As he 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.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

Mark 10:17-31

Pastor Marc's sermon on the 20th Sunday after Pentecost (October 11, 2015) on Mark 10:17-31. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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“Jesus, looking at him, loved him.” This verse - right here in chapter 10 - is the only time in the entire gospel of Mark where we hear that Jesus loved someone. Odd, right? None of the disciples, Jesus’ family members, not even the little children are described as being loved by Jesus. Instead, the one who gets this honor is a guy who, in the end, leaves Jesus’ presence in tears. This isn’t the typical story we share when we tell our family and friends about our faith. When we talk about Jesus’ love, we usually don’t say that meeting Jesus caused us to run away in tears. Instead, we talk about community. We talk about love. We talk about a faith that gives us a sense of wholeness that makes us complete. We usually avoid the tears. But that’s what happens here. Jesus meets this guy for the first time. He loves him; he teaches him; and Jesus causes tears. 

Now the word “shocked” in verse 22 isn’t the best word in our translation today. The word in ancient greek really implies immense sadness - a kind of immense disappointment. It’s a shocking feeling but it’s less about being surprised and more about feeling like our foundation has been ripped away. That’s what the man feels after meeting Jesus. His sense of self is completely undone. Now, from our eyes, this might seem like a little overreaction. Sure, he’s rich. He has many possessions. He has the money to not only afford things - he also has the money to store them and protect them. In his world, people just don’t have things. People had just what they needed because they couldn’t afford excess. Having a different fork to use at every meal isn’t something the average person in Jesus’ time experienced. One dish. One bowl. One knife. That’s what they used and expected to have. If someone had more than that, they needed to have the money and status to access the places where such things could be made, bought, and stored. Without that access to be in the right places with the right people at the right time - this man is just like everyone else. Being rich isn’t just about what we own. Being rich is about having access to where things are. It’s about having the freedom to choose who we are - what we’re going to do and to have a sense of control and purpose about where we are going. This man who comes to Jesus knows how to do good. He knows his commandments. He knows how to live with others. He doesn’t kill. He doesn’t break promises. He doesn’t lie or get rich at the expense of others. Jesus doesn’t argue with how this man describes himself so maybe he really is that good. Maybe he really is that good person we all want to be. He’s someone who seems to know how to love - and not someone who should be sent away in tears. 

The tears - the grieving - that’s a weird twist in the story. It’s so weird that I think that’s why I asked our Confirmation students last year to comment on this story. Part of their work involved reading the entire gospel of Mark and answering questions that I came up with about the text. And, I’m happy to report, that Iasked them about this story. Now, I’m going to totally blame the Holy Spirit for letting this text show up today. I didn’t know B., A., K., and C. were going to have this text today when I was devising what questions to asked. And they all did a wonderful job seeing what’s in the text and what isn’t. They knew the question that the man asked. They knew what commandments Jesus named and what commandments he didn’t. They heard Jesus’ biting words to sell what they own and give everything to the poor. And they even heard Jesus’ call to always follow him. 

But no one talked about the tears the man shared. And that’s because I didn’t think to ask about them. The grieving, the sadness is odd, but I didn’t ask about them because when I think about Jesus, I don’t usually point to tears. When I’m sharing my faith, I don’t point to sadness. And teaching, like so many things we do, is not just an act of faith - it’s also an act of sharing faith. And when I share my faith, my default is to talk about the positive - the energetic - the beautiful things. I tend to skip the sad. But maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe we shouldn’t run away from the tears. Because this man, after meeting Jesus, left feeling sad. He left feeling broken. He understood what Jesus was asking him to do. He knew that Jesus was asking him to give up those benefits that the world gave him because of his wealth and those privileges that he internalized as part of his very identity. Jesus wanted him to sell what he owned. Jesus wanted him to give to the poor the kind of status that he enjoyed - and that he would lose once his wealth was gone. His wealth didn’t stop him from doing good - but there’s more to faith than just being kind. There’s something about faith - about being a follower of Jesus - that is bigger than behavior. Living into being a disciple of Jesus isn’t about seeking an end point. It isn’t about somehow doing all the right things and graduating into a nicer, gentler, life. Following Jesus is really about following - about moving - about being on a journey that we can’t always understand or know exactly where we are going. 

And that’s because being a follower of Jesus is sometimes going to be easy. Being a believer in God is sometimes going to be as simple as not lying and helping out others when we see them in need. But this journey with Jesus is also going to lead us to tears. It’s going to lead us into unexpected places. We’re going to find ourselves wondering who this God is and why it feels like everything we knew and understood about the world and ourselves is being undone. And this is different than just having doubt and questions. This is an unravelling - an undoing of who we are and our not knowing where we’ll end up. 

But even in the unraveling, even when the man in our text runs off in tears, Jesus loved him. Even in the questions, Jesus loved him. Even in the doubts, Jesus loved him. And even if this man, who we never see again and whose name isn’t even recorded - even if he ran as far away as he could from Jesus - Jesus still loved him. We aren’t loved because we are perfect. We aren’t loved because we know all the right answers. We aren’t loved because we follow the commandments. No, we’re loved because that’s just what Jesus does. 

In our sadness, in our doubt, in our brokenness, and in the moments of our unraveling - Jesus loves us. And that’s Jesus’ continuing confirmation to us. The worship we share, the meal we eat, and the prayers we say - it isn’t about where we’ll end up but it’s always centered in the journey we are undertaking. We are centered following the one who was born in a barn instead of a penthouse. We listen to the one who hung out with tax collectors and fishermen rather than princes and media moguls. We cling to the one who knew where he was going and yet, he died for us anyways. The uneven, rocky, sometimes sad and sometimes beautiful journey of faith - that’s what every Sunday confirms. That’s what every Sunday proclaims. That’s what each one of our prayers asks and points to - that the God who claims us is always with us. Our lives are a journey. It’s filled with things we do, things we don’t, pain, joys, questions, doubts, and days when it feels like we’re just making it up as we go along. And we can’t confirm that we’ll never struggle. We can’t promise that we’ll never have our heart broken. We can’t proclaim that we’ll never doubt. But we can say that even when the journey gets rocky, even when the journey gets bumpy, even when we try to quit the journey all together and walk away in tears - Jesus is with us.

And that’s what today is about for each of you - B., C., K., and A.. Your journey matters. Where you go is entwined, deeply, with where we go. We can’t be who we are suppose to be unless you are with us. And even though we don’t know exactly where life and the Spirit will take you - we do know that God loves you. Jesus is with you. And where you go, this church goes too. May God bless the journey that you began in your baptism and that we are confirming today. Your questions are never too big for God. Your doubt can never push God away. And you will always matter more than you can know because Jesus didn’t come to live and die for other people. He came to live, die, and rise for you. And he’s never going to let you go through this journey, alone.

Amen.