When you pray, you mustn’t be like the play-actors. They love to pray standing in the synagogues and on street corners, so that people will notice them. I’m telling you the truth: they have received their reward in full. No: when you pray, go into your own room, shut the door, and pray to your father who is there in secret. And your father, who sees in secret, will repay you. Matt. 6:5–6

After speaking on piety and being open-handed in our giving, Jesus turns to the posture we take when it comes to prayer. Our posture should be that we are praying to an audience of One—not to an audience of many. We are not praying to the crowd; we are praying to God. Let’s dive in a bit.

The translation above uses the word “play-actors” rather than “hypocrite,” as found in many translations. A hypocrite, historically, was someone who acted in a play—a play-actor. They were people known to put on a show for the crowd while inwardly believing and behaving differently. Today, we might think of people in Hollywood, social media influencers, and politicians—all people who portray a version of themselves for the crowd that is not entirely real.

Christian leaders are prone to do this as well. We must be on guard against portraying our righteousness for the sake of the crowds and the praise of others.

This phenomenon is not isolated within Christianity; all religions can be manipulated for the applause of others. Some people may not pray at home but only pray when they are in a group, so that they are seen as pious. D. A. Carson asks the question, “Could it be that the prime reason we do not see more prayers answered is because we are less concerned with bringing our requests to God than with showing off before others?”[1]

The people who seek the applause of others receive their reward in that applause. But the Lord rewards those who seek him. This is not the first time Jesus mentions a reward or compensation of some kind from the Father. The Beatitudes speak of inheritance, and Matt. 5:8 speaks of a reward in heaven.

Dallas Willard writes, “Kingdom praying and its efficacy is entirely a matter of the innermost heart’s being totally open and honest before God.”[2] It is in the secret place, alone before the Father, where we can be fully open and honest. Historically for me, I have had times where I have gone to the beach or hiked on an isolated trail, where I can simply speak to God as we walk along the pathway. The Father desires our hearts to be focused on him and him alone, not on how we sound to those around us. Prayer is not about putting on a show.

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But we are not meant to pray only in isolated places. Martyn Lloyd-Jones writes, “It is not a prohibition of prayer meetings. It is not a prohibition of prayer in public, for that is taught of God and commended in the Scriptures.”[3] Likewise, Bonhoeffer writes, “True prayer is done in secret, but this does not rule out the fellowship of prayer altogether.”[4]

Prayer is to be practiced in community as well as in secret. Just after saying in this Sermon that one is to go into a room and pray in secret, Jesus then teaches his disciples how to pray together. For the prayer begins with, “Our Father.” This is a reminder that we are part of a community, and we approach the Lord as a people, not merely as individuals. It is not “My Father,” but rather, “Our.” There are plenty of examples throughout Scripture where the community gathers together to pray, and often to fast together as well.

I have had many Christian friends from different parts of Africa ask me why churches and Christians in America do not really pray. They often point out how prayer is a much larger part of a church service in Africa than it is here. They are right. I have been in services where the time spent in prayer is roughly the length of our sermons here in America. My friends are correct in their assessment of the lack of prayer in American churches. We tend to spend more time discussing the theology of prayer than actually praying.

Maybe we have let this part of the Sermon on the Mount convince us that we should not pray publicly. Maybe we have misunderstood that this teaching is about our heart posture before God, not simply our location. Maybe we minimize prayer in our services because it requires us to give up control. When we pray, we surrender control to the one who truly holds all things. But when we teach and speak about the theology of prayer, we remain in control as we transfer information. The service becomes more cognitive than experiential.

While we need to be on guard against praying for the praise of men, or simply to put on a show, we would do well to learn from our brothers and sisters from other cultures when it comes to prayer.

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[1] Carson, Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount and His Confrontation with the World, 76–77.

[2] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 195.

[3] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 307.

[4] Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, 164.

When you are practicing your piety, mind you don’t do it with an eye on the audience! Otherwise, you won’t have any reward from your father in heaven.

So, when you give money to the poor, don’t sound a trumpet in front of you. That’s what people do when they’re just play-acting, in the synagogues and the streets. They do it so that people will be impressed at them. I’m telling you the truth: they’ve received their reward in full. No: when you give money, don’t let your left hand have any idea what your right hand is up to. That way, your giving will be in secret. And your father, who sees in secret, will repay you. Matt. 6:1-4

As we begin chapter 6, we realize that Jesus has shifted a bit. He has finished up the six statements of greater righteousness and now lays out three different actions that Christians take. These three actions are essential parts of the Christian life, and we are reminded to do them for the audience of one—that one being our heavenly Father. We are not to live out our Christian lives for the praise of men.

We now look at the action of giving. Giving, along with prayer and fasting, makes up this middle section of the Sermon.[1]

When I look at verse one, I have three questions: (1) What is meant by piety? (2) Who is the audience spoken of? (3) What is meant by reward?

Piety is not a word that we normally use, and as I have been reading it, I keep asking myself what is actually meant by it. One Bible dictionary describes it as a religious duty of sorts, a form of righteousness, and at times something done out of fear or reverence for God.[2] With that definition as a backdrop, it makes more sense to place it alongside prayer and fasting. Almsgiving is giving back to God what he has given to us. This action of piety is spoken of as giving to those who are poor, and it is also an assumed action. “So, when you give….” The action of giving to the poor is assumed to be a normal practice of your spiritual life.

Who is the audience? It seems that the audience is all involved. This includes the giver, the receiver, and all who witness the transaction. Thus, the giver should give without giving himself accolades. The receiver should receive the money gracefully, thanking the Father in heaven more than the donor. The crowd should see the transaction and be pushed toward increased generosity themselves. It is not that the crowd will never see the transaction of giving to the poor; it is that they give credit to God, not elevating the donor, and they are moved toward giving themselves.

D.A. Carson writes, “Jesus’ disciple is not giving secretly in order to win some heavenly reward; rather he is giving secretly to avoid the glamour of honor from men, to please his Heavenly Father, and to meet the real need. The result is spiritual reward.”[3] We can take confidence in some sort of reward, but it is a reward that is valued in the kingdom of heaven more so than in the kingdoms of earth. We can trust in God’s goodness and faithfulness to reward us as he promises.

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Giving is not meant to be a show. It is not for our own egos. It is not for the accolades of those around us. Instead, when we give, we show trust in God’s provision and trust in his goodness. If we are too stingy to give, and hold on to our own resources too tightly, it is because we have a scarcity mindset—a faulty belief that there are not enough resources for us to be generous with. We neglect the abundance of the kingdom of heaven and opt for living out of scarcity. As Pastor Martyn Lloyd-Jones writes, “here is a chapter that brings us face-to-face with ourselves, and enables us to see ourselves exactly as we are.”[4]

When we give, we release control over how that money is going to be spent. At the same time, I do think we are called to be intentional in how we give. I do not believe we are meant to give a handout to every beggar lining the street without discernment. Learning to be a good giver actually takes practice and work—it is not always easy.

The lesson on giving while we lived in Kenya was difficult but formative. I learned that I do not need to meet every need that comes before me. At the same time, I learned that giving partially to many needs is often what it looks like to live faithfully in community. When I began to say no to certain requests, I found that I was able to say yes to more. Saying no to unnecessary or less pressing needs created space for a more joyful yes when a legitimate need arose.

We set aside a certain amount of cash to give each month, and we handed it out freely. Our focus was not merely on the act of giving itself, but on the relationships we were building and what it meant to truly be part of the community.

In this passage, Jesus does not mention a specific amount of giving. He does not quantify it at all, other than to say we should give without keeping careful record of it. Give with one hand, and do not tally it with the other. This kind of giving can only flow from a heart that is fixed on the Father and that trusts fully in his abundance and provision.

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[1] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 291.

[2] Holman Illustrated Bible Dictionary, “Piety.”

[3] Carson, Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount and His Confrontation with the World, 75.

[4] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 291.

You heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: love your enemies! Pray for people who persecute you! That way, you’ll be children of your father in heaven! After all, he makes his sun rise on bad and good alike, and sends rain both on the upright and on the unjust. Look at it like this: if you love those who love you, do you expect a special reward? Even tax-collectors do that, don’t they? And if you only greet your own family, what’s so special about that? Even Gentiles do that, don’t they? Well then: you must be perfect, just as your heavenly father is perfect. Matthew 5:43–48

Do you have an actual enemy? Have you ever had a true enemy?

I do not know if I have ever had a true enemy here in America. Sure, there are plenty of people I might disagree with or not get along super well with, but that does not make them my enemy. This verse never truly made much sense to me growing up. I honestly never had an enemy.

Then, we moved to Kenya. And I had enemies. True enemies. Enemies who sabotaged our stuff. Enemies who threatened to kill us. Enemies who kept us awake at night with threats and curses. These were people who not only disagreed with us or didn’t like us, but who often tried to harm us.

One evening, a drunk man was outside our home, screaming at us and telling us to die. We recognized the voice. We knew who the man was.

The next afternoon, I was across our village and got a distressing call from Heather. The man who had been screaming death threats the night before had shown up at our home asking for some tea. He was calm, collected, and peaceful. Nonetheless, he was our enemy.

Neighbors around us were watching.

Heather sat him down outside as I quickly made my way home. When I arrived, he was sitting there with a fresh cup of tea, and a biscuit Heather had made. I greeted him, drank tea with him, and talked for an hour.

The neighbors had all heard him the night before like us. Then they watched Heather serve him tea anyway

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Jesus’ final antithesis claim is a climax of the other five. Carson writes, “What Jesus is saying in these verses, more than anything else, is that his followers have no rights.”[1] Or, as Scot McKnight writes, “This passage is the summary antithesis that brings into crystallization the essential feature of the ethic of Jesus: the centrality of love.”[2]

The call to live life according to the ways of Jesus is a call to self-abandonment. We show love for God by how we show love for our enemies.

This is easier said than it is done. We are created with a natural sense of keeping ourselves alive. We often think of it in terms of “fight or flight.” When we feel threatened, we respond by running or by fighting. This is part of what makes us human. It is a natural instinct to fight off predators. Yet, when it comes to human enemies, we are to go against our natural human instinct and choose a different way. We are to choose the way of love.

McKnight writes, “Enemy love is not a magic formula. It’s not a trick. It’s a posture toward every human being we meet.”[3] We can only do this through the strength of God.

Most of us probably will not have a drunk man threatening to kill us in the evening and then showing up for tea the next day. Many of us might not think that we have enemies. But let us swap out the word “enemy” with “Other.” We can demonstrate the love of Jesus lived out through us by how we engage with the “Other” among us.

Who is the “Other” in your life?

Muslims?

Immigrants?

Homeless people?

MAGA supporters?

Liberal Democrats?

Conservative Republicans?

The way of Jesus is pretty clear here as he sums up the antitheses. This is the culmination of “do not anger, do not lust, do not divorce, speak truthfully, and do not take retribution.” Summing up those commands in two words is simple: love others.

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[1] Carson, Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount and His Confrontation with the World, 66.

[2] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 141.

[3] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 150.

You heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you: don’t use violence to resist evil! Instead, when someone hits you on the right cheek, turn the other one towards him. When someone wants to sue you and take your shirt, let him have your cloak, too. And when someone forces you to go one mile, go a second one with him. Give to anyone who asks you, and don’t refuse someone who wants to borrow from you. Matthew 5:38–42

This week’s saying is a challenging one. The statements Jesus makes hit us at our core. Are we really meant to give everything people ask to borrow from us? This was certainly a challenge we had to learn to navigate in Kenya. Living in a village, there were so many needs around us daily. It was not uncommon for ten different people to come to our home in a single day, each with some unmet need. Yet we could not provide for all their needs while also caring for our own family. How do we manage this tension? How do we live this out?

This passage seems to bring us to a point where different Christian streams of thought begin to diverge. Different theologians interpret this teaching in distinct ways, and while earlier in the Sermon the divisions may have seemed small, here the divide becomes more pronounced—making them harder to cross.

Again, as we read this passage, we must keep in mind the previous movements of the Sermon. Jesus has been offering difficult teachings, and He expects His followers to live them out—not on their own strength, but through His.

One perspective tends to limit the scope of this passage. This view is represented by pastors such as Martin Lloyd-Jones. His interpretation is more constrained than others. He writes, “The first main principle is that this teaching is not for nations or for the world. Indeed, we can go further and say that this teaching has nothing whatever to do with a man who is not a Christian.”[1]

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Lloyd-Jones takes an individualistic approach to this passage and to the Sermon as a whole. He further writes, “This has nothing to do with nations or so-called Christian pacifism… That was the whole tragedy of Tolstoy.”[2] In this statement, he is referencing Leo Tolstoy and his strong pacifist reading of this text. Lloyd-Jones believes this teaching applies only to the individual and only within personal relationships. It therefore does not affect the soldier fighting for his country.[3]

This position, often supported by conservative theologians, tends to interpret this passage—and the Sermon more broadly—as addressing the individual’s personal relationship with God. It is not seen as applying to governments, laws, or war.

This is where I find myself in disagreement with Lloyd-Jones and similar perspectives. They are reading the Sermon through an individualistic lens, but Jesus lived, taught, and ministered within a deeply communal worldview. To impose a modern Western individualism onto this text does not make good sense. Yes, we as individuals must choose to follow Christ—but we do so within a community.

Jesus must be speaking beyond mere individual action. Each of these commands—turn the other cheek, go the extra mile, give your cloak, give to those who ask—involves another person. This is inherently relational and communal. I do not believe the ethic Jesus is teaching here is simply private; it is meant to be public.

This does not mean governments themselves “turn the other cheek,” but it should shape how followers of Jesus who serve within governments make decisions. Their allegiance to Christ must come before their allegiance to the state.

On the other side of the theological divide is a perspective represented by Tolstoy and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. For Bonhoeffer, the church is meant to be an alternative community, not a political instrument. He writes, “The right way to requite evil, according to Jesus, is not to resist it. This saying of Christ removes the Church from the sphere of politics and law. The Church is not to be a national community like the old Israel, but a community of believers without political or national ties.”[4]

Bonhoeffer’s reading moves beyond the individual to the corporate body. As a collective, the church is to embody these ethics together.

What I find particularly interesting about both Tolstoy and Bonhoeffer is that their theology emerges in times of war. They are not writing from places of peace, but from deeply contested and painful contexts. When I read contemporary theology from Palestinian Christians, I encounter similar themes. It is important for us to recognize that these theological positions often emerge from dark and difficult spaces. Their perspectives offer a necessary voice—especially for those of us living in relative peace.

Bonhoeffer critiques the conservative perspective directly: “The Reformers… distinguished between personal sufferings and those incurred by Christians in performance of duty…maintaining that the precept of non-violence applies to the first but not to the second…. the Reformers justified war and other legal sanctions against evil… {Jesus} says nothing about that.”[5]

Now, returning to Matthew’s Gospel, we see that Jesus is teaching His followers how to live within His kingdom. We are called to choose love over retribution. A Jonathan Pennington writes, “Jesus’s command to love one’s enemies is unique and new in claiming… It is the high point of God’s demands upon his people.”[6]

God is elevating our response. When we live this way, we demonstrate a life that runs counter to the kingdom of the world and aligns instead with the kingdom of heaven. Jesus is not merely issuing prohibitions; He is forming a people into something new and better. We move beyond retribution toward embodied love.

Scot McKnight argues that Jesus is creating an alternative community—one that stands against the patterns of the world.[7] Jesus reinterprets the law, exposing its distortions and reshaping it in alignment with the kingdom. “Jesus’ followers’ dwell in an alternative society that protests systemic injustice and embodies an alternative love-shaped justice.”[8]

Similarly, Stanley Hauerwas suggests that Jesus is helping us imagine an entirely new way of being. Turning the other cheek is not passive—it is disruptive. It is a form of resistance. It is like a child who laughs when being spanked, rendering the punishment ineffective. To go a second mile with a Roman soldier would have been a creative act that exposed the injustice of the system. Hauerwas writes that we are meant “to see our lives in a radically new way.”[9]

Personally, I find myself living in the tension. I am drawn toward the pacifist vision more than the traditional Reformed position, especially as I consider the communal nature of Jesus’ teaching. At the same time, I recognize the complexity of systems like government and justice.

So I end with this question:

Are these challenging words of Jesus meant simply to shape individual behavior?

Or is Jesus forming a community of witnesses who will embody His kingdom together?

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[1] David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (1959; 3rd ed., W.B. Eerdmans, 2001), 243.

[2] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 244.

[3] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 244.

[4] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, 3rd ed. (Touchstone, 1995), 141.

[5] Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, 143.

[6] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 201.

[7] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 123.

[8] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 125.

[9] Stanley Hauerwas, Jesus Changes Everything: A New World Made Possible, Plough Spiritual Guides (Plough, 2025), 39.

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Over the last three months, I have pictured myself each day sitting at the feet of Jesus as He begins to preach through His Sermon on the Mount. I have read it daily, and it has been life-shaping. I imagine myself sitting at His feet while He sits on a rock, elevated slightly above the crowd. His booming voice echoing through the hills and valleys.

I soak in each of His words.

His words challenge me. How do I love my enemies like He says? How do I fast and pray as He commands? His words seem hard to listen to, but especially hard to embody. Then He continues and begins to divide the crowd. There are some on the wide path leading to destruction, but only a few on the narrow path leading to life with Him. Only some will build a strong house that will withstand the torrential storm coming, but most will build a house with a weak foundation that will not stand.

He claims, “only people who do the will of my Father in heaven” will enter the kingdom (Mt. 7:21)

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So, I sit at His feet and realize I cannot do it alone.

Yesterday was Good Friday—good in the sense that we know Easter is coming, but solemn in the sense that it is the day we reflect more intentionally on Jesus being hung on the cross.

I sat in our service, listening to the words of the preacher, reflecting on the cross that stood on the hill at Golgotha.

Can I sit at Jesus’ feet while He hangs on the cross?

Can I watch Jesus suffer for my sake?

The short answer is no—I would have run off as all His disciples did. Maybe I would have hidden and watched from a distance, but most likely I would have run to hide, ashamed that I had followed a man who had been humiliated in such a way, hung like a common criminal.

But let us imagine, if you will, what it would be like to sit at the foot of the cross. What would we experience? What might we learn?

We would see evil being lived out—a lack of human decency for another human being. Soldiers nailing Jesus’ hands and feet into wooden beams, hoisting Him up above the crowd in utter agony. He had already been beaten beyond recognition, the flesh on His back ripped to shreds, muscles exposed. Soldiers hit and kick Him, laughing as if He were a dead dog. A crown of thorns is pressed into His skull, piercing His head. We would see Him stripped of His clothes and then watch them be auctioned off to the highest bidder. We would be witnessing humans behaving in the vilest ways imaginable as they perfect their ability to torture.

The smells would all mix together—His sweat and blood creating a stench that is repulsive. The sweat of the soldiers who had worked Him over. The smoke of smoldering fires that had burned through the night and linger into the morning. His feet would be dirty, having washed His disciples’ feet the night before, but with no one to wash His. Yet, amidst the repulsive smells, there would still be the lingering scent of costly ointment, poured from an alabaster jar onto His feet by a woman in preparation for His burial (Mt. 26:7). And maybe—just maybe—if we knew what we were looking for, we might catch a faint whiff of myrrh, given to Jesus as a baby in prophetic recognition of His role (Mt. 2:11).

We would hear vile things being said about the One we follow. They call Him names. The sound of the hammer striking the nails echoes, accompanied by Jesus’ agonizing cry with each blow. Hearing the pain is unbearable. We try to cover our ears, but the sound continues. The crowd gasps, cheers, and jeers. Shockingly, we hear the other crucified men mocking Jesus as well, even as they endure a similar fate.

Then we hear Jesus crying out to the Father—praying for those who are tormenting Him.

Is this what He means when He says to love our enemies?

Is this what it means to turn the other cheek?

Listening intently, we hear Jesus take His final breath. Then comes the loud rumble of an earthquake. It shakes us to our core. Screams echo throughout the Judean countryside. We see the soldiers begin to tremble and then declare, “Truly He was the Son of God” (Mt. 27:54).

The very ones who just tortured Him are now proclaiming His divinity.

Who is this? What is going on?

At Jesus’ feet, we feel the shame of the cross. It is utter humiliation. A leader—much less a rabbi—would not be treated with such indignity. We feel our own shame as we watch Him, naked and bleeding, enduring this savagery while we sit on the hard, dusty ground looking up at Him. Can this truly be the Messiah? Dying?

I feel a drop of His blood hit my arm—blood that has made its way from Jesus’ own heart, mixing with the myrrh and His sweat as it trickles down to the bottom of His feet.

Splat. Another drop of blood hits my arm.

I look up. The warmth of His blood hitting my arm shakes me out of my protective shell.

He looks down. Struggles to smile. Softly says,

“My blood is spilt for you.”

I don’t really know what to say. So, I just stay at His feet.

But I do realize that to sit at the feet of Jesus while He sits on a rock, teaching the Sermon on the Mount that it also means to sit at His feet while He hangs on the cross.

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Again, you heard that it was said to the people long ago: ‘You shall not swear falsely, but you shall give to the Lord what you promised under oath.’ But I say to you: don’t swear at all! Don’t swear by heaven (it’s God’s throne!); don’t swear by the earth (it’s God’s footstool!); don’t swear by Jerusalem (it’s the city of the great king!); don’t swear by your head (you can’t make one hair of it turn white or black!). When you’re talking, say ‘Yes’ when you mean Yes, and ‘No’ when you mean No. Anything more than that comes from the evil one. Matthew 5:33–37

It is interesting that the fourth of the six antitheses—this passage on the taking of oaths—comes right after the passages about marriage and divorce. The discussion on marriage and divorce elevates the need to take vows and oaths seriously. We are to say what we mean and mean what we say.

Jesus is, once again, correcting a false idea present in his culture about how one is to engage in the community. A habit of swearing by things lesser than God had become common, largely because people did not want to take the name of God in vain. So, rather than swearing by God, they began to swear by lesser things such as earth, heaven, and the holy city. This is almost akin to a father swearing to a child that he will take them to an ice cream shop and then crossing his fingers so that the statement is somehow nullified. We all know that the simple act of crossing one’s fingers does not make a promise disappear. When Israelites swore on things lesser than God, it did not make those promises disposable either.

Jesus is calling the people to be honorable in all that they do. They are not to be deceptive. They are not to take an oath of marriage lightly and then simply walk away from it. No—people who are following Jesus and his kingdom way should be full of integrity in all that they do, as well as in what they say.

Sadly, we see a lack of integrity in politics daily. Politicians on both sides of the aisle often present facts with a certain “looseness” and portray reality with varying degrees of deception. It has become more acceptable in recent years to appeal to “alternative facts” or to dismiss everything else as “fake.”

The follower of Jesus does not engage in this kind of deception. In fact, as Jesus says, when we see people taking truth lightly, we are to recognize that such patterns ultimately originate from the evil one. We should beware of those who tell half-truths, false-truths, or who repeatedly change their story. Christians should be marked by integrity in all of our statements.

Pastor Lloyd-Jones states, “Those exact words are not to be found anywhere in the Old Testament…. Proof that He was not dealing with the Mosaic law as such but with the Pharisaical perversion of it.”[1] Jesus continues to correct the misinterpretations and the subtle manipulations of the law present in his culture.

There are, in fact, many instances in the Old Testament where people are called to take oaths. Jesus is correcting the misapplication of these practices. Theologian Kent Hughes writes, “Swearing in God’s name was not only presumed but encouraged in the Old Testament. Second, what was discouraged was making a vow, swearing to do something, and then not doing it.”[2] What Jesus is doing with this statement—especially when coupled with his teaching on marriage—is affirming that his people are to be full of honor. Those who speak with honor live with honor and make honorable promises. Lloyd-Jones adds, “while oath-taking must be restricted, there are certain solemn, vital occasions when it is right, when it is not only legitimate, but actually adds a solemnity and an authority which nothing else can give.”[3]

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While some Christian groups have taken this passage to mean that they cannot put their hands on a Bible to swear into office or to serve as a witness in court, this is likely an overly rigid interpretation. Jesus is not primarily instituting a new set of isolated restrictions to be followed in a legalistic manner. Rather, he is helping people discern what kind of people they are becoming—people who live life under the reign of the kingdom of heaven. This understanding aligns with the Beatitudes and with the broader call to a deeper righteousness, one that Jesus both elevates and fulfills in continuity with the Law and the Prophets.

Scot McKnight states, “God is King over all; any oath that touches anything under God makes a person accountable for the words used.”[4] We cannot manipulate our way around the truth. We cannot rely on clever tactics—like crossing our fingers or swearing by lesser things—to escape accountability. Instead, we are to let our words be true and honorable. We are to say yes when we mean yes, and no when we mean no.

In this way, Jesus is forming his followers into the kind of people who are trustworthy at their core—people whose lives align so closely with truth that oaths become unnecessary. He is helping us, and his first followers, learn how to be the kind of people who are filled with his blessings.

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[1] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 232.

[2] Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition), 129.

[3] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 236.

[4] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 115.

“It was also said, ‘If someone divorces his wife, he should give her a legal document to prove it.’ But I say to you: everyone who divorces his wife, unless it’s in connection with immorality, makes her commit adultery; and anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery.” Matthew 5:31–32

As we continue in the Sermon, we arrive at the third example of six in which Jesus states, “You have heard… but I tell you…” The first was on anger and its correlation to murder. The second was on lust and its correlation to adultery. Now, we come to divorce.

I enter this discussion with a heavy heart, knowing that I have many friends in troubled marriages or who have recently divorced for a variety of reasons over the past few years. It seems that the older I get, the more I hear of marriages being dissolved. It breaks my heart, but it also humbles me as I realize that maintaining a healthy marriage is difficult. Like with anger and lust, we must rely on the work of the Holy Spirit to guide us through difficult times.

While I have noticed that some authors tend to skip over this topic or treat it lightly, I want to follow where the Sermon leads, seeking to understand all that Jesus is teaching us—both the easier and the harder teachings. Let’s unpack this short section a bit more deeply.

In Jesus’ day, there were two schools of thought regarding when it was permissible for a man to divorce his wife. One view allowed divorce for nearly any displeasing reason. The other was more stringent, adhering more closely to the laws set forth by Moses. Historian Alfred Edersheim notes that while men had more ability to divorce their wives for various reasons, wives did have some limited ability to divorce their husbands as well.[1] However, these differing schools of thought often allowed men to leave their wives for flimsy reasons. “The result was that at the time of our Lord terrible injustices were again being done to many women who were being divorced from most unworthy and frivolous reasons.”[2]

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Jesus was speaking into a culture already wrestling with this issue. He was not addressing a void but rather entering into an ongoing and divisive discussion. Jesus takes what Moses had said, corrects misguided interpretations, and elevates marriage to what it was always intended to be. “Divorce was never God’s intention for men and women in a marriage.”[3] Instead, “God’s ideal was, and is, monogamous, intimate, enduring marriage.”[4] Yet both Jesus and Moses acknowledge that divorce may occur in certain circumstances because of the sinfulness of humanity. We live in a broken world, and there are times when the beauty of marriage is not lived out as it should be. In the case of adultery, God provides an exception, as the marriage covenant has already been violated.

Followers of Jesus should seek reconciliation and restoration in their marriages whenever possible. This does not mean that a woman should be forced back into a relationship where she is threatened. Scot McKnight rightly adds that the, “Sermon on the Mount should never be used to protect aggressive males or be used to justify abuse of a wife.”[5]

There is not enough space in this short blog to engage in a thorough, comprehensive discussion of divorce, but it must be said that marriage is sacred. The destruction and dissolution of a marriage should not be taken lightly—especially by followers of Jesus who seek to live out the principles of the kingdom of heaven.

Yet divorce is part of our culture. It is part of our church community. Just as I might be guilty of “murder” in the way I harbor anger, others are guilty of divorce. Dallas Willard reminds us that while “divorce also powerfully disrupts one of the major natural cycles of human existence....we must resist any attempt to classify divorce as a special, irredeemable form of wickedness. It is not.”[6] I do believe that some “sins” are often treated as worse than others within the Christian community, and divorce is one of them. As fellow Christians, we need to walk alongside our friends who are struggling in their marriages. We need to pray for them, support them, and encourage them. We should remind them that while divorce is not God’s design for marriage, they are still deeply loved.

In her recent book about her own divorce, Lisa Terkeurst shares the intimate struggle of navigating her identity as a Christian going through an unwanted divorce. Her book highlights how one word—translated poorly in the KJV—has shaped the thinking of many. The verse in question is Malachi 2:16, often rendered as “God hates divorce.” However, the ESV translates it as: “For the man who does not love his wife but divorces her, says the LORD, the God of Israel, covers his garment with violence, says the LORD of hosts. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and do not be faithless.” She writes, “you may think that, unfortunately, regardless, of any situation and circumstance, if you get a divorce, you are facing not just the displeasure of God but the hatred of God.”[7] While she maintains a high view of marriage and does not promote divorce, she wrestles honestly with the fear of being rejected by God because of it.

As in the days of Jesus, there are diverse opinions on divorce today. Kent Hughes captures the weight of the issue well when he writes, “Marriage is the deepest human relationship.”[8] Because it is so deep and intimate, it can be profoundly beautiful—but when it breaks, it can be incredibly painful and complex to navigate. I have been entrusted with carrying the burdens of friends who are walking through these difficult seasons. I count it a privilege to pray for them and to encourage them.

Marriage is worth fighting for. Divorce is not to be taken lightly.

Like anger, lust, oaths, resisting violence, and loving our enemies, this is not something we navigate in our own strength. Jesus sets a high standard, but he also walks alongside us, calling us to follow him. We can trust in him and in his good ways.

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[1] Edersheim, Sketches of Jewish Social Life, 64.

[2] Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 226.

[3] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 170.

[4] Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition), 119.

[5] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 108.

[6] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 170.

[7] TerKeurst et al., Surviving an Unwanted Divorce, 34.

[8] Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition), 119.

“You heard,” Jesus continued, “that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you: everyone who gazes at a woman in order to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye trips you up, tear it out and throw it away. Yes: It is better for you to have one part of your body destroyed than for your whole body to be thrown into Gehenna. And if your right hand trips you up, cut it off and throw it away. Yes: it’s better for you to have one part of your body destroyed than for your whole body to go into Gehenna.” Matthew 5:27-30

As we look at this week’s section on adultery and lust, let us remember the overview from last week about where we are in the Sermon as a whole. This is the second of six examples of righteous living that sets up such a high standard that one cannot do it without the Holy Spirit working in us. Nonetheless, Jesus sets a high standard and reminds us that it is our heart posture that is important, not simply following the letter of the law.

This section, starting again with “you have heard it said…,” comes from the Ten Commandments, in its simple statement: “you shall not commit adultery.” Dallas Willard writes, “As with murder, it is an absolute prohibition, and there is no question of its being right under any circumstances to murder or to commit adultery.”[1] Scot McKnight also bridges the two examples and writes, “As murder begins with anger, so adultery begins with lust.”[2]

Jesus knows that there are many in his crowd who are self-righteous enough that they might claim they have upheld the Ten Commandments; they have not killed anyone and they have not committed adultery. However, Jesus is showing that strict adherence to the law is important, but even more important is the heart posture of the individual. In one commentary, it states, “The general understanding in Jewish society was that a woman needed to be chaste before marriage and faithful afterwards. A man, however, was free to have sexual liaisons as long as he was discreet and did not involve a married woman, which would infringe on the rights of another man…Jesus makes no such distinction between men and women.”[3] Jesus was calling out the discretions of men trying to ‘technically’ get around the law.

Theologian Kent Hughes writes, “In one single sentence he elevated our entire concept of sexual purity beyond the mere physical to a matter of the soul and the heart.”[4] Jesus ushers in a new concept of sexual purity along with a stark warning about tearing out one’s eye or cutting off one’s hand. This example of tearing out one’s eye is obviously hyperbolic. If one eye is torn out, the other eye can still look lustfully. If both eyes are torn out, the mind can still think lustfully. Twice in this section Jesus brings up the idea of Gehenna, and the listener should take note.

Dallas Willard highlights that when the heart elements are in that sinful, lustful place, “usually the only thing lacking for overt action is the occasion... so the adulterer is the one who would have wrongful sex if the circumstances were right.”[5] He further adds that this behavior develops into harassment. “And it nearly always produces some degree of inappropriate action, including all of the behaviour now classified as sexual harassment...Sexual harassment as we know it would simply disappear under Jesus’ ethic of sexuality.”[6] Hughes writes that what is forbidden is the “deep-seated lust that consumes the inner person.”[7]

Now, the issue at hand is the sinfulness of mankind. Both with the example of anger and this current example, it is difficult for all of us to remain sinless. As one pastor writes, “sin is not merely a matter of actions and of deeds; it is something within the heart that leads to the action.”[8] But for those who choose to follow Jesus, he is the spotless, pure, and undefiled person who has taken our guilt upon himself.

A few weeks ago we discussed the kingdom of heaven. This week, Gehenna is mentioned a couple of times. It is helpful to understand what that term specifically means. I understand there is much debate regarding the term. Sometimes it is translated as hell. One dictionary states, “The NT uses ‘Gehenna’ to speak of the place of final punishment.” It was described as a specific valley where garbage used to be dumped. “The continuing fires in the valley [of Hinnom] apparently led the people to transfer the name to the place where the wicked dead suffer.”[9]

Rather than dwelling on the specifics of what is meant by hell or Gehenna, I want to highlight what is placed in contrast to the kingdom of heaven. It is the counternarrative. It is a place apart from where the “good life” or blessings are found. It is a separation from Jesus. The warning Jesus gives about it should make us consider whether or not we are on a path toward it, or whether we are on the narrow path that leads toward Jesus.

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[1] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (HarperCollins Publishers, 1998), 159.

[2] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 86.

[3] Tokunboh Adeyemo, ed., Africa Bible Commentary (Word Alive, 2006), 1146.

[4] R. Kent Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition): The Message of the Kingdom, Preaching the Word (Crossway, 2013), 112.

[5] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 161.

[6] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 161.

[7] Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition), 111.

[8] David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (1959; 3rd ed., W.B. Eerdmans, 2001), 209.

[9] Holman Illustrated Bible Dictionary, Expanded, ed. Chad Brand (Holman Reference, 2015), under “Gehenna,” 624.

“You heard that it was said to the ancient people, ‘You shall not murder’; and anyone who commits murder shall be liable to judgment. But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment; anyone who uses foul and abusive language will be liable to the lawcourt; and anyone who says, ‘You fool,’ will be liable to the fires of Gehenna.

“So, if you are coming to the altar with your gift, and there you remember that your brother has a grievance against you, leave your gift right there in front of the altar, and go first and be reconciled to your brother. Then come back and offer your gift. Make friends with your opponent quickly, while you are with him in the street, in case your opponent hands you over to the judge, and the judge to the officer, and you find yourself being thrown in jail. I’m telling you the truth: you won’t get out until you’ve paid every last copper coin.”
Matthew 5:21–26

As we begin the discussion on anger and its equivalency to murder, we must first remember where we have been in this Sermon so far. Because we are at a shifting point—the beginning example of six where Jesus is giving a variety of examples to articulate what he has already been saying.

Jesus started his Sermon with the “blessed” statements and then turned to how those who live those blessings out naturally will be the salt and the light of the world. Then Jesus declares that he is the complete fulfillment of the Old Testament law and prophets. Now Jesus gives six examples that demonstrate his fulfillment of the Law and expose the heart of those who truly want to follow Him. Dallas Willard writes, “Receiving the teaching about anger and contempt depends upon our having received the teaching about our well-being and blessedness.”[1] When we step back from the individual passages and look at the Sermon as a whole, we can see the journey that Jesus is taking us on.

Each of these next six examples begins with the statement, “You heard that it was said...” Scholar Kent Hughes writes, “This is an exact duplicate of the sixth commandment Exodus 20:13 as taken from the Septuagint.”[2] So Jesus is directly quoting Scripture—but not just any Scripture. He is quoting from the Ten Commandments. He then goes beyond the simple act of “do not murder” to making a moral judgment against the heart of the individual. In this, He highlights that no one is innocent. Everyone has sinned and has a corrupted heart.

Theologian Scott Pennington writes, “Jesus gets to the heart of the matter... the heart or inner disposition of the moral agent.”[3] It is not enough to simply not violate the law. The true follower of Jesus must have a heart posture that reflects the “blessed” statements earlier. In the Gospel of Luke, we find a story about a rich ruler who was asking Jesus how to gain eternal life, and Jesus told him to keep the commandments. The ruler declares that he has done this, but then Jesus exposes the corrupt heart of the man and his love of riches (Luke 18:18–30). But if this is true, then who might be saved? Who might enter this kingdom of heaven? Jesus is pointing out that according to our own human ways, it is not possible. We cannot be perfect.

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Pastor Lloyd-Jones writes, “The purpose of the law as expounded by Christ is not to keep us in a state of obedience to oppressive rules, but to promote the free development of our spiritual character.”[4] Truly, Jesus is teaching us—and the initial listeners—how to develop our character in such a way that is contrary to our own nature.

One thing in Jesus’ example above is especially worth a deeper dive. He gives a short example of how this kind of true spiritual character can be demonstrated. Suppose a man is at the temple about to sacrifice and worship, and he remembers he has an issue with a brother. He is told to leave the worship (his sacrifice) there and go and reconcile with the brother, and then come back and worship.

I want to highlight two things about this short example.

First, Jesus is elevating reconciliation above worshipping with a stained heart posture. “Jesus is for reconciliation, even if it means interrupting sacred actions and legal judgments.”[5] The worship is important, and the man is to come back to the temple to complete his worship with a pure, restored heart. But he is to leave the sacrifice at the altar. I can’t imagine this would have been an easy task. The temple was at the top of the mountain, and the worshipper might have traveled a day or two just to get there. So, reconciliation was not just a simple phone call or drive home. Going to the temple itself was an event.

The second point I want to highlight is the word ‘brother.’ I am not going to go into a deep word study here, but we need to understand that this word can be used with a very broad meaning throughout Scripture. It is not simply a familial relationship, but can include people from the same nation, a countryman, or any fellow person.[6] An example that demonstrates the broadness of the word can be found in Matthew 12:48–49 when Jesus is specifically asked about his mother and brothers (familial), and his response is that he is with all his mothers and brothers (countrymen). Jesus is not limiting this posture of anger to a familial brother. Again, the heart posture is one that requires a much broader understanding and perspective.

Reconciliation with others is elevated in significant ways. We are not simply to follow the legal details of the law. We are to have a heart posture that far exceeds what the law demands.

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[1] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (HarperCollins Publishers, 1998), 138.

[2] R. Kent Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition): The Message of the Kingdom, Preaching the Word (Crossway, 2013), 104.

[3] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 183.

[4] David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (1959; 3rd ed., W.B. Eerdmans, 2001), 191.

[5] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 80.

[6] (Blue Letter Bible, 2017), Blue Letter Bible.

4:17 – The kingdom of heaven is arriving!
5:3 – The kingdom of heaven is yours.
5:10 – The kingdom of heaven belongs to you.
5:12 – There’s a great reward for you in heaven.
5:18 – Until heaven and earth disappear…
5:19 – Called least (and great) in the kingdom of heaven.
5:20 – You will never get into the kingdom of heaven.
5:45 – Your Father in heaven.
5:48 – Your heavenly Father is perfect.
6:1 – Reward from your Father in heaven.
6:9 – Our Father in heaven.
6:10 – Your will be done, as in heaven, so on earth.
6:14 – Your heavenly Father will forgive you…
6:15 – Neither will your heavenly Father forgive you…
6:20 – Store up for yourselves treasure in heaven!
6:26 – Your Father in heaven feeds them!
6:32 – Your heavenly Father knows you need them all.
7:11 – Your Father in heaven gives good things to those…
7:21 – Will enter the kingdom of heaven…
10:7 – Declare publicly that the kingdom of heaven has arrived.
24:14 – And this gospel of the kingdom must be announced to the whole world…
28:18–20 – All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me! So you must go and make all the nations into disciples…and look: I am with you, every single day, to the very end of the age.

To say that the idea of the kingdom of heaven permeates the whole Gospel of Matthew is an understatement. The list of verses above is not exhaustive by any means. I intentionally limited the references to this one book of Matthew rather than looking across the rest of the New Testament. There is obviously much more to be said about heaven than can be addressed here. Just in the Sermon itself, there are 18 verses (out of 92 total) that address the topic.

By “kingdom,” Jesus is not describing a geo-political territory on a map, but the active reign and authority of God breaking into ordinary life. Before we look a little deeper into what Jesus is saying, let me name some of the broad ideas:

Heaven is a kingdom—and it has arrived.
Heaven belongs to us—and there is some reward or treasure there.
Jesus’ Father, and our Father—is in heaven.
The Father in heaven knows and cares for the needs of those on earth.
The kingdom of heaven is meant to be spread on earth.
Not everyone will be a part of the kingdom of heaven.

I once asked a friend in Kenya what he meant when he spoke about heaven. His view, as a non-Christian, shocked me. First, he assumed that he could tally up enough good works to be allowed into heaven. Then he described a paradise where he would have virgins attending to his needs (I am not sure how they would remain eternally virgins???). But what shocked me most was his belief that God would give him whatever he desired—good food, drink, luxury, and so on.

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I told him that his idea of heaven was essentially that God would become his servant and that he himself would be a god. He flatly denied my description, but I believe my argument still stands. His version of heaven placed him at the center, with God existing to serve him. If we are honest, many of our own Western imaginations of heaven are not all that different—subtly placing ourselves at the center and God at our service.

How wrong an idea of heaven so many of us have. Heaven is not a place where God is our servant. Heaven is not a place of eternal harp-playing while we float on clouds.

Instead, heaven is a place where we are with God—like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden before they sinned. They walked with God. They lived in His presence. Creation sustained them. Adam and Eve did not lie on beach chairs waiting for God to serve them. They worked. They created. They named things. They explored. They learned. And it was good.

But Jesus says that heaven is here and now—yet we still live in the midst of our sinful, destructive mess on this earth. There is an aspect of heaven that is not yet fully realized, but the groundbreaking has truly begun. The kingdom of heaven has been initiated. We can bask in His goodness now, knowing there is more to come.

Dallas Willard writes, “God is right here with us to look after us. And his presence is precisely what the word heaven, or more accurately, the heavens in plural conveys.”[1] He continues, helping us strip away our media-induced images of heaven as some far-off location: “The damage done to our practical faith in Christ… by confusing heaven with a place in distant or outer space, or even beyond space, is incalculable.”[2]

So, what does this mean for us in 2026?

It means we are to live as if God is present with us—because His Spirit is with those who choose to follow Him. It means we are part of a heavenly kingdom, not merely an earthly one. Our allegiance to the kingdom of heaven should far supersede any earthly political allegiance. This does not mean disengaging from civic life but allowing our political participation to be shaped first by the character and ethic of King Jesus.

Furthermore, we are to pursue the spread of His kingdom. As Kent Hughes writes, “We cannot pray the Lord’s Prayer with folded hands. To pray ‘your kingdom come’ is to pursue it.”[3] He adds, “Praying ‘your kingdom come’ demands a depth of commitment from us, and that commitment produces a life that makes a difference in our society and world.”[4]

Now, I do want to be clear: we, as followers of Jesus, do not create the kingdom, nor can we force it. The kingdom of heaven cannot be legislated into place, nor can it be voted into policy. The kingdom of heaven is lived out and proclaimed. In a sense, we are simply ambassadors of the kingdom, heralding to others the good news that the kingdom of heaven has been established on this earth—and its establishment came through the very work of Jesus Christ. And that is what Jesus is speaking about in his Sermon.

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Reflection Question:
What do you think of when you think of heaven? Is your idea of heaven realistic and aligned with Scripture? Or has it been shaped more by media than by the words of Jesus?

[1] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (HarperCollins Publishers, 1998), 67.

[2] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 71.

[3] R. Kent Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition): The Message of the Kingdom, Preaching the Word (Crossway, 2013), 175.

[4] Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition), 175.

Don’t suppose that I came to destroy the law or the prophets. I didn’t come to destroy them; I came to fulfill them! I’m telling you the truth: until heaven and earth disappear, not one stroke, not one dot, is going to disappear from the law, until it’s all come true. So anyone who relaxes a single one of these commandments, even the little ones, and teaches that to people, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But anyone who does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.
Yes, let me tell you: unless your covenant behavior is far superior to that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus is making three very big and bold claims here in this passage. It is helpful for us to take a good look at what Jesus is actually claiming in this part of his sermon. But before we discuss those three claims, let us define a few terms and remember where we are in the Sermon. Jesus has made nine bold statements about the “good life” or the “blessed life.” Then he declares that those who follow him are to be the salt and the light of the earth. Those who are blessed are to point others to the source of the blessing—Jesus.

A couple of words in this passage might be a little unfamiliar to some. A scribe was a person who meticulously wrote and copied the Scriptures. Contrary to some misunderstandings, the Scriptures were copied word for word, and the scribes held such high standards that every “I” must be dotted and every “T” must be crossed. The copy had to be exact. A Pharisee was a religious man who held very closely to the laws of the Torah. They were very devout and made sure to follow every single law—even tithing a percentage of their spices. We have discussed the “kingdom of heaven” a little bit now, and next week I will write more in depth on how we might understand this phrase.

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Claim number one:

Jesus is claiming that he is the fulfillment of the Torah (law).

The law was meant to bring Israel into a right relationship with God. Jesus is now claiming that he is the means to a right relationship with God—not the law. He is declaring that the law is good, but that he supersedes it. He fulfills its purpose.

Kent Hughes writes, “The entire sacrificial system in Old Testament times pointed to him.”[1] When we continue reading through the rest of the Gospel of Matthew, we find Jesus being led to his slaughter like a sacrificial lamb. His death on the cross restored the brokenness of sin and sinful people to God.

Scot McKnight writes, “We do not read the Bible aright until we learn to read it as the Story of Israel that comes to completion—fulfillment—in the Story of Jesus Christ.”[2] Jesus did not destroy the law; he fulfilled it and surpassed it. I can imagine Jesus specifically looking at the scribes when he said this. They cared deeply about preserving the law. He was telling them that he also cared about preserving the law—but that it was brought to its completion in him. This is indeed a bold claim.

Claim number two:

We cannot do enough works to get us into the kingdom of heaven.

Again, I imagine Jesus looking at the Pharisees as he said this part of his sermon. They were very devoted in their religion. They fasted, prayed, gave offerings, made the required annual pilgrimages to Jerusalem, and declared who God was through prayers. But Jesus was telling the crowd that even those who were the most religious could not enter the kingdom of heaven by their works.

Who, then, can enter? Looking back to the first claim—those who recognize that Jesus is the fulfillment of the law. Dallas Willard highlights how we can only do this with the help of Jesus: “He knew that we cannot keep the law by trying to keep the law… One must aim to become the kind of person from whom the deeds of the law naturally flow.”[3]

We can’t do the work because our work won’t be enough. But as followers of Jesus, we should seek to become the kind of people who live these things out. Following this section in the Sermon are six different examples of how his followers should embody the ethic of the kingdom. This is not to gain entrance into the kingdom but because we are already a part of it.

This is where we must hold a nuanced perspective. We cannot act our way into the kingdom through adherence to the law or obedience like the Pharisees. Yet Jesus’s demands on those who follow him are radical and demanding. Willard notes, “Remarkably, almost one sixth of the entire [Sermon] Discourse (fifteen of ninety-two verses) is devoted to emphasizing the importance of doing what it says. Doing—and not just hearing and talking about it—is how we know the reality of the kingdom and integrate our life into it.”[4]

The Sermon and its demands should shape our lives.

Claim number three:

He is declaring that the prophets pointed to him.

Jesus is not simply another prophet. He is the Messiah. He is the one all the prophets spoke about as the one who was to come. The first few chapters of Matthew share several of these prophecies. Kent Hughes writes, “But whether obvious or hidden, Jesus fulfilled all the messianic predictions of the Old Testament.”[5]

Jesus is making a pretty big claim here. He is not claiming to be a prophet. His claim is far greater.

Jesus is declaring that something new was beginning. It was beginning through him, but it was also the culmination of what the prophets had been declaring and what the law had been pointing to.

The question we all must ask ourselves is this: What do we do with the claims Jesus is making? How do we respond?

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[1] R. Kent Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition): The Message of the Kingdom, Preaching the Word (Crossway, 2013), 97.

[2] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 71.

[3] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (HarperCollins Publishers, 1998), 142.

[4] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 137.

[5] Hughes, The Sermon on the Mount (ESV Edition), 97.

You’re the light of the world! A city can’t be hidden if it’s on top of a hill. People don’t light a lamp and put it under a bucket; they put it on a lampstand. Then it gives light to everybody in the house. That’s how you must shine your light in front of people! Then they will see what wonderful things you do, and they’ll give glory to your Father in heaven.
— Matthew 5:14–16

Growing up, I remember singing, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine!” If you grew up in church, it is probably still stuck in your head. If you didn’t, you may have just learned the chorus reading that sentence. You can watch this video for the nostalgia.

The song comes straight from Jesus’ teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. And whether it stirs nostalgia, mild embarrassment or nightmares, the metaphor of light deserves some discussion.

Henri Nouwen once asked, “Have you ever prayed in a place where a great battle between good and evil, light and darkness, had been fought?”[1]

I have.

Living in Kenya, the spiritual intensity often felt tangible. There was a weight to the darkness that seemed heavier than anywhere I had known before. It was there that Jesus’ words about light took on new meaning.

We had a teammate who stayed a few nights with a family in a grass-roofed mud hut deep in the bush. When she returned, she told us that from across the valley, the only light she could see—at the top of the hill—was ours. At that time, we were the only home in the village with enough electricity to truly illuminate the night.

Our house literally sat on a hill.

As the only Christians in the community, the metaphor felt almost too obvious. In a very real sense, we were the visible light in that valley. Our teammate said seeing that light comforted her. She knew where we were. She knew she was not alone.

But here is what is challenging: being the only light can feel lonely. Darkness presses in. It surrounds you. It is tiring and burdensome.

One of the quiet gifts of living in Minnesota now is that the light does not stand alone. There are others reflecting it all around us. That changes everything.

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So… Who Is the Light?

When you trace the theme of light throughout Scripture, it can feel confusing.

For instance, Jesus tells those on the hillside, “You are the light of the world.”

Yet, John writes in his gospel, “John himself was not the light; he was simply a witness to tell about the light.” (John 1:8)

So, are we the light? Or are we a witness to the light?

Or the prophet Isaiah writes hundreds of years before Jesus, “No longer will you need the sun to shine by day, nor the moon to give its light by night, for the LORD your God will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory.” (Isa. 60:19)

Oh, Okay. God is the light.

The Gospel of Luke recounts, “He is a light to reveal God to the nations, and he is the glory of your people Israel!” (Luke 2:32)

Okay, so… Jesus is the light to reveal God? Is this getting more confusing or less? Exactly.

Jesus says about himself, “Jesus spoke to the people once more and said, ‘I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.’” (John 8:12)

Cool, so Jesus is the light of the world, but WE will have the light?

Confused yet? Honestly, I am. This has been a bit to untangle.

Jonathan Pennington notes “Both the salt and light metaphors are communicating the same idea, that Jesus’s disciples are now the heralds of the new and lasting covenant being effected by Jesus.”[2]

When we step back, the pattern becomes clearer:

God is the source of light.
Jesus both embodies and reveals that light.
We participate in and reflect that light.

We are not the source.

That distinction matters. The moon does not generate light; it reflects the sun. In the same way, disciples reflect the radiance of God into dark spaces. When Jesus says, “You are the light of the world,” he is not saying we are the source of the light, but that we participate in it being spread.

Paul captures this tension well: “For once you were full of darkness, but now you have light from the Lord. So, live as people of light!” (Ephesians 5:8)

Light is meant to be seen. It is not meant to be hidden, nor covered. It is meant to be used in the dark areas of our world. Sometimes, this requires stepping into the dark spaces to let the light shine.

Reflection Question:

Where are you letting your light shine in the darkness?

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[1] Henri J. M. Nouwen, Discernment: Reading the Signs of Daily Life, FIRST EDITION (HarperOne, 2013), 31.

[2] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 165.

You’re the salt of the earth! But if the salt becomes tasteless, how is it going to get salty again? It’s no good for anything. You might as well throw it out and walk all over it.

We have moved through the Beatitudes and now arrive at a new set of metaphors. This week and next, we will reflect on what it means to be salt and then what it means to be light. As we do, it’s important to remember that Jesus is still preaching a sermon. These words are not isolated sayings; they are intentionally structured and meant to be heard together.

That means we must read the “salt” passage in light of the Beatitudes. The poor in spirit. The mourners. The meek. Those who hunger and thirst for justice. The merciful. The pure in heart. The peacemakers. These are the people Jesus has just called blessed. The salt metaphor flows directly out of that vision of life in the kingdom of heaven.

Dallas Willard writes,

The aim of the sermon…is to help people come to hopeful and realistic terms with their lives here on earth by clarifying, in concrete terms, the nature of the kingdom into which they are now invited by Jesus’ call.[1]

To understand Jesus’ words, it helps to reframe how we think about salt—especially the difference between how we use it today and how it was used in the biblical world.

I use salt in three main ways. First, as a seasoning. When used well, salt enhances flavor; when used poorly, it can ruin a meal. Second, I use salt to purify water through a water softener. Third, I use salt in winter—throwing it on icy sidewalks where it is trampled underfoot, gritty to walk on, but effective at melting ice.

In the world surrounding Jesus, salt was used in similar ways. It enhanced flavor. It preserved food—especially meat. And it was used for purification. These were ordinary, everyday uses, which is exactly why Jesus chose this image.

Oswald Chambers reminds us that salt also stings when it enters a wound.[2] That truth should humble us. Still, being called “salt of the earth” is not an insult—it is a gift. When used well, salt is good. Necessary, even.

As followers of Jesus, we are meant to be flavor enhancers of the kingdom. We move through our lives offering small, faithful signs of God’s goodness—adding flavor to point others toward what is already good and true.

But Jesus also asks a hard question: What if the salt becomes tasteless? What if what we are offering no longer enhances life? What if it is rejected—not because the kingdom is offensive, but because our witness is hollow and not indicative of the blessings in the Beatitudes?

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Tasteless salt, Jesus says, is thrown out and trampled underfoot—much like the salt I scatter on icy sidewalks in winter. I don’t want to push that metaphor further than Jesus does, but it should give us pause. Are we truly offering something that reflects the goodness of God’s kingdom, or something that others experience as lifeless, heavy, or even harmful?

Jonathan Pennington puts it this way:

Both the salt and light metaphors are communicating the same idea, that Jesus’s disciples are now the heralds of the new and lasting covenant being effected by Jesus.[3]

History gives us sobering examples of moments when Christians failed to live as salt. The Crusades, often framed as religious wars, left deep scars on the Christian witness. Forced conversions, coercion, and the pursuit of power have never produced the flavor of the kingdom. When Christians align themselves with domination, they cease being salt and become something else entirely.

Jesus does not call us to be the sword of the earth. He calls us to be the salt of the earth.

Scot McKnight writes,

This text encourages us to re-imagine our role in the world as God’s agents of redemption.[4]

As those who have just heard Jesus name the blessed ones, we are not called to force the kingdom of heaven upon others. We are called to offer it—patiently, humbly, and wisely—like salt added at the right time and in the right amount.

Reflection Question

How might I be used as a flavor enhancer this week, as one of God’s agents of redemption?

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[1] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (HarperCollins Publishers, 1998), 133.

[2] Oswald Chambers, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount: God’s Character and the Believer’s Conduct, 5th ed. (Discovery House Publishers, 1995), 16.

[3] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 165.

[4] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 55.

9. God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God.

10 God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.

11 God blesses you when people mock you and persecute you and lie about you and say all sorts of evil things against you because you are my followers.

12 Be happy about it! Be very glad! For a great reward awaits you in heaven. And remember, the ancient prophets were persecuted in the same way. (Matthew 5:9-12)

It was nine years ago that our youngest daughter was born in a hospital in Kenya. There had been many complications along the way—lots of complications, in fact. One non-medical complication was that we had to drive ten hours from Mombasa to Nairobi in the middle of the night to reach the hospital. Halfway there, on a very dangerous highway, I realized our car did not have any taillights. Heather, already suffering from increasingly strong contractions, did not need to know this little detail.

I remember the delivery of Milan like it was yesterday. There had been many spiritual curses cast our way, and no one in our village expected Milan to live. She was born blue, given an illegitimately high APGAR score of 10, and the nurses left the room shortly thereafter. As a former paramedic, I worked to strengthen her breathing—giving blow-by oxygen, stimulating her lungs, encouraging her to cry. After about forty-five minutes, she was looking much better.

But Heather was not.

There was far too much bleeding. Emergency surgery was needed. The nurses moved at the pace of molasses, but by that point I had learned how to navigate their culture with encouragement rather than panic. I restarted the IV after it had fallen out. I put Heather into a shock position and gave her oxygen. I cleared the room and the hallway so they could wheel her to surgery.

Then came the longest hour of my life.

She was unconscious by the time they were finally able to get her into surgery. We had said our goodbyes.

I held this brand-new baby, sat alone in the delivery room, and cried. My phone had ten percent battery left. I sent a few urgent texts asking people to pray. With the rest of my battery, I played worship music and began to praise God.

As people prayed, I felt the kingdom of the heavens fill the room—and the warm embrace of Jesus. I distinctly remember the peace he gave me in that moment. A peace that assured me I would be held—whether Heather lived or died. The realness of Jesus cannot be exaggerated here. I knew I was being held as his child, just as I was holding my own new child. The tangible presence of the kingdom of the heavens surrounded me.

After the longest hour of my life, the doctor wheeled Heather back into the room. The bleeding had stopped. She had received five units of blood. I signed the consent forms for the transfusion afterward.

These three beatitudes—the “peace” triad—strike closest to home for me. Being a peacemaker is not peaceful. In fact, when I look at my bookshelf, I see story after story of peacemakers who were killed in the act of peacemaking (Making Friends Among the Taliban; Teatime in Mogadishu; The Anabaptists Are Back!).

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One theologian writes, “Peacemaking is neither being ‘nice,’ nor is it ‘tolerance’; rather, it is an active entrance into the middle of warring parties for the purpose of creating reconciliation and peace… the peacemaker seeks to reconcile by creating love of the other that transcends differences or permits people to join hands in spite of them.”[1] This is one form of peacemaking—settling disputes between warring parties.

Another form of peacemaking is reconciliation between people and God. This was the peacemaking we were engaged in within our village in Kenya. Curses were cast against us because there was perceived war between the people and God. Another theologian affirms this kind of peacemaking: “Not merely to effect peace between man and man, but to reconcile men to God.”[2]

He goes on to add, “They are blessed because such are given the unspeakable privilege of having fellowship with the sufferings of the Savior.”[3]

Let me be honest. I understand the argument. And now, nine years later, I can look back on this season of suffering and see it as a blessing God gave me. We gave Milan the middle name Amani, meaning “peace,” because of God’s presence and blessing in that moment. But at the time, I would not have called it a blessing. So, while suffering for Jesus may one day be seen as a gift, it is not easy—or wise—to name it as such while someone is still in the midst of pain. Let us be careful in how we encourage those who are suffering.

We are reminded that it is through the cross that God made peace with humanity—and that peace was costly and painful.[4] Peace does not occur naturally. Peace must be pursued.

I do not have the space here to dive deeply into the idea of the “kingdom of the heavens,” but I plan to address it in the coming weeks. For now, I want to highlight what one theologian says about heaven: the phrase “’kingdom of the heavens’ describes God’s rule. It captures the rich heritage of the Jewish experience of the nearness of God—something largely lost to the contemporary mind.”[5] When Jesus spoke of the kingdom of the heavens, he was not referring to a distant place in outer space. For the early Jewish imagination, it was about God’s nearness.

The kingdom of the heavens filled that delivery room in a Kenyan hospital that day—and I knew God was there.

The beginning of Jesus’ sermon invites us not merely to follow instructions, but to understand reality. These words are not commands so much as explanations of how the kingdom is accessed through personal relationship with Jesus.[6]

Reflection question:
What blessing might you reflect on this week?

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[1] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 47.

[2] Arthur Pink, An Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount (England, 1950; 2nd ed., Martino Publishing, 2011), 38.

[3] Pink, An Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount, 42.

[4] Skye Jethani, What If Jesus Was Serious?: A Visual Guide to the Teachings of Jesus We Love to Ignore (Moody Publishers, 2020), 37.

[5] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (HarperCollins Publishers, 1998), 73.

[6] Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, 106.

Blessings on people who hunger and thirst for God’s justice! You’re going to be satisfied.

Blessings on the merciful! You’ll receive mercy yourselves.

Blessings on the pure in heart! You will see God.

Matthew 5:6-8

It has been my goal to enter the space of the Sermon on the Mount without entering into politics. Jesus allowed me to get to verse six before he challenged that posture. As we have read through the Sermon multiple times now, you may have noticed just how distinctly political it actually is. I do not mean political in the sense of Democrat versus Republican. I mean political in that Jesus is proclaiming a new kingdom—a kingdom whose ethic comes from above.

This is the political realm we must enter if we are to discuss Jesus’ teachings with integrity. Perhaps it is helpful to imagine Democrats and Republicans running along parallel train tracks, never meeting in the middle. Jesus’ politics do not run on those tracks. Instead, the ethic of the kingdom hovers above them. In this sense, I find myself in agreement with Carl Trueman when he writes, “I am suggesting, rather, that engaging in cultural warfare using the world’s tools, rhetoric, and weapons is not the way for God’s people.”[1]

Scot McKnight approaches this text by noting that “Jesus approached morals through the lens of people who were actually living out the kingdom vision. The Beatitudes, then, are a radical revisioning of the people of God.”[2]

As a Christian, this can be difficult to grasp—especially given how ugly politics can become. And yet, Jesus was profoundly political in both his actions and his words. It is necessary to understand the political nature of Jesus and to recognize that the politics of the kingdom must be our priority, lived out in our modern-day world.

The passage this week brings us to the second triad of the Beatitudes. Some designate these three statements as the “justice” triad, or as descriptors of people’s character. This triad focuses on justice, mercy, and purity of heart. The promises attached to them are being satisfied, receiving reciprocal mercy, and seeing God.

I recognize that the word justice can be a hot-button topic. I also recognize that I am writing from Minnesota during a particularly contentious time. To borrow a Californian analogy: while I may not live at the epicenter of the metro, I can certainly feel the earthquake here and see the damage it has caused. I approach this passage with that awareness.

I also acknowledge that many Christians want to avoid political terminology altogether—but Jesus does not give us that option. I am aware, too, of the sharp divide often drawn between “social justice” and “biblical justice.” I have studied this topic deeply and understand the various arguments and their historical development. However, I am increasingly convinced that the division is more of a culture wars argument than a biblically based one. Justice is justice. It is both social and biblical. God is a God of justice, and that justice plays out both in the heavenlies and on earth. I see no need to force a distinction where Scripture does not.

Blessings on people who hunger and thirst for God’s justice! You’re going to be satisfied.

To hunger and thirst for God’s justice is to see the depth of human need. It means recognizing spiritual needs, but also physical ones. Later in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus responds to questions about his identity by pointing not to abstract theology, but to tangible realities: “Go back and report to John what you hear and see…” (Matt. 11:4). His answer centers on both physical needs being met and the kingdom of heaven being proclaimed (spiritual needs being met).

A theologian from the African Methodist Episcopal tradition describes justice as the “base ethics of Jesus… treat the people and their needs as holy.”[3] Wheaton professor and author Esau McCaulley writes that “hungering for justice is a hungering for the kingdom of God.”[4] Reflecting on the Sermon as a whole, Oswald Chambers observes, “The Sermon on the Mount is a statement of the life we will live when the Holy Spirit is having His way with us.”[5] To strive for justice, then, is to live for Jesus and his kingdom.

I fully believe that striving for justice is a tangible expression of the gospel—the good news of the kingdom of the heavens. Arthur Glasser writes, “God is concerned for [social] justice. He is strangely moved at the cries of the oppressed, particularly when God’s people collectively make neither effort nor sacrifice to relieve their anguish.”[6] We see Jesus particularly concerned for those who society does not always care about. He cares about the orphan, the widow, and the immigrant.

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In a more recent work, Joash Thomas speaks candidly about the contemporary Evangelical church and justice: “It took me a long time to realize a deeper truth: justice is not the natural disposition of the contemporary Western church.”[7] He continues, “Much of the Western church was shaped by a theology that prioritizes the salvation of souls at the cost of the dignity and liberation of human bodies.”[8]

True justice—justice worth striving for—recognizes both spiritual and physical deficits and seeks to address them. This must go hand in hand.

Blessings on the merciful! You’ll receive mercy yourselves.

Mercy is not a word we use often anymore, but it is deeply tied to action. To be merciful requires both a posture and a willingness to act. McKnight defines mercy this way: “Inherent in works of mercy is the self-denying virtue of entering into the injustices and tragedies experienced by others.”[9]

Mercy involves having the power to punish or condemn and choosing restraint because of a favorable disposition toward another. Showing mercy does not deny guilt; it simply refuses to exact punishment. As a Christian—one who believes God has shown me mercy for my own sin—mercy must shape my posture toward others. Because God has been merciful to me, mercy must be my response.

Blessings on the pure in heart! You will see God.

This posture seems to flow naturally from the previous two: a commitment to justice and a disposition toward mercy. Yet this third posture carries the most profound promise. The first promise is satisfaction—knowing one is aligned with God’s justice. The second is reciprocal mercy, something we all desperately need. But the third promise is the blessing of seeing God.

At its fullest, this points toward life in the kingdom of the heavens—dwelling with God himself. Reflecting on this recalls Adam and Eve walking with God in the Garden of Eden. To be pure in heart is to be restored to that kind of communion.

Reflective Question:
What makes us uncomfortable when we read these passages? Why do they unsettle us? What might God be inviting us to step into—or to study more deeply?

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[1] Carl R. Trueman, Strange New World: How Thinkers and Activists Redefined Identity and Sparked the Sexual Revolution, with Ryan T. Anderson (Crossway, 2022), 177.

[2] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 31.

[3] Obery M. Hendricks, The Politics of Jesus: Rediscovering the True Revolutionary Nature of Jesus’ Teachings and How They Have Been Corrupted, with Obery Hendricks (The Crown Publishing Group, 2006), 320.

[4] Esau McCaulley, Reading While Black (Intervarsity Press, 2020), 67.

[5] Oswald Chambers, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount: God’s Character and the Believer’s Conduct, 5th ed. (Discovery House Publishers, 1995), 10.

[6] Arthur F. Glasser, Announcing the Kingdom: The Story of God’s Mission in the Bible, 5th ed. (Baker Academic, 2008), 25.

[7] Joash P. Thomas, The Justice of Jesus: Reimagining Your Church’s Life Together to Pursue Liberation and Wholeness, 1st ed (Brazos Press, 2025), 24.

[8] Thomas, The Justice of Jesus, 25.

[9] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 45.

Matthew 5:3–5 — Humility Blessings

“Blessings on the poor in spirit! The kingdom of heaven is yours.
Blessings on the mourners! You’re going to be comforted.
Blessings on the meek! You’re going to inherit the earth.”

Imagine yourself as part of the crowd. Jesus and his few close disciples begin to walk up a hill, and the crowds start to gossip about what is happening. This crowd is made up of people he has healed and those who have witnessed those healings. You have heard Jesus proclaim the coming of the kingdom of the heavens and calling people to repent (Matt. 4:17). But what does he mean by repent? What does he mean by the kingdom of the heavens? Who is this great teacher—this prophet and healer? Could he be the Messiah, the one our nation has been waiting for?

As you watch the crowd gather and draw closer, you begin to recognize faces. You see the poor beggar you pass on your way to the vegetable stand. You see the shepherds who tend the local sheep. You see your neighbor—the one people whisper about. You see the boy who stole water from you last year. And then you notice the religious leaders, the Pharisees, dressed in beautiful, clean garments, deliberately setting themselves apart.

But then you ask yourself, Who am I? I am just a poor peasant, trying to get by—suffering under Roman occupation, scraping out a living on the small plot of land I inherited.

Then Jesus takes a deep breath, and you realize he is about to teach.

The first words you hear—the words written above—are him calling you blessed.

Your jaw drops. Your heart begins to pound.

Your mind is drawn to Psalm 1, where the psalmist describes blessing as a flourishing tree planted by streams of water. You are also drawn back to the flourishing of the Garden of Eden. But Jesus is not speaking to the super-religious leaders. He is speaking to you. To your neighbor. To the kid who stole your water.

Jesus is presenting a new teaching—a way of flourishing, a way of living a blessed life. It is a blessing that points toward the future but is already beginning now.[1] Scot McKnight writes:

Instead of congratulating the Torah-observant or the rigorously faithful or the heroic, he blesses the marginalized who stick with God through injustice… Jesus approached morals through the lens of people who were actually living out the kingdom vision. The Beatitudes, then, are a radical revisioning of the people of God.[2]

(The word Beatitudes refers to this group of blessing statements found at the beginning of the Sermon.)

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Let’s take a brief look at each of these three. It is helpful to understand that Jesus is describing how one lives the “good life”—how one becomes like the tree in Psalm 1. As McKnight reminds us,

Each beatitude is a reversal of cultural values: the self-dependent or wealthy oppressor is at odds with the economy of the kingdom.[3]

Because each blessing reverses a cultural value, it is also helpful to consider its opposite. Theologian Jonathan Pennington reminds us that we often fail to look at the dark side of the Beatitudes.[4]

“Blessed are the poor in spirit! The kingdom of heaven is yours.”

This describes the person who has a clear understanding of their own condition. They recognize that, in our humanity, we sin—and that our good deeds can never outweigh the stain of our sinful actions. They do not think highly of their own holiness but instead realize that our righteousness—our right-standing before God—does not come from our works.

This opening statement would have directly challenged the Pharisees clustered together in the crowd. The opposite posture is one of self-reliance and moral confidence. Those who trust in themselves remain closed to the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessings on the mourners! You’re going to be comforted.”

While this certainly speaks to grief and loss, it also reaches deeper. McKnight writes:

This kind of mourning is also directed at God in a kind of ‘How long, O Lord?’ lament that waits on God to act in justice… Jesus has in mind those who respond to exile properly.[5]

Recently, I have found myself praying along these lines: How long, O Lord? We hear this cry throughout the Psalms and the Prophets. It also echoes in the Lord’s Prayer, where we ask for God’s kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. The opposite posture is one that distracts from, denies, or dominates the pain of others—and such a person is unable to receive comfort.

“Blessings on the meek! You’re going to inherit the earth.”

Meek is not weak. Our culture has often confused meekness with passivity or fragility. McKnight writes:

The meek choose to absorb unjust conditions in a form of nonviolent, nonretaliatory resistance that creates a calm, countercultural community of love, justice, and peace.[6]

The opposite of meekness is forcefulness—coercion, power-grabbing, and domination. We might think of the wealthy who have historically been “land-grabbers,” like those I have seen along the coast of Kenya. The result of this opposite posture is possession without inheritance. You can take land, but you cannot take inheritance.

Questions to Reflect On

• Which of these three humility Beatitudes is most challenging for you?

• How might you have responded if you were standing in the crowd as Jesus began to teach?

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[1] Scot McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, ed. Tremper Longman, The Story of God Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 2016), 33.

[2] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 31.

[3] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 39.

[4] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 154.

[5] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 40.

[6] McKnight, Sermon on the Mount, 42.

When I divided the reading plan, my intention was to create smaller sections to reflect on each day. What I failed to consider was the structure Matthew already embedded—and scholars have highlighted. The Beatitudes are nine short statements, grouped into three themes: humility, justice, and peace.[1] Scot McKnight and Jonathan Pennington both observe that Matthew organizes them as three clusters of three. Had I been paying attention, the reading might have been structured like this:
Day 1: 5:1–5
Day 2: 5:6–8
Day 3: 5:9–12

I point this out for three reasons:

1. To highlight the three themes embedded in the Beatitudes.

2. To remind us that we are all learning—and that is more than okay.

3. To draw attention to how intentionally Matthew shapes the Sermon.

Oral Cultures Remember Differently

I love learning from other cultures, and Somalis have much to teach us here. Many can recite the Qur’an from memory or recount their lineage for generations. I, on the other hand, struggle to remember my great-grandfather’s name. Somalis often recall ten or more generations—evidence of a living oral tradition.

Jesus lived in a world much like this. Jewish children learned large sections of Torah by heart. Because of that, Scripture was written—sometimes even arranged—to be remembered. Three themes of three is far easier to recall than nine independent sayings.

Theologian Jonathan Pennington puts it this way:

The Sermon is not a collection of sayings put together haphazardly by Matthew… It is the work of an artistic theologian, inspired to take assorted teachings of his master and present them in a coherent and rhetorically powerful and effective way.[2]

I don’t want to get too deep in the structural weeds, but I do want to stress this: the Sermon is structured with intention—so it can be remembered, practiced, and lived. Even its placement within Matthew’s Gospel matters.

The Center of the Center

This week we arrive at the Lord’s Prayer—the middle of the middle of the Sermon. That is no accident.

Jewish writings often use a pyramid structure, guiding listeners upward toward a central idea and then down again. The most important element sits at the top—dead center.

The Lord’s Prayer is that center-point.

The teachings before it lead us toward it.
The teachings after it flow from it.
So this week, pay attention—not only to the words of the prayer—but to where it is placed.

Learning to Carry It With Us

I don’t naturally memorize Scripture well. But I’m working on learning the Lord’s Prayer—and praying it each morning before I read. Rooting myself in Jesus’ words has helped shape how I see everything else in the Sermon.

And it’s already showing up in my life.

Just yesterday afternoon I sat in a tea shop with a religious leader discussing hospitality. When he raised concerns about some Christian behavior, I found myself sharing from Matthew 5:38–42 on loving our enemies—simply because I had been sitting with it earlier that morning. When Scripture is in us as we meditate and sit with it, then it flows out of us. I encourage you to be sharing what you are learning with others along the way. I was not looking intentionally for the opportunity but the passage was on my mind so it was easy to share.

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Your Turn

My challenge for you this week is simple:
Choose something to memorize.
Maybe the Lord’s Prayer.
Maybe a single verse from the Beatitudes.
Maybe a teaching from later in the Sermon.

We are not an oral culture, so memorizing may not come naturally. But imagine what could happen if Jesus’ words rested just below the surface of your mind each day—ready to rise to your lips in ordinary conversations and everyday decisions.

We’ve now read the Sermon through a couple of times.
Do you see its structure emerging?
Where do you see themes building toward the center?
And where do they begin to flow back down?

Let’s keep climbing the mountain together.

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[1] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 118.

[2] Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing, 112.

I have always loved hiking, and I’ve often seen mountains as something to be conquered. This mountain was no exception. Standing at over 9,000 feet, Mount Longonot rises sharply from the Rift Valley floor. I had hiked it before, but this time was different.

This time, it became a kind of spiritual pilgrimage—a place to meet with God.

With water, coffee, and a few snacks, I began the climb. Kenyans, I’ve learned, don’t seem to believe in switchbacks. The trail goes almost straight up. It’s humbling. And exhausting. Breathing at that altitude becomes a challenge.

When I reached the summit, I was completely alone. I began to worship—first quietly, then aloud. I prayed. I yelled. I wept. I asked God why we were walking through such a hard season. Standing there, overlooking the Great Rift Valley, it felt like heaven was meeting earth. It felt holy.

I lamented.
I cried.
I yelled.
I worshiped.
And I felt God near.

As we begin reading the Sermon on the Mount together, I want to pause and reflect on the setting before moving too quickly into the familiar teachings—the Beatitudes, the Lord’s Prayer, and the rest.

Often, when I read Scripture, I rush past the setting to get to the “content.” But in doing so, I miss something essential.

In Matthew 4:24–25, Jesus is healing many people—people who were often marginalized, sick, and excluded. Large crowds begin to follow him. And what does he do next?

He goes up a mountain.

In the ancient world, sitting was the posture of a teacher. And for Matthew’s audience, this moment would have echoed something deeply familiar. Up to this point in the Gospel, there are already strong parallels between Jesus and Moses—the great leader who encountered God on a mountain.

In Exodus 19, Moses ascends Mount Sinai to meet with God. The mountain is holy. The people are warned not to touch it. Even animals are forbidden. The boundary is clear and severe:

“Put limits for the people around the mountain and tell them, ‘Be careful that you do not approach the mountain or touch the foot of it. Whoever touches the mountain shall be put to death.’” (Exod. 19:12)

Moses goes up alone. The people stay below.

One scholar notes, “Matthew is doing far more than reporting geography. Jesus’ ascent signals divine revelation. High places are where heaven and earth meet.”[1] The Sermon on the Mount, then, stands where Sinai once stood—not as a replacement of the Law, but as its fulfillment.[2]

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And yet—here is the stunning difference.

Jesus doesn’t keep the people away.

Instead, he invites them up.

The very people he has just healed. The sick. The poor. The religiously unclean. Those who would never have been allowed near Sinai, nor the contemporary temple grounds, are now welcomed to sit and listen.

Matthew tells us that Jesus sat down and began to teach his disciples—but by the end of the sermon, we’re told that the crowds were astonished by his teaching. His words were not private. They were public. Inclusive. Expansive.

Jesus speaks with authority—an authority that draws people in.

In an episode of The Bible Project podcast, Tim Mackie reflects on the ancient house church at Dura-Europos, one of the earliest known Christian worship spaces.[3] In its artwork, Jesus, along with Moses is often depicted like a philosopher/intellectual. He was engaging in the moral debates of the time. He did not shy away from the hard subjects but instead challenges the philosophy of the day and shares something new.

The Sermon on the Mount is not simply moral instruction. It is a profound reimagining of life with God. It is Jesus speaking into the longings, wounds, and hopes of ordinary people—and revealing what the kingdom of God actually looks like.

So as we read these words together, let’s remember the setting.
This was not abstract theology.
This was not detached philosophy.

This was a mountain.
A crowd.
A teacher.
A moment of invitation.

Something new was unfolding.

Reflection Questions

• Have you ever experienced a spiritual “high place”—a mountain moment where God felt especially near?

• What do you remember about that experience?

• Have you ever thought of Jesus as a philosopher or intellectual as well as a Savior?

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[1] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 138.

[2] Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing, 140.

[3] If interested, check out this a bit deeper. The artwork is interesting and so is the history of it. Wikipedia, “Dura-Europos church,” September 20, 2025, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Dura-Europos_church&oldid=1312409108#Graffiti.

And to read the Sermon in it’s entirety weekly (so that we have a good understanding of the context and the sermon in its entirety.

Here is the link to a downloadable PDF.

Here is a picture of the reading plan if that is easier.

If you don’t have a Bible to read this in, download the You Version Bible app. (It is available in many different languages, Swahili, Dari, Somali, etc. if that is easier for you). Then, search for Matthew 5, Matthew 6, and Matthew 7. Please reach out to me if you have trouble finding it. I am more than happy to help.

I am also going to copy and paste the entire passage below.

Happy New Year! May God bless you

The Sermon on the Mount

Matthew 5

1 When he saw the crowds, he went up on the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2 Then[fn] he began to teach them, saying:

The Beatitudes

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

4 Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted.

5 Blessed are the humble,

for they will inherit the earth.

6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

for they will be filled.

7 Blessed are the merciful,

for they will be shown mercy.

8 Blessed are the pure in heart,

for they will see God.

9 Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they will be called sons of God.

10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,

for the kingdom of heaven is theirs.

11 “You are blessed when they insult you and persecute you and falsely say every kind of evil against you because of me. 12 Be glad and rejoice, because your reward is great in heaven. For that is how they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Believers Are Salt and Light

13 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt should lose its taste, how can it be made salty?[fn] It’s no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet.

14 “You are the light of the world. A city situated on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket, but rather on a lampstand, and it gives light for all who are in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Christ Fulfills the Law

17 “Don’t think that I came to abolish the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to abolish but to fulfill. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest letter[fn] or one stroke of a letter will pass away from the law until all things are accomplished. 19 Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commands and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But whoever does and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never get into the kingdom of heaven.

Murder Begins in the Heart

21 “You have heard that it was said to our ancestors, Do not murder, and whoever murders will be subject to judgment. 22 But I tell you, everyone who is angry with his brother or sister[fn] will be subject to judgment. Whoever insults[fn] his brother or sister will be subject to the court.[fn] Whoever says, ‘You fool! ’ will be subject to hellfire.[fn] 23 So if you are offering your gift on the altar, and there you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled with your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. 25 Reach a settlement quickly with your adversary while you’re on the way with him to the court, or your adversary will hand you over to the judge, and the judge to[fn] the officer, and you will be thrown into prison. 26 Truly I tell you, you will never get out of there until you have paid the last penny.[fn]

Adultery Begins in the Heart

27 “You have heard that it was said, Do not commit adultery. 28 But I tell you, everyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of the parts of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. For it is better that you lose one of the parts of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

Divorce Practices Censured

31 “It was also said, Whoever divorces his wife must give her a written notice of divorce. 32 But I tell you, everyone who divorces his wife, except in a case of sexual immorality, causes her to commit adultery. And whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

Tell the Truth

33 “Again, you have heard that it was said to our ancestors, You must not break your oath, but you must keep your oaths to the Lord. 34 But I tell you, don’t take an oath at all: either by heaven, because it is God’s throne; 35 or by the earth, because it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, because it is the city of the great King. 36 Do not swear by your head, because you cannot make a single hair white or black. 37 But let your ‘yes’ mean ‘yes,’ and your ‘no’ mean ‘no.’ Anything more than this is from the evil one.

Go the Second Mile

38 “You have heard that it was said, An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. 39 But I tell you, don’t resist[fn] an evildoer. On the contrary, if anyone slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also. 40 As for the one who wants to sue you and take away your shirt, let him have your coat as well. 41 And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two. 42 Give to the one who asks you, and don’t turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

Love Your Enemies

43 “You have heard that it was said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy. 44 But I tell you, love your enemies[fn] and pray for those who[fn] persecute you, 45 so that you may be[fn] children of your Father in heaven. For he causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 For if you love those who love you, what reward will you have? Don’t even the tax collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what are you doing out of the ordinary?[fn] Don’t even the Gentiles[fn] do the same? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Matthew 6

How to Give

1 “Be careful not to practice your righteousness[fn] in front of others to be seen by them. Otherwise, you have no reward with your Father in heaven. 2 So whenever you give to the poor, don’t sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be applauded by people. Truly I tell you, they have their reward. 3 But when you give to the poor, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.[fn]

How to Pray

5 “Whenever you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites, because they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by people. Truly I tell you, they have their reward. 6 But when you pray, go into your private room, shut your door, and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.[fn] 7 When you pray, don’t babble like the Gentiles, since they imagine they’ll be heard for their many words. 8 Don’t be like them, because your Father knows the things you need before you ask him.

The Lord’s Prayer

9 “Therefore, you should pray like this:

Our Father in heaven,

your name be honored as holy.

10 Your kingdom come.

Your will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

11 Give us today our daily bread.[fn]

12 And forgive us our debts,

as we also have forgiven our debtors.

13 And do not bring us into[fn] temptation,

but deliver us from the evil one.[fn]

14 “For if you forgive others their offenses, your heavenly Father will forgive you as well. 15 But if you don’t forgive others,[fn] your Father will not forgive your offenses.

How to Fast

16 “Whenever you fast, don’t be gloomy like the hypocrites. For they disfigure their faces so that their fasting is obvious to people. Truly I tell you, they have their reward. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that your fasting isn’t obvious to others but to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.[fn]

God and Possessions

19 “Don’t store up for yourselves treasures[fn] on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

22 “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light. 23 But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. So if the light within you is darkness, how deep is that darkness!

24 “No one can serve two masters, since either he will hate one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.

The Cure for Anxiety

25 “Therefore I tell you: Don’t worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Isn’t life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26 Consider the birds of the sky: They don’t sow or reap or gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth more than they? 27 Can any of you add one moment to his life span[fn] by worrying? 28 And why do you worry about clothes? Observe how the wildflowers of the field grow: They don’t labor or spin thread. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was adorned like one of these. 30 If that’s how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and thrown into the furnace tomorrow, won’t he do much more for you ​— ​you of little faith? 31 So don’t worry, saying, ‘What will we eat? ’ or ‘What will we drink? ’ or ‘What will we wear? ’ 32 For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God[fn] and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you. 34 Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Matthew 7

Do Not Judge

1 “Do not judge, so that you won’t be judged. 2 For you will be judged by the same standard with which you judge others, and you will be measured by the same measure you use. 3 Why do you look at the splinter in your brother’s eye but don’t notice the beam of wood in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the splinter out of your eye,’ and look, there’s a beam of wood in your own eye? 5 Hypocrite! First take the beam of wood out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to take the splinter out of your brother’s eye. 6 Don’t give what is holy to dogs or toss your pearls before pigs, or they will trample them under their feet, turn, and tear you to pieces.

Ask, Search, Knock

7 “Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door[fn] will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. 9 Who among you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him. 12 Therefore, whatever you want others to do for you, do also the same for them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.

Entering the Kingdom

13 “Enter through the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the road broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who go through it. 14 How narrow is the gate and difficult the road that leads to life, and few find it.

15 “Be on your guard against false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravaging wolves. 16 You’ll recognize them by their fruit. Are grapes gathered from thornbushes or figs from thistles? 17 In the same way, every good tree produces good fruit, but a bad tree produces bad fruit. 18 A good tree can’t produce bad fruit; neither can a bad tree produce good fruit. 19 Every tree that doesn’t produce good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20 So you’ll recognize them by their fruit.

21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, didn’t we prophesy in your name, drive out demons in your name, and do many miracles in your name? ’ 23 Then I will announce to them, ‘I never knew you. Depart from me, you lawbreakers! ’[fn]

The Two Foundations

24 “Therefore, everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 The rain fell, the rivers rose, and the winds blew and pounded that house. Yet it didn’t collapse, because its foundation was on the rock. 26 But everyone who hears these words of mine and doesn’t act on them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. 27 The rain fell, the rivers rose, the winds blew and pounded that house, and it collapsed. It collapsed with a great crash.”

28 When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, 29 because he was teaching them like one who had authority, and not like their scribes.

Yet as I’ve spent more time with it, I’ve begun to notice that certain shades belong in specific places. What initially looked indistinguishable starts to make sense when viewed in relationship to the pieces around it. Another thing I’ve learned is how helpful it is to have others involved. Especially when that help comes from someone sitting across the table, seeing the puzzle from a different angle. Working together is more enjoyable, and it offers a broader perspective. My kids, in particular, could see where pieces fit that I had already dismissed.

As we begin this new year and Journey to the Mountain, I find myself approaching the Sermon on the Mount in a similar way. The Sermon is both simple and complex. It is easy to read, yet far more challenging to live out. To truly understand it—and allow it to shape us—requires time, patience, and community.

My hope is to engage the Sermon the same way I approach the puzzle: together. For those of you joining this journey, I am grateful. Your perspectives help me see things differently. You help reveal where the pieces might fit. Along with our daily readings following the reading plan (linked here), I am also engaging several commentaries to help frame our understanding and guide us along the way.

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This week, I began reading The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing by Jonathan Pennington. Broadly speaking, Pennington takes a balanced, centrist theological approach. His work is both community-centered and formational in nature. He writes:

“The argument of this book is that the Sermon is Christianity’s answer to the greatest metaphysical question that humanity has always faced—How can we experience true human flourishing?… true human flourishing is only available through communion with the Father God through his revealed Son, Jesus, as we are empowered by the Holy Spirit.”[1]

To return to the metaphor, Pennington helps put the edge pieces of the puzzle in place. He may not fill in every detail, but he offers a clear framework that gives shape to the whole.

Some questions I am sitting with this week:

• What does human flourishing actually look like?

• Does Jesus offer human flourishing?

• Does he offer shalom—true peace?

I want to invite you to take a moment and jot down your own reflections on the Sermon on the Mount as we begin this journey. How do Jesus’ words shape the way you live? What do you notice at this starting point?

Thanks for joining this journey.
Let’s learn together.

[1] Jonathan T. Pennington, The Sermon on the Mount and Human Flourishing: A Theological Commentary, Paperback edition (Baker Academic, a division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), 14.