be first, I struggled. In fact, I was actually quite frustrated. Especially when I went to university and people would complain about not having space in their rooms for all their shoes while my feet were swollen and wrinkly because my wellies had holes in them and I couldn’t afford new ones. I certainly didn’t feel blessed.
But there’s another important part of verse 3, which I definitely neglected in some of my prior readings of the Beatitudes. We’re talking about the ‘poor in spirit.’ But, given Jesus’ other teachings on the poor, we can easily be mistaken, especially when we realise that the version of the Beatitudes found in the sixth chapter of Luke’s Gospel doesn’t emphasise the ‘in spirit’ part - it just says ‘blessed are you who are poor.’ And there’s debate about why Matthew writes those two words when Luke doesn’t include them, but that’s a whole other conversation for another day.
And perhaps it’s not that Beatitude that has struck you as odd or frustrating or difficult. Perhaps it’s that you’ve hungered after justice and righteousness only to feel like you’re the only one who cares. Perhaps you’ve tried to be a peacemaker and it’s blown back in your face.
Here’s what I missed when I was struggling with the girls with all the shoes. The things that Jesus is telling us in the Beatitudes only make sense in the context of the kingdom of God. They are simple truths. These things that Jesus says are mere descriptors of what it is like and what he longs for the world. The sad thing is that the world is simply not as it should be in this present moment.
Which means that these verses aren’t timeless sayings that anybody can put on a coaster or tea towel - they indicate a radical reversal of the current worldly order that is only possible through the Son of God’s life, death and resurrection here on Earth.
The Beatitudes are a message for the whole world, saying that, because of Jesus, everything can and will change.
Framing.
The Beatitudes, like I said, are facts and truths about the kingdom but they don’t really mean anything if it doesn’t change something about us. One of the biggest frustrations I had, speaking honestly, with some (but not all!) of the commentaries I read in the past few weeks is that they talked about the Beatitudes as almost like a checklist. If you’re pure in heart, you’ll see God. If you’re meek, you’ll inherit the earth. But as I’ve already suggested, these things don’t always seem true (or at least not yet!) When I think about the people who came to hear Jesus’ teachings, it is only fair to assume that many of them were really going through it. Just as many of us here tonight are. What the Beatitudes offer us is not always a change of circumstance but a change of perspective.
The Greek word for blessed here is not the same word they used to describe God’s blessings being showered down upon various people in the Old Testament. This is not the same word for those moments in our lives when we feel blessed by our circumstances. When you see someone say they’re #blessed on social media or somewhere else, they are usually referring to some good thing that has happened to them. The word here just doesn’t translate well into English. It’s closer to ‘Congratulations’ - which is also a vague and imperfect translation. But when Jesus is saying ‘blessed,’ I wonder if he’s just honouring them. You went through this really hard thing, congratulations.
Still, we’re stuck with the second half of these phrases. As I said before, these phrases can be really quite frustrating when we’re going through the worst times of our lives, when we’re mourning, or feeling weak, or being persecuted. Yet, as I have claimed, they are things that are factual in the context of the kingdom. But, you may be thinking, we’re not at the full fruition of the kingdom of God yet, so what do these things mean now?
I figured I would tell a story from my own life which I feel exemplifies this. I was really hesitant to share it because there’s so much misplaced shame and difficulty around these kinds of things. But I feel like someone might need to hear it, not because they’re necessarily going through the same thing right now (although that could certainly be the case) but perhaps for some other reason.
When I was in university, I was at a church service where the preacher talked about marriage and children and parenting and all those things. And, even though I didn't really know how I felt about all of that, I did feel God warm my heart to my future children in a way I didn’t anticipate nor even really ask for. I’d not really thought too much about being a parent before that moment. If anything, I would’ve said I was pretty ambivalent. I wasn’t one of those people who always wanted to be a mum. You could say that church service began a reversal of my expectations and my understanding of who I am and what I wanted. So I assumed that this would be an easy thing, that my warmed heart would be full when I wanted it to be.
But that isn’t what has happened.
Even though Andrew and I don’t have children running around our home, I consider myself a mother to the multiple beautiful babies we have loved and lost in the last four years.
And I don’t think I need to say much more than that for you to believe that it really hurts to consider myself a mother and have no baby photos to share with you, and no child for you to hold and love and watch grow.
It hurts to hear that your body might not be able to do something you almost took for granted. It hurts to see little children run around and wonder where your kids might have fit in. And it hurts that, even though between 10% and 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, I didn’t know who to talk to when it happened.
To hear that I’m blessed when I mourn the loss of those pregnancies, of those children, of the person I thought I would be at this stage of my life, it at first seems like a slap in the face. God, where were you? Why me? Why us? Why them? Why now?
I guess the message I wanted to share this evening is that Jesus sees those of us that are still waiting, still praying for a miracle, still longing for that moment to come, still showing up to church even though it’s maybe the last place we want to be. He knows and he’s there with us in those moments too.
When Jesus says we’re blessed when we mourn and when we’re poor in spirit or when we’re meek, it doesn’t change what’s happened in the past and it might not even guarantee the future that we want. But he’s with us. And I just want to take a moment to acknowledge that that tension and dissonance is really hard. And I hope you believe that I really know and I really mean it when I say that.
It’s easy sometimes to assume that those of us who stand at the front have no problems. I have definitely thought that. But I think I can say for everyone who has ever stood at the front of this church or any other that there have been times in our lives when we’ve really struggled, and that sometimes we’re struggling while we speak too and that the words God lays on our hearts to share are necessary for us in that moment as well.
The reframing of my circumstances hasn’t meant trying to find silver linings that weren’t there. It’s not been about churning out lemonade just for the sake of churning out lemonade. It’s not been about saying things like ‘oh, it wasn’t the right time’ or ‘my time will come, don’t worry.’ For me, it has meant exploring even more of the depths of the love of God who loves me regardless, who holds me in the pain and carries me through. It has meant crying with the same Jesus who wept at the tomb of his dear friend, Lazarus, and spending time with the same God who calls me by name.
The Beatitudes in particular have given me a fresh understanding of what it means to have Jesus by my side now and what it means to have hope in the future.
When Jesus says ‘they will be comforted,’ he’s talking about a future that we can be secure in. Jesus will come again. He will restore this broken world, and our broken lives will be made new.
For me, seeing the glimpses of the kingdom has been about recognising the love of God in the midst of all the challenges. Noticing it is often difficult. It’s hard to see through the fog that grief and depression and stress bring. But there are countless little moments I could point to that can only be explained as God. It’s hard to articulate and you might not believe me, but I’ve experienced moments of immense peace and gratitude that surely didn’t come from myself. Every day of my life has become a little lighter since welcoming Jesus to walk it with me. There’s still been some incredible challenges but, if I’ve learnt anything about being blessed, it’s that the blessings of God are showerings of love, not showerings of stuff.
Because even greater than any stuff I could ever get is the freedom of knowing that I am accepted into the kingdom of God, broken as I am, that I will one day be comforted beyond what I can imagine now, and that I am and will be called a child of God forever.
One of my favourite verses in Scripture says this:
“‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
Believing in that future has got me through some really hard days!
And that brings me to my third and final point this evening.
Faith.
Framing is often a singular moment. We read something or experience something and, in that moment, we feel different. But, while we have to always make the conscious decision to reframe our circumstances, it’s faith that keeps us going.
The Beatitudes offer us something to hope for. Verses 4 through 9 are all written in the future tense, which I take to mean that we won’t experience them in their fullest until the second coming. As Christians, we believe that Jesus will come again - we call it the second coming - and make all things new. We can be assured that we will be comforted as there will be no more mourning. The meek will inherit the earth. Those who have hungered and thirsted for righteousness will see it fully and be satisfied. The merciful will receive mercy in those final days, and those who have been pure in heart will see God in all his glory. The peacemakers will be called children of God in every sense. The poor in spirit and the persecuted will be welcomed into the kingdom even though they struggled with rejection on earth.
Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
Having faith is believing that these words of Jesus, his promises for the life to come, are true even when it really hurts and life really sucks. Faith is saying ‘God I don’t see it, but I believe you’re good.’ It means proclaiming that he has done, is doing, and will do ‘great things’ even as everything feels like it’s falling apart. It means saying ‘It is well with my soul’ even when you feel crushed. It means saying ‘until you do, God, I choose to worship you.’
Sometimes faith alone provides us with the blessings that Jesus outlines in Matthew 5.
Because it is faith turned into action that gives us the qualities that Jesus calls blessed. The faith that persecuted Christians have in Jesus enables them to stay strong amid much trial and in the midst of those trials they see glimpses of the kingdom. Maybe you have too.
So, when I said at the beginning that the Beatitudes aren’t aspirational qualities, I guess what I meant is that they are impossible without Jesus. We can’t just buckle down and try to do them. They do not and cannot make sense without him. We cannot be these things unless we do these three things.
Firstly, we must recognise that these blessings only come through Christ.
Secondly, we must use that knowledge to reframe our circumstances.
And, thirdly, we must turn that reframing into a secure and lasting faith in the one who saves us.
Blessed are we, the broken, because we have a faith that surpasses all earthly understanding, that reverses all evil into good, where life has conquered over death, and a future hope that we will be with our God forever.
In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” So, even on those days when the lemons are coming left, right, and centre… we can lay them down at Jesus’ feet and know that he is with us.
