“I’ve been meeked!”

I read this line a few weeks ago in a lovely book by Charlie Shedd. He was describing a friend’s reaction to moments in his life when he had essentially been put in his place. Meekness is a funny word. It isn’t common in the current English language. We don’t see it in print, or hear many people use it in public with any frequency. Yet, here it is, just three lines into the propositions Jesus is setting forth about what life in the Kingdom of Heaven is like. Meekness is often thought of as something having to do with humility. But there’s a little more to it than that. The word is more literally translated as mild, and by extension, having a mild disposition, or gentleness of spirit. One can envision humility being a part of that, but meekness is much more than being humble.

We live in a world in which it is common to hear, “If you don’t stand up for yourself, you will get run over.” The idea of having a strong spirit, one that fights for what it wants, is highly valued. Those who are seen as strong, mentally, physically, or emotionally, are raised up. By contrast, those who are seen or experienced as gentle are often seen as weak, easy to run over, the quintessential “nice person” whom no one really knows what to do with, or cares about. The world seems organized to reward hardness rather than meekness. Speak up, and you get noticed. Fight for what you want, and you have a better chance at getting it. It’s so pervasive that I even saw a recent coaching service dubbed, “Kill the Nice Guy.” Really.

There is ample reason for us to accept this proposition of reality and operate as if it were true. A quick look around and we will see “good people” struggling for what appears to be no good reason. We will witness “bad people” getting ahead on account of some intangible ability to get what they want. It’s confusing. It was likely very similar in Jesus’s time. Those in power were strong and expressed that strength through their position. Religious leaders held themselves in high regard and enjoyed social benefits of their position, enforcing strict religious laws often without compassion. Military leaders held themselves in high regard and maintained their position through expressions of military strength. If anyone somehow escaped the burden of the religious and political structures, there were the financial mandates. Taxes were oppressive and unwavering. It would seem as if no one’s position would ever change. Those in power would remain and those without would never gain. Sound familiar?

In this world, Jesus said these words:

I have returned to this saying often because of the culture of competition that I grew up in. Namely, that of Tap Dance Land and the performing arts in general. Tap dancers are inherently competitive. They hide their steps from one another because they don’t want them stolen – something that happens often. Tap dancers can be generous in how they share, but they are often strategic in what they share. They are always competing for work – too many dancers, not enough jobs. And when it comes to dancing with one another, even the friendliest of colleagues may sideline one another for the sake of having their time to shine on stage. It can be rough, especially for a gentle spirit. Tap Dance Land is not the only place this kind of culture emerges. Wherever there is lack, a disparity of provision among groups, the seeds of competitiveness may be planted.

These seeds have blossomed to such a degree in some people that they will defend the reality of competitiveness, and the character traits such a culture forms. They may say things like, “If you can make it in this culture, you will be able to do anything you want, anywhere!” Or, they will highlight all the things you’ll gain from being formed by competition. You will have a thick skin, a strong spirit, and a clear vision of what you want. They will see these as necessary things for success, even good things existentially. Hopefully they will mention something about an ethic around the way you pursue your goals, but that is often lower on the list of important things in a competitive mindset. Winning, which by extension requires the beating of someone else, is most important. In such a world the gift of inheritance is distorted, if ever mentioned. Such gifts are seen mostly as an advantage in the finite game. If I receive a gift, I have been given an edge, which means, I can advance my efforts even further – win even more.

The Kingdom of Heaven is qualitatively different. Here, gentle folks don’t have to fight. They don’t have to get run over either. They can state things plainly, make choices clearly, and move with intention. They are able to be gentle because they are not in need of protecting their own life or livelihood. They are not fighting with others over a limited amount of stuff. Instead, they are operating with a promise of inheritance. What a wonderful image.

Let’s go back a moment. By the time the question of meekness arises – a question that addresses how we might show up in this world – our spirit has already begun a journey of transformation and is just starting to be reestablished. We began this journey by accepting our individual (and maybe even communal) poverty. In that poverty we were given a clearer and more honest picture of who we are. Here, we chose to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven – to accept Jesus’s proposition that we actually could. We then moved to experience deep mourning for the many losses anyone entering God’s Kingdom endures. Instead of wallowing in mourning or avoiding it, we believed that God will comfort us as Jesus proposes. When God did, we sat in wonder – for an innumerable number of reasons. Maybe we were struck that God could actually comfort us in our overwhelming mourning. Maybe we were in awe of God’s own gentleness with us, thinking that as hurt as we were (as much as we cried out), the more anticipated response would have been some kind of corporate discipline (as if God needed to yell, “Stop crying!”). Maybe we were experiencing the simple wonder that the propositions of Jesus are actually true. Regardless, we sat.

If we reflect on the comfort we have received, two things may come to mind. One, the comfort was given. Not on account of our demand of it, but on account of a loving God seeing our need. Two, the comfort that we received was unearned. We didn’t do anything to receive the comfort, that is, other than entrusting our time of mourning to the company of God.

In looking at the Beatitudes as a compounding set of experiences, comfort is the first thing that God gives us after we enter the Kingdom of the Heavens. How beautiful is that. The moment after we enter, we receive a gift. And what a needed gift. After receiving comfort from God (now in God’s Kingdom, instead of outside of it), there is a second question that may arise. Now that I am feeling good, and know that I can always “go to God” to feel good, how am I supposed to be when I’m feeling good? After all, God is not just a refueling station, to be visited or called upon only when we feel down.

At this point in the journey we are turning the corner from what we experience, poverty and mourning, to who we are in God’s Kingdom. Jesus has some things to say about this.

We have already mentioned elsewhere that in the Kingdom of the Heavens we are like children. In addressing meekness, Jesus proposes that the way of the child, now in the context of a loving father, is gentle. In God’s Kingdom, there is no need to cry, or yell, or fight, or force, or manipulate. Have a need? Just ask as if we were in conversation with our father. We will have what we need.

Okay, so maybe we are okay with being gentle with God, in the safety of that company, but what about the rest of the world? What about all the hard things we know about the world in which we have been immersed in for so long? If we are gentle, will we get what we want? Aren’t the gentle folk the ones who lose or get hurt? Aren’t we supposed to have a thick skin, know what we want, and fight for it? Aren’t we supposed to win?

Maybe. Maybe not in the way that we think we are.

Inheritances function in a completely different manner than winning a competition. While I’m sure there are scenarios of inheritance in which all the evils of people – manipulation, favoritism, grudges, and jealousy, to name just a few – are active, but here we are talking about an inheritance given by God. An inheritance in the best of ways functions on love, trust, and the hope of continuity and multiplication. Inheritances are gifts. When the gifts are given, there is consideration by the giver that the gift will be good for the receiver. That the receiver will know how to do good with the gift. That what will be done with the gift once received is more (or better) than what would have happened if the gift wasn’t given or received. And this is the promise. That the things of the earth (provision, physical needs, any good earthly thing really) will be given as an inheritance to the meek. The interactive experience of inheritance, the receiving of an unearned gift, will be the experience of how the meek receive provision.

In the spring of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic instigated a series of global responses that significantly impacted the world. In my life, the most significant impact was that the entire performing arts industry shut down. Every dance venue, including theaters, clubs, and schools, was effectively shuttered. Every habit of thought I had about how my work should look was interrupted. Every expectation I had about what I was supposed to be doing for work, and where provision should come from was obsolete. Within a few short months I lost every job I had and was working with a blank slate. Nothing normal could work. Every old avenue was closed. Almost everyone was now working to rethink their lives and livelihoods.

In the coming months it felt like every gig that did come through, every proposal that was accepted, every client that signed up for an online course or coaching, was a gift. There were even folks who came through with actual financial gifts! There was nothing that I did (or could have done) to make those things happen. I did what I could – share my need, write the proposal, advertise the class – but the rest was left to God. And did God ever come through. One of the craziest parts of the pandemic for me was that I felt so provided for in those months, I almost didn’t know what to do when the industry started opening up again!

Being meek does not mean being naïve. Being meek does not mean being unintelligent. Being meek does not mean being physically weak. Being meek does not mean being anything less than the kind of person who has developed their talents and capacity to their fullest. Rather, someone who is meek may have immense physical strength (which could be used in violence). They may have a sharp mind (which can lead to a sharp tongue). They may be aware of the negative social dynamics they are immersed in (which they could manipulate for their gain). Regardless, when interacting, what comes out of the meek person is gentleness – a gentle demeanor, a gentle tongue, a gentle navigation of social dynamics – never for evil but rather for good. Imagine, a gentle stance, and a gentle walk. Imagine, a gentle yes, and a gentle no. Imagine, a gentle encouragement and a gentle correction. Imagine, a gentle agreement and a gentle rebuttal. These are the things of the meek.

To these kinds of people – those whom the world sees and runs right over – Jesus says, the earth will be their inheritance. May we all be as happy as the one who has found the grounds for gentleness in God’s Kingdom and the experience of inheritance that comes along with it.