A Beatitude Imagined
“Blessed are the invincible.”
These words are, though well-kept in the collective Christian memory, a beatitude imagined; these words are residing in the human subconscious and, like puppet strings, moving us throughout the world, dictating what we do, what we love, what we fight for; these words are ones we put in Jesus’s mouth. He never once said them, though we live as if they are the first amendment of His Great Commission. I’ve been recently trying to work out why.
The impulse to act and react like I am invincible and untouchable is more deeply ingrained in me than most things. In moments of true, God-centered self-awareness, which are few and far between, I comprehend how strong is the pull of that impulse. But often, it operates unseen and under the radar like an involuntary muscle. It kicks in when I meet someone for the first time or interview for a job or talk with extended family about politics over the holidays: the drive to seem put-together, wholly sufficient and sensible, perfect and indestructible, practically god-like. It is insecurity concentrate, disguising itself as the exact opposite of that. It’s this creaturely, paranoid reaction to an acute awareness of my human lack of sufficiency and sensibility. When I feel least secure and invincible is often when I flare up most in desperation to prove my (nonexistent) security and invincibility.
“Blessed are the invincible.”
Every engine in me—heart, brain, body, and soul—yearns for this to be true. What I desire, think, act like, and believe in, my entire life shares this common thread: wanting to be invincible because I fear and spurn the lack of it. It’s extremely unsubtle how self-programmed I am to believe that weakness and need are not as blessed as sufficiency or perfection. If I were trying to survive in a godless universe, then perhaps these desires and drives would be appropriate. But as it were, they are indications of my lack of trust that the God who said, “blessed are the meek” rules this world; and more than that, my lack of trust in God’s promise that the meek “shall inherit the earth.” That my meekness is part and parcel with my strength and status as a co-heir with Christ is baffling. But so it is in the Kingdom of God.
Retraining myself to believe this essential truth, that weakness is a virtue and even a way in to knowing God, must occur in several dimensions. Much more than an intellectual resignation or lip service to Jesus, believing this is a commitment to align one’s loves and lifestyle and entire existence with this bewildering truth. Fitting, then, that the etymology of the word “believe” is traced back to an Old English word meaning “to care, desire, love.” Everything in me revolts against this retraining; it will take time to remove pride from the throne I built for it forever ago. But, as provocative as this sounds in the culture of the 21st century western world, Jesus’s words are much more trustworthy than our internal impulses. Let’s trust His beatitudes before we trust our own.
“Blessed are the invincible.”
All of human history, including my own contributions to it, testifies to how hopeless and futile it is to subscribe to this beatitude. It is not only a misplaced value, but too high of a standard, sending us into spirals of self-hatred and stubbornness. We were never made to strive for this. The imago dei within us does not include some strain or sample of God’s perfection. If anything, it imitates the meekness of Christ, who did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but emptied Himself by becoming man—all human temptation, finiteness, weakness, bound up in our Savior. He shall inherit the earth and rule it kindly and justly. The invitation is for us, in all our meekness, to inherit it and rule with Him.
words by Delaney Young and photo by Marlow Amick