📖 Matthew Intensive — Unit 3: The Sermon on the Mount I — The Character of the Kingdom

Text: Matthew 5:1-12

The King Goes Up the Mountain

When the crowds gathered, Jesus went up on a mountain, sat down as a teacher sits, and opened His mouth to teach. Matthew means for us to remember another mountain. Moses went up Sinai and came down with the law that made Israel a nation; now a greater than Moses goes up and gives the law of the kingdom of heaven. The Sermon on the Mount is, in a sense, the constitution of that kingdom — and it opens not with rules but with a portrait. The Beatitudes describe the character of the people who belong to God's kingdom. And the first thing to notice is how strange that character looks. Every blessing is paradoxical, the very reverse of what the world calls blessed. The world blesses the proud, the full, the powerful, the winners. Jesus blesses the poor, the mourning, the meek, the hungry. To enter His kingdom we must have our whole sense of "blessed" turned upside down.

Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit (5:3)

As a young Christian I thought my natural talents and my education were just what the Lord's work needed, and I leaned hard on them. Imagine my bewilderment when what I leaned on kept giving way under me. I was failing and floundering and seeing little of the blessing of God. Then the Holy Spirit opened my eyes, and I saw that on an eternal scale there was a destitution about my life — a real spiritual poverty I had never admitted. In that moment my life turned around, and I began to seek the Lord Himself, His presence and His power and His provision. To be poor in spirit is to feel that deep spiritual destitution, to comprehend your nothingness before God. It is the opposite of the pride of the Pharisee, who thanked God he was not like other men. There must be emptiness before there can be fullness; poverty of spirit comes first, and then the riches of grace. And to such people belongs the kingdom of heaven, because only the empty hands reach out to be filled.

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn (5:4)

"Blessed are those who mourn," said our Lord. He is not talking about the pessimist who constantly looks for the bad, nor the selfish person whose ambitions have been frustrated, nor the person who is bitter and rebellious over some loss. The first Beatitude spoke of the "poor in spirit" who were conscious of their lack of God. The second, the mourners, are those who are grieved over their moral and spiritual condition.

Father Damien, who for sixteen years was a missionary to the lepers on Molokai, was not able to fully identify with the dread disease. One morning he accidentally spilled hot water on his foot and felt no pain. Then he knew he was doomed. He knew that death would come to his body and little by little take possession of him. But now he could identify with his people. And from the mourning there was a blessing.

There are many reasons that people mourn, and although this verse probably does not apply directly to all of them, I believe that Jesus can help with each one.

1. We mourn because of trouble.

To some extent, at least, we can take this Beatitude literally. There is some value in sorrow that nothing else can take the place of. Until some suffering enters a life there will always be something missing. An old Arab proverb says, "All sunshine makes a desert." It is told that Elgar, the great musician, was listening to a young girl singing. She had a beautiful voice and a nearly faultless technique, but she just missed greatness. "She will be great," said Elgar, "when something happens to break her heart." There are things which only sorrow can teach.

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow,
And ne'er a word said she;
But, oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me.

It might well be said that sorrow is the school of the great discoveries of life. It is in sorrow that we discover the things that really matter and the things that do not. It is in sorrow that we discover the meaning of friendship and love. It is in sorrow that we learn if faith is an essential part of our lives or merely an ornament. It is in sorrow that we discover God. "When you come to the bottom," said Minnie Talbot, "you find God." And God is to be found in the tears of the Christian. When we lose a parent or child, we cry. But there are some people that have only bottled up their grief and don't let it out. But weeping is the natural outlet for sorrow. Jesus, the only genuine man, was a man of tears. He wept for Lazarus, he wept for his people, he wept in pain.

2. We mourn for the sin and sorrow and suffering of the world.

When other people are suffering it is natural for us to sympathize with them. Jesus doesn't want us to reject his people as he saw them rejecting him or as they had rejected the prophets.

It is always right from the Christian standpoint to be detached from things, but it is never right to be detached from people. It was Jesus' teaching in the parable of the sheep and goats that our attitude to him is seen in our attitude to other people. When we do not mourn over the hungry, the thirsty, the strangers and the sick, we are not sharing the compassion of Christ.

In the parable Jesus says, "Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me" (Matthew 25:40). There are always people in the world who do not like ordinary people and who have no compassion for them. One French writer says, "The mob! How I loathe it! I hate its mean stupidity. I hate the sound of its voice and the look of its face. It is ugly; it is so vile." George Bernard Shaw once said, "I would have no feeling for the working class except a desire to abolish them and to replace them with sensible people." Carlyle, thinking of the political unwisdom of the country, once said, "There are twenty-seven and a half million people in this country — mostly fools." This is the precise opposite of Christ who was moved with compassion, who wept and died even for the vilest sinner.

Lord Shaftesbury did much for ordinary working men and women. His work as a social reformer began very simply. When he was a boy, he was going along the street one day and met a pauper's funeral. The coffin was a shoddy box. It was on a wheelbarrow being pushed by four drunken men, and as they walked they were joking and singing ribald songs. As they pushed the coffin up a hill, it fell off the barrow and burst open. Some people would have thought that funny; some would have turned away in disgust; some would have shrugged their shoulders and turned away. The young boy saw it and said, "When I grow up I'm going to give my life to see that things like that don't happen." So he dedicated his life to caring for others.

Possibly all these thoughts are in the Beatitude, but the main thrust is surely spiritual sorrow. We mourn because of sin and because of what sin does.

3. We mourn because of our own sin.

This is a terrible conviction. A man of God who truly sees himself will not be satisfied with his own goodness. Paul, the great apostle, could say, "O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" (Romans 7:24). He could say, "For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do" (Romans 7:15). We can picture Paul crying out in agony. And yet God takes pity on us as we turn to him in tears and forgives us over and over again.

In many old churches they had the mourners' bench. It was a place where sinners came to seek forgiveness. Today, we often put it in a psychological clinic. Counseling can certainly be valuable, but there are some mournings that only prayer and tears can cure.

There is a formula for real repentance and conversion. First there is consciousness of sin. We realize that sin is not simply a violation of a rule; it is an offense against God. Second, there is sorrow for sin. This is not simply fear of punishment. Third, there is confession. Fourth, there is the determination to change. Fifth, there is faith in the forgiveness of God.

A person may have remorse without repentance. Judas was sorry, but he did not return to Christ in faith. Peter also was filled with sorrow after denying Jesus, but he returned to the Lord and was restored. The difference is not simply tears. The difference is what sorrow does with us.

The Christian can mourn and yet be blessed because sorrow can lead us to God. It can strip away pride and self-sufficiency. It can teach compassion. It can open our eyes to the needs of others. Most of all it can bring us to repentance.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." The comfort is not always the removal of the cause of sorrow. Sometimes God changes the circumstances; sometimes he changes us in the circumstances. The deepest comfort is that God is present with us, forgives us, restores us and will finally wipe away every tear.

Blessed Are the Meek (5:5)

There is a group founded by J. Upton Dickson called DOORMATS — "Dependent Organization Of Really Meek And Timid Souls." Their motto was, "The meek shall inherit the earth — if that's okay with everybody." That is exactly what biblical meekness is not. Meekness is not weakness; it is not being a wimp or a doormat. Think of Moses confronting Pharaoh, or of Jesus making a scourge of cords and driving the moneychangers from the temple. Both men are called meek, yet these are not the actions of weak men. When Churchill once berated his valet, the man answered him back, and afterward Churchill admitted, "You were very rude to me." The valet said, "Yes, but you were rude too," to which Churchill replied, "Yes, but I am a great man." He was blind to his own faults, and that blindness eventually cost him the trust of his people. Contrast him with the great surgeon who paused alone before every operation; asked why, he said that before each surgery he asked the help of God. Meekness is strength under control — great power harnessed and laid at God's feet — and to such the Lord promises they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed Are Those Who Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness (5:6)

In the Antarctic summer of 1908, Sir Ernest Shackleton and three companions set out for the South Pole. Their ponies died, their rations gave out, and they were forced to turn back, trekking one hundred and twenty-seven days. As Shackleton recorded, on the return journey, staggering and starving, they spent every waking hour talking of food — feasts, menus, sumptuous meals they could only imagine. That consuming craving is the picture Jesus gives us of the soul that hungers and thirsts for righteousness. The trouble with us is that we are too easily satisfied; earthly hunger only leads to more hunger, as the rich young ruler found when his wealth left him empty. But righteousness here is no thin thing — it is right standing with God in justification, and right living toward the helpless in compassion and obedience. And the promise is the sweetest of all: those who hunger and thirst for it shall be filled. God never starves an appetite He Himself has given.

Blessed Are the Merciful (5:7)

A mother once came to Napoleon pleading for the life of her son, who had twice committed an offense for which justice demanded death. "I don't ask for justice," she said. "I plead for mercy." "But your son does not deserve mercy," the emperor answered. "Sir," she cried, "it would not be mercy if he deserved it, and mercy is all I ask." "Well, then," said Napoleon, "I will have mercy" — and he spared her son. That is the heart of it. Mercy means refraining from harming or punishing those who are in our power and who deserve punishment. I once watched it tested in my own family: when a careless stylist nicked my young son's ear, his older sister was incensed and wanted retribution, and I had to teach her, gently, the difference between demanding justice and showing mercy. The merciful are those who, having received an ocean of mercy from God, learn to extend it to others — and the promise is that they themselves shall obtain mercy.

Blessed Are the Pure in Heart (5:8)

A little girl wanted to help with the cleaning, so her mother set her to washing a window. After a while the mother found her in tears over one stubborn dirty spot that would not come off no matter how hard she scrubbed. The mother looked closer — and the spot was on the other side of the glass. No amount of rubbing on the outside could ever reach it. That is a parable of how many people live, working hard to make their lives appear clean and beautiful through education, fashion, and the cosmetic counter, when the real place to begin is within the heart. Jesus came down hard on the Pharisees for scrubbing the outside of the cup while the inside stayed filthy. To be pure in heart is to have an inner life cleansed and undivided, a single-minded devotion to God rather than a polished surface hiding a soiled soul. And to the pure in heart is given the greatest promise of all the Beatitudes — they shall see God.

Blessed Are the Peacemakers (5:9)

In 1899 Argentina and Chile stood poised for war, until bishops on both sides appealed for peace and the quarrel was submitted to arbitration and settled. The guns of both nations were then melted down and cast into a great statue, the Christ of the Andes, which stands today on the mountain border as a witness to Jesus' words, "Blessed are the peacemakers." But notice that statue is famous precisely because it is the exception; armies rarely melt their guns. Peacemaking is hard, costly work, and Jesus is careful about what He means. The peacemaker is not merely a peace-lover like Neville Chamberlain, who wanted peace so badly he purchased only a worse war. Nor is the peacemaker one who keeps peace at any price; Jesus Himself said He came to bring not peace but a sword, and Paul says, "as much as depends on you, live peaceably with all." Peace is active. The peacemaker steps in, takes the cost on himself, and makes peace where there was none — and because that is exactly what God did for us in Christ, the peacemakers shall be called the sons of God.

Blessed Are the Persecuted (5:10-12)

Polycarp, the aged bishop of Smyrna, was brought into the arena and told he could go free if only he would curse Christ. He answered that he had served Christ eighty-six years and in all that time his Lord had never done him wrong; how could he blaspheme the King who had saved him? So they put him to death. The list ends not with a trait of character but with the world's response to it. When a life takes on this strange, upside-down shape, the world will not always applaud; often it will persecute, as it persecuted the prophets and the Lord Himself. Paul says plainly, "Yes, and all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution" (2 Timothy 3:12). But notice the words "for righteousness' sake." Jesus is not blessing the one who suffers for being foolish or harsh; He blesses the one who suffers for being like Him. And the promise circles back to where the Beatitudes began: "theirs is the kingdom of heaven." So Jesus tells us to rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is our reward in heaven. Tertullian wrote that the blood of Christians is seed, and history has proved him right.

Salt and Light (5:13-16)

Having drawn the portrait, Jesus tells His people what such a character does in the world. "You are the salt of the earth... you are the light of the world." Salt preserves what would otherwise rot and gives flavor to what would otherwise be flat; light drives back the darkness and shows the way. But salt can lose its savor, and a lamp can be hidden under a basket. So Jesus says, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven. The blessed character of the Beatitudes is not meant to be hidden in private piety; it is meant to be tasted and seen, so that the watching world is drawn to praise God.

I Came Not to Destroy but to Fulfill (5:17-20)

Then Jesus heads off a misunderstanding before it can start: "Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill." The Law was given to point us in the direction of God's will, but it could never capture that will completely. God's will includes not only what we are not to do but also what we are to do, and even huge volumes of law could never spell all of that out. Because Jesus knew the Father's will intimately, He was able to get behind the laws and show exactly why God gave them. The commandments were never a means of salvation; they were a pointer toward the heart of God. That is why Jesus says our righteousness must exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees. He is not asking for more rule-keeping; He is asking for a deeper, heart-level righteousness that the Pharisees, for all their care about the surface, never reached.

You Have Heard It Said... But I Say to You (5:21-48)

In the rest of the chapter Jesus does exactly what He promised — He gets behind the law to its intent. "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not murder'... but I say to you that whoever is angry with his brother" has already broken it in his heart. "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery'... but I say to you that whoever looks to lust has already committed it." He reaches past the action to the desire, past the outward act to the inward man, because that is where God always looked. And He sets the standard at its true height: "Therefore you shall be perfect, just as your Father in heaven is perfect" — not a perfection we achieve by effort, but the wholeness toward which His grace is carrying every citizen of the kingdom.

The Character of the Kingdom

Step back and look at the whole portrait. Poor in spirit, mourning, meek, hungry for righteousness, merciful, pure, peacemaking, willing to be persecuted — it is the very reverse of the world's idea of the good life, and it is, feature for feature, a portrait of Jesus Christ Himself. These are not eight entrance requirements we achieve to earn our way in; they are the character God works in those who already belong to Him. The Sermon on the Mount does not tell us how to become acceptable to God. It shows us what the grace of God looks like when it takes hold of a life. Blessed — truly blessed — is the one in whom the King is forming this character.

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