“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4 CSB)
Devotional
Pan once left a splinter in her hand for almost a week because digging it out looked more painful than just ignoring it. By day four, the spot was swollen and tender to the touch. It wasn’t healing. It was infected. When we finally sat down with a needle and got it out, and only then did it actually start to mend. Most of us do the same thing with grief. We leave it buried because facing it looks worse than carrying it.
Once we’ve admitted we’re spiritually poor, the natural next step is grief. Not only grief over what we’ve lost, although God meets us in that kind of mourning too. This is grief over our own sin, over how far off we are from who we were made to be, over a world that doesn’t run the way it should. When we actually see our own poverty clearly, it should hurt a little. It should break something open in us.
We live in a culture that’s allergic to sitting in pain. Scroll past it, schedule over it, smile through it. I’ve done all three. But Jesus doesn’t say blessed are those who pretend they’re fine. He blesses the ones who let themselves actually feel the weight of what’s broken, in themselves and around them, instead of numbing past it.
It’s in that honest, unedited place, the one we usually try to keep hidden, that comfort actually reaches us. God doesn’t show up to shame us for the mess. He shows up with the needle, willing to do the part we’ve been avoiding, and he stays for the healing that follows. We don’t get the comfort by skipping the mourning. We get it by finally letting ourselves mourn.
Reflection
What am I currently using to avoid feeling the weight of my own sin or the world’s brokenness? Where do I need to stop numbing and start being honest with God instead? I want to bring him the real thing today, not the polished version.
Prayer
Lord, give us hearts that break for what breaks yours, including our own sin. We don’t want to hide our grief from you anymore. Thank you for meeting us in the honest places with comfort instead of condemnation. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Tomorrow’s Beatitude flips everything we believe about strength: blessed are the meek.