October 10th Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Mark 10: 17–31 
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen.

You and I have something in common this morning.  We have come to this place hoping to meet Jesus, hoping for a sense of his Presence here with us, a sense of the peace of God that passes all understanding.  So we have come here to this church for the very same reasons the unnamed man in Mark’s Gospel dares to run up to Jesus and fall to his knees at his feet.  We want something from Jesus, something we sense only he can provide.
We don’t know this man’s name, but we’ve heard a lot about him over the years because both Mathew and Luke tell the very same story that Mark tells us this morning – only Matthew tells us that he’s young, and Luke adds he was both rich and a ruler.  So no matter who’s telling the story, we’ve taken to calling him “the rich young ruler.”
Now at his point you might be thinking that you really don’t have as much in common with this guy as I’m suggesting, because you don’t think of yourself as rich.  But honestly, in the eyes of the world, you and I have great possessions.  As Americans we really do have more of this world’s goods than the vast majority of the rest of the world.  In their eyes, at least, we really are rich.
So what is it that this man wants from Jesus?  If he was rich, it probably wasn’t a material need.  And if he was a ruler, he probably wasn’t looking for significance.  The way he articulates his need is to ask Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life.  So he’s looking for the Kingdom of God.  And Jesus replies with the obvious answer – that he’s to follow the commandments of God.
“But I’ve followed those commandments all my life,” the young man cries.  And I think what he’s not saying there is, “So why am I still yearning?  What is it that I still need?”
And at this point in the story Mark adds a detail that Matthew and Luke leave out.  Mark says that Jesus looks deeply into the young man’s eyes and he loves him.  He loves what he sees there – a young man who has done the best he can with all that he has – his natural abilities, the commandments of God and the best he can make of this mystery we call life.  Somehow, though, it has not been enough.  He is still yearning for something he can’t quite put his finger on, something he can’t quite articulate.  And Jesus, seeing him yearn for something more, loves him.
So he holds out to him the key to the life he’s been looking for.  “You lack just one thing,” he tells the young man.  “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor.  Then come; and follow me.”
Now usually, when this story is told, much is made about this man turning away sorrowfully – because he had many possessions – as if that were the end of the story.  So you and I have both heard more sermons that we want to count about selling what we have to rise up and follow Jesus.  But I think it’s about a whole lot more than that.
In fact, I think that’s putting the em pha’ sis on the wrong syll ab’ le.  What’s more important here is the young man’s yearning – and Jesus’ loving recognition of that yearning.
For look at what he does.  He offers this young man the opportunity to become one of his disciples.  And that didn’t happen very often, despite the fact that crowds of people were coming to Jesus every day, often as individuals asking for something.  But this particular individual was different.  Jesus saw something when he looked deeply into this young man’s eyes.  He saw the yearning – and that yearning touched Jesus’ heart.
The opportunity he offered in return wasn’t some ornate gift presented on a silver platter.  No.  It was the kind of opportunity a college professor offers to his best students – an opportunity to write an honors thesis that will stretch and grow them in ways that will take a lot of work, a lot of time and dedication.  Most of the students will accept the challenge because they know that professor has seen something in them – something that’s worth developing.  So maybe they won’t accept the offer immediately.  Maybe they will have to turn away and think hard about what this will cost them.  But most of them, grasping that this is the opportunity of a lifetime, will finally accept the challenge.  And so, I believe, will we.
In fact, I think many of us have already accepted that challenge.  But it’s not a one–time offer.  Over and over again, as we walk with him, Jesus offers us additional challenges to go farther with him.  And as we hear those challenges, we think them over . . . we count the cost . . . and we finally accept them.
For that’s the thing about our yearning.  No matter how old we are we still want to please the One who created us.  We still thirst for the living water of his love and approval.  That’s why we keep coming back to this little church.  That’s why we listen intently for His voice, His words, addressed to us, among all the words spoken in this place.  For we still want to grow up into the full stature of Christ.  We still want to learn his ways.  No matter if we already have great riches, no matter how gifted and talented we might be – we know if something is still missing.  And we won’t rest until we find it.
I’m reminded, actually, of a children’s story by C.S. Lewis.  Early on in his book The Silver Chair the young girl Jill first encounters Aslan, the lion king of the mythical land of Narnia, a land that resembles the Kingdom of God.  And there she comes face to face with the deep challenge of accepting Aslan’s offer.
“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.
“I’m dying of thirst,“ said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the Lion.
“May I – could I — would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl.  And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to – do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now, that without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion.  It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry.  It just said it.
“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.
“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.
“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer.  “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”
“There is no other stream,” said the Lion.
And that’s where we have to leave it this morning, never quite knowing if Jill finally overcame her fear of Aslan – and bowed her knee and drank from those waters of life.  Nor do we know if the rich young ruler finally realized that following after Jesus was worth far more than any treasure he clutched in his hands.  But my guess is that they did, both of them.  My guess is that they both finally bowed the knee of their hearts and decided to live their lives on Christ’s terms.
In fact, I think we all will, finally.  It’s only a question of when.
Amen.
 
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