I’ve heard it said that ‘familiarity breeds contempt,’ but I don’t think that’s particularly true. Familiarity can to our taking a family member or an old friend for granted, though - so there is a certain risk posed by it. No different with Bible stories - by means of repeated encounters some stories begin to feel comfortable, in the way of old shoes. And it may be that the story of the Rich Young Ruler is one of these. (Well, actually it is Luke who says this man was a ruler. And Matthew tells us he was young. Mark introduces him only as “a man,” letting his actions regarding Jesus speak for themselves. Just as our actions toward Jesus will one day, in some very real way, speak for us, too.)

Since we’ve encountered this man before, we feel we recognize him. Mark says he has “great possessions” - we can imagine what these included: a home, maybe a little place to get away on weekends, plenty of clothes, some jewelry - not too much, just a few items that have personal meaning, you know - basically some nice things he bought to round out his life. We, who look back at this fellow as if through a window, might just be able to understand him better than our great-grandparents did. Because unlike our ancestors, we have far more than we really need to live. Of course, it may not be fair to compare us with generations that came before us, or for that matter the vast majority of the world’s inhabitants today, but even in these days of fiscal contraction, we can admit this much: we have great possessions. I do, you do.

So it might interest us to observe that this fellow who has plenty of the world’s things has taken stock of his life and found something missing. Probably he’s had this feeling before. Maybe he’s dealt with it by taking a trip or buying some new furniture. He is a good man, a moral man - one who lives not for self but who loves God. He has been told that God wants him to be happy; goodness knows he’s tried to be. But this feeling that something is missing, this void in his soul - it haunts him, especially at night when his family is asleep. He lies awake, listening to the silence, wondering, “Dear God, is this all there is? What is wrong with me? What do you want me to do?”

Perhaps in this he is like us. Despite our material wealth, despite the omnipresent power of the advertising industry, proclaiming all those ‘next things’ we need to be happy, we also know what it is to feel less than content. We know happiness, sure. It flickers here and again, though never for long enough. Still, sometimes we cross an expanse of weeks without finding reason to laugh out loud or share with someone else a sunset in quiet amazement. Our culture obliges us in our vague sense of dis-ease, filling every spare moment with noise and distraction. Our cars play books on tape and CDs while the kids watch videos. TVs blare the day’s news and computer screens beckon to us before bed. We are too busy to study this shadow, this feeling of disconnectedness. It is hard to put a name to it. But one thing is for sure: the Bible would not call this peace. For peace is one thing we have learned we cannot buy, and we can take no pill to enhance it. We wonder what we need to do to find it.

Well, the man in Mark’s story gets a shot - the chance to meet Jesus. He’s heard that this man of God has the words of eternal life - has the secret that we somehow lost, all of us, on our way home to the One who wants us to be at peace with our neighbors, with ourselves, with the God who made us. The man finds Jesus, meets Jesus, and hears his Savior calling - brother, it’s like a good revival! - hears Jesus calling him to follow, to begin a life of sincere discipleship. That’s what the man lacks - a way to God that leads through adversity and trial to glory. And Jesus is that way, and he is now on that road himself. He calls the man to follow him.

With so many I-heard-my-Savior-calling stories in our ears, so many biblical accounts of those who dropped their lives to follow Jesus, this one is in a class by itself. Because the price Jesus offers, that of casting off what binds and holds the man, seems high, very high to him. Sell all that you have, he hears Jesus say. He is shocked. He’s what they used to call crestfallen - his face blank with disbelief, his eyes, narrowing with revulsion. He had wanted wisdom, some new way of looking at life, some Jesus he could “welcome into his heart,” then take home with him to fit things together, make sense of his life. But this Jesus is not what he expected. The road Jesus offers seems costly and long - while the road to his comfortable home, the shorter road, beckons. In fact, he’s already decided to walk away, to go that short walk home, and Jesus, looking at him with love, knows it.

Truth is, there is within each of us a deep-down place that we would warn Jesus not to touch. We’d rather not say or hear it, but for many, if not most, of us it is a place where we stash our cash. Not because we are greedy - no, as I have said before, church-going people, for the most part, are the most generous folks I know. It’s true. But it’s also true that today money is the measure of our efforts, the reward for our toil, and most of all, the closest thing we have to create a future for ourselves. That’s why we speak of financial independence, financial planning, financial security. For almost all of us, there is this unspoken belief that if we could just pile up some more money, our worries would be gone, and we’d be able to just enjoy tomorrow - content at last. I feel sure that when the wealthy man turned away from Jesus, he had just such a thought to console him.

What Jesus asked of this decent, religious man, was unfair, unreasonable - even outlandish. We’re not the only ones to think so. Mark notes that Jesus’ disciples “were greatly astonished” at the impossibility of Jesus’ demand – every bit as impossible as a camel crawling through the eye of a needle. So in a moment of candor they called him on it. “Lord, who can be saved?” Then Jesus turned to them, his eyes still sad for that walk-on, walk-off, would-be disciple, who so wanted to know what one thing he needed to do to be saved. “For you, for him, it is impossible. But for God, nothing is impossible.”

Here at last is great wisdom, the deepest knowledge ever sewn into the folds of the universe. For God, all things are possible. Do you hope that’s true? Perhaps someone here is, like this wealthy man, exhausted with the weight of trying to be good. Maybe you have labored dutifully for many years, trying mightily and without rest to please God, to be a good Christian son or daughter or mother or father. Maybe you have worked at Church for so long, you’ve become quite good at it, here when the doors open, Sunday School perhaps, familiar face at worship service. Truth is, that wealthy man’s story is our story: we’re all tired out from laboring to save ourselves. And God forgive us, because we don’t really want it any other way. We’ve learned that hard work and fair play will get us across the finish line, right?

Well, almost right. We’re so close! In fact, we lack only one thing. That elusive peace. The peace that comes with simple, easy alignment with what God is doing in the world. That peace, that spiritual blessing of contentment – we cannot buy it. We cannot create it. It is the one thing we lack. Are you close to the Kingdom of God, friend? For we can be close as the breadth of a needle, and somehow miss the mark completely. We are, after all, talking about perfection, which is always what we speak of when we speak of God.

If you, like this good, hesitant man in Mark’s story, are hungry for Heaven, if you’ve marinated in the things of this world but somehow still want for something more, then it just may be that you are not far from the Kingdom of God. If you want to know the peace that comes with living for the Kingdom, with living in the Kingdom, then perhaps you will pray with me:

O God, we know what it is to need ‘one thing more’. There’s always one more thing somebody needs from us, one more thing we need to be happy. We’ve worn ourselves out trying to be good. After all, there is only One Who is good. We pray, Father, that you would place him before us today. And if he should ask us to lay it all down, to empty our hands to embrace him, to follow him, then we pray you’ll give us the courage to see that there is no other way. Open our hearts to him, that we might lose everything and finally, at last, lack nothing. Amen.