Appalling Good News

                                          "Appalling Good News”
                                    Hebrews 4:12-16, Mark 10:17-31

          I have a question for you. Have you ever had someone challenge you to do something, something you knew would change your life for the better, yet something so difficult, so daunting you were tempted to walk away?
    Have you ever had someone offer you a gift so life-altering that you would never be the same again? Yet the challenge was so immense the offer felt like bad news not good news? Maybe it was the offer of a new job with increased responsibilities and opportunities in a new location. Maybe it was a relationship proposal. Maybe it was the offer of fundamental change in how you lived your faith. Have you ever encountered a life-transforming opportunity so great it was frightening, and you wanted to walk away?
          I think that’s what happened to the rich man who met Jesus so long ago. Notice how Mark records the story. His version is similar to what Matthew and Luke write; they probably have a common source for their writing. But unlike Luke, Mark does not say the man was a “ruler” and unlike Matthew, he does not say he was “young.” Instead, Mark adds a few details that seem to show where he believes the emphasis should lie in the story.
          Mark says Jesus was setting out on a journey. And isn’t that the way it always is with Jesus? There is no getting comfortable staying in one place, just relaxing in the easy chair. No. Jesus is always on a journey, and so are Jesus’ disciples.
          And just as Jesus is beginning the journey, Mark tells us a man comes running up to him and kneels before him. Can we imagine the scene? Jesus walking along, just getting started, and here comes this man, running, huffing and puffing, up to him and out of breath, then kneeling before him. Isn’t this an odd image that only Mark records? What do you think he’s trying to tell us? It seems unlikely Mark’s putting in a plug for first century aerobic exercise. Maybe the man is simply a procrastinator, last minute question for Jesus. “Oh, and teacher, one last thing.” Maybe. But could it be that Mark wants us to see the urgency of this man’s question? There is this question he simply must ask right away, because everything in his life hinges on the answer. Everything. And is it possible that Mark wants us to know that not only is the man in a hurry, but he also has a sense of respect, even devotion for Jesus as he kneels before him? The man knows there’s something special about this Jesus, something worth running about and worth kneeling before. He knows that.
          But then the man seems to get off on the wrong foot with Jesus. “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answers, “Why do you call me good? Only God’s good. You know the commandments . . .” Jesus seems to take the man’s compliment as manipulative flattery, and he directs him back to commonly held expectations. “You want to inherit eternal life? You want to experience the greatest, truest life God desires for all people? Then you know what to do, don’t you?”
          But the man does not give up. He says to Jesus, “I’ve been keeping the commandments ever since I was a little kid.” And here Mark adds two details not found in Matthew or Luke. Mark says Jesus looks at the man. He doesn’t merely glance at him. The Greek carries the sense of looking “directly” and “intently” at him, just as Jesus soon will look at the disciples.
Mark says Jesus looks at the man and he loves him. He loves him, cherishes him. It may even be translated that Jesus caresses him. Maybe he reaches out to rub the man’s arm or wraps an arm around him. We don’t know.
          But we know what Jesus says next. As William Sloane Coffin put it, “Jesus never withholds the telling blow if only the telling blow will serve.” (William Sloane Coffin, “The Wrong Look In Our Eyes,” sermon, Oct. 4, 1987.) Jesus looks at the man, loves him, and speaks the truth in love to him. He says, “You’re only missing one thing. Go sell everything and give the money to the poor, and you’ll have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” And Mark says when the man hears this he’s shocked, appalled and goes away offended, saddened, grieving because he has so many things.
          And if that’s not painful enough, now Jesus looks at his disciples and says, “It’s so hard for wealthy people to enter God’s reign.” And the disciples are astounded. But Jesus increases, not decreases their anxiety with, “Listen up, kids. It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.” Now folks have tried to get around this saying with all sorts of wishful thinking. “Maybe the eye of a needle is a gate in Jerusalem where the camel can pass through by bending down low.” Nice try, but wrong. We cannot escape Jesus’ hyperbole here. As somebody (I can’t remember who) said, “Yeah, you can get a camel through the eye of a needle, but you won’t like the way it looks afterwards.”
          The disciples are so astounded they’re practically overwhelmed asking, “So who can be saved?” And again, Jesus looks at them. He says, “Impossible for people, but not for God. All things are possible for God.”
          So how’s the portfolio these days?
          Christ’s words for us are so difficult, so demanding for us  the wealthy people of the world. Why does Christ have to be so hard? A singer put it this way, “The story is told of the power of gold and its lure on the unsuspecting. It glitters and shines, it badgers and blinds, and constantly needs protecting. Balance the cost of the soul you lost with the dreams you lightly sold. Are you under  . . . the power of gold?” (Dan Fogelberg, “The Power of Gold”)
          Christ’s words are so demanding, because so much is at stake–our being, our existence, our soul. Maybe this one man was called to give up everything, because his possessions had taken power over him. We’re not told we must relinquish all our possessions and take on poverty, but Christ’s warning, delivered in love, is the same.
          One scholar says of the rich man, “I think he weeps, that is, goes away sorrowful, because he knows that the life he is living, one that is good in everybody’s sight, is not really good enough for him  . . . and thus he suffers greatly because he now knows what he is missing.” (Peter Gomes, The Good Life: Truths That Last in Times of Need, 332.)
          He suffers because he knows what he’s missing. Isn’t that it? A great life is right there in front of him, and he knows it. But the good news is so daunting, so transformative that he gets scared or just appalled and walks away.
          So dear Christians, followers of Christ, what are we going to do? What are we going to do? We’re going to trust our lives not to wealth but to God’s love, and we’re going to give away a lot of money, aren’t we? That’s what’s so freeing about grace–trusting in the One who alone is worthy of trust. And that’s what’s so fun about having wealth–giving it away.
          Somebody wrote, “. . . the only way to overcome the spiritual ‘power’ of money is to give our money away, thus desacrilizing it and freeing ourselves from its control . . . To give away money is to win a victory over the spiritual power that oppresses us.” (Jacques Ellul, quoted by Charles Campbell in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 4, 169.)
          In a culture whose enslaving drumbeat is, “Buy! Buy! Buy! More! More! More!” instead we hear this voice singing, “I love you. Trust me. Follow me. Don’t let money and ‘stuff’ get in the way. Give it away and find the life you know down deep is truly the richest life of all.”
          Does that voice sound appalling or is it the most beautiful sound we’ve ever heard?