{This post on Matthew 5:1-12 (MSG) was originally written in April 2015 and republished as part of this series.}

The valley was brimming with people now, the steady hum of their presence filling the air. Maybe it was late in the day, the sun pulling close to the horizon in a colorful embrace, and it was time to move on. Or perhaps there were some things just too precious for the masses—things they wouldn't yet understand. But those who loved him, those who were wholly committed and desperate for truth, they followed Him. They climbed with him, following his every step as he wove a dusty path up the mountainside.

And in that solitary place perched atop a hill, away from the chatter and bustle of the world, He sat down with His friends. When His lips parted, the soft whisper of truth emerged. 

You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God...

The world applauds those who achieve successful careers, luxury vehicles, 2.5 children and a suburban palace. But the outcasts—the bankrupt, the homeless, the impoverished, the senile, and the addicts—provoke a very different response. Sometimes it's because Haves just don’t understand, and sometimes it's because the least of these remind them of the fact that “failure” in this life is only one bad choice away. One disaster away. One job loss away.

But Jesus whispers of having nothing left. Of no way out, of a sleeve completely void of any last tricks, of bridges burned and contacts tapped. Of circumstances kicking away the material crutches that prop you up and give you a sense of indelibility. Because when you finally get to the end of your rope and fall, God will surely be there to catch you, even if it’s not how you imagined or wished He would. 

Truth, you see, is a paradox. It's always the opposite of what we tend to think in our selfish, human nature. Jesus speaks of a world upside down, and He continues:

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

Bodies forever altered by years of childbearing, lives cut too short, job eliminations and life savings flushed down the stock market toilet. The world tells you that once you’ve lost your figure, your spouse or child, your job of 30 years or your net worth, you no longer have value. 

But Jesus whispers of there being space now. Space for him to reach across the brokenhearted divide and pull you close. Space in the hollow of grief for the hope and healing that will make life whole, and worth living, again. It’s always His great mercy to remind us of our dependence on Him, because it’s something we easily forget.

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

We are a society that is more connected then ever before, and with the simple click of a button, everyone is able to put their best foot forward and showcase it for the world to see. "Friends" are easier to accumulate then pennies in a jar, and the abundance of information, opinions, crafty ideas and shining success stories can make even the most confident person feel as if they don't measure up. Certain talents and gifts are envied, while others, especially ones beyond the glare of the spotlight, are often ignored. 

And while humans create a hierarchy of worth based on trending appetites, Jesus whispers that the real blessing lies in knowing who you are, and being content with that. Thriving in your uniqueness, not a mirror image of what’s popular, is the real reward. And the satisfaction found in freely living out your purpose is something money could never buy. 

You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

Our fallenness draws us to comfort foods, to late night snacks on the couch, to eating our emotions and drinking our problems away, but Jesus beckons us to Himself. He invites us to eat the Bread of Life, that He may sustain us when we can't go on. He sees our pain, and He gives us Himself, the only nourishment that will ever truly soothe the hunger inside.

You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

The Selfie Generation, they call us, although that’s merely a symptom of a bigger problem. There has never been a people group more self-focused or self-indulgent then this one, except, perhaps, those that come after us because of the example we set. But Jesus whispers of an outward focus, an others-orientation, a lack of entitlement. Because He knows that even more blessed than the receiver is the giver, and that once we are finally emptied of ourselves we are indeed full.

You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

Family pictures with color-coordinated, smiling children in a row; good behavior masquerading as holiness; front lawns pristinely manicured; beds made, houses tidy, and 401K's even tidier. Oh, how the world longs to have it all together and reveres those who appear so.

Jesus whispers from left field that the exterior means nothing without a heart fully devoted to Him. That a life built without Him is one built in vain. That even the most put-together individuals are but whitewashed tombs, dead on the inside, without the love of Christ. That you'll never be able to see God at work in the world, or all the good things He has for you to do, without a heart focused on Him.

You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

There exists this thing called a “comment section.” It’s a sliver of internet dark space in which grown adults are reduced to a bunch of squabbling toddlers, yelling back and forth about whose toy it really is, who has a right to the toy more and for what reason, assuming the worst possible intentions about the other, and spewing horrendous names in the process. And somehow many of these “adults” think this is ok--to shout things from behind the “protection” of a computer screen that they wouldn’t dare mumble to someone’s face.

Whatever place you find yourself in today, whether it’s cyber or reality, Jesus speaks of sowing seeds of peace. Dealing with conflict is a lost art, but learning how to do so is vital to relationships, especially in a family. We were created to turn chaos into order, dissention into reconciliation, squabbling into resolution, and fighting into peace. Working through those clashes and coming out on the other side—that makes for one tight-knit clan.

You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

This bitter taste of persecution is foreign to the tongues of Americans. For most of us, we cannot fathom what it would be like to live in a country where laws dictated a belief system. Where it was illegal to go to church, to own a bible, to pray in public. And even in the information age in which we live, many are still oblivious to the persecution of those around the world, or worse yet, choose to turn a blind eye. 

The painful stories drift across the ocean, and when the stench wafts ashore, we praise God that we were born in a free country. A country in which we can believe and live as we choose, where we have just as much a right to be grateful for our freedoms as we have to take them for granted and squander them completely. 

But many were not born here, and they didn’t have a say in that decision, either. The hard truth is, God knows. He sees. He hears their cries and collects their tears. He even goes as far as to say count yourselves blessed, for yours is the kingdom of Heaven. Rejoice and be glad, for although this present life is wasting away before your very eyes, great will be the reward in heaven. 

To have the kind of unwavering faith that perseveres, that waits for the abstract, blissful promise of heaven’s glory in the face of unimaginable suffering is as foreign as the Middle East. How great is the love of one who willingly walks the green mile out of devotion to Him. 

You’re blessed…

Oh, how we squander the richness contained in those words. I truly believe that we don't mean to—most of us are just a product of the culture in which we live. But we take the deep fullness of God contained in blessing and trade it for the material, the temporary. That which will wither like a flower in the hot desert sun, here today and gone tomorrow. We cheapen it, casting aside the indwelling of a Living God and grasping desperately instead for the idol, which, once attained, evaporates as smoke before our very eyes.

True blessing isn’t marked by the degree of temporary comfort or happiness achieved but rather by the unique opportunity provided by less then ideal circumstances to draw close to God. A closeness that couldn’t be achieved except for the sharing of suffering. And that is the blessing: Jesus Himself.

It’s a paradigm shift. The world shouts in our pain, encouraging us to avoid it at all costs. To drown it out, ignore it, bury it, and numb it away. To get out of it as fast as possible, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, and go on pursuing the American Dream. And if it turns out to be broken, just throw it away and get a new one. 

But Jesus. When the world shouts, he whispers, and sometimes you have to climb to a quiet place just to hear Him, to make out His voice from the crowd. Jesus invites us in, into the pain, into the suffering. He asks us to sit there a while, to soak it all in and not waste a hot second of it. And He’s not only there with us, so we don’t have to go it alone, HE’S THERE.

True blessing exists when we arrive at the end of ourselves, when we have nothing left to give, for it’s there that God resides. What it comes down to with each and every blessing is being stripped of ourselves. Stripped of our self-sufficiency, stripped of our earthly comforts, stripped of our masks, stripped of our fleshly desires, stripped of our selfishness, stripped of our need to perform, stripped of our pride, and stripped of our fear. Like an expert carpenter shaving down a block of wood, strip by strip, to carve from it something beautiful, so the Lord strips us. And with each swipe of the blade, the excess falls away, and we begin to look more and more like the finished product--Jesus. The blessing is always Him.

So whether you need to get over yourself, out from under yourself, past yourself or to the end of yourself, do it today. Because God is waiting there. And I don’t know about you, but I, for one, have a lot to learn about being blessed.

This post is part of a series I’m writing for the month of October called, 31 Ways God Paved the Road to Urban Missions. If you’re interested in the reading the rest of the series, you can find it here. To receive these posts directly in your inbox every week, subscribe below!