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In Search of the Center
Psalm 131, Mark 10:17-22
Bethany Nelson
February 14, 2010


Psalm 131 (From “The Message” translation) - God, I'm not trying to rule the roost, I don't want to be king of the mountain. I haven't meddled where I have no business or fantasized grandiose plans. I've kept my feet on the ground, I've cultivated a quiet heart. Like a baby content in its mother's arms, my soul is a baby content. Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!

Mark 10:17-22 - As Jesus was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.'” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Back in the 1970's, Flip Wilson starred in a weekly sketch comedy show, and one of his favorite characters to portray was Brother Leroy.  In one skit, Brother Leroy was leading services on a Sunday morning when the time came to receive the offering. He passed the collection plates, and they came back empty. So he passed them again. Same thing. Empty. Brother Leroy then went before the congregation and said, "Now, I know that you all want this church to progress." He didn't get much response.  So Brother Leroy shouted a bit louder: "Now, before this church can progress it has to crawl."  And the congregation started getting excited and they yelled back, "Make it crawl, Reverend. Make it crawl!"  Brother Leroy continued, "After this church has crawled, it's got to pick itself up and start to walk!"  And the people yelled back at him, "Make it walk, Reverend. Make it walk!" "And after this church has walked, this church has got to get up and run." And the people were worked up into a frenzy, and they hollered back: "Make it run, Reverend. Make it run!"  And then Brother Leroy said, "Now, brothers and sisters, in order for this church to run, its gonna need money, its gonna take your money for this church to run!"  And the people yelled back, "Let it crawl, Reverend. Let it crawl!" 
I don't know about you, but I do find that my first instinct to hold on to what I have - especially if it is money. I have obligations! Rent, grocery bills, student loans, a child to raise. So I'm sorry, Brother Leroy, but the church is just going to have to crawl right now.
Then I read this passage from Mark's Gospel, and I begin to feel a bit uncomfortable. Jesus wants this man to sell all of his possessions and give away the money. I'm pretty sure this is an uncomfortable proposition for all of us! And wait, didn't we just hear a sermon about money last week? So to soothe your minds just a little bit, I want to assure you that I am NOT going to tell you today to go give away everything that you have. Although, if you want to do that, I'm sure one of our Legacy Fund committee members would be happy to talk with you about it! But, I am a realist. I live in the 21st century and I know that in this day and age, people just don't do things like that. Or do they?
Preacher and teacher Fred Craddock tells a story about leading worship at a university church several years ago. That day he preached about Jesus' calling his disciples.  After worship, a young woman approached him and told him that she was in medical school at that university. She said his sermon had clinched what she had been struggling with for a while. When Craddock asked what that was, she told him she wanted to drop out of med school. Craddock's response, “Why would you want to do that?”
Says Craddock, “She said she was going to go work in the Rio Grande Valley, saying 'I believe that's what God wants me to do.'  So she quit school, went to the Rio Grande Valley, and now sleeps under a piece of tin in the back of a pickup truck, teaching little children while their parents are out in the field.  She dropped out of med school for this, and her folks back in Montana are saying, 'What in the world happened.'"
What in the world happened indeed? People don't just drop out of med school to live in their trucks. This girl had it made – she was getting a great education, and had a promising and lucrative future to look forward to in the medical field. But, for her, something was missing.
Now, the man in the Gospel story also seems to have it made. He has earned some money in his life, acquired possessions that are important to him, and is also a man of strong faith. He very proudly has kept the commandments since his youth. But, for him, something is missing.
I think that's a familiar feeling, one that I would guess many of us have experienced. Sure, life is fine, I go to church regularly, I have a place to live and food to eat, but something is missing.
And what about when life is not so fine? What about when health struggles, economic woes, relationship difficulties begin to take center stage in our lives . . . and something is missing?
In his memoir “Days of Grace,” tennis great Arthur Ashe, reflected on his life after by-pass surgery writing, “How could I have been dissatisfied, even subtly, with my life? I had lived a fantasy of a life. But I was dissatisfied. Who knows what force gnaws at us, telling us that our accomplishments, no matter how sensational, are not enough?”
Something was certainly gnawing at the man in Mark's Gospel, and he knew exactly who to consult for advice. “Good Teacher,” he asks Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus looks at him, loves him, and says, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor . . . then come, follow me.”
Well, that's an unexpected response. The man is shocked. For in his day, the wealthy were seen to have favor with God. If wealth was achieved fairly and honestly, it was seen as a sign of God's blessing. Why, Jesus, would you want me to sell everything I own? That's not the way it works around here.
But, Jesus wasn't all that concerned about how things were supposed to work. He didn't care about the rules and regulations of society at large. He cared about this man, and about his yearning for something more. So Jesus looked at him, loved him, and then, as author Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “Gave him a rich prescription for a rich man, designed to melt the lump in his throat and the knot in his stomach by dissolving the burden on his back, the hump that keeps banging into the crossbeam on the doorway to God.”
You want to know what's missing, says Jesus to the man. God is missing. Sure, you've kept the commandments since your youth, but that doesn't mean that God has been at the center of your life. All of this stuff is at the center. Let go of the stuff, and come follow me.
So really, this story isn't necessarily about wealth or money. It is about that which is keeping God on the periphery of our lives, rather than at the center. Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us, if this story were just about money, “then we could all buy our way into heaven by cashing in our chips right now - and you know that is not so. The kingdom of God is God's consummate gift. The catch is, you have got to be free to receive the gift. You cannot be otherwise engaged. You cannot be tied up right now, or too tied down to respond.” It may very well be our possessions that are keeping us tied us down. Or a difficult relationship. Or a health concern. Or worry and stress. There are so many things to which our hands and hearts cling that prevent them from opening to God.
There's a story about a millionaire who spent his days in his palace counting his gold. Beside the palace was a cobbler who spent his days singing as he repaired people's shoes. One day the rich man gave a few of his gold coins to the cobbler. At first the cobbler was overjoyed, and he took the coins and hid them. But then he would be worried and would go back to check to see if the coins were still there. Then he would be worried that someone had seen him, and he would move the coins and hide them in another place. During all of this, he stopped singing. When he finally realized that he had ceased to sing because of the gold coins, he took them back to the rich man and said, "Take back your coins and give me back my songs."
So the question is not, are we going to go give away our money? The question is, what is keeping us from singing? What is keeping us so tied down that we can't help but wonder what is missing? What is consuming our center and keeping God at the periphery? And, how are we going to find our songs?
Now, I said earlier that I wasn't going to tell you to go give away everything you own because I was worried that would make us all just too uncomfortable. However, I can't promise comfort in the answers to these questions, either. For Jesus does not promise comfort. Nowhere in the Gospels does he say that the life of a disciple is easy or conventional. Finding our songs will require the hard work of letting go of some of our stuff. Or, of allowing others in – allowing God in – to help us with some of our stuff. It will require opening ourselves to the movement of the spirit. And learning to sing from depths of our pain, as well as from the heights of our joy – because we know God's song is at our center always.
Jesus is looking at us, loving us, and calling us to come, follow him. Follow him into a life of discipleship where God is at our center. To a life where we are free to sing our songs. To a life where we can proclaim, like the Psalmist, that our soul is content like a baby in the arms of it's parent. Calling us to a life where instead of wondering what is missing, we know nothing is missing, because we are defined not by our stuff, but by God's love and light and hope and grace.
Let us pray,
Loving God, help us to find you, our quiet center in the crowded life we lead. May we find the room for hope to enter, find the frame where we are freed. Clear the chaos and the clutter, God, clear our eyes that we can see all the things that really matter. May we be at peace, and simply be. Amen.



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