“The Blessing of Ultimate Loyalty”

Matthew 5:10-12

Jesus didn’t just preach the Beatitudes. He lived them. He was totally dependent on his heavenly Father. He was grieved and saddened by the sin and misery he encountered in the world. He lived a God-directed, self-disciplined life in which his energies and passions were controlled and channeled in positive directions. His greatest desire was for a right relationship between God and creation. He was caring, compassionate, forgiving, and accepting. Sin or selfishness never contaminated his motives. He preached, taught, and lived God’s peace. His entire ministry was directed toward the redemption of all creation.

Jesus was poor in spirit. He did mourn. He was meek. He hungered and thirsted after righteousness. He was merciful and pure in heart. He was a peacemaker in the holiest sense of the word. He was all the good things he taught us to be. And what was his reward? He was persecuted for doing what was right. He was criticized, called names, falsely accused, and reviled for living out the will of his Father. He was tortured and killed because he dared to do what his Father had called him to do.

What did Jesus do that was so bad? Nothing. He did nothing wrong. So why did he make certain people so uncomfortable that they wanted him silenced? What was there about his life that made people angry enough to kill him?

There was his total dependence on and obedience of his Father. God’s will came first – always! Acting out his Father’s deep compassion he reached out and touched the untouchable. That raised more than a few eyebrows. He befriended tax collectors and such. He spoke in public to women, even a despised Samaritan woman. He hated sin but loved sinners. He placed real human need above petty religious legalisms.

His faithfulness to his Father was a threat to those who needed their own will to take precedence in the world. His compassionate behavior offended those who found it necessary to maintain a strict caste system. His emphasis on people rather than rituals angered those religious leaders whose real god was mind-numbing, hair-splitting orthodoxy. His demand for righteousness infuriated those who needed to hide their unrighteousness behind a mask of self-righteous propriety. More than anything else, his righteous, holy, Spirit-directed life painfully reminded those around him just how far they had strayed from God’s will. Some responded to that by wanting to imitate Jesus, but the response of most was a strong desire to get rid of this man whose sinlessness reminded them of their own sinfulness. They hated Jesus for being the person they wouldn’t even try to be.

When Jesus preached the Beatitudes he was telling his disciples and wannabe disciples how he expected them to live. Within the limitations of their sinfully imperfect humanity Jesus expected the lives of his followers to be an imitation his. He never expected them to be perfect, but he did expect them to continually strive for perfection. He expected them to follow him on a pilgrimage toward spiritual maturity. Their reward for this? Ultimately the Kingdom of Heaven. But in the meantime, it was very possible that they would earn the same reward received by Jesus: either a cross or some other form of persecution.

The bad news about persecution is that it hurts. Suffering for our faith is painful. The good news for Christians is that persecution is often a sign that we’re living a mature Christian life. If we find ourselves in trouble because we’ve dared to stand up for what’s right in a world full of wrong – if we find ourselves criticized for our compassion toward others – if we’re being ridiculed for living lifestyles that don’t reflect our culture’s notions of what’s cool or sophisticated – if we go to jail for disobeying unjust laws – if we are labeled troublemakers because we criticize injustice, then odds are that we’re doing something right. That’s the hidden blessing of persecution: the deep inner knowledge that we are doing God’s will, that our lives reflect some of the same perfect righteousness as did the life of Jesus. Such lives display the Kingdom of Heaven.

Having said that, let us be reminded that the risk of persecution always accompanies faithfulness. It’s easy for Christians in America to forget that. Nobody is going to arrest us for being here today. We’re free to gather for worship, study God’s Word, publicly fellowship with fellow Christians, and proclaim the Gospel. There is no social stigma attached to our faith. We do not have the threat of imminent persecution hanging over our heads.

But some of our brothers and sisters do. Christians in Sudan have to choose between confessing Christ and watching their children starve to death. Another price they pay for their faithfulness is being sold into slavery. In India Christians have to worry about mobs of radical Hindus burning down their churches or murdering their church leaders.

Due solely to the gracious providence of God, we are not subject to such things. That, however, doesn’t guarantee that we won’t someday be. The march toward persecution of Christians in our society has quietly begun. By God’s grace it may not continue, but it’s slowly headed in our direction. The church’s centuries-long partnership with western culture is coming to an end. There are no longer any laws protecting our Sundays from civil encroachment. There is no longer any stigma attached to those who spend Sunday sleeping in, cleaning house, shopping, mowing the yard, traveling, playing sports, or working. Church membership is no longer the norm in our culture. Spirituality is seen more and more as an individualistic search for fulfillment, a search not dependent on being part of a religious body. The institutional church is viewed by many with suspicion. There is an overall apathy toward the Christian faith in our nation. We never know when this suspicion and apathy might morph into open hostility.

There is a strong possibility, maybe even probability, that there will come a time when we will face suffering and abuse because Jesus is the Lord of our lives. In the not too distant future the reward for faithfulness might be social ostracism, financial ruin, and political powerlessness. Someday it might be a crime to do what’s just and right and good and true. Someday we might risk this unrighteous world’s wrath because we choose to be righteous. Someday we might have to take a life-or-death stand over against that which is evil.

Then what? Will we Presbyterian ministers, elders, and deacons maintain our ordination vows even at the cost of our jobs, financial resources, homes, families, or friends? Will we be willing to faithfully proclaim the Gospel? When push comes to shove, will we be willing to suffer ridicule, imprisonment, or even death rather than recant our faith?

Tough questions. Real tough questions. But always appropriate questions for those who follow Jesus. William Barclay wrote that into the budget of every Christian’s life there must be written the possibility of loss. For some of our brothers and sisters in Christ around the world this loss is more than just a possibility. It is a reality written in the blood of their martyrdom.

In every time or place, when the church really dares to be the church – really dares to be Christ’s Body - some sort of suffering is almost inevitable. Not because of having done anything wrong, but for doing everything right. Let’s not forget that Jesus was crucified for doing everything right. So it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that we might be persecuted for the very same reason.

As Christians our ultimate loyalty is to our Lord Jesus Christ. As Christians we may be called on to pay the ultimate price for that loyalty. According to this final Beatitude we should be willing to pay it gladly. Why? In the words of Eugene Peterson, all of heaven will be applauding us. And ultimately our Lord Jesus will be waiting with all the saints to greet us as we take our place in the Kingdom of Heaven. Amen.