As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honour your father and mother.’”
“Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.
–Mark 10:17-27 (NIV)
The first time I was in the place of the rich young man
who asked about eternal life,
I had no money to give to the poor.
I didn’t hear a word Jesus said.
All I remember is that
he looked at me and loved me,
and then my hand was in his.
Whenever I met Jesus in this story afterwards,
I asked myself what I was holding onto.
I saw the treasures holding me back,
but I couldn’t imagine living without them.
Jesus said, “Just follow me, anyway.”
This week, when the story came to me again,
I noticed the young man didn’t ask to follow Jesus.
He asked what he must do to be good–
good enough to secure a spot in heaven.
Jesus heard the question under his question
and gave him what he lacked:
He looked at him and loved him.
Then Jesus looked at me lovingly,
and I remembered that last week,
he tricked me into letting go
of a few coins from my treasury.
My selfishness was exposed,
my goodness in question.
It was a sobering moment.
But as I stayed in his heavenly gaze,
I realized he wasn’t concerned
about my selfishness
or how I spend my money
but about my preoccupation with
what I need to do
to prove to myself and others
that I’m good.
What if I gave that up for Lent?
What if, for the next forty days
I took on the spiritual practice of noticing
how the desire to be affirmed
motivated my actions,
ignited my fears,
and dominated my thoughts.
I looked back into Jesus’ eyes
and listened to my heart
and began to imagine
a new freedom.
Jesus [on the cross] is trying to make us conscious of the power of divine love to integrate our wounded goodness into himself and then, to move from a preoccupation with sin to a focus on grace. –Louis Savary, The New Spiritual Exercises
An Everyday Pilgrim 