When he saw the crowds, [Jesus] went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them. // Matthew 5:1-2
Years ago, I was elbow-deep in a pile of dishes when I heard my four year old’s flustered sigh from the other room. I rushed there, only to find our bedroom floor strewn with stubby crayons and creased papers. The more Kristen pressed the crayon upon the canvas, the more the picture ripped beneath her efforts.
“I cannot color within the lines,” she blurted with tears streaming.
That morning, in her try-hard weariness, I saw myself.
I saw the mom who strived to keep a clean house and arrive everywhere on time. I saw the wife who dutifully served dinner by candlelight and who remembered everyone’s birthday. I saw the friend who thought she knew just how to comfort a friend struggling with her teen.
I lived within my own set of invisible lines. But no matter how hard I tried, I kept spilling over.
In the Gospel today, we hear about the Beatitudes. Jesus singled out people who didn't have it all together and who didn't live their lives within their lines. If anything, they were needy, dependent, and weak.
I realize that Jesus’ words are neither innocuous nor soothing. They are an affront to my way of living. They school me in humility and free me from perfectionism. They invite me to abandon old securities and embrace my vulnerability. They call me higher to where striving ceases and communion flourishes.
Sister, are you struggling to live within a set of lines too? We all have places where it feels impossible to get our lives together. But what if we traded our self-invented lines of expectation for the compassionate contours of grace? What if we saw our ‘creases’ as sacred spaces for the Spirit to move in?
What if we embraced the Beatitudes, not as some sensational acts reserved only for "superwomen," but as attitudes of those who struggled through the fears and fatigues of everyday life?
Today, the Church celebrates the long list of Saints and Blesseds who lived a free life infused with the Beatitudes, who are honored not because they were perfect, but because they allowed God to work through their creased canvases and crushed spirits in ways only He can.