The Rich Young Ruler Went Home Sad, But You Don’t Have to
In Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade, Indiana’s father is on the hunt for the Holy Grail. More accurately, he’s after eternal life. But he’s lost during his search, and Indy must find him.
Through obstacles that include Nazis and snakes, he finally makes his way into the grail’s presence, but it’s hidden among dozens of false imitations. Only by drinking from it can he find the true grail. A drink from a false grail, however, leads to instant death. Indiana Jones must choose wisely.
Of course, there is no Holy Grail in a cave somewhere hidden. But there is a reason a movie was made out of that idea. The entire world is looking for a fountain of youth, a Holy Grail, life eternal. And the world is full of deadly false hopes.
This longing for immortality isn’t limited to the silver screen. In the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John, we find a man on a similar search. Matthew tells us this man is young. Luke tells us he’s a ruler. All three tell us he’s rich. The search for eternal life is an ancient one.
A DISTURBING MEETING
Jesus’s interaction with the rich young ruler has forever fascinated me—primarily because it disturbs me. It should. It’s a warning. The rich young man wanted to know what he must do to inherit eternal life (Mk. 10:17). Perhaps his money would buy his ticket. Maybe he could parlay the success that earned his money into a greater, longer-lasting reward. But rather than helping, his money hindered. Eternal life is not something to be bought but something to be received.
It's all too easy to bring a can-do attitude into our spiritual life, and for those of us with financial security gained through hard work, it’s easier still. Jesus looked at his disciples and said, “How difficult it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” (Mk. 10:23). The disciples were amazed at his words. They believed money was a sign of God’s blessing. How could this man’s money be his problem?
I live in a wealthy city in a wealthy country surrounded by wealthy people. Maybe the young ruler’s problem is our problem too.
But lest we take this as some rejection of the wealthy, Jesus expands his comment: “Children [notice the assuring address], how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” And they were exceedingly astonished. They asked, “Then who can be saved?” (Mk. 10:24–26).
Now maybe you’ve heard that Jesus is referring to a narrow entry gate into Jerusalem called the Eye of the Needle. A camel could get through it, but it had to bend down and squeeze through. It was difficult, but it was possible. That’s not what Jesus meant. A camel was the biggest animal in Israel. The eye of a needle was the smallest opening. Jesus is essentially saying, “You know what’s absolutely impossible? That big camel fitting through that tiny hole. You know what’s even more impossible? Someone getting into heaven.”
What?
Maybe we know our wealth won’t gain us heaven. But what about our goodness? The rich young ruler called Jesus “Good Teacher” (Mk. 10:17), and to that Jesus responded, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone” (Mk. 10:18). If the rich can’t make it in on their wealth, and no one is good but God, who can make it?
MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
Jesus is telling us that salvation is not something man can accomplish. We’re a big, smelly camel trying to fit through the narrow holiness God requires. We’re too fat with sin, too lumpy with unrighteousness. It’s impossible to squeeze ourselves into heaven. No matter how much we do, we can never gain heaven. Our most valuable gifts and most righteous works amount to nothing next to God’s holiness. Our bigness doesn’t buy heaven. It’s not for sale.
So sell it all. Downsize. Minimize. Simplify. Make our life as small and laser-focused as a thread. Then perhaps we can make it through that needle’s eye. But our smallness doesn’t let us slip through heaven’s doors either.
Our hearts are hard, and our sin runs deeper than our actions; it lives in our blood. It’s hereditary. As Paul realized after his conversion, outward obedience to the law does not resolve inward disobedience (Phil. 3:6). There is no earthly cure, only a heavenly one. “With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God” (Mk. 10:27, emphasis added).
What kind of things are possible?
Things like making fishermen into fishers of men (Mk.1:17). Things like casting out an unclean spirit to make a man clean (Mk.1:21–25). Things like healing all who are sick and demon-possessed in one night of miraculous power (Mk.1:29–34). Things like touching an untouchable and making him clean (Mk.1:40–45); telling a paralytic to rise and walk (Mk.2:1-12); collecting a tax collector into the kingdom of God (Mk.2:13–17); restoring a withered hand (Mk.3:1–6); calming a storm at sea (Mk.4:35–41); drying a discharge of blood that no one could stop for twelve years (Mk.5:21–34); raising a little girl to silence those who doubt (Mk.5:35–43); taking a few loaves and fish and making a feast in the desert for thousands (Mk.6:30-44); walking on water (Mk.6:45–52); restoring hearing to the deaf (Mk.7:31–37) and sight to the blind (Mk.8:22-26) and a right mind to a boy with an unclean spirit (Mk.9:14–29). Things like upholding God’s law (Mk.10: 1–12), teaching with authority (Mk.1:27), and calling sinners to repentance (Mk.1:15).
All of these things which we find in the first ten chapters of Mark show that for all our impossibility Jesus has storehouses full of possibility. Jesus came to make a way.
WHO CAN BE SAVED?
“Then who can be saved?” You can.
But before you can be saved, Jesus must deal with you—the real you. He’ll strip you down first. C.S. Lewis illustrates this concept in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.
Eustace is in love with his treasures. One night, he falls asleep with a gold bracelet on his arm and transforms into a dragon, becoming an outward manifestation of his inward self. The bracelet gets tighter and tighter, and he can’t get it off. He’s driven from humanity and, in a moment of loneliness, begins to cry. Aslan, the lion the Jesus figure, arrives and asks Eustace to follow him.
They go down to a well with water clear and inviting. Eustace senses the well can heal him. But before getting in, Aslan tells him to undress. Eustace realizes Aslan means he must shed his skin first. So he starts scratching and scratching. He says,
“I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bath.”
But his scales grew back. So he goes through the exercise again. But it grows back again and again. Aslan says, “You will have to let me undress you.” Eustace was afraid, but he saw the task was impossible in his own hands.
“I was afraid of his claws,” Eustace said, “but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off . . .
“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off—just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt—and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me—I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on—and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again . . .
“After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me . . . in new clothes.”
WE NEED TO HAVE THE DRAGON INSIDE US REMOVED
The rich young man was Eustace of his day. He needed to be de-dragoned. We all do. Jesus has to strip us to save us. He has to remove to redeem. He saves the person that lives underneath the stuff we put on top to protect. He saves as we really are, not as who we want to be.
He removes our false savior—our false Holy Grail—and replaces it with himself. Jesus is our only hope of heaven.
That was the offer Jesus made to this young man. He didn’t trust Jesus enough to lay down and let him tear deep. But you can.
With you it is impossible. But not with God. Why not lay down all you have built up—all your monuments of righteousness, all your grand obedience and good deeds, your wealth and possessions, and let Jesus tear deep. It might feel like you’ve entered hell, but he’s giving you heaven.
David McLemore is an elder at Refuge Church in Franklin, Tennessee. He also works for a large healthcare corporation where he manages an application development department. He is married to Sarah, and they have three sons. Read more of David’s writing on his blog, Things of the Sort.