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Reflection for Sunday, February 1, 2026 using the Revised Common Lectionary readings: Fourth Sunday after Epiphany / Lectionary 4: Micah 6:1-8; Psalm 15; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31, and Matthew 5:1-12
Resilient Hope
Grace, peace, and blessings be yours in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
With this week’s scripture readings, my head has been full of songs again. Along with that song from “The Lion King” – Hakuna Matata—“no worries for the rest of your days”—I’ve also had that old Bobby McFerrin tune looping in my mind:
🎶 Don’t worry… be happy. 🎶 (If you’re as old as me – you’ll definitely remember it!)
It came out in 1988, and it was catchy then—and honestly, it still is!
But let’s be real: if it were that easy, none of us would be here this morning carrying what we carry.
“In every life we have some trouble,” the song says—and that part is true. Jesus says it too. But “don’t worry, be happy”? That feels a lot harder these days. Worry seems almost unavoidable. We worry about our health, our finances, our kids and grandkids, the state of our nation, the divisions in our communities, the violence in the world, the future of the planet. Worry has become part of the air we breathe.
And yet, Scripture really does repeat one phrase over and over: Do not fear. Do not be afraid.
That doesn’t mean “pretend everything is fine.” And it certainly doesn’t mean plastering on a smile and denying reality. In fact, one of the biggest challenges of our time is what many people call performative happiness—the pressure to look okay even when we’re not.
Social media has only amplified that. We scroll past smiling faces, vacations, family photos, celebrations, and we quietly think, “Everyone else seems to be doing better than I am.” We compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel. And it leaves us feeling isolated, inadequate, or broken.
Even in these dark times, social media has us “doom-scrolling” those who appear to be so confident, and strong – fearlessly and readily sharing their beliefs and opinions on current events and arguing with those who don’t agree with them. We spend hours wondering – should we argue with them? Should we do the same? Is it truly helping, or is it just giving me a momentary sense of power?
Truthfully, it’s exhausting, trying to keep up.
Jesus offers something very different in today’s Gospel.
In Matthew’ gosepl, Jesus climbs a hillside, sits down, and teaches—not the crowds, but his disciples. And what he teaches them is surprising, even unsettling. We call these words the Beatitudes, but they don’t sound like instructions for success or happiness as the world defines it.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit.”
“Blessed are those who mourn.”
“Blessed are the meek.”
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.”
“Blessed are the merciful… the peacemakers… those who are persecuted.”
None of that sounds like Don’t Worry, Be Happy.
The word Jesus uses — Makarios — doesn’t mean cheerful or carefree. It means deeply grounded. It describes a joy that isn’t dependent on circumstances, a joy that doesn’t evaporate when life gets hard. It’s not fake happiness. It’s resilient hope.
So let’s try this exercise honestly.
“I’m happy when __________.”
We might say: when I’m with my family. When I’m healthy. When I feel secure. When I’m needed. When winter ends. When things finally settle down.
Those things matter. They’re gifts. But they’re also fragile. Life changes. Bodies fail. Relationships strain. Seasons turn. And if our happiness depends entirely on those things, it will always be vulnerable.
Jesus isn’t dismissing happiness—he’s redefining it.
He’s saying blessed are you when you know you don’t have it all together. Blessed are you when your heart is broken. Blessed are you when you care deeply about justice and mercy, even when it costs you something. Blessed are you when you choose compassion in a world that rewards cruelty. Blessed are you when you keep showing up, loving, and hoping—even when it would be easier to harden your heart.
That kind of blessedness doesn’t come from pretending the world isn’t broken. It comes from trusting God within the brokenness.
Micah tells us today that God doesn’t ask for grand religious performances. God asks us to “do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly.” Paul reminds us that God’s wisdom looks foolish to the world. And Jesus shows us that real joy isn’t found in power, control, or certainty — but in grace.
The cross stands at the center of all of this. Not as a symbol of denial, but of honesty. The world is broken enough to crucify love itself. And yet, God meets us there — not with condemnation, but with redemption.
At the cross, Jesus takes seriously our pain, our fear, our grief. And at the cross, God says: You are not alone. This is not the end.
So blessed are the poor in spirit—those who know they need God.
Blessed are those who mourn—because God meets them with comfort.
Blessed are the peacemakers—because in a divided world, their work matters.
This isn’t a call to fake happiness or shallow optimism. It’s a promise of deep, durable hope.
Not “don’t worry.”
But God is with you.
Not “be happy.”
But you are held, even here.
Rejoice and be glad—not because life is easy, but because God’s grace is stronger than anything that threatens to undo us.
For yours — yes, even now — is the kingdom of heaven.
Amen.
God's Yes + My Amen 