Matthew 5:45

Berean Standard Bible

that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.

King James Bible

That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

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Matthew 5:45, nestled within the Sermon on the Mount, captures a profound moment in Jesus’ teaching where he challenges his listeners to rethink the boundaries of love and the nature of God’s grace. The verse, in its essence, states that God “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” This statement, simple yet staggering in its implications, serves as a cornerstone for understanding divine impartiality and the radical call to love that Jesus presents. To unpack this verse fully, we must consider its theological depth, its cultural and historical context, and its enduring challenge to human behavior and belief.

At its core, Matthew 5:45 reveals a God whose benevolence transcends human divisions. The sun rises and the rain falls—two elemental forces necessary for life—without discrimination. This imagery would have been vivid for Jesus’ first-century audience, who lived in an agrarian society dependent on natural cycles. The sun and rain were not mere metaphors but the very means of survival, sustaining crops and ensuring abundance or scarcity. To say that God bestows these gifts on both the righteous and the unrighteous was to upend a common assumption: that divine favor was reserved for the morally upright or the covenantally faithful. In the religious imagination of the time, blessings were often seen as rewards for righteousness, while suffering or lack signaled divine disfavor. Jesus, however, dismantles this transactional view of God’s action. The divine generosity he describes is not contingent on human merit but flows freely, reflecting a God whose love is boundless and whose providence is universal.

This teaching emerges in the context of Jesus’ broader discourse on love, particularly the command to love one’s enemies, which immediately precedes this verse. The call to love beyond natural affinities—to extend care not just to neighbors but to adversaries—was radical then and remains so now. By pointing to God’s impartial provision, Jesus grounds this ethic in the character of God himself. If God sustains both the evil and the good, then those who seek to emulate God must also transcend petty divisions and tribal loyalties. The verse serves as both a theological statement and a moral imperative: to be children of the heavenly Father is to mirror his indiscriminate kindness. This is no small demand. It asks for a love that defies instinct, a love that persists in the face of hostility or ingratitude, a love that reflects the divine rather than the human.

The cultural backdrop of first-century Judea adds further weight to this teaching. Jesus spoke to a people under Roman occupation, where divisions between Jew and Gentile, righteous and sinner, were sharply drawn. The religious elite often viewed themselves as the rightful recipients of God’s favor, while tax collectors, sinners, and outsiders were deemed unworthy. Jesus’ words cut through this exclusivity, challenging his listeners to see God’s heart as far broader than their own. The reference to sun and rain also carries an echo of Old Testament themes, where God’s sovereignty over creation is a testament to his power and goodness. Yet Jesus reframes this sovereignty not as a display of might but as an expression of grace, one that invites humanity to participate in the same generosity.

Theologically, Matthew 5:45 points to the concept of common grace, the idea that God’s goodness extends to all creation, regardless of moral standing. This is not to say that Jesus dismisses the importance of righteousness or justice—far from it. The Sermon on the Mount is replete with calls to holiness and obedience. But here, Jesus emphasizes that God’s love is not confined by human categories of worthiness. This has profound implications for how we understand divine justice and mercy. If God’s provision is universal, then human attempts to restrict love or hoard blessings are misaligned with the divine character. The verse subtly critiques any theology or worldview that seeks to limit God’s grace to a select few, whether based on religious observance, ethnic identity, or moral performance.

On a practical level, this verse confronts us with the difficulty of living out such a love. To love as God loves—to bless those who curse us, to do good to those who harm us—is an unnatural act. It requires a transformation of the heart, a reorientation of priorities, and a willingness to let go of resentment. Jesus’ teaching here is not merely aspirational but deeply countercultural, both in his time and ours. In a world that thrives on division—whether political, social, or ideological—the call to love indiscriminately feels almost impossible. Yet it is precisely in this impossibility that the power of the gospel shines through. Jesus does not merely command this love; he embodies it, ultimately demonstrating it on the cross, where he prays for the forgiveness of those who crucify him.

The universal imagery of sun and rain also invites reflection on the nature of God’s kingdom. If God’s provision extends to all, then the kingdom Jesus proclaims is not a gated community but an open field, where all are invited to partake in divine abundance. This challenges any tendency toward spiritual elitism or exclusionary practices within religious communities. It also raises questions about how we, as individuals and societies, distribute resources and opportunities. If God’s gifts are given without partiality, what does it mean for us to withhold kindness, justice, or mercy from those we deem unworthy? The verse subtly critiques systems of power that favor the “deserving” while neglecting the marginalized, calling instead for a generosity that mirrors God’s own.

In a broader sense, Matthew 5:45 invites us to reconsider our understanding of justice and fairness. Human notions of justice often demand that good be rewarded and evil punished, yet Jesus points to a God whose love operates on a different logic. This is not to say that God is indifferent to sin—scripture is clear that God’s justice is real and ultimate—but that his love precedes and outpaces judgment. The sun rises on the evil, not because evil is inconsequential, but because God’s desire is for redemption rather than condemnation. This perspective can reshape how we engage with those who wrong us, urging us toward reconciliation and restoration rather than retribution.

For contemporary readers, this verse remains a piercing call to action. In an era marked by polarization, where enmity often defines relationships between groups, Jesus’ words challenge us to break the cycle of hostility. To love as God loves is to see the humanity in those we are tempted to demonize, to recognize that even those who oppose us are sustained by the same divine hand. This does not mean ignoring injustice or excusing harm, but it does mean refusing to let hatred have the final word. It means choosing to act with kindness, even when it feels undeserved, because that is the way of the God who sends rain on all.

Ultimately, Matthew 5:45 is a window into the heart of God and a mirror held up to our own. It reveals a God whose love is vast, impartial, and unrelenting, and it calls us to reflect that love in our lives. It is a reminder that the Christian ethic is not about earning divine favor but about embodying it, not about restricting love to the worthy but about extending it to all. In its simplicity, the verse carries a weighty challenge: to live as children of a Father whose generosity knows no bounds, and to love in a way that makes the kingdom visible in a divided world.

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Beloved in Christ, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who has called us out of darkness into his marvelous light. I write to you, scattered across cities and nations, united by the Spirit, yet wrestling with the tensions of a world divided by strife, enmity, and the clamor of human pride. My heart is stirred to speak of a truth that pierces the soul, a truth spoken by our Lord himself in the fifth chapter of Matthew’s gospel, verse forty-five, where he declares that our Father in heaven “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Let us linger here, brothers and sisters, for in these words lies a revelation of God’s heart and a summons to walk in the way of his kingdom—a way that is both glorious and costly.

Consider, dear ones, the weight of this divine pronouncement. The sun, that radiant gift of life, rises each morning not by human merit but by the sovereign will of God. The rain, which waters the earth and brings forth abundance, falls not only on the fields of the faithful but also on those who turn from God’s ways. This is no small thing. In a world that measures worth by deeds, status, or allegiance, our God pours out his common grace without distinction. The evil and the good, the righteous and the unrighteous, all stand beneath the same sky, warmed by the same light, nourished by the same showers. This is the scandal of divine love—a love that refuses to be confined by our categories, a love that flows freely to those who curse the Giver as well as those who worship him. Herein lies the mystery of our Father’s heart: he is not a God of partiality, but one whose generosity is boundless, whose mercy is unfathomable, whose desire is for all to know the life he offers.

Yet, beloved, this truth is not merely a doctrine to be admired; it is a call to transformation. Our Lord spoke these words in the context of his command to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, to do good to those who hate us. Do you see the connection? If God, in his infinite holiness, extends his provision to those who rebel against him, how much more are we, his children, called to reflect that same love? We who have been reconciled to God through the blood of Christ, we who have tasted the riches of his grace, are summoned to a love that mirrors the Father’s own. This is no easy task. The world around us—fractured by division, fueled by resentment—tempts us to love only those who love us, to bless only those who bless us. But such love, Jesus says, is no different from the world’s. Even sinners love those who love them. You, however, are called to a higher way, a way that reflects the very character of God.

Let us not shrink from the challenge, brothers and sisters. To love as God loves is to step into the crucible of grace. It is to look upon those who wound us, who mock us, who stand against all we hold dear, and to see them as recipients of the same divine care that sustains us. The politician whose words inflame your anger, the coworker who betrays your trust, the stranger who embodies all you fear—these, too, are warmed by God’s sun, refreshed by his rain. And you, dear ones, are called to bless them, to pray for them, to seek their good. This is not a call to naivety or to ignore justice; rather, it is a call to trust that God’s justice is perfect, while his love is relentless. To love your enemy is not to condone their sin but to desire their redemption, to hold out hope that they, too, might encounter the transforming grace of Christ.

I urge you, therefore, to examine your hearts. Where have you drawn lines that God has not? Where have you withheld kindness because of offense or fear? The Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, empowering you to love beyond your natural capacity. Consider the cross, where our Savior prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” There, in the agony of betrayal and rejection, he embodied the love he now commands of us. If he, the sinless one, loved those who crucified him, how can we refuse to love those who merely wound us? This is the way of the kingdom—a way that confounds the wisdom of the world, a way that declares the power of God to overcome evil with good.

In your daily lives, beloved, let this truth take root. In your homes, where tempers flare and patience wears thin, let your love reflect the impartial grace of God. In your workplaces, where competition and ambition often reign, let your actions testify to a generosity that seeks the good of all. In your communities, torn by ideological battles and cultural divides, let your words and deeds shine as a beacon of Christ’s reconciling love. Do not grow weary in doing good, for the God who sends rain on the unrighteous sees your labor and will strengthen you. When you are tempted to despair, when the cost of love feels too great, remember that you are not alone. The Spirit intercedes for you, the Son advocates for you, and the Father delights in you.

Moreover, let this truth shape how you view the world. The sun and rain that fall on all remind us that God’s kingdom is not a walled fortress but an open field, inviting all to partake in his goodness. As you engage with those who do not yet know Christ, let your life be a testament to the God who loves before he judges, who provides before he demands. Share the gospel not with arrogance, as if you alone deserve God’s favor, but with humility, knowing that you, too, were once far off, yet brought near by grace. In a world that thrives on exclusion, be agents of inclusion, reflecting the Father’s heart for all people.

I am mindful, dear ones, that this call is daunting. The world is not kind to those who love without condition. You may face scorn, misunderstanding, even persecution. Yet take heart, for your reward is not in the approval of men but in the joy of your Father, who sees what is done in secret and rejoices in your faithfulness. Let the truth of Matthew 5:45 be your anchor: you are children of a God whose love knows no bounds, and he has equipped you to walk in that love. Press on, therefore, with courage and hope, knowing that the one who began a good work in you will carry it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

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O God of boundless grace, Father of all mercies, you who cause your sun to rise on the evil and the good, who send your rain upon the righteous and the unrighteous, we bow before your throne with hearts full of awe and gratitude. Your love, O Lord, is a mystery too deep for our minds to fathom, a generosity too vast for our hearts to contain. You are the Creator who sustains all things, the Sovereign who pours out blessings without distinction, the Redeemer whose mercy embraces those who turn from you and those who seek you. We stand in the light of your impartial goodness, humbled by the truth that your provision falls upon all, not because of our worth, but because of your unchanging nature. Blessed are you, O God, whose heart is ever turned toward the flourishing of your creation.

We confess, O Father, that we have often failed to reflect your love. In a world fractured by division, we have clung to our tribes, our grievances, our self-righteousness. We have loved those who love us and withheld kindness from those who oppose us, forgetting that you, in your infinite wisdom, shower grace upon all. Forgive us, Lord, for the ways we have narrowed your mercy, for the times we have judged where you have blessed, for the moments we have cursed where you have prayed. Cleanse our hearts by your Spirit, that we might see as you see, love as you love, and walk in the way of your Son, who embodied your heart even unto the cross.

We lift our voices in intercession, O God, for a world that groans under the weight of enmity and strife. You, who send rain to nourish both the just and the unjust, teach us to be agents of your reconciling love. For those who wound us, for those who mock your name, for those who stand against your kingdom, we pray your blessing. Not because they deserve it, but because you are good, and your mercy endures forever. Transform their hearts, O Lord, as you have transformed ours, that they might know the joy of your salvation. For our communities, divided by ideology and fear, we ask for your healing presence. Let your church be a beacon of your indiscriminate grace, a people who love beyond reason, who bless beyond merit, who pray beyond hope.

Grant us, O Father, the courage to live as your children, reflecting your character in a world that knows only conditional love. When we are tempted to hate, remind us of your sun that rises on all. When we are inclined to withhold, stir us with the memory of your rain that falls without prejudice. Fill us with your Spirit, that we might love our enemies, pray for those who persecute us, and do good to those who harm us. Let our lives testify to the truth of your gospel, that you are a God who desires not the death of sinners but their redemption, a God who delights in mercy over judgment. May our words, our actions, our very being proclaim the radical love of Christ, who gave himself for those who rejected him.

We pray, too, for those who suffer under the weight of injustice, for the marginalized, the forgotten, the despised. You, who sustain all with your provision, see their pain and hear their cries. Move us, your people, to act as your hands and feet, to extend your care to those the world overlooks. Let us not hoard your blessings but share them freely, as you do, that your kingdom might be glimpsed in our generosity. For the weary, the broken, the lost, we ask for your comfort and your light, that they might know the God who never turns away.

O Lord, our hope and our strength, we marvel at the mystery of your common grace, that you sustain a world that so often spurns you. Yet we rejoice that your love is not deterred, your kindness not diminished, your purpose not thwarted. Draw us deeper into your heart, that we might be conformed to the image of your Son, who loved without limit and gave without reserve. May we, as your church, embody the truth of your word, that the world might see your glory through our love. We long for the day when every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Until that day, keep us steadfast, O God. Uphold us by your Spirit, guide us by your truth, and empower us by your grace. To you, who are able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine, be all honor, glory, and praise, now and forevermore. Amen.