TRISTAN SHERWIN

Here’s my longer sermon notes from this morning’s, Metro Christian Centre, Bury & Whitefield Zoom service (dated 11th July 2021). You can also listen via our YouTube channel.

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We’re continuing our series looking at the Beatitudes, which we started a couple of weeks ago.

Last time, I gave something of an introduction to these statements; exploring what they are not about and what they are about. If you missed that, then you can catch it up on our YouTube channel, or with my blog notes (BE : AT // What is Jesus On About?).

As a brief reminder: Jesus is speaking to the people of Israel, his own people, in his ‘Sermon on the Mount’. They are tired of being under the boot of the Roman Kingdom. They are longing for God’s Kingdom to come on earth. They want God to act. They want comfort, justice, liberation, vindication, and mercy. They want to inherit what God has promised. They are understandably restless. But, in their frustration, they are forgetting their calling to be light and salt to the world. And so, Jesus, through the Beatitudes, is reminding Israel of their vocation to be a blessing to the nations, and Jesus is inviting them to participate in the Kingdom he is bringing about.

These words speak to us, also. We’ve been through a disruptive and difficult period. Consequently, many of us may feel disillusioned, alienated, and disheartened.

Those feelings are justifiable and normal. But in our restlessness, confusion and anger, if we’re not careful, we risk forgetting that we have been invited to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavours of this world, and light that brings out the God-colours of this world.[i] We can react in ways that leave a sour taste in the mouths of others. We can end up regurgitating the bitterness, resentment and pain that we have tasted, and that has sickened us, instead of acting in ways that alter, heal and enhance the flavour of life.

As we start this new day in the life of our church, we need to recall what we should be about, what we should be at. Which is why we’re spending time looking at these radical statements. This week, we’re taking a look at the statement, ‘Blessed are the Poor in Spirit’ (Matthew 5:3).

READ: MATTHEW 5:1-16 (TPT)

GOD’S FAVOURITES

At some point this past week, I found myself thinking about Christmas. I can’t remember who I was with, but I was having a conversation about those tins and tubs of chocolates that appear during Christmas: Heroes, Celebrations, Roses, Quality Street, etc.

I apologise for talking about Christmas . . . and for talking about Chocolate (again).

Everyone has their favourites, when it comes to these tubs. For me, I love the Strawberry and Orange Creams in Quality Street. If it’s a tub of Celebrations, I love Bounty and Twix. If it’s Cadbury’s Heroes, then it’s the Dairy Milk and the Twirls and the Wispa and the Dinky Decker and Cream Egg Twisted and the Fudge. . . sorry for drooling.

In our house, it generally works out well. We have a few overlaps, but we all have our personal favourites. And yet, we never finish a full tub. There are always some left over, some that are not our favourites; those we do not like.

Toffee pennies. Toffee Fingers. Milkyway. Chocolate Eclairs.

Left neglected, abandoned… not deserving of our attention, because they just don’t do it for our taste buds.

People, throughout the years, have often wondered if God has favourites.

I’m not talking about chocolate, of course (although, if I was, then God would be into Dairy Milk and God would also refrigerate the chocolate, too). I’m talking about people.

Does God love some people more than other people? And, if God does, what human qualities trigger that love? Is it morality? Skin Colour? Nationality? Gender? Is God cheering of England tonight, or Italy? Or is it just a matter of God’s whims, whatever tickles God’s fancy at the time?

Those questions, and the answers that some people have given to them, have generated not just arguments throughout history, but also atrocity and abuse.

The wise among us would say that God loves everybody, equally, without qualification. We recognise that God calls some to specific vocations, but God’s call is not to the exclusion of others: when God calls some, they are called for others.

I don’t disagree with that. And yet, when I journey through the scriptures, God does seem to have a sweet spot for the poor, the needy, and the oppressed.

‘The LORD replies, “I have seen violence done to the helpless,
and I have heard the groans of the poor.
Now I will rise up to rescue them,
as they have longed for me to do.”’

Psalm 12:5 (NLT)

‘LORD, you know the hopes of the helpless.
Surely you will hear their cries and comfort them.
You will bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed,
so mere people can no longer terrify them.’

Psalm 10:17-18 (NLT)

‘But you are a tower of refuge to the poor, O LORD,
a tower of refuge to the needy in distress.
You are a refuge from the storm
and a shelter from the heat.
For the oppressive acts of ruthless people
are like a storm beating against a wall,
or like the relentless heat of the desert.
But you silence the roar…’

Isaiah 25:4-5b (NLT)

‘The LORD is close to the brokenhearted;
he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.’

Psalm 34:18 (NLT)

That’s a mere sample of the words that speak of God’s sweet spot. Like seams of gold, the scriptures glisten with this repetition of God’s kinship with the poor and the oppressed, the neglected and the bruised, the distressed and the brokenhearted.

Even Israel’s own story, as a nation, flows out of, and is moved along by, this pulsating current of God’s heart for the poor. At the start of their story, in Exodus, when the Hebrews are oppressed in Egypt, God hears their cries and acts to deliver them. And during their story, through the Hebrew Prophets, God hears the cries of those being oppressed by Israel’s own leadership, and God challenges Israel and acts on behalf of the oppressed.

Throughout  scripture, God’s heart for the poor, the oppressed, the needy, is constantly called upon and held up to God as an example of who he is—especially in the Psalms, in their acts of prayer and worship. God’s heart for the oppressed is used, again and again, as an appeal to God to be faithful to his own nature; ‘How long, O God… you’re the God of poor, the broken hearted, the neglected… so act. Do something.’

God certainly has a sweet spot. But that’s not to say that God loves some more than others. Rather, God gets frustrated at our favouritism, our lack of love, and so God acts.

Like with the tubs of chocolates, humanity has its preferences for some, and there are some we have left, neglected, abandoned… not deserving of our attention, because they just don’t do it for our taste buds.

And it’s as if God’s sweet spot is compensating for our neglect. God’s eyes, ears and agency gravitates to those that the rest of humanity is blind, deaf, and inattentive to. To put it another way, God’s sympathetic movements resonate most loudly in those places where our lack of humanity and empathy has left a looming deafening silence.

God’s sympathetic movements resonate most loudly in those places where our lack of humanity and empathy has left a looming deafening silence.

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God longs for human hearts to move with compassionate responsibility for one another’s welfare. We treat poverty like it’s an immutable and inevitable part of Human society, a repeating fact of history (both past and future). ‘That’s just the way it is, somethings will never change’ (to quote a line from a classic Bruce Hornsby song). And God keeps having to break into the history of humanity, showing us, time and time again, that this simply isn’t true.

The testimony of the scriptures is that God gives himself to the poor, and they can always call on him, and rely on him. As Jesus says in this beatitude, repeating those familiar promises spoken of in the Psalms and the rest of the Hebrew Bible, ‘the Kingdom belongs to them, it is given to them’. In other words, God is on their side, now. God aligns with them. God identifies with them. God hears them. God speaks and acts on their behalf.

So should we.

‘LUKING’ AT MATTHEW

Now, at this point, the smart people among us may be thinking that I have strayed into an obvious trap with this verse. ‘Tristan’s gone off talking about the poor, when Matthew’s Jesus doesn’t say “blessed are the poor”; Matthew’s Jesus says “blessed are the poor in spirit.”’

And you are right. But, I’ve done it for a reason, because I want to save Matthew’s words from being hijacked.

In Luke’s gospel there is a similar set of words to these beatitudes—they are a part of ‘The Sermon on the Plain’, starting in Luke 6:20. And in those words, Jesus does say, ‘blessed are the poor…’.

Some people are uncomfortable with Luke’s wording, for various reasons. For some, it isn’t spiritual enough, or they worry that ‘it distorts the gospel into a social gospel’.

Which is fascinating, because the gospel is both social and spiritual, and to neglect either of those dimensions is to stumble in the wrong direction. Yet, some people just don’t like the idea of it having any social side.

So, sadly, what they tend to do is go from Luke to Matthew and teach that what Matthew is doing is focusing Luke’s definition of poor.  In other words, before we go running away with the ideas of helping the poor, Matthew helps us understand that Luke really means the ‘poor in spirit’ (or so the thinking goes).

That’s not the case, at all.[ii]

I’m not going to get into it, today. But I am going to suggest that Matthew is not shrinking the definition of poor, in order to eliminate any responsibility for people’s physical needs, or erase the scriptural theme of God being the champion of the poor and oppressed. Rather, Matthew is expanding it to include anyone and everyone who feels impoverished, helpless and in need.

Even in the Old Testament, the word poor can mean both physically and spiritually poor, because, ultimately, it is about dependency upon God. Which is why some translations, such as the NLT, rephrase this first Beatitude as, ‘Blessed are those who recognise their need for God…’

Now there is both comfort and challenge in those words.

For those of us who feel broken hearted, crushed in spirit, helpless, and at the end of our selves, be comforted: God’s Kingdom is at hand, God can be called on, God’s ear is attentive to your heart.

On the other side, there is challenge. Because, let’s face it, we can easily identify our physical needs, but we don’t often recognise our need for God.

By the way, I’m not talking to atheists here (and for that matter, neither is Jesus), but to believers; God-talking, God-bothering people.

We talk about God. We claim to be God’s people. We sing the songs, and we make some bold statements and proclamations. But, if we’re honest, poverty of spirit, humility, selflessness, dependency… they are not the traits that Christianity in our age is known for—especially within Evangelical, Charismatic and Pentecostal circles.

If we were prepared to take an honest look at ourselves, even though we claim to trust God, even though we claim to speak and move in faith, many of our words are actually hot-air, bravado, and arrogance.

We love and trust in mission statements, five-year plans, events, courses, and hype. We consume whatever feeds the ego. We love messages about winning, having influence, and asserting our identity, and we are easily led by a sense of privilege, a sense of entitlement, and, worst of all, a sense of superiority. There are messages within Western Christianity that manipulate and motivate us to act out of loudness and proudness, mimicking the messages of our surrounding culture, instead of humility, compassion and service. And often, in our evangelism and discipleship, we seldom invite people into an organic journey, but we offer a quick fix, or five-steps, or a mechanical DIY process.

We are in desperate need of some poverty of the spirit.

So is Israel.

Israel, at the time of Jesus, also faces similar struggles—though in a different context. As I said last week, parts of their nation want, understandably, to throw off the Roman hold on them, possessed by the idea that God’s Kingdom is manifest by bearing arms, through an act of might, through proving to be superior.

‘We’re going to take this land for God’, would have been just as popular then, in some circles, as it is now.

They want to wrestle for it, and by struggling for it, they think they can bring about blessing, comfort, inheritance, justice… and all the other items Jesus lists within the Beatitudes.

But Jesus is saying something, offering something and inviting them into something that is much more radical.

 Jesus, in saying these words, is reminding his audience of one of the great themes of their history: everything they have is gift; everything they are came out of their weakness; every blessing they have received, and every blessing they are to bestow, emerges from a cry of help. All they are is grace.

JACOB’S LOSING WIN

When I hear these words of Jesus, I’m reminded of the origins of Israel, not just as a nation, but as a person: Jacob.

In the stories of Genesis, Jacob is a struggler, a grasper. Acting under a sense of privilege, he takes advantage of his brother’s weakness and desperation, stealing Esau’s birthright (Genesis 25: 27-33). Out of a sense of privilege, Jacob deceives his blind father and robs Esau’s blessing (Genesis 27). Out of a sense of pride, injury, arrogance, and superiority, he manipulates his uncle Laban’s trust, and cheats him out of the best of his flock (Genesis 30: 37-43).

When reading these stories, we can wrongly take Jacob’s side. The problem isn’t Jacob, it’s Esau. The problem wasn’t Jacob, but Isaac. The problem wasn’t Jacob, but Laban. Now sure, none of those other characters was innocent. But we believe (in a way that supports our own sense of entitlement and arrogance) that Jacob had a right to these things: ‘God promised to bless Jacob, so they were his to take.’ But none of these things were the blessing God had in store for Jacob. None of these thefts are justified.

If I was to describe the early part of Jacob’s life, I would say that he was fixated on being blessed—wrestling and struggling for blessings, jostling for position, seeking prosperity. And because of Jacob’s blessing addiction, he ends up being a curse and a bane to everyone who meets him, leaving a very sour taste in his wake.

Sound familiar?

I wouldn’t want Jacob as a mate, a brother, or even as a Pastor! And yet, I think Jacob’s methods, personality and mentality would be very popular today. He would be applauded, in a number of churches, even though none of these acts is commended in the ‘Hall of Faith’ of Hebrews 11.[iii]

But then the soundtrack of Jacob’s life changes its tempo.

In Genesis 32: 22-30, in the midst of a night of insecurity and uncertainty, Jacob wrestles with God… and he loses. His schemes and strength failed him. Jacob’s hip jointed is knocked out. But in his loss, in his weakness, in his poverty of spirit, God blesses him, and for the first time in his life, Jacob has a legitimate blessing, because he loses.

The prophet Hosea picks up on this story many years later when speaking to the nation of Israel about its own bravado, arrogance, sense of entitlement and self-confidence. In Hosea 12: 4, the prophet reminds Israel of Jacob’s ‘win’ over God. But then the prophet immediately qualifies that win: ‘[Jacob] wept and pleaded for a blessing.’

Jacob won by weeping. His strength got him nowhere. His poverty, his exhaustion, his acknowledgement of the fact that he could not obtain the promises of God by laying violent hands on them, his dependency… is what is honoured.[iv] And so, based on this model, Hosea invites Israel to, ‘Come back to God! Act on the principles of love and justice, and always be dependent on God.’

In other words, you are who you are because of grace. So live in that grace, and seek to be an expression of that grace in the world around you.

Within this beatitude, Jesus, echoing the heart of Hosea’s message, hinting at Israel’s origins, is reminding Israel, and us, of the necessity of grace. ‘Stop acting out of privilege. Stop acting out of arrogance. Stop acting out of superiority. If you’re going to be salt and light in this world, then minister out of your weaknesses, show some humility, and stop pretending that you are all that and that you have it all together.’

I think the author Philip Yancey expresses it best, in his book Vanishing Grace, ‘Followers of Jesus have no claim on [] superiority; on the contrary, we come to God out of need and must constantly cry out for help.’[v]

BE : AT

Can I be frank? I believe there’s too much self-reliance in the church, today. Too much arrogance, swagger and privilege, not enough faith and vulnerability. Too much entitlement, not enough humility. Too much pride, not enough pleading.

I’m talking about the wider church, here. But it is something we also have to wrestle with at MCC.

Please don’t misunderstand. Jesus, in these words is not calling us to passivity and inaction. But, instead of strutting our own colours and flavours, we’re to speak of the colours and flavours of God. We are to be a people who taste of grace, not self-improvement plans. Not egotistical strategies, but human mortality and fragility that is animated by, and moving in partnership with, Divine life.

We’re to taste of grace. Not egotistical strategies, but human mortality and fragility that is animated by, and moving in partnership with, Divine life.

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There are a number of ways that this can look:

Less acting like we’re God’s favourites, and more expressing of God’s favour to those around us.

Less triumphalism, less ‘we’re taking this land for Jesus’, and more sowing of our Jesus-shaped lives into the land.

Less finger pointing at others, and more honesty and vulnerability when speaking about ourselves.

That’s what we’re to be at.

If I were to reword the direction of what Jesus is saying here, I would probably lean towards something that the old comedian Groucho Marx apparently said: ‘Blessed are the cracked, for they shall let in the light.’[vi]

In the beatitudes, Jesus is inviting us to gather around the throne of a compassionate God, allowing the radiance or God’s goodness, generosity and glory to pour through the cracks in our lives. So all that we are, all that we do, doesn’t speak of how great we are, how skilful we are, how brilliant and well-polished we are. Rather it speaks of how beautiful God is.

As the Apostle Paul puts it, in Ephesians 2:7, God wants to point to us as examples, not of his favourites, but as examples of the incredible wealth of God’s favour and kindness.

And maybe, just maybe, if we, as a part of the body of Christ, could let go of our superiority, and privilege, and swagger, and desire for quality and position, and if we could stop thinking of ourselves as the Strawberry Creams of this world… then just maybe, we would be a more welcoming place, a sanctuary, for the literal poor, and the broken hearted, and those who have been neglected by a world that is so consumed with winning.

Blessed are the cracked, for they shall let the light in.

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[i] To reference the phrase employed in Eugene Peterson’s translation of Matthew 5:13-16. Refer to my notes for BE : AT // What is Jesus On About?.

[ii] I’m not going to get into it this morning, but Luke and Matthew have their own audiences, and their own reasons for recording what they’ve recorded the way that they have recorded it. Also, Jesus, in all the teaching he must have done, would be doing nothing contradictory in saying ‘the poor…’ in one location, and then ‘the poor in spirit…’ at another occasion. Therefore, Luke doesn’t override Matthew, and Matthew doesn’t override Luke. Both sets of words have a thrust and a trajectory in each of their respective contexts.

[iii] In the theme of this message, Jacob, in Hebrews 11: 21, is commended for blessing others and for his humility in worship before God. Just saying.

[iv] The prophet Hosea makes the same allusion and contrast further on, in Hosea 12:12. Hosea reminds Israel that Jacob (their namesake) tended sheep (worked) for years to ‘earn’ a wife. But it was by the gift of a prophet that God led Israel out of Egypt.

[v] Philip Yancey, Vanishing Grace: What Ever Happened to the Good News?, p.81.

[vi] I’m not sure whether Groucho Marx said this or not. Some say it was Spike Milligan. But I like the sentiment.