No wiggle room

I’ve always been the type of guy who wants clear direction on what needs to be done, but at the same time given some latitude as to how to accomplish it.  There is very little wiggle room in the Gospel I’m reflecting on today [Mark 10:17-27].  Jesus is clear – too clear for my comfort.  When the rich young man asked what more he must do to enter the Kingdom of God, Jesus said it simply: “Go, sell what you have and give it to the poor.”

I don’t often write these reflections as personal conversations, but I think it’s the best way to convey what I’m thinking in the moment.  I invite my reader to join my conversation:

Great, Jesus.  You have my attention now.  But come on, You don't really mean that.  Not quite that strongly.  Sell what I have and give to the poor?  I don't think You want me to move out of my house and spend my life caring for the poor.  I’m retired, and what little I have I feel I’ve worked hard for.  I still give to the poor now, not only money but all my leftover things.

I go to church every week and I listen to the Gospels.  Jesus, Your words are really inspiring.  Really though, they’re adapted from another culture and translated from a foreign language written centuries ago.  I’m pretty sure that the exact words would make sense for the culture of Your time - not my time.  If I lived two thousand years ago in a cave in a town like Nazareth, this would probably be for me, wouldn't it?  But right now, today in my life, we need to adapt Your words.  I think You want me to be generous to the poor – not sell everything I have and give it to them.

At that statement, the young man's face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

I’m ashamed.  In my rush to cling to what I have I’m ignoring what You ask.  I’m not very free, Jesus.  I’m surrounded by things, people, and situations that let me pretend that I’m in control of my life.  I hear what You say next in the Gospel and my face falls.  “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the Kingdom of God.”  I almost despair.

Help me, Jesus, to understand how to live out this message in my own life, the way You really want me to.  What are You calling me to, Jesus? Where will I get the courage to answer?

That was my conversation—my prayer for clarity of the Gospel.  Then I read this Gospel again and there it was: For us it is impossible, but not for God.  All things are possible with God.

And what about the young man who started this discussion?  I think of what a failure He must have been in Jesus’ eyes—and what a failure I must be.  Yet instead of disappointment in the young man, "Jesus, looking at him, loved him."  

At the end of this reflection, I quieted myself and felt the same warm gaze, and the same love for me.  I’m grateful and I’ll continue to pray for a more generous heart, especially during the coming season of Lent.