This week, we continue with the second beatitude found in Matthew 5:4:
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

At first glance, this verse sounds like a contradiction. How can someone who is mourning—someone in the depths of grief—be considered blessed? Mourning is tied to loss, pain, and heartache. It doesn’t feel desirable, let alone like a pathway to blessing. And yet, Jesus makes this bold promise: those who mourn will be comforted.

The truth is, grief touches all of us—often more frequently than we realize. While we tend to associate mourning with funerals or major life tragedies, the need to grieve surfaces in everyday disappointments, too.

Consider a scene at Starbucks: after waiting in a painfully long line, you finally step up to order your favorite drink—a venti oat milk chai latte—only to be told they’ve run out of oat milk. Your sigh and half-defeated “Okay, fine, I’ll take almond,” is a small expression of grief. You’ve let go of the ideal you were holding onto and accepted something less than perfect. It might sound trivial, but it reveals something deeper: every loss, big or small, invites us to acknowledge what we hoped for and come to terms with what is.

You could have refused to grieve. You could have clung to your ideal, raised your voice, and tried to force the world to meet your expectations. But reality doesn’t always bend to our will. And when we try to ignore our grief—when we pretend, we’re fine or demand control—we miss the very thing Jesus promises: comfort.

Grief is not weakness; it’s a doorway. When we allow ourselves to mourn—whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a dream, or even oat milk—we acknowledge our limits and our longing. And in that honest space, God meets us. He doesn’t shame our sorrow. He sits with us in it. And through His presence, we find real comfort.

So this week, ask yourself: What loss have I minimized or ignored? Where do I need to make space to mourn? Because in that space, Jesus says, we are blessed—and we will be comforted.