Blessed [are] the poor in spirit, for *theirs* is the kingdom of the heavens.
The Sermon on the Mount opens by describing who is blessed in the kingdom, and it starts with a quality that runs against everything people admire. Everything turns on what "poor in spirit" means, and on how a kingdom can belong to people who have nothing.
One writer locates this poverty inside a person rather than in their circumstances, and tests it with an everyday example:
The first beatitude, notice, lies at the basis of all the others. It is not only a distinct feature in itself, but it should mark all the others and all who belong to Jesus. Surely nothing can be so necessary to a soul that has to do with God as poverty of spirit. Not poverty in circumstances only, or poverty in words and ways, but in spirit. It is poverty in the heart, the feelings, the inward man, and all before the living God. How often we may have said about someone who has injured us, "I freely forgive him, and I will be the same to him as ever. But I can't forget it for all that." That is not being "poor in spirit."
Another writer traces the order of these blessings and shows where a person enters it:
He really sketches for us a moral picture of the godly remnant who will finally enter the kingdom. He mentions eight things. They begin with poverty of spirit and end with persecution, and their order forms a sequence. Repentance produces poverty of spirit, and there all must start. Then comes the mourning and the meekness that a true sight of oneself produces. After that comes a thirst for the righteousness which is only found in God.
One writer sums up the phrase in three denials:
To be poor in spirit is to have low thoughts of self, to realise that before God I am nothing, I have nothing, I deserve nothing. It would be quite consistent with standing up for what is due to God.
Set that against what people admire, and the contrast is total:
Nothing more contrary to man! What people call "a man of spirit" is exactly the opposite of being poor in spirit. A man of spirit is one who — as Cain was — is determined not to be beaten; a soul who would fight it out with God Himself. He who is "poor in spirit" is the very opposite of this. It is a person who is broken, who feels that the dust is his right place.
Some read the blessing as being about people with little money. The wording itself answers them:
This idea rests on Luke 4: "And He lifted up His eyes on His disciples, and said, Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God." There the words "in spirit" do not appear. But there is no ground in this text for such an idea… It is a question of the inner man in contrast with the outer. A man who is poor as to this world's goods may have a proud, unbending spirit, while the rich may be truly humble.
These traits describe Christ Himself before they describe anyone else:
We know from the beatitudes how He pronounces blessed those who through grace are like Him poor in spirit. In truth nearly all of these beatitudes are just a description of what Christ was, though given as a character to which blessing belongs. Poor in spirit, meek, pure in heart — who was like Him, the great Peacemaker?
Nobody arrives at this by effort or temperament:
Everyone who is born of God has by grace these characteristics. Poor in spirit is the very first characteristic. The unsaved sinner knows nothing of it. It is altogether the work of the Holy Spirit. It means to take the right place before God, which is in the dust in absolute helplessness. It is the continued attitude of a saved person on the earth — poverty in spirit and entire dependence on the Lord.
One writer separates going to heaven later from living under heaven's rule now:
This is not a question of people going to heaven by and by, but of heaven ruling them now. It is how to go on before you get to heaven.
One writer puts the exchange as a paradox:
This poverty is your riches. You may have the world's riches and yet be poor; you cannot have this poverty without being rich. Poverty of spirit entitles you to Christ's riches.
- Start — repentance produces poverty of spirit. The other seven beatitudes rest on this first one.
- Inward — not an empty purse but a low view of self: I am nothing, I have nothing, I deserve nothing.
- Opposite — the world's "man of spirit" refuses to be beaten; the poor in spirit accepts the dust as his right place.
- Given — no unsaved person has this; it is the Spirit's work, and it is a settled attitude, not a mood.
- Rich — heaven rules such a person now, and Christ's riches already belong to them.
Blessed they that mourn, for *they* shall be comforted.
The second blessing in the Sermon on the Mount puts sorrow and happiness in one sentence. We do not usually put them together. Two questions follow. What sort of mourning did the Lord mean? And when does the comfort come?
Everyone carries a private list of who counts as fortunate. One writer sets that list beside the Lord's and lets the clash stand.
Most people would say, "Blessed are the rich, who can surround themselves with every comfort. Blessed are the joyful, the high-spirited, the independent, who know nothing of hunger and thirst." But the Lord came from heaven. He knew the character that suited the kingdom of heaven. He says, "Blessed are the poor, the mourners, the meek, those who hunger and thirst." That turns the judgment of everyone upside down. It contradicts the thought every human heart holds dear. Yet what a mercy it is for all of us that happiness does not depend on our circumstances, or on how much we own, but on the state of the mind — in one word, on character.
One commentator rules out the obvious reading and names what is meant instead.
Do not read the mourning that comes next as grief over personal sin. It is grief over the results of sin, over the way things now are on the earth. That is how our Lord grieved and mourned.
That sorrow looks outward, at other people, which is what separates it from the blessing before it.
Being poor in spirit is a matter between the soul and God alone. A person could hold it perfectly with nobody at all to mourn over. But to be a "mourner" here means something else. It means being moved to the heart by the condition of those around us, above all their moral and spiritual condition.
Grief by itself is no credential. Tears can flow from a heart that has never been touched where it matters.
There is a mourning that is far from making one blessed. Many can weep over a dead child who cannot mourn over a crucified Saviour. Worldly sorrows hasten our funerals. Worldly grief produces death (2 Corinthians 7:10).
He did not describe a heart He lacked Himself. The blessing is a portrait of Him.
He was, while on earth, the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He Himself took our infirmities and bore our diseases. Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus and over Jerusalem. In that night of deepest gloom He offered up prayers and pleas, with loud cries and tears, to Him who was able to save Him from death (Hebrews 5:7). He was the great mourner and He was comforted; heard because of His reverence, and raised from the dead.
One writer turns this into a question for us.
Do we not find ourselves in a scene where everything is opposed to God? Surely! Can we then love the Lord Jesus Christ, and pass through this scene, and not be mourners? Was not He a mourner when He passed through it?
This sorrow can turn into criticism of others. Three men from the older Scriptures show the alternative.
Do we pass by without caring? Or do we set ourselves above such things and judge others in self-righteousness? … We find such mourning in the Old Testament. Nehemiah said to King Artaxerxes: "Why should not my face be sad, when the city, the place of my fathers' graves, lies in ruins?" Daniel and Ezra also mourned over the unfaithfulness of God's people. … They confessed their people's sin and included themselves in their guilt. They understood that they themselves were no better and that they were part of this people. That is why God owned them and answered them.
The promise does not wait only for the future. One writer describes a grieving woman who met Jesus and found comfort on the spot.
She looked up into His face through her tears, and Jesus wept. Was she not at that moment most blessedly comforted? She had known that He loved her before, but she had never known that He loved her like that. His tears were more eloquent than words, and she found that His sympathy was greater than her sorrow.
One writer reads the promise forward, to a mourning still ahead for the Jewish people.
The believing part of the Jewish people will also go through deep mourning during the great tribulation. That comes just before Christ appears. … But the Lord Himself will comfort them too: "the LORD will again comfort Zion and again choose Jerusalem" (Zechariah 1:17).
- Reversed — The world calls the rich and carefree blessed. Christ calls the mourners blessed, because blessing rests on character, not circumstances.
- Directed — This mourning is not grief over a death, and not just regret over personal sin. It is sorrow over what sin has done to everything around us.
- Tested — Weeping proves nothing on its own; many cry at a graveside who have never mourned over a crucified Saviour.
- Shared — Christ was the great mourner, and He was comforted. His followers mourn with Him. Like Nehemiah, Daniel and Ezra, they count themselves inside the guilt they grieve.
- Answered — Comfort comes now in His sympathy, and comes in full when He appears — nothing wept in His name is forgotten.
Blessed the meek, for *they* shall inherit the earth.
Jesus has already blessed the poor in spirit and those who mourn. Now He blesses a third group: the meek. Their reward is not private comfort but the earth itself. Two questions follow: what is meekness, and how do the meek come to own the earth?
One writer defines meekness by pointing to Jesus, who called Himself meek, and to the day He said it.
"Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth" (Matt. 5:5). I believe that has its full application to the godly remnant of Israel later on. But the principle is of deep value to us. What is it to be meek? It is to be like Him who said down here, "I am meek and lowly in heart." He said that in Matthew 11, on a very dark day. You could not imagine a darker day. John was doubting Him, and Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum — the towns where His greatest works had been done — were rejecting Him. What is His resource? He turns to His Father, and takes everything from Him. He falls back on His Father's love, and perfect wisdom in all His circumstances. What is it then to be meek and lowly? It is to take everything, as He took it, from the hand of God.
Meekness is easily mistaken for having no backbone. Two Old Testament men settle that: Abram, who gave up his right to land for his nephew Lot, and Moses.
Meekness contrasts with the bold boasting of man, but is far from being a sign of weakness. It was no sign of weakness in Abram when he gave up his right to Lot, as his exploits in the next chapter show. Moses was the meekest man in all the earth, but there was none so valiant as he.
One writer reads the beatitudes as lessons in order. The first shows the soul what it is before God. The second is the groaning that comes from living in this world. Meekness is the third.
The great advance in the third class seems to be this. The soul has so grown in grace that the questioning, reasoning, self-willed spirit no longer shows itself in this scene of trial. Instead the disciple meekly bows his head in submission to the Father's will, and learns from Jesus to be meek and lowly in heart. After all, in these circumstances it is a question of either self-will or submission.
The beatitudes are not a distant ideal. They describe Jesus Himself. He speaks with a faithful remnant in view — the godly few left in Israel.
In examining the beatitudes, we shall find that this portion in general gives the character of Christ Himself. They assume two things. First, the meek will come to possess the land of Israel. Second, people will persecute the faithful remnant — those truly righteous in their ways, who asserted the rights of the true King. Heaven was set before them as the hope that would sustain their hearts.
One writer explains why meekness ends in an inheritance:
Meekness, which ends in the inheritance (see Matt. 5:5), appears to be that state of soul that makes us willing to be nothing until the promised inheritance comes. The Lord Jesus (in whom was all perfection) fully expressed it. Though Lord of all, He was content to have nothing; and the kingdom is a reward of His meekness.
The promise turns the present order of ownership upside down.
In Psalm 37 the meek shall inherit the earth, and this verse is a quotation of it. The people who own the earth now are usually great conquerors. Here is the very opposite. Those whom men trample underfoot are the ones God says will inherit the earth, and at a good time. The great and blessed pattern is the One who, when He was insulted, did not insult in return. You cannot ignore the wrongdoing that is going on, but you can commit yourself to Him who judges righteously.
Commentators differ on who the promise covers. Some tie it to Israel alone:
This is promised to the godly Jews who will inherit the earth. The Church does not inherit the earth, but hers is a heavenly possession. … So this promise has nothing at all to do with the Church. It is a kingdom promise for the godly in Israel.
Others hear the Lord widening it:
Now this enlarges the promise, so that it applies beyond the borders of Jacob and Judah. The meek of all peoples will inherit the earth, when Heaven's kingdom is at last set up over the whole world.
- Source. Meekness is taking everything from the hand of God, as Jesus did on His darkest day.
- Strength. It is not weakness — Abram gave up his choice of land, Moses was the meekest and the bravest.
- Growth. It is the third lesson: self-will surrendered, the head bowed to the Father's will.
- Waiting. The meek are willing to be nothing until the inheritance comes; Christ, Lord of all, held nothing.
- Reversal. Today conquerors own the earth. One day those trampled underfoot will receive it. Commentators differ on whether that promise belongs to Israel alone or to the meek of every nation.
Blessed they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for *they* shall be filled.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Blessed the merciful, for *they* shall find mercy.
The fifth Beatitude turns from what a person is before God to what he is toward others. Commentators read it as the start of a new group of blessings. They press one question: can anyone show mercy who has never felt his own need of it?
Writers see a design in the order of the Beatitudes.
We now come to what we may call the second section of the Beatitudes. They fall into two groups, four and three — a division not uncommon in Scripture. Righteousness marks the first four: what is due to God. Grace marks the last three: the activities of grace towards others.
Mercy is not one item on a list of virtues. It is the ground on which God meets a world of sin, and its promise reaches further than pardon.
God takes His stand on nothing more than His mercy. It is the active principle of His being in a world of sin. One thing alone makes salvation possible for a single soul: there is mercy in God. He is rich in mercy. There is no limit to His mercy... It is not only a question of the forgiveness of their sins, but of mercy in everything... they shall taste afresh what the mercy of God is towards their own souls, in showing mercy towards others.
The word has a precise sense. It answers misery, and it does not stop at feeling.
Mercy is the emotion of the soul in the face of misery or distress, and the help that results from this inner emotion. Mercy is not the same as grace. Grace is undeserved favour granted to someone who has become a guilty offender.
Both words appear side by side in God's own self-description to Moses, and the difference shows in what each supplies.
He is merciful to forgive, and gracious to help in every time of need.
Only one kind of person becomes merciful: the debtor who knows the size of his own debt.
That is what God is. He delights in mercy, so Micah tells us. It is only those who realise that "nothing but mercy will do for me" who will be merciful. You get a picture of the wonderful mercy shown to Israel in the parable of the man who owed a huge debt. He was unconscious of the mercy that had been shown to him. Whatever a person does to us, they can never owe us what we owe to God. If we are conscious of that, it will make us tender towards others.
The Lord who spoke this line lived it first.
When the Lord Jesus says "Blessed are the merciful…", He means those who have experienced this mercy of God. As disciples of their Lord and Master, they now follow His example. How often we read in the Gospels that He was moved with compassion! He was full of mercy and full of heartfelt sympathy. He healed the sick, gave food to the hungry and gave back her son alive to a mourning mother. Yes, He was the true merciful Samaritan. At the end of His parable He could say to the scribe who had come to test Him, "You go, and do likewise."
You can give in a way that humiliates. That is not the Lord's way.
Do not give to the poor as you would throw a bone to a dog. See the grace with which Jesus bends over the poor man. As if He were his servant, He asks, "What do you want me to do for you?" He did not take a place of obvious superiority. He gave him to know and feel that He was dealing with him in love and grace, and drew the heart of the helpless one entirely to Himself. The way of the world is to patronise, and to be esteemed as benefactors; and many will give for the sake of this honour.
The return promised is explained as a settled rule in how God governs His people day by day.
On the cross Christ took the consequences for eternity of every believer's sins. That is an unchanging fact. But as to our conduct in this world, God's government holds to an unalterable principle: "whatever one sows, that will he also reap." Psalm 18:25-26 states another broad principle of His government: "With the merciful you show yourself merciful; with the blameless man you show yourself blameless; with the purified you show yourself pure."
Believers meet that mercy again at the point of need.
The words in Hebrews 4:16 are especially beautiful. They show that we receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need when we come to the throne of grace in prayer. The Lord Jesus is there as our "merciful and faithful high priest."
- Received — Mercy starts with mercy received. Only the person who knows that nothing but mercy will do for him becomes merciful toward others.
- Defined — Mercy meets misery with help. Grace is undeserved favour to the guilty.
- Reflected — The merciful copy their Master. He was moved with compassion, He healed and fed, and He said, "You go, and do likewise."
- Manner — How you give matters. No patronising, no bone thrown to a dog, but the Lord's own way of drawing the helpless one near.
- Returned — You reap what you sow under God's government. The merciful keep tasting mercy, at the throne of grace and in every time of need.
Blessed the pure in heart, for *they* shall see God.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Blessed the peace-makers, for *they* shall be called sons of God.
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
Blessed they who are persecuted on account of righteousness, for *theirs* is the kingdom of the heavens.
The list of blessings ends with one for people who are attacked for doing right. Why does living God's way cost something, and what does the Lord promise in return?
The first seven blessings describe character. This one describes what that character brings on the disciple:
This verse stands apart from the seven blessings before it. They deal with what true disciples of the Lord Jesus are like and how they behave. Here the Lord speaks about the results of their righteous behaviour. As long as He does not reign as King of righteousness, people who live by God's principles and thoughts will face persecution and suffering.
Righteousness here is a way of living, not a theory. The world admires much of it — until it costs someone:
Practical righteousness means living by the Word of God and His principles. The world values love of the truth, honesty, faithfulness and respect for other people too… But suppose an employer asked his Christian employee to hide the truth in a situation that was awkward for him. Suppose he asked him to tell a lie instead, or to help with a dishonest deal. What will happen when the employee says: "I can't do this, because it does not agree with the Word of God"? … Many a believer has lost his job because he would not share in the unrighteousness of this world.
Verse 10 and verse 11 are not saying the same thing twice. One suffering keeps the conscience clean; the other answers Christ's claim on the heart:
So the two kinds of persecution in verses 10 to 12 bring in the double character we find in the letters — suffering for righteousness' sake, and suffering for Christ's sake. These are two completely different things. Where righteousness is the question, a person is simply brought to the point. If I do not stand and suffer here, my conscience will be stained. But this is in no way suffering for Christ's sake. In short, conscience is what comes in where righteousness is the question. Suffering for Christ's sake is not a question of open sin, but of His grace and its claims on my heart.
This difference runs through the rest of Scripture too, and one is greater than the other:
If we suffer for righteousness' sake, we are happy — and we are still more blessed if we suffer for His name… The Lord Himself makes this difference between suffering for righteousness and suffering for Christ (Matthew 5:10-11), and so does Peter (1 Peter 2:20; 3:17; 4:14).
The reward here repeats the one given to the poor in spirit at the start of the list:
Here the list clearly begins over again. The first blessing was, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," and the next three were all marked by righteousness. Poverty of spirit is the first thing God works in a newly born soul… But here the point is not so much what they are, as what others make their lot. The last two blessings speak of what the world hands out to them. The first four are marked by righteousness within — the last three by grace within.
The promise is not that the pressure will lift today. The present order is temporary:
If you are poor in spirit, if you do not stand up for your rights, what do you get in this world? You get persecution. People laugh at you as a madman. Here is the difference between this world as it is now and the coming age when the King reigns: now righteousness suffers, then righteousness will reign. For now you must do good, suffer for it, and bear it patiently, because the kingdom is hidden and the King is out of sight… This suffering may come in many shapes — in your business, your family, or from your neighbour.
Many assume persecution means violence. The Lord's own wording widens it:
Let us be careful not to become persecutors ourselves. Some think there is no persecution except fire and sword. Yes, there is persecution of the tongue… You can kill a man in his good name as truly as in his body. A good name is as precious as costly ointment. To strike another person in his name is what our Saviour calls persecution.
- Character first. The first seven blessings shape who a disciple is. This one shows what that life brings while the King is still rejected.
- Righteousness defined. It is living by God's Word in daily matters — the honesty an employer praises until it costs him something.
- Conscience engaged. You suffer for righteousness when saying no is the only way to keep a clean conscience. You suffer for Christ's sake when His claims draw out your heart.
- Kingdom promised. The same reward given to the poor in spirit closes the list — the kingdom belongs to those the world pushes out.
- Order reversed. Now righteousness suffers and the kingdom is hidden. When the King reigns in the open, righteousness will reign with Him.
Blessed are ye when they may reproach and persecute you, and say every wicked thing against you, lying, for my sake.
In the verse just before, the Lord describes a kind of person. Here He turns and speaks straight to the men in front of Him. Three details carry the weight: the change of pronoun, the new reason — no longer righteousness but "on my account" — and the small word "falsely."
The previous verse speaks about a group; this one speaks to a group. Writers see the shift as deliberate warmth rather than a stylistic accident.
Notice another difference in verses 10 and 11. In Matthew 5:10 it is "Blessed are they." In Matthew 5:11 it is "Blessed are you." When real suffering for Himself is in view, He drops the abstract wording as too cold. He makes it personal: "Blessed are you." Why? Because you are linked with Him now.
The reason for the ill-treatment has moved as well. Verse 10 gives righteousness; here the reason is a Person.
It is not now for righteousness' sake, but "for My sake." There is something still more precious than righteousness, and that is Christ. And when you have Christ, you can have nothing higher. Truly blessed to be persecuted for His sake!
What provokes the hostility differs in each case.
Here the Lord does not speak of sufferings for righteousness' sake, but of abuse, persecution and evil words for His sake. This is connected with the Person of our Lord and the confession of His Name. Suffering for righteousness comes from our moral attitude and actions. Suffering for Jesus' sake comes from our confession of Him.
The blessing does not rest on being disliked. One word guards the whole verse from misuse.
Our walk in the world should have the character of white linen. Sometimes people say: it is a good thing when people speak evil against you. The Lord Jesus said, "Blessed are you when others ... utter all kinds of evil against you." Yes, He did — but with the added words, "falsely" and "on my account." If it is for Christ's sake, and false, we can bless God for it. But let us make sure it is not because the garment is stained by the flesh. That would be to our shame, and a misrepresentation of our blessed Lord. In the same line with this is 1 Peter 4:14: "If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you."
One writer reads the change from "they" to "you" as marking two different experiences. A believer cannot produce the second one, and the Lord walked that road first.
Why is it "they" in verse 10, and "you" in verse 11? The one is doing the will of God, His revealed will. The other is suffering for the sake of the Lord Jesus, and that is a gift of God. Every true saint of God suffers with Christ — not to the same extent... And in a thousand ways we suffer with Christ, but it is not everyone who suffers for Him; that is a gift: "to you it has been granted for the sake of Christ, not only to believe in him but also to suffer for his sake."
The Lord's choice of word rules out treating this as a rare hazard for a few unlucky believers.
By using the word "when" the Lord shows He is not hinting at something that may happen. He is pointing to a fact we should expect. Those who take the side of our Lord and Saviour, confessing Him openly and bravely, will reap contempt, mockery and scorn... Some meet such a confession with a pitying smile. But as soon as the believer shows he is a Christian by his conduct as well, rejection and hatred follow.
If suffering on His account follows confession, it has a starting point — and a familiar set of voices that head it off.
Suffering for Christ's sake is the result of speaking about Him to others. It is not merely a firm no when someone asks or tempts us to do wrong. It is an earnest heart that watches for every chance to speak about the blessed Lord and salvation... There are always plenty of worldly-wise Christians near us who check our zeal and hinder faithfulness — all under the fair name of prudence.
- Confession — good behaviour is not the trigger. Suffering for righteousness follows how we live; suffering on His account follows whom we name.
- Personal — Christ Himself is now the cause, so He drops "they" for "you"; the sufferer is linked with Him.
- Gift — every believer suffers with Christ; suffering for Him is a gift God grants.
- Certain — He says "when," not "if"; contempt is the expected return for taking His side.
- Falsely — the blessing rests only on false charges borne for His sake, never on reproach we have earned.
Rejoice and exult, for your reward is great in the heavens; for thus have they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Jesus ends this list of blessings by speaking straight to His disciples: when people insult them for His sake, they are to be glad. His reason looks two ways — up to a reward in heaven, and back to the prophets who suffered before them.
Earlier blessings describe a kind of person. Here the Lord turns and speaks to His own:
The last of the two rises to the highest. It leaves the abstract for direct personal words of love: "Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you… on My account." This was suffering for grace in full. "Rejoice," says the Lord therefore, "and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven; for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you."
The command is not to grit your teeth until trouble passes. The suffering itself gives the joy its reason:
The disciples of the Lord should rejoice not despite the sufferings connected with their confession, but because of them. Confessing the Name of the Lord may bring disadvantages here on earth — which is not always the case. Even so, the reward He has promised in the heavens is far greater! To know that we walk in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus already gives us joy. The promised reward adds to that joy, and that reward belongs to heaven, not to earth.
Earlier in the same list, the meek inherit the earth. Here the reward lies somewhere else:
Then at verse 11 He turned and spoke straight to His disciples. He told them in advance of a persecution they might meet for another cause… Earth now dropped out of view for them. Heaven alone lay before them. "The meek shall inherit the earth," however little that might seem likely then or now. But Christians are called out for heaven. What a change this revelation must have made in the hopes of the Jews! They waited, and still wait, for Messiah to appear in person and in power, to cut off their enemies and give them their land in peace, for good.
Commentators differ on who receives this reward first. One writer applies it to those who lose an earthly portion by dying for their faith:
Deprived of an earthly inheritance, they will enter into a heavenly one. Revelation 20:4-6 shows them as a special company of martyrs, added to the saints of the first resurrection.
If the reward is great, can anyone earn it? One writer answers plainly:
A Christian may lose his life, but not his reward; he may lose his head, but not his crown. Not that we can merit this reward by our sufferings. "I will give you the crown of life." The reward is the legacy which free grace bequeaths. What proportion is there between a drop of blood and a weight of glory? But though we have no reward by merit, we shall have it by grace. … A man who has to wade through deep water keeps his eyes on the firm land ahead. Christians wading through the deep waters of persecution should fix the eyes of their faith on the land of promise. Those who bear the cross patiently shall wear the crown triumphantly.
The verse ends by pointing back to the prophets. One writer hears comfort in that:
When you learn what pleases the Lord, and pleasing Him means doing what would displease everyone else, what does He say? "Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven." It is heaven now, not the kingdom of heaven. And here is a lovely little word of gracious encouragement to the soul: "For so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." That is, you have got into good company; do not mind.
This verse has a daily use. It settles when you expect justice.
Too often we are fretful and impatient in the face of wrongs, and we want them put right in this day instead of waiting for "that day". Suppose the glory of that day shines before us in the faith of our souls. Then we shall not be tempted to rebel at the insults and wrongs that may be allowed. We shall "rejoice and be glad", for, says the Lord, "your reward is great in heaven".
- Personal. The Lord drops the general "they" and speaks straight to His own, in "direct personal words of love."
- Because, not despite. Believers rejoice because of the suffering their confession brings — not just while they endure it.
- Heavenward. Earth drops out of view; the reward waits in heaven, not in the land or an earthly kingdom.
- Grace, not wages. A Christian "may lose his head, but not his crown" — the reward is free grace's legacy, never payment for pain.
- Good company. Insulted for His sake, you stand where the prophets stood. So leave today's wrongs for "that day".
*Ye* are the salt of the earth; but if the salt have become insipid, wherewith shall it be salted? It is no longer fit for anything but to be cast out and to be trodden under foot by men.
The Lord has just described the character and the blessings of those who belong to His kingdom. Now He turns from what they are inside to what they are in the world around them. Calling them salt raises two questions. What does salt do? And what happens to people who carry the name without the reality?
Salt is not a sweetener. One writer describes what salt does — it guards, and it holds firm what is good:
Salt is what preserves in righteousness. It is sharp rather than sweet, but it guards from impurity and decay. It holds steady what is good and wholesome. It tests all things, and holds fast the right. It keeps away from every form of wickedness. So when the disciples are called the salt of the earth, the Lord marks them out as set apart to God the Father.
God gave an instruction about the offerings brought to Him. Salt was never to be missing:
In ancient times salt was the main way to season food and keep it from going bad. Salt is sharp and bitter, but it keeps what is good and prevents decay. In the Old Testament, the "salt of the covenant" had, by God's order, to be added to all sacrifices (Lev. 2:13). So salt is a clear symbol of the sanctifying, keeping power of God which should show in us. We are not sugar or honey, but the salt of the earth.
One writer draws a line between "the earth" here and "the world" in the next verse:
The salt of the earth is a different thing from the light of the world. As I see it, the earth means what already claimed to have received light from God. Because of that light it stood in a relationship with Him, and had taken a definite shape before Him. The disciples of Christ were the preservative principle in the earth. They were the light of the world, and the world did not have that light.
Kelly brings the same word into the present, to Christendom — the lands where the Christian faith has long been known. He points out where the danger lies, because the light was once there:
The salt of the earth is how the disciples stand toward what already had God's testimony... If you speak about the earth now, it is Christendom — the place that has the light of God's truth, either truly or only in name... And this is the place where the greatest falling away from God will come. Such evil is only possible where people have had the light and then left it.
Commentators differ on who exactly is in view. Some say the verse speaks of a faithful group inside Israel, not of Christians: "here it is not the Christian, not a believer of this present age, who is in view; it is the faithful few left in Israel" (The Bible Treasury). Others apply it to believers today.
The two pictures are not repeats of each other. Kelly sets them against the religious teachers of that day, the scribes and Pharisees:
For the disciples, this position goes beyond "the salt of the earth." That stood for righteousness — not the outward kind shown by the scribes and Pharisees, but lowly and real in God's sight. "The light of the world," on the other hand, is grace shining out, and it cannot be separated from confessing Christ. Salt preserves, but it does not make everything visible the way light does.
Where the salt fails, nothing else can supply what is missing:
But He adds words — most serious words — "if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored?"... By this question He showed that the true and holy taste, once lost, could never be repaired. Grace may still work in people here and there, but the pure position cannot be brought back. Salt is simply salt. Nothing outside can give the saltiness that disappears.
The verse does not settle every question people bring to it. Kelly warns against forcing an outside debate into these words:
He is not now speaking of the question whether a saint can fall away or not. People go to Scripture with their own questions, and twist the word of God to fit their earlier thoughts... He is speaking of people who hold a certain position. Some may hold it carelessly, or even falsely. Then everything they once had fades away.
Salt without taste ends in public contempt. That warning reaches beyond one person:
Salt is a picture of the influence going out from the testimony to the holiness of God. Anyone whose testimony does not have this power is useless. For this reason the nations will trample Jerusalem, the city that rejected its own King (Luke 21:24). Christendom has had the good news of grace and salvation in Christ for centuries. It too will fall away from God and come under His judgment.
- Salt preserves. It is sharp, not sweet — it guards from decay and holds fast what is right.
- Covenant salt. God required salt in every offering, marking His keeping, sanctifying power that should now show in His people.
- Earth, not world. Salt works where God's testimony is already known; light shines out where it is not.
- Taste lost. Nothing outside salt can give back the one quality that makes it salt.
- Trampled. Where the taste is gone, people throw out the empty claim of faith and trample it — the fate warned of for Jerusalem and Christendom alike.
*Ye* are the light of the world a city situated on the top of a mountain cannot be hid.
The Lord has just called His followers salt; now He tells them what they are to the wider world. The picture He uses is a hilltop city — no one can miss it. The commentators press two questions. Where does this light come from? And what happens when those who carry it try to stay out of sight?
The two images point in different directions. One writer separates them, and notes that the disciples never chose to be this light:
The salt of the earth is a different thing from the light of the world. The earth, I think, means the sphere that already claimed to have received light from God. That light put it in relationship with Him, and gave it a definite shape before Him. The disciples of Christ were the preservative principle in the earth. They were the light of the world, and the world had no light of its own. This was their position, whether they liked it or not. It was God's purpose that they should be the light of the world. No one lights a candle to hide it.
The change of figure marks a change of direction. Salt keeps something from going bad; light travels:
But now, in verse 14, we have not only the principle of righteousness, but of grace — grace flowing out in strength. Here He gives the disciples a new title for their public testimony — "the light of the world." Light spreads. The salt is what ought to be inward, but the light is what scatters itself abroad. "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." Its testimony was to spread all around.
Jesus also called Himself the light of the world. So the same title on His disciples must mean something different. One writer explains the difference with the moon:
Our Lord says, "As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world" (John 9:5). But in view of His absence His saints are called by Him the "light of the world" (Matt. 5:14; Phil. 2:15). Saints are light in the Lord (Eph. 5:8). They are here to show the moral characteristics of Christ to people who are in darkness. And the whole source and power of their light rests in the Lord of heaven. The world cannot see Him, but He shows Himself to His own by faith and in the Spirit. The moon shines at night because it stands in the light of the sun. In the same way, saints shine while Christ is away, because they stand in the light of the risen Son of God.
Anyone living in Israel would have seen the picture at once:
"A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." An enemy planning an attack could see it. So could a traveller looking for a place to stay. By day its white walls and buildings shone bright. By night the lights of the houses gave it away. So the walk of the Lord's disciples ought to be a light in this world, seen by everyone.
Some have argued that the true company of believers is invisible. One writer answers that:
But I read in Scripture, "You are the light of the world." What use is an invisible light? "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." To call the true church invisible settles the question at once. It admits that the church has lost its original and essential standing. It admits that the church has left God's purpose and the order He gave it. God did not light a candle to put it under a basket. He lit it to set it on a lampstand and give light to everyone in the house. If it has become invisible, it no longer serves the purpose God formed it for.
Commentators differ over whom the Lord is addressing here. Some hold that these words describe a faithful Jewish remnant who will bear witness after the church is taken away, saying that "as Matthew 5:13-14 shows, these godly Jews will be the salt of 'the earth' and the 'light of the world'" (H J Vine). Others press the passage directly on believers today:
Fellow believer, I urge you not to skim over or dodge the position the Lord gives you here on earth. These are His words: … "You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." Let us live this out, instead of letting it slip past or pushing it off onto a Jewish remnant.
The lamp under the basket warns that something of our own can cover the light:
No one should put a lamp under a basket — that is, hide it behind what stands for man's own work. Let us not allow our work to get in the way of the light of Christ, who is the only source of light for people in darkness. The lamp set in its proper place will give light to all who are near it.
- Given, not earned — being the light is a position the Lord assigns, held "whether they liked it or not," not a status anyone works up to.
- Borrowed, not owned — the light is Christ's; His people shine as the moon shines, only because they stand in the light of the risen Son of God.
- Outward, not inward — unlike salt, which preserves quietly, light "scatters itself abroad" to a world that has none of its own.
- Visible, not hidden — enemy and traveller alike see a hilltop city. A light no one can see has stopped doing the job it was lit for.
- Clear, not covered — our own work in front of the lamp is what dims it. Keep the stand clear so people see Christ.
Nor do [men] light a lamp and put it under the bushel, but upon the lamp-stand, and it shines for all who are in the house.
This verse draws its picture from an ordinary home: a lamp, a measuring basket, a stand. Jesus is not teaching lamp-care. He is telling His followers what their light is for, and warning that people can cover it.
Small oil lamps gave a weak flame, so where you put one mattered.
The small oil-lamps of ancient times gave only poor light. Thousands of them have been found in the rubble at excavation sites. That is why people put them, singly or in groups, on a lamp-stand. The stand either hung from the ceiling, was fixed to the wall, or stood on the floor. In this way the light spread as widely as possible.
Covering the lamp does two things at once.
How absurd it would have been to put such a light under a bushel, that is, to hide it! A bushel was a container of about 2 gallons, used to measure grain. If you put it over a lamp, it would hide the small flame and make it useless. In the long run it would also smother the flame.
One writer turns this everyday common sense against Christendom — the whole world of people who bear Christ's name.
People deal more honestly with their own lamps than Christendom deals with the light our Lord spoke about. People shrink from natural darkness, from its inconveniences and its dangers. When they light a lamp, they do not put it under the grain measure, which would of course hide it completely. They put it on the lampstand, and it shines to all who are in the house. But Christendom fears the light. That light exposes how it neglects Scripture, and the Holy Spirit's guidance, and Christ, who is and ought to be everything. … Our Lord means the light to shine to all who are in the house, and beyond too.
In practice, what plays the part of the basket?
A bushel is connected with the business of this world, and how many a light the business of this world hides!
Another writer makes it personal.
Think of tidying up the garden, testing the new motor-cycle, studying for exams, early and late hours at work, a game of tennis, minding the baby, and many other occupations. They are good and proper in themselves. Ask whether you are using them, perhaps without meaning to, to cover up your lamp. There is no transparency in a bushel-basket. And where there might have been a bright light, the corn-measure has brought about darkness.
The light is not private property. It shows in a life, and it is spoken with the lips.
What testimony to Christ can there be, if the life gives no evidence? And what evidence is there in a life whose lips are silent about Christ? … Let us remember, then, the responsibility we have of confessing Him boldly. It is not even right to hide from people in need what He has done for them. No: the lamp is not for the bushel — it is for the lampstand. It is not for ourselves that we are made light: the world has a right to it, and can produce that right under the broad seal of Christ's commission.
A lamp does not make its own fire.
While the Lord was here He was the Light of the world, as He Himself says (John 9:5). Now we are called, as Christians, to shine as heavenly lights that hold out the word of life. Our light is reflected light. Ephesians 5 tells us where our light comes from: "at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light." … If Christ does not shine upon us, we can give no light.
The same test applies to the whole company of believers, not just to one person.
Believers have tried to shelter behind the distinction between a visible church and an invisible one. But I read in Scripture, "You are the light of the world." What use is an invisible light? "A city set on a hill cannot be hidden." … God did not light a candle to put it under a bushel. He lit it to put it on a lampstand, to give light to those in the house. If it has become invisible, it has stopped answering the purpose for which it was formed.
- Lit. God lights the lamp. The flame is borrowed, not our own: if Christ does not shine on us, we have no light to give.
- Placed. A lamp goes high on a stand because its flame is small. Position, not brightness, is what makes it useful.
- Covered. The basket is the everyday business of life. Good and lawful things, misused, hide the flame and in time smother it.
- Owed. The light is not for ourselves. Those in the house have a right to it, so hiding what Christ has done is a failure toward people in need.
- Seen. A light no one can see has stopped doing the one thing it exists to do — true of a single believer and of the whole company.
Let your light thus shine before men, so that they may see your upright works, and glorify your Father who is in the heavens.
The Lord has just called His disciples salt and light, and now He tells them what to do with it. He does not tell them to display good deeds, but to let the light shine — and the aim is the Father's glory, not their own reputation.
The verse names light first, and works only after that. That order separates a Christian testimony from ordinary good causes.
Here, the good works are the fruit of the working of divine light in the soul. If we let our light shine, good works will also be connected with it. But they are not the focus of our attention here. In this world many people and groups do good works. For example, the Red Cross and other aid organisations have done much good for people in need. If we as children of God set out to do such good works, that alone does not make us a testimony to our Lord. He wants us to be a testimony to Him. Therefore He does not urge us here to do good works, but to let our light shine. We should not think of "our" works, but of Him. Good works will then be the result.
If disciples must shine, where does the light come from? It does not start in them.
But what light is it that is to shine? It can only be the reflection of Him who is the Light. "He does not say let your good works shine, but let your light shine. That is, let Christ shine in your life. The point is not that you should see your good works, but that others should see them — and not to your glory, but to the glory of your Father."
One writer looks at the word translated "good" and finds it means something other than kindness to the poor.
Notice too that the light must shine in practical things, not only in teaching. People do not see it in our clear or fresh teaching put into words. They see it in our acts and works. They should hear our good words, but they must see our good works, if we are to be light to them. The word for "good" here does not mean kind or generous; it means upright or honest. Such actions find their source in the Father in heaven: they shed His light and glorify Him.
A person can give away everything and still miss the aim of this verse. The verse ends with the Father getting the glory.
I might give away all my goods in what people call charity. I might even hand over my body to the fire. Yet I could do both without confessing Christ, and so without glorifying the Father at all. There is no light and no love without faith in Christ and the confession of Christ. That way a person honours self, not the Father. But let the light of Christ shine in your confession. Then people see right works that agree with the will of God. They glorify not you, but the Father, who is both the source and the aim of what you do.
The shining is not a special activity added to daily work. It is daily work done by someone whose identity is unmistakable.
Then you must have your lights burning. I do whatever God tells me to do, and it is a testimony to Christ; people say, that is what comes from a man being a Christian! It is that there may be no uncertainty as to what we are... I may be a carpenter or a shoemaker, but I must be a Christian. In every relationship — as servant or master, in eating or drinking, in our houses, wherever it is — I must be a Christian.
A reader may wonder whether Matthew 6 cancels this command. One writer answers that the two passages aim at opposite results.
What Matthew 6 says here is not contradicted by the earlier words of the Lord Jesus in Matthew 5:16. There He was speaking to His disciples who ought to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. If people saw their good works, they would give the glory to God, not to men. In our paragraph in Matthew 6 the result is just the reverse.
The verse names the Father. Being His child brings a job that goes with the family name.
Now, before God can sanctify His name through Israel's restoration (Ezekiel 36:20, 23), the Lord taught His disciples about the opportunity and the service given to them. By their good works they were to lead the people around them to glorify their Father who is in the heavens. As His people, Israel ought to have shown the nations what it was that was well-pleasing to God. As His children, the disciples should show the moral character of their Father.
- Light first. The instruction is not to produce good works but to let the light shine; good works follow as its fruit.
- Borrowed light. The light is a reflection of Christ, so shining means letting Him show in your life — not your glory, but your Father's.
- Upright. The word for "good" here means honest and upright. People see it in acts, not just hear it in teaching.
- Everywhere. Carpenter or shoemaker, at home, at work, eating or drinking — in every place you belong plainly to Christ.
- The verdict. When the light shines, onlookers do not say "what a good person" — they glorify the Father in heaven.