First Baptist Church Litchfield
chapel 9/24

      • Psalm 119:41–48ESV

  • Good Good Father
  • King Of My Heart

      • Matthew 4:4ESV

  • Word of God
  • Carry It On Philippians 1:8

  • “The Hinge of the Door”

    The Beatitudes are like a doorway into the good life Jesus promises. On one side of the door we saw our need—poverty of spirit, mourning over sin, and meekness. These three reveal how desperate we are for God’s mercy. On the other side of the door we see the fruit—a life shaped by mercy, purity, and peace. But the hinge in the middle is verse 6: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”
    That hinge matters because without it the door won’t swing. If the first three Beatitudes describe our emptiness, then verse 6 is God’s promise to fill it. As Daniel Doriani reminds us: “If we know our sin and spiritual poverty, if we mourn over it and live meekly because of it, we will hunger and thirst for righteousness.”
    God promises to satisfy. He doesn’t leave us starving. But let’s be honest—our appetites are often small, dulled by what Jerry Bridges calls “respectable sins,” distracted by the search for some spiritual experience, or content with a thin external morality. Jesus tells us that He alone—the Bread of Life and the Living Water—is what our souls need most. Or as I like to put it, Jesus is your food and your drink. He fills what He commands.
    John Blanchard observed the strange way God works in this: “God promises to fill those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, yet the sign that he is doing so is that they go on hungering and thirsting.” That means the more you eat, the hungrier you become. The more you drink, the thirstier you grow—not because Jesus leaves you empty, but because His righteousness expands your appetite for more of Him.
    John Piper puts it plainly: “The key to Christian living is a thirst and hunger for God… [but] our hunger and thirst for God is so small.” Beloved, isn’t that the danger we face? When our craving for God shrinks, so does our experience of His grace.
    So if verse 6 is the hinge, then verses 7–9 are the door swinging open. They show us what happens to a soul God keeps filling. Hungering and thirsting for righteousness leads to a life marked by mercy, purity, and peacemaking. These are not just outward behaviors but the fruit of a heart God keeps satisfying with Himself.

    Holy Appetite: Hungry Hearts That God Satisfies (Matthew 5:6)

    Those with a flourishing heart yearn for holiness because they have met the Holy One. Our souls were created with an appetite, and Scripture often pictures that hunger and thirst. The psalmist says, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (Ps. 42:2). Moses reminded Israel that “man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Deut. 8:3). Psalm 107 paints the picture of weary travelers who were “hungry and thirsty” until the Lord filled them with good things. And then Jesus declares, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst” (Jn. 6:35).
    Here is the paradox of grace: when God fills you, He also enlarges your capacity for more. John Blanchard put it this way: “The more you hunger the more God is satisfying you with his righteousness.” A stomach cries out until it is full and then rests. But the soul, once awakened by Christ, hungers all the more as it is filled. The more you taste of Him, the more you long for Him.
    Yet there are threats to this holy appetite. Some chase after experiences rather than Christ Himself. Emotional highs may stir for a moment, but they cannot satisfy the soul. Others tolerate what Jerry Bridges calls “respectable sins”—impatience, resentment, self-pity. These sins are like an asymptomatic tumor in the stomach. They may not seem deadly at first, but they curb the appetite for righteousness until the soul grows dull.
    Let me give you a picture: imagine a hiker at the trailhead, sipping can after can of sugary soda. When he starts climbing the mountain, the air makes him nauseous and his legs feel weak. Why? He has filled himself with empty calories when what he needed was water with electrolytes and minerals. That is exactly what “respectable sins” do to the soul. They block your spiritual tastebuds from enjoying the the Bread of Life.
    So what do we do? We seek Christ deliberately. Just as you schedule your meals each day, schedule time with God’s Word—treat Scripture as daily bread. Confess respectable sins quickly, before they rob your hunger. Ask God to enlarge your appetite for His righteousness. And here’s the promise: when God feeds the heart with His righteousness, the life inevitably changes. The first evidence is that it overflows outward—in mercy toward others.

    Mercy in Motion: The Filled Become Forgiving (Matthew 5:7)

    A flourishing heart shows mercy because they know they’ve received mercy.
    D.A. Carson reminds us that mercy “embraces both forgiveness for the guilty and compassion for the suffering.” R.T. France adds that mercy is a generous posture—one that is slow to take offense and refuses to gloat over another’s failings. Mercy, in other words, is not weakness; it is strength clothed in compassion.
    Where does mercy take root? In the heart that knows its own poverty. Think of the tax collector in Jesus’ parable—head bowed, chest beaten, unable to lift his eyes to heaven as he pleads, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13). That kind of heart, humbled and broken, can look at the failures of others through the lens of empathy and choose mercy over condescension.
    But mercy does not remain an idea; it takes practice. Jesus ties our daily forgiveness of others directly to the forgiveness we receive from the Father (Matt. 6:14–15). He commands continual forgiveness—not seven times, but seventy times seven (Matt. 18:21–22). And mercy flows beyond words of forgiveness into tangible acts of compassion. How often did Jesus heal the sick (Matt. 9:36; 14:14), feed the hungry (Matt. 15:32), give sight to the blind (Matt. 20:34), or raise the dead (Luke 7:11–15)? His heart overflowed with mercy like a river spilling its banks.
    As I have said before, “Mercy must continuously flow from your heart like living water.” Charles Spurgeon put it in his way: “You may sooner drain the sea of its water, or deprive the sun of his light, or make space too narrow, than diminish the great mercy of God.”
    Perhaps the clearest picture we have is the prodigal’s father. Do you remember? His son comes home in rags and shame, but the father runs, embraces, and clothes him in mercy’s robe and a ring of grace. Friend, if the Father has dressed us so lavishly, how can we withhold a simple garment of forgiveness from a brother or sister?
    So let’s make it practical. Name someone you need to forgive. Plan a concrete act of compassion this week. And let us pray with Alexander Pope:
    “That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.”
    Mercy is not a mask you put on when people are watching. It springs from the inside—from a heart transformed by the mercy of God. And this mercy is not the end. Mercy leads us straight to the next beatitude, where Jesus blesses not polished manners, but a pure heart.

    Single-Minded Devotion: The Pure in Heart See God (Matthew 5:8)

    Flourishing hearts fellowship with God because grace makes them undivided within.
    What does purity mean? One commentator explains it as “undivided devotion… inner moral purity… a single-minded loyalty to God that arises from inner cleansing.” Purity is not about outward ritual or polished behavior—it is about the inward reality of a heart wholly set apart for Christ.
    But here’s the gravity of it. Jeremiah is right: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). We don’t have to look far to see the truth of that. Even pastors know the fight. I’ve told you before, if you spent ten minutes in my heart or my mind, you would never want to speak to me again. Yet here’s the encouragement—A.W. Pink says, “One of the most conclusive evidences that we do possess a pure heart is to be conscious of and burdened with the impurity which still indwells us.” The very weight you feel when sin rises up in your thoughts is evidence that Christ is near, exposing, cleansing, and drawing you closer.
    So what is the path to purity? John Owen warned us, “Be killing sin or sin will be killing you.” The psalmist says only those with “clean hands and a pure heart” may ascend the hill of the Lord (Ps. 24:3–5). Paul tells us to “take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Cor. 10:5). This means guarding the inputs that stir your imagination, confessing sin quickly when it surfaces, and practicing an undivided obedience both at work and at worship—no double speech, no split loyalties, no compartmentalized faith.
    Think of it this way: from far away a window looks spotless. But when the sun shines directly on it, the dust and smudges suddenly appear. Drawing nearer to Christ doesn’t make you dirtier—it simply shows you where to wipe. The light is not condemnation; the light is grace.
    Purity is not perfection but direction—a heart set on Jesus, quick to repent, quick to obey, quick to love. And purity leads somewhere. A pure heart also learns the gentle strength of meekness. And meekness, in turn, becomes the seed of peacemaking.

    Family Resemblance: Peacemakers Wear the Father’s Name (Matthew 5:9)

    Flourishing hearts make peace because they share the Father’s character.
    Notice how Jesus weaves meekness into peacemaking. Daniel Doriani says the meek are those who stop grasping for recognition; they lay down their self-assertion. And when pride grows quiet, peace begins to emerge.
    But biblical peace is more than a truce or an agreement to disagree. It is the shalom that Christ Himself gives. Jesus told His disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you” (John 14:27). Paul echoes this, saying God’s peace “surpasses all understanding” (Phil. 4:7). Peace is not the absence of conflict—it is the presence of Christ. And yet, Paul calls us to pursue it diligently: “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all” (Rom. 12:18).
    That pursuit requires discernment. Peacemaking does not assume motives—it listens carefully, asks questions, and gives grace the benefit of the doubt. I once told the story of “the 10:30 man.” Each week, right at 10:30 am, he would rise from his seat, straighten his coat, and walk out of the sanctuary. At first, it seemed like a silent protest against longer sermons. But the truth was far different—he had to be at work at 10:45. When the order of worship changed, he was finally able to hear the whole sermon, and he rejoiced. Friends, peacemakers resist snap judgments. They choose to believe the best until proven otherwise.
    Why does Jesus say peacemakers will be called sons of God? Because children resemble their Father. God is the great Peacemaker, reconciling His enemies by the blood of the cross. Apart from Christ, Paul says the mind of the flesh is “hostile to God” (Rom. 8:7–8) and destined for judgment (Rev. 21:8). But in Christ, enemies are made family. Reconciliation is not only God’s work for us—it becomes His work through us.
    So where tension exists, take the first step. Clarify. Listen. Reconcile. Announce the gospel of peace with your lips and embody it with your life.
    The door has swung fully now. Hunger for righteousness has led us to mercy, purity, and peace. The question is simple: how shall we walk through that door this week? Will we reflect the Father’s character in a world starved for mercy, distracted by impurity, and fractured by conflict?

    “Walk Through the Door”

    Let’s return to that door image one last time. On the front side, we saw our need—poverty of spirit, mourning over sin, and meekness. At the hinge stands holy hunger, the longing for righteousness only God can give. On the far side of the door, we see the fruit of a satisfied soul—mercy, purity, and peacemaking.
    So here’s the call: Don’t fill up on “respectable sins” or chase after fleeting experiences. Come to Christ. “Jesus is your food and your drink.” Ask Him to enlarge your appetite for His righteousness, and then watch what happens. Mercy will flow from your life, purity will deepen in your heart, and peace will spread through your relationships.
    You will be a witness. Let’s not be a stumbling block. May our friends, family, and neighbors see God satisfying our hunger and thirst for righteousness, and experience his sanctifying work in making us merciful, pure, and a peacemaking people.
    The blessed life isn’t found out there somewhere—it begins within, where Jesus hangs the whole door of the Beatitudes on the hinge of holy desire. So enter by faith, feast on Christ, and flourish as sons and daughters who resemble their Father.
    Amen.
  • Empowered by the Spirit, Guided by the Word

      • 1 Corinthians 15:58ESV

First Baptist Church Litchfield
pastorjason.fbcl@gmail.com
217-324-4232
http://www.firstbaptistlitchfield.org/
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