The Applause of Heaven - Max Lucado [9]
For one so used to calling the shots, calling on this carpenter's son for help must be awkward. For a man of his pedigree to seek the counsel of a country rube is not standard procedure. But this is no standard question.
"Teacher," he asks, "what good thing must I do to get eternal life?" The wording of his question betrays his misunderstanding. He thinks he can get eternal life as he gets everything else-by his own strength.
"What must I do?"
What are the requirements, Jesus? What's the breakeven point? No need for chitchat; go straight to the bottom line. How much do I need to invest to be certain of my return?
Jesus' answer is intended to make him wince. "If you want to enter life, obey the commandments."
A man with half a conscience would have thrown up his hands at that point. "Keep the commandments? Keep the commandments! Do you know how many commandments there are? Have you read the Law lately? I've tried-honestly, I've tried-but I can't."
That is what the ruler should say, but confession is the farthest thing from his mind. Instead of asking for help, he grabs a pencil and paper and asks for the list.
"Which ones?" He licks his pencil and arches an eyebrow.
Jesus indulges him. "Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother, and love your neighbor as yourself."
"Great!" thinks the yuppie as he finishes the notes. "Now I've got the quiz. Let's see if I pass.
"Murder? Of course not. Adultery? Well, nothing any redblooded boy wouldn't do. Stealing? A little extortion, but all justifiable. False testimony? Hmmmm ... let's move on. Honor your father and mother? Sure, I see them on holidays. Love your neighbor as yourself ... ?
"Hey," he grins, "a piece of cake. I've done all of these. In fact, I've done them since I was a kid." He swaggers a bit and hooks a thumb in his belt. "Got any other commandments you want to run past me?"
How Jesus keeps from laughing-or crying-is beyond me. The question that was intended to show the ruler how he falls short only convinces him that he stands tall. He's a child dripping water on the floor while telling his mom he hasn't been in the rain.
Jesus gets to the point. "If you want to be perfect, then go sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven."
The statement leaves the young man distraught and the disciples bewildered.
Their question could be ours: "Who then can be saved?"
Jesus' answer shell-shocks the listeners, "With man this is impossible...."
Impossible.
He doesn't say improbable. He doesn't say unlikely. He doesn't even say it will be tough. He says it is "impossible." No chance. No way. No loopholes. No hope. Impossible. It's impossible to swim the Pacific. It's impossible to go to the moon on the tail of a kite. You can't climb Mount Everest with a picnic basket and a walking stick. And unless somebody does something, you don't have a chance of going to heaven.
Does that strike you as cold? All your life you've been rewarded according to your performance. You get grades according to your study. You get commendations according to your success. You get money in response to your work.
That's why the rich young ruler thought heaven was just a payment away. It only made sense. You work hard, you pay your dues, and "zap"-your account is credited as paid in full. Jesus says, "No way." What you want costs far more than what you can pay. You don't need a system, you need a Savior. You don't need a resume, you need a Redeemer. For "what is impossible with men is possible with God."'
Don't miss the thrust of this verse: you cannot save yourself. Not through the right rituals. Not through the right doctrine. Not through the right devotion. Not through the right goose bumps. Jesus' point is crystal clear. It is impossible for human beings to save themselves.
You see, it wasn't the money that hindered the rich man; it was the self-sufficiency. It wasn't the possessions; it was