Perhaps the young man missed the memo. His running days were over. Crossing the line from childhood to adulthood had solidified that fact. Running wasn’t for adults. Running was for children. Running was for slaves hurrying about their master’s business. Running was for those up to nefarious deeds attempting to outrun the ramifications, or for people in the midst of great emergencies. Running was not for average adults. Ever. It was completely undignified. Always embarrassing. Often Immodest. Running required raising one’s robes to prevent entangled feet and mortifying falls. Raised robes came with the risk of exposed ankles. Exposed ankles were not acceptable. Ankles were for walking, not viewing. Showing ankles would be crude. It would cause gossip. So grown men didn’t run. They walked. Sedately. Hands clasped before them. Heads erect. Shoulders straight. Clothing intact. Except for this one.
Racing up to Jesus, robes raised and ankles flashing, the young man dropped to his knees and blurted out the question weighing on his mind. What did he need to do to guarantee eternal life? Was there a special fund to which he should donate for his heavenly entrance to be secured? Was there extra knowledge he needed, facts he should know, laws he had yet to learn to ensure he earned eternal life? He had been to school. He had studied at the temple. He had learned the laws and rules of religion early in life. He’d strictly followed every single word his entire life. Carefully. Rigidly. Willingly. By his calculations, he had done enough to earn eternal life. Yet something niggled at the back of his mind. A feeling that he had missed something, was still missing something. A question that sat there, plaguing his thoughts and badgering his mind. A question he couldn’t answer, the feeling that he was missing something. So he hurried to Jesus’ feet in search of the answer. An answer he didn’t yet know he would hate.
Looking at the prostrate figure before Jesus, the disciples assessed him. Not in jealousy. In normal humanity. His sandals were of finest leather. His robe of exquisite fabric. Heavy gold rings sat on his fingers. The man was clearly lacking nothing. He had money. Much money. His family owned things. Many things. His household was vast enough to necessitate servants. Multiple servants. He could give to the church, the poor, and charitable organizations without even missing the money. When he spoke, it was obvious his education was superior. His words were enunciated. His syntax was perfect. His knowledge of the law was complete. He clearly lacked nothing, owned everything from necessity to convenience, and had comprehensive knowledge of things both religious and mundane. He was everything the disciples weren’t. He had everything the disciples didn’t. Things they had never had. Things they would never have. Things they once had, but chose to sacrifice to follow Jesus. (Mark 10:17-20, 28)
Not one of the disciples had followed Jesus without cost. Peter and Andrew left behind their boat and nets and fishing business. James and John left their father. Matthew left a stable career at the tax booth. Philip and Nathanael left their homes. They all left families–parents, siblings, wives, children–behind to follow Jesus. They lost it all to gain the one thing they believed was most important to their lives. Discipleship to and relationship with Jesus Christ. Even when they didn’t realize who He truly was. Even when they couldn’t understand all His teachings. Even when they had to ask for explanations. Even when everyone said Jesus was just a prophet, not the expected Messiah. Even when all their friends and neighbors shook their heads and raised their eyebrows at their choice. They still believed their loss, the life of poverty, the promise of harassment and persecution, was worth it. Walking with Jesus was worth everything to them. The biggest win for a group of social losers. (Mark 1:16-20; 2:13-14; John 1:35-51)
Society wasn’t especially impressed with fishermen. No one was. They were a dime a dozen. Simple, ordinary people in a necessary occupation. Much like everyone around them. Farmers. Carpenters. Potters. Not elite. Not wealthy. Not socially prestigious. They never would be. They were just cogs in the wheel of society. So were the disciples who weren’t fishermen. None of them had social rank or authority. None of them were religious leaders or held positions of prominence in the Temple. They were all just regular guys in bargain sandals and sale rack robes. Lined up beside this young man draped in finery, they looked like paupers. Losers beside an obvious winner. The disciples weren’t sorry.
How could they be? Their “loss” of earthly things had gained them something they could never buy, would never have found, couldn’t have earned. Something most people only ever hoped to have. Personal fellowship with Jesus Christ. Intimate knowledge of His teaching, a glimpse of His heart, and a direct connection to God. For eleven of them, changing that decision wasn’t even on their radar. They had no inclination to go back and alter their choice. Even then, standing there in knock-off clothes without a penny to their names, if offered the opportunity to do it again, their decision would remain the same. They would still walk away from what little they had, no matter its importance to them, to follow Jesus because they knew the immeasurable value of the gift they had been given and were completely unwilling to sell it back.
The knowledge left them gaping at the man who, upon hearing Jesus’ command to sell his earthly goods and give to the poor, stood slowly up, dusted off his garment, squared his shoulders, and walked away. The disciples couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought for sure he would be a shoo-in. He obeyed the law. All of it. Treated others appropriately. Was honest in business. Respected his parents. He did everything right. His life was above reproach. Yet when it came to his money, his earthly goods, his treasures, he drew a line. He loved them too much. He couldn’t part with them. Not for Jesus. Not for his soul. Not for eternal life.
Sadly watching the young man walk away, Jesus spoke a lesson to His disciples, “In spite of all their advantages in life, it is very difficult for the wealthy to choose the kingdom of God over their kingdom on earth.” Because that is what had happened. When offered the opportunity to choose Jesus over his possessions, his money, his lifestyle, his world, the rich young man shook his head, clasped his hands in front of him, and walked away. Unwilling to surrender his earthly goods to save his eternal soul, the man surrendered his soul to save his lifestyle. He literally turned down a relationship with Jesus for the treasures of the world. And the disciples couldn’t believe it. (Mark 10:21-31)
We can. We can believe it. We understand it far more deeply than the disciples ever could. We have seen it happen. Maybe it has happened to us. Maybe we have been the one who chose our things, our family, our significant other, our hobbies, our desires, over Jesus. We understand how easily it happens. We comprehend how hard it really is to leave everything and everyone behind, surrender it all at the cross, and follow Him. In our world of creature comforts, social pressures, and the constant desire for more, losing it all to gain Christ is a foreign concept. But Jesus’ words haven’t changed. Neither has their meaning. Entrance to the kingdom of God and the promise of eternal life rests not in our ability to simply obey a list of rules. It rests in the surrender of what we hold tightly in our heart.
You see, that young man had everything and nothing all at the same time. He knew it. In the depths of his heart, he knew something was wrong, something was missing. That is why he came to Jesus in the first place. He wanted information. He wanted assurance. He wanted proof that he had done and was doing enough to earn his way into Heaven. But a space in Heaven cannot be purchased with good works or big donations. You can’t earn it by rigidly following the rules. You can’t buy it by feeding the poor and sending large donations to missionaries. No. Finding eternal life is about your heart. What you love most. Who you love best. It is about which kingdom you want to be in. The earthly one with wealth and comfort and fame, or the heavenly one where you willingly surrender yourself and everything earthly to gain the enormous wealth and indescribable beauty of eternity in the kingdom of God.
Centuries later, we have quit hearing this truth spoken quite this way. We have toned down the starkness. Stopped preaching about surrender. We have allowed the line of demarcation between self and surrender to become blurry. It was too uncomfortable.
In our effort to make church and the Bible and God as palatable as possible, we have made concessions, opted out of surrender, choosing rather to chase the things that build our earthly kingdoms rather than gain us entrance into God’s eternal kingdom.
As a society, we have become driven to earthly success and financial prowess. As churches, we have become enamored with wealth-building seminars, beautiful campuses, enormous buildings, and unending activities. As people and organizations, we are completely invested in building kingdoms on earth rather than studiously ensuring we are individually prepared to enter the kingdom of Heaven in eternity. As a whole, we have completely forgotten that we store our treasures where our heart resides. (Matthew 6:19-21; I Timothy 6:7-10)
Jesus hasn’t forgotten. In the same words He uttered to the disciples, He speaks to us today, warning us to step away from the things that don’t matter. Earthly things. Worldly things. Social things. Things that are passing away. Things that stand between us and Him. Things that keep us from full surrender and swing our eternity in the balance. And He asks us to choose. Self or surrender. An earthly kingdom or the kingdom of God. The choice is yours. Always has been. Always will be. God will not pry your hands open to take the things you hold so tightly, even if it is in your best interest to let them go. He wants you to surrender them. Willingly. Because when you surrender to God, you become His kingdom on earth. He guides your thoughts and words and actions. Obedience to His commands brings you joy. The fulfillment of His will becomes your deepest desire. And you can rest there, in that surrender, following His leading, never doubting if you have done enough, been enough, known enough, or paid enough to earn eternal life. Your daily surrender to Him secures it. Surrender to Him and rest. (Hebrews 13:5; Luke 9:23; 14:33; Romans 12:1; Psalm 37:5; 40:8; Galatians 2:20)