A Tragic Moment

In the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, we encounter a fascinating story of a young, wealthy ruler who approaches Jesus with a burning question: "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" This encounter, brief as it may be, offers profound insights into the nature of faith, wealth, and what it truly means to follow Christ.

The young man in question seems to have it all. He's young, likely between 20 and 40 years old, with his whole life ahead of him. He's a ruler, suggesting he holds a position of influence and authority within the Jewish community. And perhaps most notably, he's wealthy, with many possessions to his name.

On the surface, this man's life appears to be the envy of many. He's religious, clean, pure, and ideal from every outward appearance. His life is a testament to dedication and discipline. In his circle, he's probably an influential person - everything a parent would want for their child. Clean cut. Devout. Industrious. Moral.

Yet, despite all he has going for him, there's an itch he can't scratch. Something is missing that money can't buy, social status can't fill, and religious activities can't satisfy. There's a longing in his soul that has him pondering this profound question about eternal life.

When he hears that Jesus is passing by, he seizes the opportunity. The text describes him running to Jesus, his heart fixed and filled with desperation. He kneels before Jesus, demonstrating both respect and recognition of who Jesus is.

"Good master," he asks, "what good thing shall I do to inherit eternal life?"

This question reveals much about the man's understanding of salvation. Does he believe it can be earned? Is he looking for something else to add to his impressive resume? Does he think salvation is a reward for doing enough good things?

But as Scripture teaches us, salvation has never been about what we do - it's always been about what Christ has done for us. As Ephesians 2:8-9 reminds us, "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast."

Jesus, in His infinite wisdom and love, doesn't immediately correct the man's misconception. Instead, He takes him to "Sunday school," reminding him of the commandments: Don't murder, don't commit adultery, don't defraud, don't lie, honor your father and mother.

The man eagerly responds, "Teacher, all these I have kept since I was a boy." But there's a crucial difference between observing and applying. To observe is to notice, to perceive. To apply is to practice, to live out.

Jesus, looking at the man with love, challenges him to go beyond mere observation of rules. He points to the proper application of the commandments, emphasizing that true discipleship requires internal transformation, not just outward compliance.

Then comes the pivotal moment. Jesus says to him, "One thing you lack. Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

This command cuts to the heart of the matter. Jesus isn't merely giving spiritual advice to avoid the idolatry of money. He's suggesting that this form of economic justice is foundational to the kingdom of God. He's challenging the man - and us - to consider: Do we have our possessions, or do our possessions have us?

The text records that the man walks away grieving because he had great wealth. Interestingly, Jesus doesn't follow him. This isn't because Jesus is callous or doesn't care. Rather, it suggests that sometimes, people need to struggle with their own problems rather than be given an easy way out. Sometimes, we need to discover the answers on our own.

This story leaves many questions unanswered. We don't know what ultimately happened to this man. Did he eventually follow Jesus? Did he continue in his wealth? Did he join the early church described in Acts, where believers shared everything they had?

The story serves as a mirror for our own lives. We live in a culture of acquisition, where bigger is always seen as better. We're constantly bombarded with advertisements designed to stir up insatiable appetites we didn't even know we had. This consumerist mindset has even crept into our churches, recasting the gospel from one of love and compassion to one of material wealth and entertainment.

But the kingdom of God, as described in Scripture, often demands our full attention and calls for radical divestment. It challenges us to consider what we're truly holding onto, and what we might need to let go of to fully follow Christ.

The eternal question left unanswered for the rich young ruler - and for us - is this: Can we bear the thought of giving up some or all of our earthly treasures? Can we detach ourselves from the wealth, status, and fame we've become accustomed to? Can we fully entrust our lives to God?

These are not easy questions, and they don't have simple answers. But they're questions worth wrestling with. Because at the heart of this story is a profound truth: the kingdom of God is not about what we can acquire or achieve. It's about what we're willing to give up for the sake of following Jesus.

As we reflect on this story, may we be challenged to examine our own lives. What are we holding onto that might be holding us back? What would it look like for us to "sell everything" and follow Jesus? And how might our lives - and our world - be transformed if we truly took this call to heart?

In the end, the story of the rich young ruler isn't just about wealth. It's about love, sacrifice, and what it truly means to follow Jesus. It's an invitation to a life of radical discipleship, where our ultimate allegiance is not to our possessions or our status, but to the One who loves us more than we can imagine. May we have the courage to respond to that invitation, whatever the cost may be.