The Beatitudes: Eight reflections exploring the counter-cultural words of Jesus in Matthew 5

By Beatrice Smith

Christians are called to model a way of life that challenges the status quo and infuses the world with hope and possibility - and Jesus teaches how to do this, not just by his words but by the way he lived.

Beautiful Attitudes features eight interactive Bible studies that dive deeper into the 'beatitudes', a series of teaching given by Jesus during his Sermon on the Mount and show us how we can better apply them to our lives today.

Beautiful Attitudes includes contributions from a number of theologians and biblical teachers, including Debra Green OBE, Rev Malcolm Duncan, and more. This interactive workbook is perfect for group and individual study.

It's time to grasp the vision for what is possible when ordinary people catch a glimpse of God's radical call to follow the Lord Jesus and embrace the beautiful attitudes he maps out for living life to the full.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SPCK Publishing
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9780281088157

Beatrice Smith

Beatrice Smith is an author, speaker and preacher, also on the Spring Harvest planning group.

Book preview

Contents

Foreword by Sam Ward

Acknowledgements

Using this book

Introduction

Session 1 - The poor in spirit. Matthew 5.3

Session 2 - Those who mourn. Matthew 5.4

Session 3 - The meek. Matthew 5.5

Session 4 - Those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Matthew 5.6

Session 5 - The merciful. Matthew 5.7

Session 6 - The pure in heart. Matthew 5.8

Session 7 - The peacemakers. Matthew 5.9

Session 8 - Those who are persecuted. Matthew 5.10

Further exploration

About the author

Copyright acknowledgements

Foreword by Sam Ward

I’ve been rooted in my neighbourhood for more than 20 years. Following the call of God, I chose downward mobility and relocated from the suburbs of Manchester into an inner-city estate which carried all the hallmarks of deprivation.

My first day as an urban missionary started with a hearty breakfast and a prayer for courage. We filled my dad’s red Montego and travelled across the city to the narrow, terraced streets of Openshaw. A two-up-two-down terraced house and a housemate I had never met were waiting for me. As we unloaded the tightly packed boot and back seat, it became clear that I had prepared for self-sufficiency rather than simplicity. Like Mary Poppins’s bag, my belongings poured forth from the car – undermining the very nature of my call to live incarnationally in community. Christ’s incarnation, his relocation, meant emptying himself to take on flesh, and here was I, ensuring that nothing was left behind.

Maybe coming to ‘serve the poor’ with all of myself and all of my stuff was my self-justification for the abundance of belongings I carried up the two tiny steps to my new front door. But the truth was that hiding, not so discreetly, among those possessions was my identity. My achievements and accomplishments, my status and successes, all neatly boxed and ready to be unpacked.

The first person I can remember responding to the gospel after my arrival was a young Iranian man. He worked in one of the local takeaways that populate the main road that runs through our estate. I must have visited the shop way too often because I had come to consider Muhammed more as a friend than as the best kebab chef within a quarter of a mile.

One Saturday night, while waiting for my chicken kebab on naan with yogurt sauce and no onions, I invited him to church the following morning. To my surprise, he accepted. More surprising still was his appearance at the front door of our little church plant the next day. Muhammed soon became a regular, and it wasn’t long before he made a confession of faith. He was baptized during a failed beach trip to Crosby. The weather was a shocker and the tide was so far in that Muhammed was baptized off the steps of the promenade.

Muhammed’s faith was questioned and critiqued; his asylum claim only seemed to intensify the cynicism he faced. I knew Muhammed had encountered the power of Christ and I knew his life would be in danger if he were to return to Iran. One day, while shopping in Manchester, Muhammed was assaulted by a gang of Iranian men who had been sent with a message for him to ‘turn back or face the consequences’. Their threats were in vain as Muhammed continued to follow Jesus.

To our frustration, asylum was never granted, and for ten years Muhammed signed in at the Home Office each month to prove he hadn’t absconded. Then one day he was taken. During a routine signing session, he was detained and quickly transported to a detention centre at the airport. I fought hard to gain access to him. I confess I may have faked some Christian credentials to visit him as a ‘priest’. I was allowed one visit, just one visit, before he was deported to Iran. The last time I saw him, he stood before me shoeless. His only possessions were the clothes he stood in, a gold-chained crucifix around his neck and a Farsi Bible.

It was many months before I heard from him. I learned that he had been arrested on arrival in Iran and had already faced torture and punishment before being released ahead of his trial. Then I heard nothing again. The cycle of imprisonment, beatings and release seemed to roll on, unrelenting, leaving me uncertain of what he might face next.

Not once had I imagined that our conversation in a takeaway in East Manchester would have led to this level of suffering. Not for a single moment had I considered the consequences of my mission. What kind of good news would lead to something this bad? We talk of counting the cost and carrying our cross, but in reality, life in the West has