Someone help me understand. In Luke 18, Jesus tells the rich young ruler to sell all of his possessions, give the money to the poor, and then he will have eternal life. The Bible records the man went away very sad for he was incredibly wealthy. What stands out to me is when the rich man approaches Jesus initially, he asks: "What must I do to inherit eternal life?"… he already assumed that eternal life was an inheritance. Whatever he had to do to obtain the inheritance, by virtue of the fact that he used that word — inherit — he saw himself as a son of Abraham… of God. He didn't ask to buy his eternal life (although perhaps this could have been his line of thinking), he didn't ask what he needed to believe… he already saw himself as family of God. Of YAWEH. A bold move on this rich man's part, if you ask me. Perhaps he had more of a sensitive heart than history has given him credit for.
And I'm supposed to be the hands and feet of Jesus? Someone explain this to me… a rich person… I do not understand. Do people want my stuff? Here! Have it! Take it! I'll help women in the Congo, kids in Peru, and teens in Canada.
But even Jesus had women who supported His ministry financially. It seems to me, there is a use for money as long as God is First Love, and He directs the dollar's use. Seems simple enough. So why do I feel like I'm entering through the eye of the needle?
What's even more twisted is… it's not about me at all. Even these questions can become selfish and arrogant if not carefully guided.
What is it that is eating at me so voraciously?
Am I too content? On this keyboard, preaching freedom for captives, is this life too easy? Too clean?
How does this Lover of the Poor, Saviour of the Outcast love… me? A rich person.
I itch to serve! But what have I to give rape victims in the Congo… hunted street children in Peru… beat and betrayed kids in my own country…? Nothing. I have nothing to administer to their pain or honour their lives.
Perhaps therein lies my answer.