YEARNING FOR LIFE: PART II
Stephen Ambrose is the author of a book entitled, Undaunted Courage. In it he tells the story of an excursion led by a man named William Clark and a man named Meriwether Lewis in the year 1804. Perhaps this excursion is more commonly known as the Lewis and Clark Expedition. It was an exploration of what was then called the Louisiana Purchase and the Northwest Passage.
After two long years of battling nearly insurmountable odds – including hunger, fatigue, desertion, hostile enemies, illness and even death – the crew finally reached the headwaters of the Missouri River. All their advance information had led them to believe that once they reached that point, they would face about a half day’s portage, reach the waters of the Columbia River, and then float gently into the Pacific Ocean. Ah, they were well on their way to hero status. The hardest part of the trip was behind them now…or so they thought.
Meriwether Lewis left the rest of the expedition party behind to climb the bluffs that would enable him to see the other side. There he was sure he would see the waters of the Columbia River that would gently carry them to the Pacific Ocean. Imagine what he felt when he saw not the gentle, sloping valley he expected. Instead, he was the first non-Native American to lay eyes on the Rocky Mountains!
I can almost picture Meriwether Lewis turning and dropping to his seat on the ground. Then he motions to the rest of his party to stay behind a little longer while he tries to figure out how to break the news. “Hang on a minute, guys,” he says. “Don’t come up just yet. I…I have a little surprise for you.”
What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead? What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come? While the Lewis and Clark Expedition crew was hoping for a downstream ride, they found that they still had to climb the highest mountain of all.
I believe there’s someone in the passage we read from the gospel according to Matthew who might have experienced a similar feeling. Matthew calls him a rich young man. Mark just calls him a rich man, while Luke calls him a rich young ruler. In any case, here we encounter a man who seems to have it all. He has wealth, he has power, he has youth…perhaps he even has fame. Yet somehow there’s something missing from his life, and he seems to be painfully aware of the void. In the midst of his opulent lifestyle, he still found himself yearning for life.
Thus, the rich young ruler approached Jesus as he taught in the region of Judea. “Teacher,” he said, “what good deed must I do to inherit eternal life?” Now before we go on, I think we need to take a moment to unpack just exactly what this rich young ruler is asking of Jesus. He appears to be in search of eternal life. Yet perhaps that doesn’t mean what it would seem to mean on the surface. In other words, perhaps he isn’t really asking about what we might call heaven.
The Greek word translated life here is zoane. What that literally means is life: more specifically, it means the life of believers which proceeds from God and Christ. What proceeds from God and Christ? The Holy Spirit proceeds from God and Christ. In other words, perhaps what this rich young ruler is really looking for a Spirit-filled life. He’s looking for a life of holiness. He’s in search of inner peace. He knows that somehow, something is missing from his life. The question he literally might have been asking himself is this: “What do you do when everything you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough?” That might be a good question for us as well. “What do you do when everything you’ve ever wanted isn’t enough?”
The rich young ruler was yearning for life. He was in search of inner peace. Thus, he said to Jesus, in essence, “What good deed must I do in order to inherit inner peace?” He was looking for a magic bullet. Perhaps he thought if he just said the right prayer, or gave a little something to the right charity he would find that which he sought. “What good deed must I do?” he asked. “What good deed must I do?”
Jesus knew immediately what the problem was. It was not a DEED that was going to save him. It was not a DEED that was going to bring him inner peace. Still, Jesus strung him along for a moment or two. He gave the young man the typical rabbinic answer: “You shall not kill, you shall not steal, you shall not commit adultery…you know, follow the Ten Commandments.”
The young man replied, “All these I have done since my youth. What do I still lack?”
Then Jesus got to the heart of the matter. He said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Let’s take a moment to unpack that statement as well. “If you wish to be perfect,” Jesus said. None of us are perfect. None of us can be perfect, and perhaps we don’t even want to be. As someone once said, “There was only one perfect man in the history of the world, and look what they did to him!” Perhaps the word “perfect” is not the best translation here.
The Greek word translated perfect here is telios. It means literally, having attained your true purpose. So perhaps a better way to look at what Jesus really said to the man is this: “If you wish to attain your true purpose in life, go, sell your possessions, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
This is not to say that wealth – or the possession of it – is bad. The issue was not how much money this rich young ruler had. The issue was its priority. Apparently his wealth was the central focus of his life. It was what he leaned on for security. It was what gave him his identity. Thus, it simply had to go. To have inner peace, to attain your true purpose, and to live a Spirit-filled life…is to lean on God for your security and for your identity. God becomes your top priority, for where your treasure is…there will your heart be also.
What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead? What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come? This rich young ruler truly believed that he had followed Old Testament law to the letter. He thought the worst of the journey was over. Now he was looking for that gentle passageway that would float him down to inner peace. What he found instead was the Rocky Mountains. What he found instead was that the worst was yet to come. The rich young ruler was being asked to give up that which he valued most. He was being called to relinquish that which he believed gave him his security and his identity.
As I said last week, we want our faith to bring us joy and happiness and an absence of pain.
We want God to help us live fulfilling and comfortable lives. Our deepest desire seems to be reaching the splendor and grandeur of Easter without the desolation and heartache of Good Friday. Yet the season of Lent – that season in which we find ourselves now – never fails to take us through Good Friday before we get to Easter.
In the season of Lent, we are invited to examine biblical stories that evidence waiting and yearning. Stories of waiting and yearning in Lent and Holy Week are laced with strange mixtures of excitement on the one hand and fear on the other; success on the one hand and failure on the other; loyalty on the one hand and betrayal on the other; affirmation on the one hand and denial on the other; life on the one hand and death on the other. Thus, perhaps we could say that Lent is a time for self-examination. And if we are to be about the business of self-examination, then perhaps there are a number of questions we should be asking ourselves as we seek God’s presence in Lent. We should be asking ourselves questions like the following:
- Do I ever feel like I am in a wilderness?
- Am I facing temptation that I need help to resist?
- What do I need to confess in order to be free of guilt?
- With what am I struggling and in pain?
- Do setbacks and losses eat away at me?
- How far have I strayed from God’s purpose for my life?
- Do I doubt God, myself, or others?
- From what – or from whom – do I run away and hide?
- And then, of course, there’s the question of the day: What do I need to allow to die in me in order to be closer to God? Again: What do I need to allow to die in me in order to be closer to God?
Jesus said to the rich young ruler, “If you wish to be perfect – if you wish to be fulfilled and to find inner peace – then go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” Jesus was calling upon that young man to give up that which he valued most; to sacrifice what he perceived to be his security; to surrender what he had come to believe was his identity. In other words, something needed to die in him in order for him to be closer to God. While he thought the worst of the journey was over when he managed to obey the Ten Commandments, he found that his journey was only beginning. Upon hearing Jesus’ suggestion, what did the rich, young ruler do? He turned and walked away because he thought the sacrifice was just too great.
What do you do when you’ve already come through the valley of the shadow of death, only to discover that the Rocky Mountains lie ahead? What do you do when you think your biggest problems are behind you, only to find that the worst is yet to come? Let’s go back to the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Expecting a gentle stream that would lead to the Pacific Ocean, they found the Rocky Mountains staring them in the face. It had to be incredibly disheartening for each and every one of them.
Crossing the Rocky Mountains, however, would come to be the supreme achievement of the entire trip. The challenge would call forth tremendous stamina, creativity and perseverance. It would lead them to spectacular sights and unforgettable memories. It would build tremendous confidence in them because once they had tackled the Rocky Mountains, they would know they could tackle almost anything. What they perceived to be sacrifice at the time would ultimately lead to their greatest achievement of all.
The word “sacrifice” comes from the Latin words sacer and facere. Sacer means “holy,” while facere means “to make.” Thus, in its original context, the word “sacrifice” literally meant, “to make holy.” For the rich young ruler, it was his wealth that was getting in the way. It was his wealth that kept getting between him and God. While he was yearning for life, it was that which kept him from finding it. If only he could have brought himself to sacrifice that which he valued most – if only he could have brought himself to make holy his priorities – he would have found his inner peace.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Self-sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow.” Thus, instead of calling something a sacrifice, perhaps we could call it a miracle. Think about that for a minute. We are the only creatures on God’s green earth who can willingly do that which we don’t want to do. That in itself is a miracle. Thus, perhaps we could even say that sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible. Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible.
I grew up in a middle class Catholic neighborhood in Sioux City, Iowa. Thus, many of my friends were Catholic, and they always gave up something for Lent. They’d say to me, “What are you giving up for Lent?” I’d say, “Presbyterians don’t do that.” Yet when I’d ask them
what they were giving up for Lent, they’d say things like broccoli or asparagus or meat loaf… things they didn’t like anyway.
Maybe we do need to sacrifice something for Lent – and not just the things we don’t like anyway. Maybe we could sacrifice our insatiable pride. Maybe we could sacrifice our need to always be right. Maybe we could sacrifice our desire to be in control. Maybe we could sacrifice our perpetual longing for more. Maybe we could sacrifice…well, you fill in the blank. Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible. When we, like the rich young ruler, find ourselves yearning for life…perhaps we should learn to sacrifice that which keeps getting in the way. Amen.
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