“Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
Matthew 5:12
Most of us don’t enjoy being misunderstood. We long for connection, not conflict—for affirmation, not alienation. Yet Christ never disguised the cost of obedience. In fact, He pointed to it. “Blessed are you,” He said, “when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of Me.” And just in case we missed the weight of that blessing, He added: “Rejoice and be glad.”
That sounds almost impossible—until you remember what’s behind the command.
Jesus wasn’t romanticizing rejection. He was revealing reality. Righteousness will, at times, provoke resistance—not because we’ve done wrong, but because light makes hidden things visible. Truth, by nature, confronts. And those who have grown comfortable in the dark rarely thank the one who flips the switch.
This is not new. Jesus anchors His words in history: “For in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.” The road of righteousness is not a detour. It’s a well-worn path. Abel walked it and was killed by his own brother. Moses walked it straight into Pharaoh’s fury. Jeremiah wept on it. Elijah despaired on it. But none of them walked it alone—and neither do we.
We are not called to chase persecution. But we are called to endure it when it finds us. Why? Because faith that folds under pressure was never faith at all. Because obedience isn’t measured in ease, but in endurance. Because what is costly now will be counted in heaven.
That’s the hard part of Christian maturity: learning to live with a long view. To delay gratification. To trade the applause of now for the approval of eternity. We admire those who train their bodies for competition, who sacrifice short-term comfort for a greater prize. Why should we expect less of the soul?
Obedience will cost you something. Maybe a promotion. Maybe a friendship. Maybe just the dull ache of not quite fitting in. But make no mistake—every loss for Christ yields a return far greater than anything forfeited. As C.S. Lewis put it, “Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you will get neither.”
When you feel the sting of being left out, passed over, or quietly opposed for walking in truth, don’t rush past it. Name it. Bring it before God. Tell Him the truth about how it hurts. And then remind yourself of His truth: Heaven sees. Heaven remembers. Heaven rewards.
We often treat rejection as a setback. But in the kingdom of God, it is often a signal: you’re on the right road. And rejoicing, then, becomes a kind of resistance—a holy defiance that says, I will not let the world determine my worth. I will not let fear drown out obedience. I will not live for approval that can be withdrawn with a whisper.
To rejoice in the middle of suffering is not denial—it’s faith. It’s the bold, steady belief that God’s promises are more real than public opinion. That eternity is not just a distant hope, but a present anchor.
The world rewards conformity. Heaven rewards courage. The world favors silence. Heaven honors truth. And when the two collide, as they surely will, we must choose which reward we want most.
So if you find yourself misunderstood for doing what is right, rejoice. Not because the pain feels noble. But because it’s not wasted. Because heaven keeps better records than man ever will. Because the same God who stood with the prophets stands with you now.
Obedience may cost you comfort. But it will never cost you Christ.
And when all is said and done, He is the only reward that lasts.