Martin Luther King once said, "Christianity has always insisted that the cross we bear precedes the crown we wear."1 [Philip Yancy, The Jesus I Never Knew (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan Publishing House, 1995), 152, quoting Martin Luther King.] In Matthew 5, Jesus helps us understand our journey from cross to crown. Jesus lays out the steps in this journey leading each of us to God's Kingdom.

Just as our laugh lines, wrinkles and scars reveal the depth of our life experience, our compassion, humbleness, and hunger for righteousness reveal the depth of our life in Christ. Each experience adds another layer to our Christian character. Each step we take behind Jesus leaves another footprint for others to find God.

Jesus' twelve disciples have followed him up the mountain and gathered around him. Matthew says that Jesus began to teach them. Yet Jesus was teaching not just them, but everyone in the crowd who wanted to follow him and who would later hear or read these words. At the end of this sermon, Matthew says that the crowds were astonished at Jesus' teachings, for he taught them as one with authority. Clearly Jesus aimed this message at the crowds as well as his disciples.

The crowds listened just as Jesus wants us to listen today. When you gather here in the sanctuary for worship, your service is designed to be heard by Christ's followers. But it's also designed for those who are curious, skeptical, wrestling with doubts, and/or actively seeking God. Each step you take toward this sanctuary on Sunday morning leaves a footprint for others to follow and find God.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Jesus means not just those who are literally poor, but those who recognize their spiritual poverty and complete dependence on God. Admittedly, the world doesn't encourage us to see or confront our spiritual poverty. No, the world encourages us to see ourselves as independent and self-sufficient. Movies, books and commercials seduce us into thinking we can do it all and have it all. In the world's eyes, being poor in spirit means being depressed or weak. The world says, happy are those who are wealthy, famous, glamorous, aggressive and powerful. Many of us find ourselves exhausted and spiritually bankrupt from years of living into these illusions. Some of us hit rock bottom before our poverty of spirit convinces us that our only identity and security is in God. It isn't in the stock market, a strong economy, nuclear weapons or other people. Our recent terrorists attacks and the tornado that devastated La Plata, Md. powerfully prove this dependence on God.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. These verses refer back to those who are poor in spirit. Jesus isn't glibly saying "no matter how tough your earthly life has been, cheer up, heaven awaits you." Rather, Jesus teaches us that as we draw closer to God, we lament not only our own spiritual poverty, but that of the world.

As we become more aware of our spiritual poverty, our meekness increases. Jesus isn't equating meekness with weakness or timidity. He's saying that our dependence on God makes us more gentle and humble. These are hard qualities to find in a world obsessed with titles and superlatives ˆ the richest, the most beautiful, the most expensive, the sexiest, the fastest, the sleekest, the newest. Even the Church reflects this obsession. In interviews, churches tell candidates they want "the best" preacher. Church officials brag about snagging "the best" evangelist. Seminaries boast of having "the best" theologians.

How refreshing it must have been when John the Baptist said of Jesus, "He must increase, but I must decrease." How astonishing it must have been to early Christians when Paul called himself "The least of all the apostles."

Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness. Think about the times you've walked into a grocery store when you were really hungry. Aromas from the bakery and deli make your mouth water. Your stomach growls loudly and you can't think about anything, but food. Or think about babies at feeding time. First they begin with a soft, short cry. But as the minutes drag on and they still aren't fed, their cries become louder and longer. If their meal is further delayed, they clench their tiny fists and wail until their faces turn bright red. No stuffed animal, no favorite blanket, no sweet voice pacifies them. Nothing satisfies their craving until they're fed.

Similarly, Jesus says that as our faith grows, we hunger more and more for God's righteousness. We seek more to do God's will. How many of us crave God's presence and righteousness in our lives the way a hungry baby craves to be fed? How many of us can go for a week without God, but not without our favorite TV program or dessert?

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Henri Nouwen, the famous Catholic priest and author who taught at Harvard, spent his last years at Daybreak, a community for the physically and mentally impaired. He took care of a young man named Adam who he described this way:

Adam is a 25 year old man who cannot speak, cannot dress . . . cannot walk alone, cannot eat without much help. He does not cry or laugh. Only occasionally does he make eye contact. His back is distorted. His arm and leg movements are twisted. He suffers from severe epilepsy and . . . sees few days without grand-mal seizures. Sometimes, as he grows suddenly rigid, he utters a howling groan. On a few occasions, I've seen one big tear roll down his cheek.

It takes me about an hour and a half to wake Adam up, give him his medication, carry him into his bath, wash him, shave him, clean his teeth, dress him . . . give him his breakfast, put him in his wheelchair and bring him to the place where he spends most of the day with therapeutic exercises.2 [Yancy quoting Nouwen, p. 149.]

When Nouwen was asked why he gave up an exciting career for the menial task of caring for Adam, he insisted that it was he, not Adam, who benefited most. Adam made him realize how obsessive he'd become about success as a professor and priest. His time with Adam gave him a spiritual peace that made his academic achievements seem dull and superficial. Nouwen's example shows that as we draw closer to God, we put less stock in what others feel we ought to be doing. By letting go of our pride, we are able to respond more tenderly to those in need.

Blessed are the pure in heart. Being pure in heart isn't limited to avoiding or resisting sexual temptation. It means being devoted to God in all we do, rather than making God compete with other things for our loyalty. This devotion is especially challenging since we often feel pulled in several directions. Our lives are divided into compartments like dresser drawers. We may have a strong, competitive side which we show at work, where we must prove our value to a corporation or other organization. We may also have a gentle, vulnerable side which is revealed only to family and friends. And we may have an ethical or compassionate side which is expressed primarily within our faith community. Such compartmentalization is confusing and painful. Jesus commends the pure in heart because they incorporate their love for God in all they do. They've overcome their conflicted loyalties by living a life, which answers to God first. When they discover how much God values them, they no longer have to prove their value to others.

Blessed are the peacemakers. Many Christians, including me, struggle with this verse, following the events of September 11, as we never have before. Note that Jesus calls us to be peacemakers, not peacekeepers. Jesus calls us to actively foster reconciliation between ourselves and others. Jesus doesn't call for a passive, conflict adverse stance in which people keep the peace at any price. Jesus doesn't ask us to avoid risk and discomfort. Jesus did not always keep the peace. No, he regularly rocked the boats of Roman and Jewish officials at great personal risk and discomfort. We often confuse being Christian with avoiding conflict and pacifying others. Drawing closer to God doesn't create an absence of conflict. It helps us to trust that God is in the midst of our conflicts and has the wisdom and power to help us resolve them. And being a Christian tends to increase our conflicts since God's wisdom runs counter to the world's.

I'm fascinated by the non-violent tactics of Mohandas Ghandi and Martin Luther King. In the movie Ghandi, Ghandi and a Presbyterian minister are threatened on a dark street by some thugs. The minister wants to make a run for it, but Ghandi stops him. "Doesn't the New Testament say if an enemy strikes you on the right cheek, you should offer him the left?"3 [Ibid., 149-150] The minister replies that Jesus didn't mean that literally, but Ghandi isn't so sure. "I suspect he meant you must show courage ˆ be willing to take a blow, several blows, to show you will not strike back nor will you be turned aside." Ghandi says that such acts increase the respect and decrease the hatred of our enemies. While I tend to agree, I also struggle with his comment because history has shown that people like Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin and Osama bin Laden don't respect those who take several blows and resist striking back.

Nevertheless, while we struggle, we can witness to our call as peacemakers. The fact that it's hard under these circumstances doesn't make it less urgent. We can pray for bin Laden and others who hate us. We can actively foster peace between Jews, Arabs, Christians, Muslims, and Hindus. And we can start taking peace as seriously as we take war by establishing schools where we train people in the non-violent tactics of Christ, Ghandi and King.4 [Wendell Berry: Thoughts in the Presence of Fear, 4.]

Last week, I watched our 8-year-old daughter, Yvonne, shooting baskets with the two little boys from next door. They're her best friends in the neighborhood and we're very fond of their parents. There'd be nothing remarkable about this except for the fact that they are Muslims from Pakistan whose favorite playmate is a Christian girl. I watched them knowing that if we lived in Pakistan, such a friendship would be very unlikely. In Saudi Arabia, such friendships are forbidden and dangerous. Yet in God's Kingdom, they're expected and blessed.

Blessed are those persecuted in God's name because of their commitment to God's righteousness. People who are in step with God are out of step with the world. Those following in Jesus' steps rely on God's power, as Jesus did, during their trials. A good example is Rosa Parks, who was arrested in 1955 for refusing to give her bus seat to a white man in Montgomery, Alabama. She later wrote, "I have learned over the years that knowing what must be done does away with fear. When I sat down on the bus that day, I had no idea history was being made ˆ I was only thinking of getting home. But I had made up my mind. After all the years of mistreatment my people suffered, not giving up my seat ˆ and whatever I had to face afterwards ˆ was not important. I did not feel any fear sitting there. I felt the Lord would give me the strength to endure whatever I had to face. It was time for someone to stand ˆ or in my case, sit down"5 [Rosa Parks quoted in the Virginia Advocate (UMC), October 8, 2001, p. 22.] When we decide what is right, God gives us the courage to see that decision through. And ultimately, even if we are reviled for it, we will rejoice and be glad that we followed in Jesus' footsteps. We will rejoice and be glad that we have made the journey from cross to crown. We will rejoice and be glad for ours is the kingdom of heaven.