If you think about it, 1 Peter had to be a very revolutionary letter to the church. Peter, a jew and disciple of Jesus, repeatedly asserts how Christ’s work on the cross put Jews and Gentiles on the same playing field. Until the cross, there was a clear line between the two groups because the Jews were God’s chosen people under His covenant with Abraham. But Jesus’ spilt blood on the cross meant that not only Jews but Gentiles as well could be brought into the family of God and enjoy the same inheritance, grace, and spirituality that was reserved for Jews only up to that point.

I remember being 20 years old at a Friday night worship service. It was an all-are-welcome event, so we brought the youth up from the church basement to be a part of it. In the middle of a song, I felt a little tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see my Pastor, David Knapp, standing next to me. With a little smile on his face, he leaned down so I could hear him and said, “Do you think the youth band has a song they’d like to share?” At this point, we had a small youth band comprised of a handful of teens who were mostly self-taught in their instruments. Still, I nodded and he said, “I’ll let the team on the altar know that the youth are going to lead after the next song.”

vWhen babies are born, no one has to teach them to suck. It’s a natural instinct so deeply embedded in them that they can even do it from inside the womb. Towards the end of a pregnancy, babies are known to drink in amniotic fluid using that sucking mechanism. This way, when they’re born, they can go right to drinking milk from the mother. They don’t starve or have to wait days and days to figure out how to eat. They are born doing it. I knew all this in a clinical sense before I was a mother, but once my daughter was born, I marveled at God’s design. It is nothing short of a wonder that a child is born and instinctively knows that their mother, who they have only known from the inside and is all of a sudden an external presence to them, has milk to drink. And it’s even more of a wonder that that child’s little tummy is so small that only a few drops is enough to not only satisfy their hunger, but also to slowly grow that baby into a nourished child. Because at first, that’s all the mother makes– a few drops. It takes days before her milk fully comes in and months before it establishes.

Dear God,

Thank you for being everything I’ve ever needed. Thank you for being my friend when I am lonely, my heavenly father when I need guidance and direction, the lover of my soul when I need to be held and seen, my shield when I need to be protected, and my defender in times of fear and uncertainty. You have never let me down or given me a reason to not trust you.

Christians get a bad wrap. Why? Because most of the time, we preach a message that comes off “holier than thou” to a world that is comfortable in their sin. I can’t count how many times unsaved people have said something along the lines of, “It’s okay, I’m gonna live it up with my friends at the big party going on in hell when I get there.” And I know it’s meant to be a joke, albeit not a very funny one, but it just goes to show how tightly people will cling to their sin and their comfortable pleasures, despite the fact that those things will never add up to eternal salvation.

Let’s be real: How many of us really read those introductions to the various letters in the Bible? Do we read them with the intent to get something out of it, or do we gloss over them and jump right into the thick of it? I always try, and I mean really try, to break those opening sentences down. I admit, it can be really hard to do, mostly because they can be long, run-on sentences, and truthfully, most of them say the same thing: Grace and peace be with you. It’s always something along those lines.

In my sophomore year of college, I took a pottery class. I liked to take at least one creative class per semester to help blow of some steam and provide some sort of therapeutic break from essay writing and book reading, but mostly I took that class because it included a unit on throwing pottery. In other words, there was a large part of the semester that involved sitting at a pottery wheel, and that seemed like it would be a fun experience. Except there’s a lot of technique that goes into that. You have to get a hang for the right amount of moisture in the clay. Make the clay too dry and the clay won’t submit to the shape you’re trying to mold; too wet and it will be a sloppy, muddy mess that will either take forever to dry out or prove itself utterly impossible to mold into anything. There’s a learning curve to actually throwing the clay: where to put it on the wheel, how much clay to use if you’re just starting out, the methods of making the clay workable, how much height, depth, or thickness to make a good ceramic piece.

Peter denied Jesus just before His death. If Jesus were anyone else and not the Son of God, I’m sure it would have been the end of a relationship, a revocation of his calling, and two hurt people. That’s what Peter deserved: to lose Jesus’ love, lose the purpose Jesus instilled in him, and to live with his failure. It’s what you and I deserve for sure. Because we’ve all done what Peter did. Maybe not under the same circumstances, but we’ve all fallen short. We’ve all messed up. We’ve all had moments of weak faith that caused us to be less confident in our belief.

As far as the disciples go, Peter is probably the most well known. He’s memorable, he’s relatable, and he’s known for both his passionate faith in Christ and his antics. He walked on water, but he almost drowned because he got wrapped up in the moment and took his focus off Jesus. He was a fisherman, the “rock” on which the early church is built, and one of Jesus’ closest friends. He cut off the ear of one of the soldiers who showed up to arrest Jesus. But probably most notably, he’s the guy that denied Christ three times mere hours after the whole group was together in the upper room at the Last Supper. It’s hard to imagine, but it took less than a day to go from that intimate Passover meal to Christ’s arrest and the subsequent scattering of all the disciples. By the time Christ’s trial in front of the Sanhedrin took place, only Peter was left to follow Him, and even then, he followed at a distance.

Hey Pops, Teach me to be satisfied every morning. I’ve grown too used to putting off satisfaction for another day when some lofty goal is reached. I’ll be satisfied when I’m skinnier. I’ll be satisfied when I have x amount of money in my savings. I’ll be satisfied when my house is clean. There are a million reasons to put off satisfaction and happiness. It never takes long to sink into a rhythm of dissatisfaction with life. Why? Because I’ve grown used to my spiritual and emotional joy being contingent on temporal, and quite frankly, fleeting things.

No one signs up for anything because they want to be persecuted. And yet, one of the first lessons Jesus teaches us in the Bible, is that we will be persecuted for righteousness’ sake. And not only that, but we will be blessed because we are persecuted in Jesus’ name. But that’s not the reason people give their hearts and lives to Jesus. Usually, they want something else: forgiveness of sin, relationship with God, to be saved from eternal suffering, to go to heaven. The list could go on and on. But people don’t tend to give a confession of faith because they know it’s a guarantee for oppression.

This verse is probably one of my top 5 favorite verses, and very often, it’s a prayer in my heart. Lord, help me to be pure in heart so that I might see you better. Many times, when we talk about purity and the Bible, we think sexual purity. Preserving our bodies from sexual sin and saving them for our spouse. But when we’re talking about purity here, we’re talking about moral purity rather than ceremonial or physical purity. Instead of an obedient or honorable heart, we’re more so talking about an undivided heart. A heart so focused and unadulterated that it clarifies our vision.

Imagine: You’re a little kid and you’re tossing a baseball in the house– something you’ve been told many times not to do. The more you toss the ball, the more you get lost in your make-believe game. Suddenly, you’re not in the living room anymore. In your mind, you’re under the lights of a stadium, pitching in the World Series. You wind up for the pitch at the bottom of the ninth, bases loaded, and everyone’s eyes are on you. You throw and– Crash.

If you follow Jesus, you’ve been there. There comes a moment in time where every believer gives their life to Christ. Not only asking for Him to forgive their sins, but also to be Lord over them. To some, those two things may seem interconnected, but sometimes they’re not. Some people casually approach Christ, asking to be found without sin and wanting to be saved, but that doesn’t mean they submit their lives and become meek before Him.

If you haven’t noticed by now, when Jesus teaches the Beatitudes in Matthew 5, He unveils them in such a way that they build upon one another. Blessed are the poor in spirit. That applies to any believer in God, where at the point of salvation, they realize they are so spiritually bankrupt that they could never save themselves. Thus, they are in need of Jesus to save them and pay that debt. Blessed are those who mourn. In other words, blessed are those who see their sin and realize how that sin has grieved God, and grieve over it themselves. They deeply understand just how badly their sin has separated them from the presence of God and find themselves in sorrow over how they’ve wronged God, and yet they find comfort from the Lord in that those sins are forgiven. And blessed are the meek?

Blessed are those who mourn… It might seem sort of contradictory. How can it be possible to mourn and yet be blessed? If we’re mourning, it would mean we lost something, right? And losing something or someone to the point of grief can’t be something Jesus wants for us, let alone something He blesses us with. Yes, when Jesus says blessed are those who mourn, He means real and harrowing heartache. The word He uses in the Greek is “pentheó” which means a deep, personal grief over a death or a hope that dies. It is a grief so severe that it takes possession of the person and cannot be hidden.