13
Poor Rich Man
In Mark 10, a rich guy runs to Jesus, falls on his knees, and says, “Good teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus wonders aloud why the man is calling Him good since only His Father in heaven is good, and then reminds the rich young ruler of the commandments. The rich young ruler, who has already shamelessly fallen at the feet of Jesus in humility, says, “Teacher, I have kept all these things since my youth.” Jesus replies, “Go and sell all you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.” And the rich young ruler walks away sad. “For he was one who owned much.”1
This story is certainly about money, but I think it’s about something bigger as well. It’s about security and the challenge that Jesus gives to everyone who seeks to truly follow Him: let go.
The things that keep you safe and comfortable.
Let go of the plans.
The calendars. The dreams. The assets.
Let go of the need for control and security.
The things that make you self-reliant and keep you from faith-leaping.
Jesus looks the rich young ruler in the eyes and says, “What keeps you from fully following Me? Oh, your money? Give it away then. Bury it. Come and follow Me all the way.” At least that’s my paraphrase.
The man walks away sad. And I don’t blame him. Most of the time I walk away sad too. I just can’t manage to let go and bury. I don’t have much in the way that the rich young ruler did, things like houses and cars (chariots?), but I do have a pretty tight grip on my dreams, plans, and agenda.
There’s another story in the Old Testament about a widow who had no one to care for her and very little food left. Elijah the prophet is directed by God to go to an impoverished old lady and ask her for what little food she does have. The woman looks at Elijah and says, “I swear by the Lord your God that all I have is enough for one more loaf of bread, then my son and I will starve and die.” And then Elijah has the nerve to look the little old lady in the face and tell her to do as God has requested and she will always be provided for.2
Someone reminded me of this story after the fire, when Ryan and I were staring bankruptcy in the face. As I reread the widow’s response over and over again, I decided I suck at following Jesus. The story made me mad and drove me toward becoming a hoarder. I mean, it ends well for the poor old lady. She does as Elijah tells her to do, and it says from that day forth she had just enough flour and oil to provide for her.
But the thing is, I don’t want just enough. I want my Sam’s Club and Costco memberships, thank you very much. I want a pantry full of flour and oil! I want a storage unit, lake house, summer house, and vacation home—and I want them ALL to be full of oil and flour! I don’t want just enough. I want enough to care for the entire block in case of nuclear disaster or zombie apocalypse. The truth is, I’d quite prefer to talk about faith and not actually have to live by faith. So I know what it’s like to walk away from Jesus feeling sad.
The rich young ruler wasn’t able to let go because he wasn’t ready to bury his carefully crafted security. He was willing to comply with rules, but not willing to align his life and death and security with Christ. Let go of and bury? Follow blindly? This was more than he was prepared to do. And while the passage says that Jesus looks at the young man with love, He lets the rich young ruler walk away. Jesus never forces anyone to bury and follow. Poor rich guy. He has no idea what he is turning down.
People who walk away from Jesus sad don’t realize they are walking away from a chance for new dreams to be dreamed. Some are too concerned with tending to the dreams that will never happen, guarding their illusions of control, or perpetually grieving the past. Others are afraid. And still others walk away sad because they feel inadequate in their letting go. They have been confused by Christian sentiments expressed from overzealous Jesus-lovers that somehow letting go of is easy—joyful even! Abandon it all for the sake of the call! On fire! All in!
But I’ve never found that to be true. The times I have truly buried something dear to me in order to more fully follow Jesus have been incredibly painful, sobering moments. Maybe we should expect that our letting go of moments will initially be laced with sadness, fear, and hesitation—the sounds of grief and burial, not exorbitant celebration. Letting go of dreams, plans, agendas, even our own sin is, after all, a tall order. And if anyone understands this, Jesus does. He understands the deep pain involved in letting go; it was enough to cause the Son of God to fall to His knees and sweat blood. Jesus knows what it feels like to be asked to bury something. He knows what it is like to let go of heaven for earth and earth for hell. Jesus understands the person who is letting go of something with anguish and not feigned, joyful frenzy.
Sometimes I like to reenvision the story of the rich young ruler and what it would have been like if he had accepted Jesus’s invitation instead of walking away sad. This is how the new story plays out in my mind:
Jesus, full of compassion, joins the rich young ruler as he sets out to sell all of his belongings. First, He journeys the long distance home with the rich young man and stands in the room as he breaks the news to his shocked and angry parents. Knowing very well the young man may never be welcomed back home, Jesus stands beside him as he denounces his position in the family, his birthrights, and his inheritance. Next, they head out to the fields and begin preparing donkeys, mules, and cattle to sell. Sweating and dirty, taking the better part of the day, Jesus only breaks His pace to get water for the two of them to drink. Walking across town, the rich young ruler realizes the news of his letting go has spread fast, and Jesus quietly, confidently meets the stares of gawkers so the rich young ruler doesn’t have to. In the back of the cattle stall, standing among animals, Jesus waits while the rich young ruler auctions off all his livestock—his livelihood. And Jesus, full of compassion, sits in the back of the courtroom as the rich young man signs over the rights to his property, his inheritance, his position in society. As they walk out of the courthouse, the rich young ruler has only a few bags of money left to his name. Jesus quietly waits. The rich young man takes his final bags of money and somberly gives them to the destitute people begging alms on the street corner.
Perhaps we have mistakenly come to believe that our letting go of and burying happens alone or—worse—under the thumb of an uncompassionate God who would sit idly by and watch His own children mourn at the grave. But I like to imagine that if the rich young ruler would have said yes to letting go and burying, Jesus Himself would have preached the graveside service.
Jesus Himself would have comforted him as he grieved.
Jesus Himself would have rolled the stone in front of the tomb and declared, “It is finished.”
Jesus Himself would have led the choir of angels in a song of rejoicing.
Because Jesus Himself would have known that life follows death.
And that new life?
Jesus Himself would have been the one to bring it forth.
I grieved and buried longer than I needed to. Walking away from the life I had perfectly planned out and watched go up in flames felt impossible because I was trying to walk away from it all alone. One night as I was lying in bed, one month into my grieving and still unable to truly bury, I saw the entire story of the rich young ruler play out in my head. But it was the new story, where the ruler lets go and Jesus walks with him on his road to burying. That was the night I came face-to-face with my own need for burial and realized I was not alone at the graveside. Jesus was there. Full of compassion, ready to pronounce, “It is finished.”
It was time. And that night, through a million aching tears, Jesus stood watch and we buried.