“Let the children come to Me, and do not hinder them,” says Jesus, “for to such belongs the Kingdom of God. Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”
It’s a radical statement, one that leaves us scratching our heads. How, we wonder, are we to be like helpless infants in receiving the Kingdom?
Into this moment of confusion steps the young ruler. Head of his class, bit of a brown-noser, he flashes his backstage pass (Judas sells them on the side) and tries to ingratiate himself with Jesus with little luck.
“Good teacher!” he says with a flourish (and probably a bow he practiced for the Renaissance Faire), “what must I do to be saved?”
Jesus is not about to encourage him. “Why do you call Me good? No one is good but God alone.”
In refusing “good” as a description of Himself, Jesus takes the word off the table for the young ruler as well. He does so because He knows exactly where this conversation is heading.
“You know the commandments,” Jesus says (and proceeds to rattle off half of the Big 10).
“All these,” says the smug young ruler with a flourish, “I have kept” (he places his hand on his heart) “from my youth” (again he bows though not as smoothly this time – he’s starting to become self-conscious; maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all?)
“One thing you still lack,” says Jesus.
The young ruler bolts upright. “I lack? What could I possibly lack?” he thinks to himself. “I have a righteousness I have crafted and defended from my youth. I have material blessings that testify to this. I have a beautiful home, full barns, family that loves me, I tithe, I pray – I had my act together long before I ever had my bar mitzvah. I am blameless. There is nothing I lack!”
“You have no treasure in heaven,” Jesus gently says as he rips way the wool that obscures the young ruler’s eyes.
The young man is in shock. It’s obvious he understands Jesus’ point because it stops him in his tracks. For all his conceit, the young ruler is completely honest (or is at least convinced of his honesty). He doesn’t refute Jesus’ observation, and he dreads what’s coming next. Because Jesus is always, truly, brutally honest.
“Do you want to acquire true wealth? Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
The young man walks away “very sad” because he was “very rich.” He may now wish he had never met Jesus. In a very personal yet public manner, the young man has been confronted with Jesus’ identity as the stumbling stone of the Kingdom of God. He cannot get around or get over Jesus. He only has two choices: to be broken and rebuild his life with Jesus as the cornerstone; or to be crushed and destroyed under the weight of His words.
The disciples are shocked. After all, they had vetted the guy – they thought he was a shoo-in! What is going on?
It’s only as the young man walks away in sadness that Jesus shows any empathy for him. “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!”
We often get distracted here in trying to puzzle out how to thread a needle with a camel. In doing so, we miss the poignancy of this scene. Jesus is watching the young man – “an Israelite indeed” – walk away, deep in thought, shoulders slumped, head down, shuffling away as he visibly struggles with the implications of what he has just heard. He came to Jesus, confident of who and what (he thought) he was. He is leaving bruised and battered, his hands full of the fractured pieces of who and what he really is. As much as Jesus might want to go after him, to counsel and comfort him, He cannot. He will not.
As much as we would like God to take over our lives and “make us do” this, that or the other thing – even the “good” things, the “righteous” things – He will not. God may be a co-pilot, but He is not an auto-pilot nor is He a bus driver. We have to close the deal ourselves, make the call, take the step, sign on the dotted line. If we don’t exercise our free will to make the better – the best – choice, we will have no personal stake in our walk of faith. We will be spectators in our own lives – nameless faces hitching a ride on the Jesus bus as long as it's going our way. Jesus is headed for the cross. Are we going that way, too?
