The Rich Young Man, Jesus, and Us

The engine rev, the brakes are released, and the flying machine hurtles down the runway with its precious cargo as prayers ascend for the pilots, ground crew, cabin crew, mechanics, air traffic controllers, and any other airplanes who happen to cross our path that day.

Ten days ago for me, and one day ago for Carl we rode on a steel cart down the hallway to the operating room and gave ourselves over to the care of doctors and nurses with the knowledge and expertise to deal with our failing bodies.

These are not isolated sorts of experiences; we all engage in these kinds of things in varying degrees all the time: getting on a school bus, paying attention to a fire drill, listening to a computer instructor, following a recipe, and on and on. We give ourselves to the care and guidance of others all the time. Why is it that when Jesus makes the request to entrust ourselves to him that we come to a full stop and turn away sorrowfully?

The prime reason is because is request is never partial.

The demand is always complete, and that is hard to hear.

The last time that this text came around in the Sunday lectionary several people got so annoyed with the sermon that they have not been back since.

It is costly, this demand of Jesus, and quite uncomfortable; we don't like it.

The problem with the rich young man was not that he had possessions, but that they had him.

The things were more important than the relationship with Jesus, or with his fellow followers, or with those who had needs that he could assuage.

We can avoid thinking about the things for a while, but then there come those points, such as when it is time to move, and especially when it is time to move and downsize at the same time.

To clean out, give away, sell, donate, will, scrap, recycle....is hard, emotional work.

It is one level of grief when it is on behalf of a loved one who has died; and it is a different kind of grief when it is one's own things.

And we have quite a tussle with this inside ourselves, don't we.

There are several possible outcomes.

We might fall into a profound depression over the loss of those things.

Or, we might come to a different understanding of ourselves and say, OK Jesus, you're winning... I see that the focus of my living needs to be somewhere else than on those things that I have left behind. What shall it be?

And then we're off on a new chapter of life.

It doesn't matter whether one is a multi-millionaire or a monastic who owns almost nothing, one can have possessions or be possessed by them.

We've heard the stories of the persons of wealth who have used that wealth to strengthen the spread of the Gospel.

I'm thinking of persons like our own Dorothy Welker.

But it doesn't have to be in a large amount such as that bequest which she made.

Crossways International now has its Bible study materials in use around the world in churches, missions, prisons, and on the streets because of gifts large and small.

I along with hundreds of other people have been supporting their work for 25 years.

We also know the stories of persons of great wealth who have vainly tried to hold onto that wealth.

The fictional story that immediately comes to my mind is Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped in which the wicked uncle was willing to stoop to attempted murder or forced kidnapping in order to avoid sharing any of his precious wealth with a young nephew.

And the real-life sad story of Howard Hughes, one of the 20^th century's wealthiest and most colorful figures, who became so frightened of everyone and everything, including germs and death, that he died absolutely alone in a sealed off room, leaving his wealth to be fought over by lawyers for decades afterward.

I've witnessed families at funerals where the estate consists of barely enough to pay the funeral expenses engaging in the bitterest of fights over pennies.

And on the other side, I've read of the monk the Venerable Bede, the great British historian of the 8^th century who in the hours before he died gave away all of his possessions which consisted of a packet of pepper, several napkins, and a packet of incense.

One day a young man came running up to Jesus and knelt before him, anxious to prove that he had earned his way into a perfect relationship with God; he had done everything just right.

Jesus looked at him, loved him, and saw past all of the fine accomplishments to the motivation behind them.

Take my life and let it be

consecrated Lord to thee.

Do we have possessions,

or do they have us? Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.