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3 "You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.
4 "You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.
5 "You're blessed when you're content with just who you are—no more, no less. That's the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can't be bought.
6 "You're blessed when you've worked up a good appetite for God. He's food and drink in the best meal you'll ever eat.
7 "You're blessed when you care. At the moment of being 'carefull,' you find yourselves cared for.
8 "You're blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.
9 "You're blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That's when you discover who you really are, and your place in God's family.
10 "You're blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God's kingdom.
11 "Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. 12 You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don't like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble. (Matthew 5:3–12)

I love how The Message renders these familiar verses. End of my rope. At times I have found myself there. Desperate dependence. Most often I am not there, perhaps because I have several reliable methods of avoidance and distraction. I think it’s a good way to live if you don’t view desperation as an enemy. A well known song says “I’m desperate for You”—Really?

Do you ever sing songs in church, (or look at the words) and think “I’m not quite there, and, there are things in the way, but somewhere down deep I want to be there?” How about the one that says “You’re all I want . . .” Yes, I’m desperate . . .

When I feel I’ve lost what’s most dear to me. Been there a time or two. Not so much. I fear many play at this during Lent. Me too. What seems most dear, most of the time? A few of you have been there. A few of you are there or not far from there now . . .

Embraced . . . “he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him..”; “well done, good and faithful . . . ”; (what words do you long to hear, maybe that you aren’t sure He’ll say?)

And this takes me to verse 6, “worked up a good appetite,” hunger and thirst. This journey toward Jerusalem, toward the cross, if there is anything honest about it, however halting, it works up a good appetite—for more, for release, for celebration. An appetite for the surprise of resurrection, an appetite for stunning glimpses of the kingdom of God here now, an appetite for the feast of all feasts at the marriage of the Lamb . . .

Oh, I skipped verse 5, "content with just who you are"—wow, that seems just impossible. Or more accurately, how on earth can I be desperate and content?! That’s a strange miracle and paradox of the cross, isn’t it: Intense insatiable longing, inexcusable guilt and soul-stilling rest and release.

In all I’m grateful that I don’t need to manufacture this, muster it up. He arouses and uncovers this in me. Always more . . .