A Considerably More Interesting Definition of Love

19th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 10:17-31

You may have noticed that I went to the trouble to change the north side of the marquee for this morning. It is a quote attributed to the Danish theologian, Soren Kierkegaard - “Christ has many admirers but few followers.”

As we encounter our gospel lesson for this morning, we realize that the rich young ruler walks among us, and to a certain degree, within each one of us. We approach Christ and ask, timidly or boldly – it doesn’t matter. We ask Christ our question about eternal life, and Christ offers to us His answer. Too often, we, too “go away grieving.”

We go away grieving. We grieve, because we are suddenly confronted with the reality that we continue to be about the business of possessing life, when Christ calls us to give our lives away. We grieve because we possess much, and we perceive that Christ’s command that we give away all that we have is more than we can bear. We grieve because the meaning that we so desperately seek in this life is defined by our possessions, and so to give away all that we have is tantamount to giving away our own purpose and our meaning.

And we grieve, because in asking us to do what Jesus has asked us to do, we realize that He loves us.

Ah, the rub. Did you catch that part of the story? Mark is the only gospel writer who tells the story this way. Jesus is approached by this young ruler, He is asked His question, and He responds – Mark says, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said . . .” Out of Christ’s great love for this potential disciple, Jesus spoke words that challenged this man to his core, and he went away, grieving.

Perhaps we do the same thing.

Some of the commentators I read this week made much of the fact that Jesus did not offer this command to any one else during His ministry. I take issue with that assessment. Do you remember the parables? Do you remember the story of the treasure hidden in the field? That man found the treasure (quite by accident, I suspect), reburied it, and then went and sold all that he had to purchase that field. Do you remember the story of the pearl of great price? A hunter of pearls stumbled across a fantastic pearl, and went and sold all that he had previously invested in pearls in order to buy that one pearl. In those parables, Jesus lays down a truism – we cannot serve God and mammon. And that is not a message just for the wealthy. “Whatever your economic status, greed must go if you are to truly find God.”[1] And He lays down a second truism – discipleship is costly.

“Christ has many admirers, but few followers.”

And Christ loves us.

Will Willimon says that “there are benefits to following Jesus, but costs as well. And Jesus loves us enough to be up front about the cost.” Whatever else we might say about our Jesus, He shoots straight with us. We ask Him what He requires of us, and then His answer hits us like a ton of bricks. “Oh, what I ask isn’t much – I simply want it all from you. I want you to leave behind father, mother, sisters, brothers, children, spouses, and come follow me. I want you to leave behind your version of security for a new kind of eternal security that I have for you. I want you to dispossess all of your possessions, and come follow me as a vagabond and a sojourner. I want it all!! Because I want all of you!!”

Willimon goes on. “Christianity is all about loving Jesus, but it is about loving Jesus in the manner that Jesus loves us. The acid test for our love is sometimes how much we have been willing to give up for Jesus in order to realize the gift that he offers us.”[2]

You and I want to love Jesus. Really, we do. But too much of the time, we want to love Christ on our terms. We offer Jesus a partial commitment. We say to Him, “I know you want it all, Jesus, but I don’t see how I can give it all to you. Will you take what I will give?”

Like many of us, in my personal life, I struggled early on with my financial contributions to God’s work. Not as a child, mind you. I loved giving money to the church when I was a child. Of course – it was money that Mom and Dad gave me so that I could put something in the offering plate. It was easy to give away their money. Now, I don’t discount that practice for parents – frankly, I think it is a good thing, teaching children that they can make a contribution to the work of Christ. I applaud those of you who teach your children in that manner. No, my personal struggle began when I got my first little jobs – babysitting, mowing yards, and then working at Maverick Steak house when I was a Jr. and Sr. in High School. That’s when giving became more difficult. I struggled – I asked all of the usual questions – “Do I have to give if I really, really want to buy something else with my money? Boy, this is a lot of money. Does God really need this kind of money from me? Boy, I don’t have as much money as my parents – won’t God’s operation run okay without my piddly little contribution. Do I tithe on the gross or the net?” Some smart alec preacher answered that one for me during college. He said, “That depends on whether you want a gross blessing or a net blessing.”

Then came college, and my first “real” jobs. Lots more money, and that tithe check to the church grew, and I wondered how I would get by without all that money I was giving to the church. Besides, I worked for the church – it didn’t make sense that I would turn around and give money back to the church when that’s where it came from in the first place. Then there was the year that my little church didn’t give me a raise, and I really thought I deserved one. So, with what was supposed to be my tithe, I gave myself a raise. Little bit by little bit I saw my bank account grow smaller and smaller, until I relented and once again counted on the promise of God to bless my contribution to God’s ministry. In all the years following that, we have made it a practice to pay the church first, ourselves second, and all the other bills after that. And I have been blessed, really beyond measure.

My pilgrimage isn’t over. God seems to always want more from me. Don’t you find the same thing? Doesn’t it seem that God always wants more – more from us, and more of us? Either God wants more of our money, or more of our time, or more of our love, or more of our praise – always more of our devotion.

The lesson from the gospel this morning – that’s Jesus way of loving us. He gave us all, and that’s the way Christ wants us to respond to Him – with our all. Friend Willimon puts it this way – “Serious love is willing to give whatever it has, all of whatever it has, to its object. We are talking about priorities. You cannot have material prosperity, or even material security, as your first priority and find eternal life.”

“Christ has many admirers, but few followers.”

That phrase has haunted me this week. I keep hearing voices of people I have known over the years who have had a casual approach to Jesus. I remember my weird neighbor in Dallas, who sauntered over one night to watch me while I worked on my car, and when he discovered that I was a minister, said to me, “you know my wife and I, we’re rather partial to the teachings of Paul. We’ve read what Jesus has to say, and that’s nice and everything, but all in all, we like what Paul had to say.” And I remember the people I’ve run into who have tested the waters of various world religions. They say to me, “I love Jesus, and I love Mohammed, and I love the Buddha, and I am thankful for the teachings of Confucious. And I remember the people in my experience who have studied Jesus and what He had to say, but ultimately determined that to follow Jesus meant giving up the one, truly unique thing they possessed – their right to determine their own destiny and to make their own choices.

I suspect by now you have predicted where this sermon is going this morning. We, each of us, must ask ourselves the very question Jesus would ask of us – What is the one thing that is standing between you being able to follow me with your “all.”

This is one of those sermons that isn’t intended for your neighbor. It isn’t intended for your parents or your children or your spouse. It is intended just for you. It is designed to help each one of us step into that place where this rich young ruler found himself. We approach Jesus, wanting to know what’s left for us to do or get rid of in order to follow Him. He looks us in the eye, and He loves us . . .

And He says . . .

I want you to look at the front cover of your bulletin. There is that question – “What must I do?” Each one of us has to fill in the blank for ourselves. Well, that’s not really right – each one of us has to look our Savior right back in the eye, and listen to what He has to say is the one thing we still lack.

Are you listening to Him? Can you hear His voice? He is calling your name – just your name. He knows you intimately, really better than you ever thought He could, and surprisingly, better than you love yourself. Can you hear His words? Can you see the love in His eyes?

More than 20 years ago, psychologists coined a phrase designed to help parents deal with unruly teenagers. It was the phrase “tough love.” The concept advocated that every once in a while, parents are forced into a position in which they really begin to harm their adolescent children unless they force them into a position of responsibility – administering a form of love that is “tough” – “tough love.”

I think the kind of love that Christ exhibited toward this young man, and really toward each one of us, in considerably more interesting than any definition of love that we have seen or understood before. It is a “real” love – “tough” doesn’t adequately describe Christ’s love for this young man. It is more genuine than that. It is a love that looks beyond the moment – really beyond all the moments previous to our lives. It is a love that looks beyond our circumstances. It is a love that understands our fears, as well as our successes. It is a love that hopes more for us than we dare hope for ourselves. And it is a love that insists that we claim a future for ourselves – a future that Christ offers to us – that we haven’t ever dreamed was possible.

It is a considerably more interesting definition of love. It is Christ’s love – for us.

[1] Will Willimon, “Costly Love,” Pulpit Resource, Fall 2006, p.15.
[2] Ibid.