Blessed are those who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.

Matthew 5:4 ESV

As I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place, where was a Den, and I laid me down in that place to sleep: And as I slept, I dreamed a Dream. I dreamed, and behold I saw a Man clothed with rags, standing in a certain place, with his face from his own house, a Book was in his hand, and a great Burden upon his back. I looked, and saw him open the Book, and read therein; and as he read, he wept and trembled; and not being able longer to contain, he brake out with a lamentable cry, saying, What shall I do?

So begins John Bunyan’s great spiritual tale, The Pilgrim’s Progress. The man with the book in his hand and a burden on his back is named Graceless, though soon his name would be changed to Christian. The story is an allegory for the Christian life with Christian obviously representing a Christian on his way to heaven, the Celestial City.

You will notice that, even within that opening paragraph, that Bunyan’s vision of the start of the Christian life matches the first two Beatitudes of our Lord. His poverty of spirit is allegorically displayed through the rags he wears and the great burden upon his back. But what is most striking is his sorrowful disposition. This man is not okay. He is exceedingly troubled. And rightly so, given his great poverty of soul. As we shall see, such godly mourning is an initial and continual marker of a Christian.

THOSE WHO MOURN

Since each Beatitude begins with the word blessed, we should also begin by recalling what it means. Remember that the plain meaning of the word is happy, but it is a much deeper and richer happiness than we think of today. We might say that it is a transcendent happiness, one that goes beyond our material circumstances. Specifically, it is a happiness that only God, the Blessed One, is able to give, for it is the shining, favorable face of God looking upon us.

The Beatitudes, therefore, are less virtues to cultivate and more characteristics for assessment. And being poor in spirit was the first that we observed. As I have already mentioned (and will mention again!), the Beatitudes come as a sort of chain reaction, each one flowing from the previous. So it is with those who mourn. Just as the financially poor have plenty of reasons for sorrow, so it is with the spiritually poor. And this is indeed sorrow. John Blanchard notes that:

the verb “to mourn” –pentheo– is the strongest word for mourning in the Greek language, one that would be used when describing the desolation felt by someone mourning the death of a loved one. When Jacob was tricked into believe that his son Joseph had been killed, he ‘tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and mourned for his son many days’ (Genesis 37:34), and in the Septuagint, the first Greek version of the Old Testament, the verb pentheo is the one used for ‘mourned’… There is an equally telling illustration in the New Testament. When Jesus rose from the dead and appeared to Mary Magdalene, she immediately went and broke the news to those ‘who were mourning and weeping’ (Mark 16:10), and once again the word is pentheo. These illustrations show that we cannot soften the impact of what Jesus said by toning down the force of the word he used. The mourning of which he spoke is not a touch of sadness, but deep, heartfelt grief. (93)

But what kind of grief does Jesus mean? As we did with the poor in spirit, let us first begin by whittling away what Jesus does not mean here.

First, despite how often this verse is used during funerals, Jesus is not promising comfort to all who mourn over the loss of a loved one, especially since many perish apart from Christ and severed from everlasting joy and hope.

Second, it is not what Watson calls a diabolical mourning. Such was Ammon’s wicked mourning after his sister, Tamar. Such also was Ahab’s sorrow at not possessing Naboth’s vineyard. Ammon’s lust was so great that it made him physically ill, and Ahab refused to eat. They were certainly in mourning after what they could not have, yet “this was a devilish mourning” (56)

Third, it is not being in a perpetual state of pessimism and sullenness. Duguid uses Puddleglum from The Silver Chair as a great example, and Lloyd-Jones calls it a false puritanism, which “gave the impression that to be religious was to be miserable” (54). Of course, that kind of graveness often over corrects into a kind of superficial, painted-on-smile, kind of Christianity that obviously does not fit with biblical Christianity either.

Instead, the biblical picture is to be, as Paul was, “sorrowful yet always rejoicing” (2 Corinthians 6:10). And that must be the case, for in 1 Corinthians 12:26, we read: “If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” Thus, because there will always be those in the church who are suffering and those who prospering, we will each be in a constant state of both.

Positively, it is helpful to think about what the Christian mourns over.

First, we ought to mourn over our own sin. Lloyd-Jones writes:

To ‘mourn’ is something that follows of necessity from being ‘poor in spirit’. It is quite inevitable. As I confront God and His holiness, and contemplate the life that I am meant to live, I see myself, my utter helplessness and hopelessness. I discover my quality of spirit and immediately that makes me mourn… A man who truly faces himself, and examines himself and his life, is a man who must of necessity mourn for his sins also, for the things he does. (58)

The problem, of course, is that we will go to virtually any length to not truly face ourselves. For all of our culture’s talk about accepting and affirming yourself, they cannot outrun their own consciences. Our society overdoses on entertainment and requires others to constantly affirm us because we are desperately trying to escape ourselves. Staring at a screen is much more pleasant than staring in the mirror, for we each have God’s law written in our hearts, exposing our sin, revealing our spiritual poverty.

But while the world attempts to silence their consciences, God’s people listen and mourn. They see their sin. In fact, through God’s law, we see our sin far more clearly than our conscience alone is able to reveal. Like a sharp two-edged sword, the Scriptures discern the thoughts and intensions of our heart. In their words, the great depths of our sin are exposed, and the insufficiency of our own righteousness is made clear. The proper response is to mourn.

But even here we find a correct and incorrect form of mourning. In 2 Corinthians 7:10, Paul writes: “For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.” Fittingly, we find a representative of each within the original twelve apostles. During the passion of our Lord, both Judas and Peter sinned against Him, Judas by betraying Him and Peter by renouncing Him three times. Both were great and grievous sins, and both mourned afterward. Matthew 26:75 says that Peter wept bitterly. Then later in 27:3, he reports of Judas that when he “saw that Jesus was condemned, he changed his mind and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, ‘I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.'” Yet Judas’ sorrow descended into despair, and he took his own life in hopeless desperation. Peter, however, experienced proper and bitter sorrow over his sin, which led him to ultimately find forgiveness in Christ. A despairing mourning like Judas has no hope of comfort, whereas the repentant mourning of Peter ultimately finds comfort in Christ.

And that is the story, in broad strokes, of how we each came to Christ. All believers first look to Christ in the midst of beholding their own sinful brokenness. After all, the gospel is the good news of salvation, and it can only be received once we acknowledge our need for salvation.

The Christian, however, does not simply mourn over sin when he first believes but continues to mourn over the sin that he still wars against. Indeed, grammatically, the verb is a present active participle, which means that we could translate the verse as: blessed are the mourning ones… It is a present and continuing action of mourning. Even though we know that all our sin is fully paid in Christ, we still mourn because we see with greater and greater clarity the cost of sin. Duguid writes:

And not just sin in general, but specifically what my sin cost. [Christians] know that each and every one of their sins was piled up onto Jesus on the cross. My sin was pounding the nails into his hands; my sin was pressing down the crown of thorns onto his head. My sin was driving his sense of utter abandonment by God. When we realize that, then the knowledge that we sin each and every day—through accident, through not doing the things we ought, and through our own deliberate fault—becomes something we weep over. Christians mourn their own sins and the heart attitude of rebellion from which all of those actual sins arise.

We ought also to mourn over the effects of sin around us. This is particularly true of sin among other Christians. Anytime we see fellow Christians falling into sin, whether high-profile or local, we should mourn. How tragic whenever a Christian scoffs or snickers at the sin (or perhaps even full apostasy) of another who calls Christ Lord!

Of course, the same could also be said about doctrinal sins in the Church. We who lean toward the Reformed wing of Christianity rightly proclaim the vital importance of sound doctrine. But do we mourn and lament over the errant doctrine of others, or do we, even subtly, look down upon them? Sorrow rather than pride should stir in our hearts whenever we think of how many Christians are chronically malnourished under their pastor’s teaching.

We do well to mourn over the sinfulness of the culture both around and within us. Blanchard writes:

When Paul visited Athens ‘he was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols’ (Acts 17:16). How many Christians today are moved to tears by the idolatry, the blasphemy, the sheer godlessness that characterizes our society? When Jesus looked at the city of Jerusalem ‘he wept over it’ (Luke 19:41). How many Christians today weep over their city, their town, their village, their neighbours? Have our consciences become slowly anaesthetized to the point where we shrug our shoulders when we should be falling to our knees? Many professing Christians happily watch on television things they would never have dreamed of going to see in a cinema 20 years ago or, with even fine hypocrisy, things they would not like to be seen viewing in a cinema today. Profanity, adultery, drunkenness and blasphemy are common ingredients in their daily entertainment. They cackle at the world’s crudity without turning a hir, let alone an ‘Off’ switch. Things that crucified the Son of God are now used by some of those who profess to be his followers to help them relax and unwind at the end of a busy day. Can we seriously expect God to bless that kind of behavior? (107)

We also should mourn over those who are on the road toward destruction. Of course, it is difficult to do so whenever we find ourselves living and acting just like the world. But we should regularly give thought to those who will face eternal destruction without Christ and plead for the Spirit to enlighten the eyes of their heart to see the glories of the gospel.

SORROW IS BETTER THAN LAUGHTER

As depressing as all of this may sound, Jesus is not summoning us to laughter-less lives. On the contrary, Proverbs 17:22 tells us that “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” Indeed, joy is the fruit that the Holy Spirit produces within every believer. However, there is a certain gravity that should mark a Christian. And this is not unique to the New Testament, for Ecclesiastes 7:1-6 gives this wisdom:

            A good name is better than precious ointment,
                        and the day of death than the day of birth.
            It is better to go to the house of mourning
                        than to go to the house of feasting,
            for this is the end of all mankind,
                        and the living will lay it to heart.
            Sorrow is better than laughter,
                        for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.
            The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning,
                        but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.
            It is better for a man to hear the rebuke of the wise
                        than to hear the song of fools.
            For as the crackling of thorns under a pot,
                        so is the laughter of the fools;
                        this also is vanity.

Now, Solomon is not saying that death is good but that death is inevitable, and so therefore it is wise to keep it before our eyes. The imminence of death ought to keep us from living superficial life. Feasting seems plainly better than mourning, and feasting is good… at the right times. But unfortunately, we live in a culture where we have such an abundance that every day becomes a feast. And when every day becomes a feast, nothing really is. When every day is a celebration, nothing truly becomes a celebration.

And this isn’t just us in western 21st Century America. This is a problem of the human soul. It has always been easier to be entertained than to grapple with the fleeting nature of life. Indeed, the philosophy of today is the same as it was during Paul’s day: “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die” (1 Corinthians 15:32). Of course, to abstain from such mindless festivities inherently challenges their thin veil with which they attempt to hide eternity, which is why people of the City of Destruction and later Vanity Fair mock and persecute Christian, even killing his friend Faithful. And Bunyan was simply drawing inspiration from the Christians who were martyred for refusing to take part in the festivals and games to the Roman gods and from the Protestants who were persecuted for refusing to indulge in the church-sanctioned parties. Sobriety is despised by the intoxicated. Likewise, spiritual sorrow is despised by the wicked.

THEY SHALL BE COMFORTED

Indeed, the mourning are simultaneously happy and blessed because they shall not mourn forever; rather they shall be comforted. Blanchard writes:

The root of the word ‘comfort’ is parakaleo, which means ‘to call to one’s side’, and there are many New Testament illustrations of its use. When Jesus was at Capernaum, ‘a centurion came to him asking for help’ (Matthew 8:5). In a remarkable incident, a high-ranking Ethiopian official returning home in his chariot ‘invited Philip to come up and sit with him’ (Acts 8:31) On one of his missionary journeys Paul had a vision of a man from Macedonia ‘standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us”’ (Acts 16:9). These instances help us to see that ‘comfort’ is much more than a consoling pat on the shoulder. It has a dynamic dimension; it speaks of being strengthened by outside resources that are brought alongside to help. (109)

Indeed, when Jesus promises His disciples to send the Holy Spirit to them, the ESV calls Him the Helper. The word Jesus used is parakletos, which is the corresponding noun to parakaleo. That is why the KJV translated it as Comforter.

The KJV’s translation of Comforter, however, requires a bit of an explanation today. According to the Oxford Dictionary, comfort being used in “the sense [of] ‘something producing physical ease’ arose in the mid 17th century.” But the KJV, of course, was originally published in 1611, and its subsequent revisions kept much of its original wording. Comforter is one such example, which means that comfort did not mean producing physical ease when the KJV was published. At that time, comfort instead meant to strengthen or to give support. Thus, the KJV is not declaring that the Holy Spirit’s role is to give us ease but rather to give us strength, to be our Helper.

Consider, therefore, these words of Jesus: “Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you” (John 16:7). Comfort comes to those who mourn through the Holy Spirit, for it is the Spirit who enables us to be Christians. The Spirit convicts us of sin in order to lead us to repentance. The Holy Spirit comforts us by giving us strength to die to self on a daily basis. The Spirit guides us into all truth. He pours spiritual gifts upon us for purpose of maturing together as the body of Christ. He gives a desire to obey Christ, since our love for Christ is displayed through our obedience to His commandments. Finally, the Spirit enables us to pray to the Father by the blood of the Son and to understand the Scriptures that He authored.

John Gill gives a great summary of the many comforts that the Spirit brings to us:

here in this life, by the God of all comfort [1 Corinthians 1:3], by Christ the comforter [1 John 2:1]; by the Spirit of God, whose work and office it is to comfort [John 14:16-17]; by the Scriptures of truth, which are written for their consolation [Romans 15:4]; by the promises of the Gospel, through which the heirs of promise have strong consolation; by the ordinances of it, which are breasts of consolation; and by the ministers of the word, who have a commission from the Lord to speak comfortably to them [1 Corinthians 14:3]; and then are they comforted, when they have the discoveries of the love of God, manifestations of pardoning grace, through the blood of Christ, and enjoy the divine presence: and they shall be comforted hereafter; when freed from all the troubles of this life, they shall be blessed with uninterrupted communion with Father, Son, and Spirit, and with the happy society of angels and glorified saints. 

Indeed, while our comfort begins in this life, the future tense of the verb points us to an ultimate and permanent comfort still to come. The Holy Spirit’s presence within us is “the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory” (Ephesians 1:14). In 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, the Spirit wrote through Paul:

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. Therefore encourage [parakaleo] one another with these words.

And we ought to be comforted and strengthened by those words, for His triumphant return will bring an end to mourning for good. “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning [penthos], nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4). That is the promise that is before us. A promise that is too good not to be true.

But for now, we continue to groan alongside all of creation for the kingdom’s children to be revealed. Christians mourn. It is a fundamental part of our identity in this world, where there is always something to mourn. Fittingly, there is hardly a better display of what it means to be sorrowful but always rejoicing than what we find at our King’s Table. It is here that we are reminded each week of our spiritual poverty, of our utter destitution before God. It is here that we meditate upon the broken body and shed blood of the King of glory, as He bore our sins upon His shoulders. But it is also here that we see the Lamb of God taking away the sins of the world. It is here that we remember Christ’s cry of triumph through His agony: “It is finished.” It is here that we keep our ear toward heaven, waiting for the archangel’s cry to herald the return of our King. Let us, therefore, taste and see the goodness of our Lord gladly became the man of sorrows to bring us eternal comfort.