"What We Give Up"--October 25, 2019

"What We Give Up"--October 25, 2019

"As [Jesus] was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, 'Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?' Jesus said to him, 'Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.' He said to him, 'Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.' Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, 'You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.' When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions." [Mark 10:17-22]

Jesus loved him.  

At every moment of this story, even though Jesus knew he was going to be passed over like chopped liver by this well-heeled would-be disciple, Jesus loved him.  In fact, he never stopped loving him.  I dare say Jesus still loves him right now.

It's a detail that we often skip over in this story, but Mark seems intent on slowing things down in this conversation enough to add his editorial description that Jesus, "looking at him, loved him" before daring him to pawn his possessions and give the money to the poor.  Mark wants us to know that Jesus doesn't say this as an impossible test, as though he's trying to get the other man to fail or give up.  Jesus isn't trying to blow him off or discourage him, nor is he trying to punish the man who has come to him.  Jesus isn't insisting on payment for access to God, or demanding some kind of quid pro quo to earn your way into eternal life or the Heaven Club. Jesus isn't trying to make the man sad or upset or miserable--it is, rather, that Jesus knows what makes life really worth living. In other words, Jesus doesn't tell the man to sell his possessions in spite of the fact that Jesus loves him; it is precisely because Jesus loves him.

Now, in fairness, we should note here that something seems to have been exceptional about this man's situation. Jesus doesn't that demand everyone who comes to him must sell all their possessions. That's not a prerequisite of Mary and Martha, for example, who kept on entertaining Jesus in the home that they very much still possessed.  And Jesus doesn't make Zacchaeus sell all of his possessions when ol' Zach spontaneously offered to give half.  

But--and we just can't get away from this--Jesus does, for some reason, think it is vital that this particular man sell his possessions, give the proceeds away to the poor, and then follow.  Jesus readily acknowledges that this isn't something he has demanded of everyone, and yet Jesus also shows no indication that he is willing to negotiate on this one.  He doesn't demand something that is physically impossible--there is no requirement of performing a miracle, walking on water, or curing leprosy.  In that sense, Jesus' call to the rich man is entirely ordinary.

And yet, you can just imagine the protests on his lips as he goes away, head down, bitterly muttering.  You can voice his sadness and anger toward Jesus, because chances are they are forming in your mind like they form in mine when I read this story and see myself in this man's place.  We know how this pouting protest goes.  "Oh, really, Jesus?  So you think I can't follow you well enough if I don't get rid of my belongings?  So, what--you just expect all of us to be like monks and live without?  So you don't think people can really love God if they also own a house or a decent farm?  So I can't have my stuff and also follow you?  I should just empty my whole life so I can wander around aimlessly with you, is that it?  And otherwise, I'm not, what, dedicated enough for you?  Do you really think so little of me, Jesus?  Because I did, after all, come here to you and ask to follow you...."  Those words have been yours and mine plenty of times, I imagine.  That's how you know Jesus has poked at a tender spot.

But remember, Jesus loves this man.  He cares about him deeply.  He loved him before the rich man proudly announced how well he had kept the commandments (in his own recollection), as well as afterward.  He loved him before the challenge to sell his possessions, and he loved him, too, even when the rich man went moping away.  Jesus wasn't trying to end things with this would-be follower.  In fact, it is precisely because Jesus loved him that he directed the man to let go of all the other stuff that was getting in the way between him and a life fully centered on God.

See, the problem isn't whether it is "sinful" to have money, or a house, or a family, or a new car, or a trip to Europe planned, or fun plans for the weekend.  That misses the point.  It's not about whether it is breaks a commandment to be in a certain tax bracket or have a membership to the country club.  It's a question of whether any of those things--big or small--are getting between us and God.  From Jesus' vantage point, the rich man has to choose what gets the first allegiance in his life--going where God leads, or holding onto his stuff.  The rich man was just hoping he wouldn't have to ever pick between the two, and that's part of why he gets into such a huff when Jesus calls his bluff and makes him actually choose.  He was sure that Jesus wouldn't say it was "sinful" or "against the rules" to have all the comfortable trappings of life that he had, and so he couldn't possibly imagine seriously being asked to give all that up. But as so often is the case in life, it's not that we are deciding between something obviously evil and something obviously good; rather, we are usually left having to decide whether to pick between what is okay and what is genuinely good.  And Jesus just forces us to realize that at some point we can't have it all--we have to decide whether we would rather have the not-technically-sinful-but-still-lesser-thing, or whether we would rather be free to love God with our whole selves.

It was never that owning a house or a field or a brand-new chariot was a wicked thing by itself.  It's that, quite honestly, we have only so much attention, love, and self to give in this life.  And the time and effort I devote to maintaining my house, field, chariot, and so on is time I am not free to go where Jesus would lead me.  I cannot maintain the necessary empty space in my life to be free to follow Jesus if I have filled my life with stuff and filled my calendar with appointments for maintaining my stuff.  So while Jesus doesn't say in the abstract that "No one can ever own any possessions if they want to follow me," he knows that for this particular man, those possessions will always get in the way of holding the empty space in his life that would free him to follow Jesus.  

For others of us, it's not our possessions that possess us but our social lives... or our achievements at work... or our reputations... or our political preferences... or the legacy we leave behind and how we are remembered.  So Jesus may not come up to me and demand I sell my car (maybe I wouldn't get much to give to the poor for a rust-colored 2009 Subaru hatchback with a dented front fender anyway), but he might insist that I have to give up my technology... or my plans for the weekend... or my insecure need to be liked... or any of a number of other things.  Or he might ask you to let go of your need to have the cookie-cutter life with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence... or the online relationship that is sucking the oxygen out of the room and keeping you from being able to help the others God sends across your path... or the set of political commitments you have been holding onto like a family heirloom without ever stopping to ask if they fit with the Jesus way of life.  

I can't guess what Jesus will say to you when he starts the sentence, "You lack one thing..." But my suspicion is that it isn't always something obviously wicked or sinful--it might just be the thing that is keeping you from being fully available to God because it is the one thing you don't want to let go of.  And when Jesus says that to you, as he keeps saying it to me day by day, it's not because he is trying to punish us or test us or because he hates us or wants us to be miserable.  It is because Jesus knows the things that are keeping us from being completely given over to God, and he knows that often what keeps us from being fully immersed in God are not obvious evils but simply lesser goods that we give our allegiance to rather than to God.  

It is because Jesus loves the rich man that he insists he must sell his possessions, give the money to the poor, and come follow.  It is because Jesus loves me that he keeps calling me to surrender what I keep giving my allegiance to.  And it is because Jesus loves you, too, that he just might call you to let go of things that seem perfectly innocuous but are keeping us from being able to give ourselves fully to God.  Your list might be different than mine--that's how it is.  But the love of Jesus is the same to each of us.  Like Frederick Buechner says, "Christ's love so wishes our joy that it is ruthless against everything in us that diminishes our joy."  That might mean letting go of things we thought made us "happy" for a minute for the sake of having the One who gives us "joy" forever.  But that letting go isn't a punishment meted out or a price waiting to be paid--it is what allows us to be completely given over to the Love of Christ who will not let us go.

Remember, dear ones--beginning to end, Jesus loves us.  And he still loves the mopey and bitter rich man, too.

Lord Jesus, root out the things that keep us from you, and let us see that digging as your work of love in us.