Because Lent invites me to slow down, pay attention, and return again to what matters most, I am drawn to the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount.

Because the Beatitudes have formed a new heart in me, and Jesus has shown me what true righteousness looks like, He now brings me to a simple but life-defining question: Will I live what I’ve heard?

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to value purity of heart and mercy, Jesus now teaches me to be wise and discerning. 

Because the Beatitudes have reoriented my desires toward God’s kingdom, Jesus now calls me to make a clear choice. 

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to be merciful, pure in heart, and a peacemaker, Jesus now brings it all together in one sweeping, practical call: Treat others the way you want to be treated. Not just in theory—but in everything. 

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to depend on God with a humble heart, Jesus now invites me into a life of bold, ongoing conversation with the Father. He doesn’t just allow me to come—He urges me to ask, to seek, to knock. 

Because the Beatitudes have humbled me to see my own need for mercy, Jesus now warns me not to become a fault-finder. It’s easy to notice the speck in someone else’s eye—especially when I’ve stopped tending to the plank in my own.

When my hope rests in Jesus Christ, something settles deep within me. Trust replaces striving. Fear loosens its grip. Joy and peace begin to grow, not because life is predictable or easy, but because the One I trust is faithful. This kind of peace is not something I manufacture; it is something I receive as I place my confidence in Him.

Every Christmas, I find myself looking back at moments when God came close to me. Not in the big triumphs, but in the quiet, ordinary places where I felt unsure, tired, or a little empty. Somehow, Jesus has a way of showing up right there—gentle, patient, steady. Christmas reminds me that the God who entered a borrowed stable is not embarrassed by the messiness of my life. He steps into it. He always has. And when I slow down long enough, I can trace His fingerprints on seasons I once thought were barren.

ADVENT SEASON IS A SEASON OF WAITING

so while we wait we:

We rejoice…
We groan…
We hope…
We wait.

Because the Beatitudes have reoriented my heart toward God’s kingdom, Jesus now gives me a clear and beautiful priority: seek first. Not second. Not when it’s convenient.

As I look back on this year, I’m reminded how the Lord uses simple faithfulness—prayers, encouragement, small acts of obedience—to shape lives. 

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to hunger for righteousness and trust in God’s mercy, Jesus now calls me to let go of worry.

Jesus doesn’t shame me for having resources—He simply knows I can’t worship them and Him. One will always win. And only one leads to life. He invites me to loosen my grip on possessions so I can hold tightly to Him.

Because the Beatitudes have tuned my heart to what is pure and true, Jesus now speaks to my focus.

Because the Beatitudes have reoriented my heart, Jesus now challenges me to examine where I place my hope and security. 

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to hunger and thirst for righteousness, Jesus now invites me into the quiet discipline of fasting. But just like giving and praying, He reminds me: the point isn’t to be noticed—it’s to be nourished.

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to receive mercy with humility, Jesus now shows me how essential it is to extend that same mercy to others. Forgiveness isn’t optional—it’s at the heart of the gospel. Jesus doesn’t say this to burden me, but to free me.

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to come to God poor in spirit, Jesus now teaches me how to pray with childlike confidence and kingdom-centered trust. He doesn’t give me a script to recite mindlessly—He gives me a model for deep, relational prayer.

Because the Beatitudes have taught me to seek God with a humble heart, Jesus now draws me into the quiet place of prayer—not as a performance, but as a conversation.