The notion of a divine warehouse full of packages (for me!), just waiting for me to back my station wagon up to the door and load up by simply asking is laughably problematic. But the conclusive, eighth Beatitude might teach us that if there were boxes of blessedness to be collected, we might open them and find them to contain, not neat goodies we’d hate to miss out on, but harder realities we might prefer to leave in the bay. The saints who have lived most closely to God have opened their “boxes” and discovered that following Jesus can and does leave you marginalized, ostracized, wounded, in danger, and even dead. If we try to yank out the thread of the final Beatitudes, we unravel the fabric, and think God is boxing up a little kingdom, something comforting, even a grand inheritance–forgetting that promises are for the future, not this minute, forgetting the immense cost of discipleship (James C. Howell, The Beatitudes for Today).
No matter how trying our circumstances, we are blessed. For our poverty, we will be filled. In our mourning, comforted. In our powerlessness, established. Even our hunger for righteousness will be satisfied. Hold on to hope–the King and his kingdom are at hand.