O Jesus,
You went up the mountain
not to escape,
but to speak.
And what You said,
God… it undoes me.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit…”
But I’ve fought to feel full.
I’ve tried to be strong, impressive, enough.
Yet You say poverty of spirit emptiness is the door to the Kingdom.
So here I am, Lord
poor, tired, hollow in places I can’t even name.
Make me blessed in my brokenness.
Let this hunger become holy.
“Blessed are those who mourn…”
You bless the weeping?
The aching?
The grieving ones who wear loss like a second skin?
Then come comfort me, Jesus.
I’ve buried too many things.
And sometimes I smile to hide the graves.
But You see through it.
And You promise comfort not quick fixes, not cheap peace
but You.
Be my comfort.
“Blessed are the meek…”
This world screams for dominance.
But You say the gentle inherit the earth.
Teach me to lay down the sword of self.
Quiet the noise inside me.
Give me a strength that doesn’t need to shout.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…”
I do, God. I do.
But sometimes I chase lesser things.
Sometimes I feed on the world’s praise,
on approval, on noise, on control.
Starve me of what poisons.
Make me crave what is holy.
Fill me not with success, but with You.
“Blessed are the merciful…”
But what about the ones who hurt me?
The ones who never said sorry?
Still You say mercy.
So help me forgive.
Even when it bleeds.
Even when it feels like dying.
Because You forgave me first.
“Blessed are the pure in heart…”
God, my heart is not clean.
Not all the way.
But I want to see You.
So purify me burn away what’s false,
until my heart beats like Yours.
“Blessed are the peacemakers…”
Not the peace keepers, the avoiders, the silence buyers
but the makers of peace.
Teach me to step into the chaos,
to sow reconciliation,
to fight for shalom.
Even when it costs me comfort.
“Blessed are the persecuted…”
Truth is, I want to be liked.
I want to blend in.
But You say there’s blessing in being rejected for righteousness.
So give me courage.
Make me bold when I tremble.
Then You said
“You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world.”
Me?
Salt that preserves?
Light that drives out shadows?
Then shake me out of the shaker, God.
Don’t let me lose my flavor.
Set me on fire,
not for performance,
but for purpose.
And when I’m tempted to obey for the applause of men,
remind me You see the secret place.
You read hearts.
You fulfill the Law, not to bind me,
but to free me into deeper love.
Jesus, this mountain is holy.
But it’s also terrifying.
Because You call me higher
not just in behavior,
but in heart.
So I fall to my knees.
Not out of shame
but longing.
Make me a citizen of Your Kingdom.
Let these beatitudes be my becoming.
Not just what I admire…
but who I am.
In the name of the Mountain Climbing, Kingdom Building,
Heart Revealing Savior, Jesus Christ.
Amen.