Maybe it’s a newly-married thing, or a “welcome to our 30’s” thing, but we’ve gotten into a habit of going for walks in nice neighborhoods and commenting on all the houses. For fun we check the prices on Zillow and, predictably, they are always far outside anything we could afford. My favorite response is, “Jesus said it’s hard for the rich to enter the Kingdom, so at least we’re not struggling with wealth!”
Obviously I’m taking this passage out of context and using it for my own gain (ba dum tss). I used to think this verse meant that it’s hard for the rich to “make it into heaven.” But Jesus is talking about the Kingdom, not necessarily about where the rich will go when they die. Throughout the gospel of Mark, Jesus constantly talks about the Kingdom that is “at hand,” not something far away or off in the skies. The people who heard him talk about this would have understood this to refer to God’s reign on earth—a good and glorious reign bringing deliverance to God’s people—a strong contrast to (and maybe even an opposing force against) the Roman empire, the current oppressors of God’s people.
Second, there’s a difference between “making it into” something—like meriting membership in a club—and “entering” somewhere—like walking inside a door that is being held open for you. Jesus says it is hard for the rich to enter the Kingdom, because even though they have agency in where they are walking (right now), for some reason they have difficulty walking there. Why? I think one of the reasons the Bible warns about the danger of loving money is that when it becomes our priority, everything gets tainted by it. Everything becomes about gain, and our relationships become transactional. It’s hard to be rich and be able to freely give, and it’s hard to be rich and still just be able to receive. Wealth, and the societal position it grants, makes it difficult to see our need for the kind of Kingdom that Jesus is bringing—and why would we receive something we don’t need? But, I’m beginning to believe that entering the Kingdom is all about receiving.
A favorite story of mine in the Gospel of Mark begins with a young man who runs up to Jesus and falls on his knees before him (quite a typical opening for many of the stories within this book). However, rather than ask Jesus for healing or mercy, as most of the others who fall at Jesus’ feet do, this young man instead asks Jesus what he must do in order to inherit eternal life…which doesn’t seem like a normal reason to throw yourself at someone’s feet. Not only that, but it seems as if he missed the logic flaw within his own question—he asked what he must do to inherit eternal life. Had he forgotten that inheritance isn’t based on what you do, it’s based on whose you are? You inherit something because you’re family. As a rich young ruler, he should have understood this concept. Or, had being rich perhaps tainted his relationships to the point that even his familial relationships had become transactional, so that he understood inheritance to require something from him?
But let’s be honest, he’s not alone in this way of living. I had no idea how transactional of a life I led until Austin and I started dating. Over and over he would tell me, “We’re not keeping score.” Whether it was paying for meals or gas, or who planned a better date night or got the other better gifts, or, even when it became about who initiated a conflict or “burdened” the relationship with emotional breakdowns…I had to be reminded that we weren’t counting. It was so different than anything I’d experienced before, and it was one of the first things that made me love him. It still feels new to me, and sometimes it feels harder to try and live this way. It’s more comfortable to keep score and make sure things are even. It’s less vulnerable not to receive. But I think here, in this vulnerability, lies the Kingdom.
The story previous to the rich young ruler in the Gospel of Mark gives us a glimpse into this kind of Kingdom vulnerability. Parents are bringing their children to Jesus to receive a blessing from him. As children in this society, they were of low status. They had nothing to offer Jesus—they were takers. Yet Jesus proclaims, “Anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it…the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Mark uses the juxtaposition of these two passages to help us see the difference between the two postures in approaching Jesus, and understand that the Kingdom posture is that of the little child. Mark then brings it full circle at the end of the rich young ruler story. As Jesus is explaining to his disciples what just happened, he quotes my Zillow verse (“how hard it is for the rich to enter the Kingdom!”), and then he calls them “children!” I imagine this to be somewhat tongue-in-cheek on Jesus’ part—”don’t you remember what I just said when I was with the children (ten verses ago)?!” It seems that Jesus is saying that entering the Kingdom is really all about receiving.
As much as I’m not currently “struggling with wealth,” I can’t say that I’m an expert at receiving either. God is providing so much right now through so many people, but my knee-jerk reaction is always to start thinking of ways to pay them back or return the favor. But the defining characteristic of childlike receiving is simply having open hands—without a thought of paying back anything you’ve been given. Why would you? As children we learned that what belonged to our parents belonged to us too.
I have four little nieces and nephews whom I love dearly, and it is the sweetest thing to watch how dependent they are on their parents and caregivers. They spend their days playing, then when they get hungry they ask for a snack…and I’m pretty sure they’ve never had a thought about where the food comes from or how it got there. They simply receive it. And then devour it. There’s nothing transactional about these relationships. They know they are loved, so they receive with open hands.
What would it be like to receive this way from God? As much as I would like to think that I trust God with that kind of child-like dependence, honestly, most of the time I’m probably more like the rich young ruler. How many of my conversations with God are based on transactional thinking? If I move across the country to pursue a selfless career serving you and your people, then will you make me feel satisfied and like my life is worthwhile? If I pour out everything I have into this church and then more, then will you move in power and cause your people to love you with their whole hearts? If I pray every day for my family and invest more of my emotional energy in them, then will you bring reconciliation and hope? If I take intentional sabbaths and spend countless hours each day with you, then will you heal me? If I throw myself at your feet and praise you like the rich young ruler did, then will you answer my biggest questions?
Like me, the rich young man came kneeling before Jesus, but not like the others that had begged for help with faith that he would heal them and have mercy. He knelt before Jesus, not as King or Savior, but as someone to be bartered with in order to get what he wanted.
“Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor…then come, follow me.” Jesus’ response to the young man was not a rebuke. Jesus knew, and would later tell his disciples, how hard it is for those who trust in riches to enter the Kingdom of God. He knew that when this young man had nothing left to give, nothing left to trust in—no more money, no more status, no more title—then he could learn to receive. When all he had were empty hands, he could finally just receive eternal life apart from a transaction or anything he had to offer. So, in love, Jesus tells the young man to get rid of the one thing that is keeping him from entering the Kingdom. Did he realize that this was really the invitation he was longing for—an invitation for him to come be Jesus’ disciple, to be his friend? Before Jesus even responded to the young man, Mark notes that Jesus looked at him and loved him. Jesus longed for a relationship with him that wasn’t transactional, because he loved him.
Mark gives us an opportunity to imagine an ending to this story. It’s left open-ended. Yes, he went away sad. People always say that means he rejected Jesus’ invitation. But what if he went away sad because he had to go part with his most treasured possession (...like a new Cultural Background Study Bible that a certain unnamed blogger loves)? What if it was because he knew that the process of learning to not trust in riches but instead trust in God was going to be really hard? What if he went back home to all his things and realized that for all he had, this wasn’t real life?
Perhaps Jesus’ response to the rich young ruler is really an invitation to enter the Kingdom. This Kingdom is a place free of transaction, and full of real relationships. It is a place where both receiving and dependence are invited and celebrated. Here, we see with open eyes what is truly worth our trust. I hear Jesus extending that same invitation to me, too, often through the hands of those who love me. Some days, the voice of shame wins and I walk away sad—I carry on in my transactional living, convinced there is no such thing as something freely given. But other days, I find the courage to open my hands and just receive. And on those days, it’s almost as if I can see the Kingdom all around me.