The Rule of Life: The Undivided Heart

Undividedheart250 Matthew 5:6-8

First, a little review. Last week we looked at the first three Beatitudes and talked about the pattern they follow—thesis, antithesis, synthesis. The poor in spirit are those who have emptied and denied themselves, wanting nothing from the world (thesis), but they are also those who mourn over the pain of the world and enter into it (antithesis), thus they become the terrible meek: those who have the strength of a surrendered self and the power of deep compassion (synthesis). These first three beatitudes thus provide the foundation for the character of blessed disciples, who will in turn be a blessing to the world.

With the image of the terrible meek still fresh in our minds, Jesus then turns to another set of three beatitudes that follow the same pattern: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness (thesis), Blessed are the merciful (antithesis), and Blessed are the pure in heart (synthesis). Whereas the first three Beatitudes gave us a pattern for emptying ourselves, these next three teach us with what we are to be filled.

It’s no wonder, then, that the first of these three beatitudes begins with “hunger and thirst.” We all know what it’s like to be hungry and thirsty, but have you ever been desperately so? This summer, as I was in Kentucky for my doctoral program, I decided to take a long speed hike after church one Sunday morning. I got a couple of miles out of the little town of Wilmore in the increasingly hot and humid day and realized that 1) I had only eaten a small bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, and 2) I had skipped bringing along a water bottle. I knew better, but now I was about to bonk out there in the woods. All I could think about was food and water. I was completely empty and running on fumes. I made it back to campus, but it was a little disconcerting. I stopped at the Chinese take-out place and wolfed down some kung-pau chicken—again, not a great choice because I was hungry again in a couple of hours!

When we’re desperately hungry, all we can think about is being filled. But hunger can also be a blessing because it reminds us that we’re dependent on God to feed us. Jesus will teach us to pray later in the sermon “give us our daily bread” as an acknowledgement that only God can truly supply what we need. Hunger and thirst are blessings because they magnify our poverty and God’s provision.

In this first beatitude, however, Jesus references a different kind of hunger and thirst—a deep and rumbling emptiness in the whole world that can only be filled by God. It’s a hunger and thirst that most people do not see, however, because they are too busy gorging themselves on the things the world offers. Only those who have denied themselves and have entered the pain of the world can see and experience this hunger, and all they think about is seeing it filled. Blessed are those, says Jesus, who hunger and thirst for righteousness.

What is “righteousness?” Well, in one sense, righteousness is about doing the right thing. The “righteous” are those who do the will of God. They are obedient to God and God’s commandments. They live the right way.

But to what end are they righteous? If we’re not careful, it’s too easy for us to think that doing the right thing is all about building up credit in God’s eyes for our own personal recognition and benefit. By the standard of obedience to God’s law, the Pharisees and scribes were certainly righteous. They followed the law to the letter, and yet Jesus said that the “righteousness” of his disciples must exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees. They’re righteousness had to have a purpose.

That’s where the other meaning of “righteousness” comes into play. Another way of translating the Greek word here is “justice.” Justice takes the meaning of righteousness out of the realm of the individual and into the realm of the whole world. The righteous aren’t just those who do good, they do good for a purpose—to bring God’s justice into the world.

The righteous, in other words, are those who see their lives within the context of God’s larger mission of redeeming the whole world. They do the will of God, but they see God’s will as being bigger than themselves. They are not as concerned about their own eternal destiny as they are about the destiny of the whole creation. They are less focused on justifying themselves than participating in God’s justice for those who need it most.

This brings me to an important side note that we need to address at this point in the Sermon on the Mount. If we’re truly going to understand what Jesus means here in any meaningful sense, we will have to give up some basic assumptions that many of us have carried for quite some time—assumptions that are a natural result of our post-Enlightenment Western worldview. Here’s what I mean.

Remember last week we talked about Nietzsche, and the idea that we are the center of our own universe. The individual is what matters, and everything revolves around us. Now, normally, especially here in church, we would have no problem refuting Nietzsche in principle. Sounds way to narcissistic and self-centered. And yet, the reality is that much of our theology is really the Gospel washed through individualism, where the whole purpose of God and the message of the Gospel is about me and my salvation.

Don’t believe me? Think about the language of what passes for the gospel. “Jesus is my personal savior. I invite Jesus into my heart. Then Jesus saves me, and insures me a place in heaven when I die.” It’s all about me! Jesus is all about me. Many of our worship songs and hymnody reflects this—the most prominent pronoun being “I” or “me.” The good news is good for the individual believer.

In this view, we are the center and the subject of what God is doing. God revolves around us and our purposes, much like people used to believe that the sun revolved around the earth. God is here for us. Jesus is my personal savior. It’s all about me. Jesus offers me his righteousness, his goodness, and it doesn’t cost me anything but asking for it. If I can get Jesus in my life, then I’ll have all that and a bag of chips in heaven.

But while Jesus certainly cares for me individually, his gospel actually works the opposite way. Notice at the beginning of Matthew that Jesus doesn’t come up to his disciples and say, “Believe in me and you’ll have it all.” Instead he says, “Follow me, and you’ll lose everything, even yourself.” Jesus doesn’t revolve around us and our purposes, he calls us to order our lives around him and his purposes—the purposes of the kingdom, the purpose of justice and peace and redemption for the whole world, and not just me. Righteousness isn’t something we attain, it’s something we engage in for the purpose of the world. God’s justice isn’t only about my spiritual justification, but justice for the everyone—the poor, the marginalized, the broken, the hurting. When we are revolving around God’s purposes, we begin to hunger and thirst for what God is hungering and thirsting for—the redemption of his good creation. If the gospel is merely about the way you go to heaven when you die, then the Sermon on the Mount is unnecessary and even painful. If, on the other hand, the gospel is about the good news that God is setting the world to rights, that his kingdom is coming, and that we have been called to follow Jesus in making that kingdom a reality, then the Sermon on the Mount is absolutely vital. Yes, God cares about my salvation, but always in the context of the salvation of the whole creation—that’s the vocation I’m saved FOR. Heaven is important, but it’s not the end of the world. What we’re looking for is a new creation with God at the center of it all.

Copernicus was the one who said the earth revolved around the sun, and caused a major shift in the way people saw the world. Jesus calls us to a Copernican shift of our own—to see our lives revolving around his purposes. We are blessed when we hunger and thirst for justice, because one day we will be filled, as the earth will be filled, with God’s justice. We are called to invest our lives in the purpose of God and revolve around his purposes. Our righteousness must be the righteousness of God. Our ways must be the ways of Christ. That’s the only way to satisfy the hunger of a starving world.

If there was any doubt of that, the second beatitude in this triad makes it clear—Blessed are the merciful. If our righteousness is only a self-righteousness, if it’s all about us, then it is bankrupt. The Pharisees were enamored with their own self-righteousness, but were vicious toward those who didn’t meet their standards. Many Christians today echo that self-righteousness and are some of the most bitter and nasty people out there—nasty toward those who are not like them, those who struggle, those who are poor, those who are broken, those of other faiths, those who are immigrants, those who are of the another political persuasion. The vitriol that gets poured out in the name of “righteousness” and “justice” is anything but. No, real righteousness, real justice, is always tempered by mercy.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” Blessed are those who, having hungered and thirsted for God’s justice, begin to care for and be merciful toward those who need him most. Truth is that none of us is truly righteous in and of ourselves, none of us have it all together. We baptized little Ada this morning, and every once in awhile someone will say to me, “We really shouldn’t baptize babies because they don’t know what’s going on.” Well, do you know what’s going on? I don’t most of the time, but God does. Blessed are those who recognize that God is up to something in the world, and that God’s mercy is wide and deep. God cares about people that most people don’t care about. Blessed are the merciful.

But just like righteousness without mercy becomes Pharisaic self-righteousness, mercy without righteousness becomes mushy and muddled. To be merciful toward the brokenness of others without calling for a change is a worldview that leads nowhere. Jesus had a passion for righteousness and justice, and offered mercy to those who were broken. And yet, Jesus did not leave them there, blessing their dysfunction. Instead, he often said, “Go and sin no more” or “Rise and take up your mat and walk.” Righteousness, tempered with mercy, enables change. We need both.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness and justice (thesis), blessed are the merciful (antithesis). That leads to the third beatitude which synthesizes the first two: Blessed are the pure in heart.

Who are the pure in heart? They are the ones who have both a passion for justice, and compassion for people. Another way of saying “pure in heart” is “undivided in heart.” Blessed are those whose life is geared toward a single purpose that is both righteously merciful and mercifully righteous. These are the ones who are blessed to “see God” because they see the movement of God and the purpose of God in every person. They see God everywhere because they are always looking for ways in which to live out God’s purpose through obedience, mercy, service, and love. They see God the way Jesus said they would—in the face of the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the stranger, the least, the last, and the lost (Matthew 25).

I went to the eye doctor this week, which is my least favorite medical appointment. I’d much rather go to the dentist, truth be told. You go to the eye doctor and he has you read all those charts, and I feel the pressure of having to pass the test. Then he puts that weird contraption in front of your face and keeps switching out the lenses—“What’s better, number one, or number two”—I don’t know, they look the same. And then, the finale, he puts those dialating eyedrops in that make you spend the rest of the day feeling like you’re underwater, and you have to wear those Stevie Wonder sunglasses. It’s a painful, arduous process.

But the next day, after everything is corrected, I always see more clearly. My vision gets adjusted, and the world looks like a much different place.

I think that’s what Jesus is doing here in these three beatitudes—correcting our vision, giving us a fresh set of lenses through which to view the world, a clear look at what God is up to in the world, new eyes to see him and his kingdom at work. This is the focus of the undivided heart.

 As you go forth this week, look for the place where people are hungering for justice, see those who are in need of mercy, and see God in them. And then ask, “How can I help?”

Blessed are those whose vision is God’s!

 

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