Matthew 5:1-2 sets the scene: "When Jesus saw the crowds, He went up on the mountain; and after He sat down, His disciples came to Him. He opened His mouth and began to teach them…"
This sermon is not merely a moral code, a set of ethical guidelines polished and placed neatly on a shelf. It’s not the Jefferson Bible’s trimmed-down version, stripped of miracles and mysteries, leaving behind hollow moral platitudes. No, this is the King’s Sermon—a proclamation of the new covenant, a declaration from the Messiah, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham, the true and better Moses.
Jefferson’s arrogance is laid bare in his razor-slashed Bible. His “diamonds in the dunghill” view misses the point entirely. The Sermon on the Mount isn’t a disembodied ethical guide; it is inseparable from the Christ who speaks it, the One whose genealogy he discarded, whose nativity he ignored, whose baptism and wilderness victory he found unnecessary. Jefferson cut away the flesh and left dry bones, unable to grasp that the Sermon’s life comes from the living Word Himself.
This is the sermon of the new covenant. Matthew’s opening words—"the book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ"—echo Genesis, signaling a new beginning. Where Genesis chronicles the old creation, Matthew unveils the dawn of the new. Jesus, the new Adam, ushers in the covenant promised in Jeremiah 31: a law written on hearts, sins forgiven, and God dwelling with His people.
A covenant isn’t just a contract; it’s a divine relationship, sealed by God’s word. The covenant of grace, hinted at through Noah, Abraham, Moses, and David, finds its fullness in Jesus. He obeyed the law perfectly, bore the curse for our failures, and grants all its blessings to those who believe. The Sermon on the Mount flows from this covenant—it’s not advice for the morally curious but instruction for the redeemed. It’s the ethos of a kingdom built not by human hands but established through divine blood, sweat, and resurrection.
It is the sermon of the Messiah-King. Matthew identifies Jesus as "the Son of David," the fulfillment of God’s promise to establish an eternal throne. Like Joshua, Jesus leads His people into the promised inheritance, not by military conquest, but through victory over sin and death. To acknowledge Christ as King is to confess, "He rules over me, the world, and Satan, and He defends me." But acknowledging His kingship is not mere lip service; it demands allegiance, loyalty, and submission to His reign. The Sermon on the Mount describes the character of those who live under this divine monarchy—poor in spirit, meek, hungry for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, peacemakers, and persecuted for His name.
But He’s not just King—He’s King of kings. As "the son of Abraham," Jesus embodies the promise that through Abraham’s seed, all nations will be blessed. Paul in Galatians 3 connects this directly to the gospel: righteousness comes by faith, not lineage. Christ’s reign is universal, His kingdom global. Isaiah’s vision of the shoot from Jesse’s stump—a righteous judge striking the earth with the rod of His mouth—finds fulfillment in the One whose words carry divine authority.
Revelation’s imagery of the rider on the white horse, eyes blazing, robe dipped in blood, sword from His mouth, "King of kings and Lord of lords" emblazoned on His thigh—this is the same Jesus who sits on the mount, opening His mouth to teach. His words are not suggestions; they are the decrees of the Sovereign. They carry weight, not just because of their wisdom, but because of who speaks them. The Sermon on the Mount is not a collection of wise sayings; it is the constitution of the kingdom of God, delivered by its King.
And yet, He is not distant. This is the sermon of the Priest-King, "Immanuel," God with us. The Word became flesh, dwelt among us, faced our temptations, and now intercedes as our great High Priest. He’s not a monarch cloistered in heavenly halls but a Savior who sympathizes with our weaknesses, inviting us to draw near with confidence. In Jesus, the throne of judgment becomes a throne of grace. His teachings are not cold edicts from an aloof ruler but heartfelt instructions from a God who walked our dusty roads, felt our hunger, bore our griefs, and carried our sorrows.
Finally, this is the sermon of the true and better Moses. Matthew’s Gospel paints the parallels vividly: Jesus, like Israel, called out of Egypt; Jesus, like Moses, passing through waters—His baptism echoing the Red Sea. Forty days in the wilderness mirror Israel’s forty years. And now, Jesus ascends the mountain, not to receive the law, but to give it. Unlike Moses, who served as a mediator, Jesus speaks with direct authority because He is the Word made flesh.
Where Moses brought tablets of stone, Jesus brings words etched on hearts. Where Moses reflected the glory of God, Jesus radiates it. The crowd gathered around Him that day wasn’t just hearing another prophet; they were listening to the fulfillment of the law and the prophets. Jesus didn’t come to abolish the law but to fulfill it—to embody it, to live it perfectly, and to explain its true intent. The Sermon on the Mount reveals the heart of God’s law, not just as a set of rules but as a vision for human flourishing under God’s reign.
This sermon isn’t for casual listeners. It’s for disciples, kingdom subjects, new covenant people. It outlines the character of the blessed, the influence of the salt and light, the true interpretation of the law, the disciplines of prayer, fasting, and generosity, the call to kingdom-centered ambition, and the radical commitment required of Christ’s followers.
The Sermon on the Mount isn’t a ladder to climb toward God but a description of the life that flows from being united to Christ. It’s not moralism; it’s kingdom life. It’s not for the proud, like Jefferson, who dissect the Word to suit their intellect. It’s for the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the persecuted—for those who know they need a King, a Savior, a God-with-us.
So, what is this sermon? It’s the King’s manifesto, the constitution of His kingdom, spoken by the Word Himself. It’s a call not just to hear but to follow—to be transformed not by moral effort but by the grace and truth of Jesus Christ, the King of kings and Lord of lords.
It’s a sermon that confronts us, challenges us, and comforts us all at once. It’s a mirror showing us who we truly are and a window revealing who we are called to be. It’s the voice of the Shepherd calling His sheep, the command of the Captain rallying His troops, the wisdom of the Teacher enlightening His students, and the love of the Savior drawing His people near.
This sermon is for you—not as a distant historical artifact but as the living word of the living God. Listen. Believe. Follow. And find life in the One who spoke it.
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