How to Enter the Kingdom

We’re going to read from the Bible this morning, in the Gospel of Luke, in the eighteenth chapter. We’re going to read from the fifteenth verse:

“People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’

“A certain ruler asked him, ‘Good teacher, 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: “Do not commit adultery, do not murder, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother.”’

“‘All these I[’ve] kept since I was a boy,’ he said.

“When Jesus heard this, he said to him, ‘You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.’

“When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was a man of great wealth. Jesus looked at him and said, ‘How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God! Indeed, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’

“Those who heard this asked, ‘Who then can be saved?’

“Jesus replied, ‘What is impossible with men is possible with God.’

“Peter said to him, ‘We[’ve] left all we had to follow you!’

“‘I tell you the truth,’ Jesus said to them, ‘no one who has left home or wife or brothers or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age and, in the age to come, eternal life.’”

Amen. Thanks be to God for his Word.

Father, as we prepare to study the Bible, we confess to you again our absolute need of your help that, in speaking and in hearing, we might be energized by your Spirit, that we might hear your voice, that we might trust you and obey you, that you might turn us upside down, that we might live for Christ. For it’s in his name we pray. Amen.

Yesterday morning, I did something very unusual—that is, I watched the TV. I watch TV, but I’d seldom if ever watch it in the morning, and I can’t remember the last time I ever saw a television, apart from maybe in an airport, on a Saturday morning. But things fell out that way for me, and I found myself hooked into a program that was taking place, being filmed, in the Yukon Peninsula. And it was either on the Discovery Channel or the Travel Channel or something, but it was essentially the journey of a photographer with his apprentice, and the photographer was showing this young man how he might be able to maximize the photographic opportunities that were before him. There were some amazing subjects, magnificent subjects: huge elk, I mean, with racks on them, just vast, and tremendously dramatic pictures of flowers in the foreground and mountains in the background and rivers and lakes and streams. And it was quite enthralling, and not least of all because this senior photographer was nurturing the younger man in the use of lenses and angles and so on. And so he was constantly telling him, “You know, if you use this particular lens, then, obviously, your focus is narrow, your depth of field is limited, whereas if you back off and use a wider lens, then two-thirds of what you see will be in your depth of field,” and so on. And he was showing him. And the way the thing was shot was so tremendously helpful, because you could see exactly what was taking place.

And it was pressing upon my mind throughout the day as I continued to study for today, because I realized that in large measure, what that man was doing there in photography I was seeking to do in our study of the Bible week by week, inasmuch as sometimes we’re using, if you like, a lens which allows us to focus very directly on a specific incident, as last time: the Pharisee and the tax collector. The scene was the temple, and the way in which we viewed it was through, if you like, the very narrow focus of gazing into the eyes of these two individuals. If we had stepped back from it, then, of course, we would have been able to see them in the light of the larger landscape that is here before us in the eighteenth chapter of Luke’s Gospel.

Now, I mention that because I think it is important for us, particularly as we move towards the conclusion of Luke’s Gospel, to be reminding ourselves of the fact that we do a disservice to our own ability to study the Bible if we are led simply by the paragraph headings that are created for us in our English version of the Bible. As you know, there were no paragraph headings, there was no structure to the original text of Scripture. These have been added for our help. And in many cases, they are helpful. It is, of course, perfectly legitimate for us to study the first eight verses on their own, and then 9–14 on their own. We could, I suppose, study this little section concerning the children as an isolated incident. We could then go on and deal with the rich young ruler in isolation from the rest and so on. But I think it’s important for us this morning to zoom out a little bit, as it were, to make sure that we are not missing the line which is running all the way through these incidents that are described for us.

The Melodic Line: Division

One of the things that we want to try and identify—and we’ve said this before in our study of the Bible—is to be able to get, as it were, the melodic line that is running through all of the notes which sound out this tune which unfolds God’s story for us. It’s possible for us to listen to music in a truncated way—I suppose you could listen and then switch it off and then listen again—and you would miss the melody that runs through the music. In the same way, it is important for us to catch the melody line which is running through. Sometimes it’s a very striking, full, rich, resonant sound. Other times it is in a minor key. And the melody line which runs through these verses, I want to suggest to you, is a melody line of division—that there is a clear contrast which comes again and again throughout all of these episodes here in Luke 18. I’m not going to bore you with it, but I’ll start you off, and you can fill in the gaps for yourself.

If I were asking you, “Where, then, does this motif of division fall? Illustrate it for me. Write it down on a paper,” then I would expect that you would look at it, and you would say, “Well, we have the division between the unjust judge and the magnificent provision of God the Father.”[1] Correct. “We have the division that exists between the snobby attitude of the Pharisee and the humble response of the tax collector.”[2] Correct. “We have the division that exists between those who brought children to Jesus and those who tried to shoo them away.” Correct. And as you go through these verses, you will find that there is this recurring melodic theme which is there. It is essentially that which exists between those who have faith and in turn act faithfully in contrast to the self-possessed, who are concerned only with their own honor and with their own position.

Now, Luke’s “orderly account”[3] of things, which he has given us, promised to us from the opening chapter, makes it impossible for us to miss the urgency with which he brings this challenge to his readers. We’re not, here, talking about matters of marginal importance; we’re actually talking about who is fit for entry to the kingdom of God—that we live in the kingdom of man; we build our own little kingdoms, as it were; but there is a kingdom of God which he has established; Jesus is the King, and he is inviting people to come and live under his kingly rule. This morning, we are ultimately divided between one another on the basis of those who have responded to the call of Christ’s kingship and have bowed down and honored him as King and those who as yet have resisted his advances and determined that we will live on in our own little citadel with ourselves on the throne, and we will try and champion our own destiny as best as we can.

Now, this very important matter is highlighted for us by phraseology which is repeated. The issue in verse 17 of what it means to “enter” “the kingdom of God” is reiterated in verse 24: “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!” What we are dealing with is the matter of “eternal life”—verse 18—to which Luke returns again in verse 30, finishing the thirtieth verse with the phrase “and, in the age to come, eternal life.” We are addressing the question of whether it would be possible for us to amass a great fortune on earth and yet still to have no treasure in heaven—to spend all of our energies and all of our time making sure that we have built our own little kingdom and yet find that we’re so tied to our earthbound preoccupations that on the day that we stand before God, there will have been nothing entered in our bank account at all. We’ll go, if you like, to the ATM at the gate of heaven; we’ll put in our card, and it will say, “Insufficient funds—nothing here at all.” “Oh, but,” we say to ourselves, “I amassed a great fortune. I was tremendously well-known. People often responded to my kindness.” And yet we try it again: “If you wish to retry, enter your code again.” We enter the code again, and still it comes back, “Insufficient funds.”

These, then, are the issues: Who is fit for entry to the kingdom of God? And upon what basis will that entry be granted? Now, of course, we ought to be able to answer that question as a result of all the study that we’ve done up until this point. We’ve certainly seen that the first answer that we may go to is probably the wrong answer, especially if we’re thinking the way the man in the street thinks. And last time, in the story of the Pharisee and the publican, we had our first surprise: “Who do you think,” says Jesus, “would be the individual that would go home right with God? Here’s a man who goes to church regularly, he tithes, he is involved in prayers, he prays fastidiously, he fasts, and so on. And here’s another guy who’s actually a crook and a cheat and who apparently is completely on the outside of things. Which man do you think would be the one who went home right with God?”[4] Well, the man in the street would say, “Of course, the religious individual went home right with God, because religious people are on God’s side. But this fellow—no, he had no chance with God.” Jesus said, “No, you’re completely wrong. The one who went home right with God was the man who admitted that he had nothing to plead in his defense. And the self-absorbed fellow, he actually made no progress whatsoever, except in being able to draw attention to himself.”[5]

Now, of course, again, this is no surprise to us if we step way back from it all and we allow the opening unfolding story of the Gospel of Luke to establish the pattern which follows. I want you, if you’d be good enough, just to turn back to the first chapter in order that I might point out to you just one thing. In the song of Mary… Remember when Mary sings a song after the announcement of the birth of the Lord Jesus, and she magnifies God that he has looked upon the lowly estate of his handmaiden. She can’t get over the fact that he hasn’t come and chosen a princess; he hasn’t come and chosen somebody who is well-known; he’s come and chosen somebody in complete obscurity.[6] And as she reflects upon this and she sings out her praise—verse 51—she points out that

 he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
 but [he] has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
 but [he] has sent the rich away empty.[7]

In other words, the values of the kingdom are topsy-turvy.

When we got to chapter 6, we saw that in the sermon that Jesus preached. He said, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”[8] “Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the hungry. Blessed are the sad. Blessed are the hated.”[9] You remember what we said about that: that is bizarre. If you had the opportunity to say, “Do you want to be hungry, sad, poor, and insulted or rich, fat, happy, and praised?” which of the two options would you elect for? Well, most people would say, “Well, I think I’d better go for the happy, fat, you know, and praised.” And Jesus says, “But woe to you who are rich …. Woe to you who are well fed …. Woe to you who laugh …. Woe to you when … men speak well of you.”[10] What is he saying? He’s saying that the issues of the kingdom are topsy-turvy. And, of course, he drives it home back here in chapter 18, at the end of the story of the Pharisee and the publican: “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”[11]

So those of us who come to church, and we want to make sure that everybody can see that we’re here and that we’re present and correct, as it were—relying, perhaps, on our fastidious commitment to coming, relying on the fact that we are very orthodox in the way we do certain things—unless we have actually humbled ourselves before the mercy of God, then God will send us away empty. Those of us who come to church saying, “You know, it’s a surprise to me that the building doesn’t fall down on my head; after all, if people ever knew what I was really like…” then we discover that in the humility of heart that cries to God for mercy, God is drawing us to himself. It’s completely upside-down. It’s a wonderful message, you see. Because when we go out to the folks in our community, we have to say to them, those who think they’re smart, they’re not so smart; those of them who think they’re well-heeled, they’re actually not so well-heeled—they’re down on their heels. So that we really have no message for you except “You’re going to have to humble yourself before God.”

The proud and the self-assured and the well put together, they don’t want to hear that story. And the other people, who think there is no story to hear, we love to tell them, “I know you think that there is no hope for you. I know that you’ve determined that your life is a shambles. I know that you feel yourself to be overwhelmed by many things. I’ve got wonderful news for you: the Lord Jesus comes to pick up people like you. He picks up the humble, and he fills them with good things. But the rich, he sends them away empty.” Say, “Well, I’m not sure that being rich, then—I’m not sure the American Dream—is the best way into the kingdom.” You’re right. The American Dream may prevent you from the kingdom.

A Disposition to Pride

Now, in verse 9, look at the audience. We’re not going to go back through this section—we dealt with it last time—but I want to take you back again to the audience. Because I’ve thought about this more since last time, and I was greatly challenged by it, in a way that didn’t quite strike me before. I want to mention it to you in case you may feel the same sense of challenge. Jesus is addressing those “who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else”—those who, on account of their concerns with holiness, disdained others and sought to exclude them from their circles.

Now, since he immediately goes on to tell the story of the two men who go to the temple to pray, it is very easy for each of us to then go to the story, to identify who the bad guy is, who the good guy is, and then put ourselves on the side of the good guy by making sure that we’re not the bad chap—you know, the Pharisee. “This is obviously,” we say to ourselves, “a story about Pharisees, and whatever else we may be, we are not part of the Pharisees. Therefore, we can relax on this one. Let’s see what happens when he gets to the story of the children.” Uh-uh.

Unless we have actually humbled ourselves before the mercy of God, then God will send us away empty.

Notice that Jesus, in speaking in this way, does not identify a particular group of people, but rather, he identifies an attitude. He identifies a disposition which in turn generates practices that are in opposition to the way of the kingdom of God. So that the extent that any of us may find ourselves saying, “Well, I’m so glad that this doesn’t refer to me,” we have just pronounced to ourselves and to anyone else listening that there is a more than even chance that it does refer to me. Because we are, each of us, in constant danger of slipping on the shoes of religious hypocrisy, of making ourselves seem far holier than we are by disdaining people who need to hear the message of Christ, by making ourselves feel very orthodox by the limited way in which we draw the circle around us, thereby saying that everyone outside of the circle—by our perspective, now; not by the demands of the gospel, but by our perspective—is somehow or another excluded from the group.

In fact, look at how poorly the disciples fare as they rebuke, in verse 15, the people who are bringing children to Jesus. Presumably, if you look forward to the story of blind Bartimaeus in verse 39, at least a few of the disciples were involved in rebuking him—because it was “those who led the way.” We would assume that at least some of the disciples would be up front with Christ. And “those who led the way rebuked him … told him to be quiet.”

Jesus tells a story to confront those who are confident in themselves and look down on everybody else. There isn’t five minutes elapsed, and the disciples are going, “Get these kids out of here!” They hadn’t hardly gone through twenty minutes, and they’re saying, “Who’s that man shouting like that? Tell him to be quiet! Who is he?” “He’s a blind man.” “Oh, a blind man! Let’s move on. The place is full of blind people. We’ve got places to go. We’re the disciples! We’re with Jesus! We’re going to Jerusalem!”

You see how possible it is, because we live so close to the action, to constantly try and fill in the gaps that are left in the Bible by saying, “This is a wonderful passage for X. This is a terrific story for Y. This couldn’t possibly have anything to say to the congregation of Parkside Church. Surely there are no people in Parkside Church, pastors or congregation included, who are confident in their own righteousness and are tempted to look down on everybody else.” You see, you pull the lens far enough back, you realize, “Whew! There’s more in this picture than I realized.”

Now, this isn’t the first occasion when the disciples had needed to be confronted with this fact. If you turn back a few chapters to chapter 9, I’ll just point it out to you; 9:46: “An argument [had] started among the disciples as to which of them would be the greatest.” You would think that, living this close to Jesus, nobody would ever talk like that: “I think I’m going to be in the greatest spot.” “No, I don’t think you are.” “Philip, you’re always asking silly questions. There’s not a chance you’re going to be there. And Thomas, I don’t know why you even suggested you might be.” And so “Jesus, knowing their thoughts, took a little child … [made] him stand beside him. [And] then he said to them”—notice this principle—“‘Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. … He who is [the] least among you all—he is the greatest.’”

Now, that must’ve really stung them. And so John chips in. He says, “Hey, Jesus, thanks for sharing that, but we saw a man driving out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he is not one of us.”[12] Hold your finger there. Go back: “To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else…” “He is not one of us, and we shut him down.” Jesus said, “Do not stop him … for whoever is not against you is for you.”[13] They can’t get out of their own way, can they?

He took a little child in the midst of them, and he says, “Whoever welcomes this little child … welcomes me.” In other words, there is a direct correlation between receiving children and receiving the kingdom—a correlation that I’m not sure that I have ever considered till I studied this passage again this week. When you look at this little section, beginning verse 15, regarding the children, it tends to be the focus of romanticization (if there’s such a word) and sentimentalism—you know, “This is a lovely little story, and Jesus is doing what we would expect him to do, because after all, we have these children, and they’re such devoted little things, and we love our children and so on, and they’re such wonderful little creatures,” and blah, blah, and so on, “and so here’s a lovely little touching story.” But actually, it’s not really that touching at all. This is not a kind of first-century presidential photo opportunity. Jesus is teaching them here.

Let the lens come back far enough and look at this. He told the story concerning those “who were confident [in] their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else.” They walk away from that, presumably saying, “Okay, we passed that test.” They walk right into the circumstances where people are bringing children to Jesus, and they say, “Hey, move along. Jesus doesn’t have time for you.”

Jesus has time for the marginalized of society, doesn’t he? Jesus has time for the woman at the well. The religious hypocrite has no time for the woman at the well. The religious hypocrite, who looks down on everybody else, isn’t even prepared to welcome over to his house a lady who’s had five husbands and has a live-in lover.[14] “Sinful woman living down the street! Sinful woman in the office! Can’t believe that! She’s a hussy. Have nothing to do with her.” “To [those] who were confident [in] their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this [story].” They thought they passed the test; they didn’t pass the test. Because immediately, the next incident arises, and they blow it completely. Do you see yourself in this at all?

You see, in Roman antiquity, children were abused. They were susceptible to all kinds of adverse conditions. Infant mortality was exceptionally high. They were the marginalized of society. They were regarded as just out there. Infanticide was a large part of the culture. They were regarded as what they were not. The only value of a child, ultimately, was in the fact that they may become an economic producer in time—they may be able to walk behind the plow, they may be able to stand in front of the sheep. So that is the background in which children at this time are viewed.

Therefore, without immediately jumping onto the side of the disciples, we can at least see why it is that they would respond as they did: children are not the priority that we regard them as being today. And so they’re saying, “Hey folks, if you could just move along, please. Jesus has a lot of people to talk to; he has a lot of people to see. For example, there’s a ruler over here that I noticed earlier. Please don’t go away, sir! Please make sure, John, that we keep ahold of this guy. He looks… He’s a prime opportunity for following Jesus. He may even be a foundational member of a church somehow. I think he has the look of a trustee about him. He’s rich, he’s asking the right questions, and he’s a very obedient legalist, I think. Just don’t… No, don’t go, sir! No, we’ll be with you. Soon as we get rid of these kids, we’ll be with you. That’s fine. Just wait there. Thank you. Okay! Now, missus, could you move along please? Just get these kids out of here, Jesus.”

Those who know they have no basis upon which to approach God will be exceptionally keen to welcome the marginalized of society.

So Jesus says, “Hey, cut it out. Let the children come to me. Don’t you hinder the children. Grease the slopes for the children. The kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Not that the kingdom of God belongs to children, but the kingdom of God belongs to the childlike. Not the childish; the childlike. Because “verily, [verily,] I say unto you…”[15] I miss that, don’t you? From the King James Version? “Verily, [verily,] I say unto [thee]…” “I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

See, what were the disciples doing? They were denying children access to Jesus, and they were in turn refusing to welcome children themselves. And Jesus had already told them, “Whoever welcomes a little child welcomes me.” Now they’re not welcoming the children. Therefore, they’re not welcoming Jesus. Therefore, they need to hear the story all over again so that they might see, so that we might see how quickly we become confident of our own righteousness and look down on other people.

“Anyone who [won’t] receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Children can’t do anything to merit the kingdom of God. What are they going to do? You saw that little bundle here moments ago, didn’t you? The amazing thing about a child in its infancy like that is its receptivity. And even when it grows to be able to trundle along and to walk and to talk, it becomes apparent that they will take virtually anything from you. They will trust you. They will reach out and take from you whatever you give them. Therefore, you have to be careful about what you put in their possession. They’re marked by a sense of just childlike trust and receptivity. “So,” says Jesus, “if you’re going to be finding yourself talking about the kingdom, guys, make sure that you’re not turning away those who are the very emblems of what it means to make entry to the kingdom.”

“I tell you the truth,” he says, “anyone who [doesn’t] receive the kingdom of God like a little child,” as though one were a little child… Or, you know, it may even contain an ellipsis. And we won’t delay on this, but this may be a more accurate translation: “I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God as one receives a little child will never enter it. Therefore, disciples, don’t think that you can turn away the marginalized and welcome me. Because those who welcome me welcome the marginalized. Those who welcome me know that they have no basis upon which to approach God. And those who know they have no basis upon which to approach God will then be exceptionally keen to welcome those who are the marginalized of society and realize that they have nothing at all to offer in their defense.” Receiving the kingdom and receiving the children are somehow intricately linked in the instruction of Jesus.

A Disposition to Idolatry

So, from the children to the ruler, there in verse 18. I don’t think there’s any reason for us to stop and go away and have a coffee and come back and say, “Now, in the second half, we will be dealing with another subject altogether: we’ll be moving on from the story of the children to the story of the rich young ruler.” Luke records these in this way, introducing us to this man, and I’ve tried to paint the picture. It may be accurate, it may be inaccurate; I don’t think that it will do you any harm to think in these terms. But rather than thinking that somehow or another, the incident with the children happened, and then Jesus moved down the road 450 yards, and then he encountered the rich young ruler, I think probably we have legitimate right to imagine that the ruler has been on the fringes of this encounter. Jesus has just said that anyone who tries to enter the kingdom of God without receiving it like a little child is never going to enter it. This rich young ruler, who has been exceptionally concerned about eternal life—which is why he sought out Jesus—then takes what he has just heard, and he applies it to what he’s thinking, and he comes up with the question with which verse 18 begins: “Well, in light of that, good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “So, how does this principle, Jesus, work for me, inasmuch as I’m a ruler?”

Now, the response there in verse 19 (“Why do you call me good? … No one is good—except God alone”) is simply Jesus’ way of making clear that if you think you’re coming just to a mere man, then you shouldn’t give him the ascription “good,” because only God is good; and if you realize that you’re coming to God, then, of course, any kind of superficial flattery in your assignation is completely irrelevant.

But the man wants to know what he should do. Some of you are here, and you want to know what you should do as well. Because you’ve been a doer all of your life. You have done very, very well. And it’s understandable that you would then think, now that you’ve given yourself to the interest of spiritual things, that there is clearly something that you need to do, something that you need to contribute. And if someone would just set you in the right direction, you’ll go for it gangbusters, the way you’ve done in sports, the way you’ve done in your studies, and the way you’ve done in your career. Now you are finally, at this point in life, deciding that you need to do something in this matter of the kingdom of God, of eternity, “So just let me know,” you’re saying, “what I need to do to inherit eternal life.”

So Jesus says, “Well, if you want to talk about doing things, why don’t you keep the Ten Commandments?” And he iterates the closing five—the second half of the table of ten. And the young man says, “Well, I’ve actually been keeping these since I was a boy. I haven’t committed adultery, I haven’t murdered anyone, I wasn’t stealing, I wasn’t telling lies, and I’ve tried my best to honor my father and mother.”

When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “Well, there’s just one thing I’d like to mention to you: I’d like you to go and sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. And then you can come and follow me.”

And look at what happens: “When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was a man of great wealth.” He didn’t have to become very sad, did he? He could have become very glad! He could have said, “Fine! If that’s what’s involved, let me do that.” The reason that he becomes sad is because when Jesus puts his finger on the one thing that prevents him from giving up his life to Christ, he determines, “This matters more to me than entering your kingdom.”

And some of us are here this morning, and we have at least one thing that matters more to us than entering the kingdom. And Jesus—with masterful skill!—puts his hand on our lives, and he says to us, “Listen: this is what I want you to do. This is the thing that is preventing you from the childlike trust that will see you a member of my kingdom.” Clearly, Jesus doesn’t ask everybody in the New Testament to sell their belongings and to leave their family. If that were the case, then this would be the message of the gospel: “Sell your belongings, leave your family—you will have treasure in heaven—then become a follower of Jesus.” So everybody would be like Francis of Assisi, and then you would be able to become a follower of Jesus. Until you got there, then you couldn’t follow Christ. That’s not the message!

So what is the principle? The principle is this: that while Jesus is not calling everybody to sell their belongings or to leave their family, he is calling everybody to surrender to him unconditionally the first place in my heart and in my life. He comes along the rows this morning, and he says to you, “I want you to surrender unconditionally the arms of your rebellion! The relationship that you have with Miss X is illicit and wrong. It prevents you from entering my kingdom. Get rid of it! The preoccupation with who you are and what you’ve achieved is self-focused, and it is wrong, and it is detrimental. You’re going to have to admit that you’re nothing before you become anything. Get rid of it! Your intellect, whereby you are determining that you cannot trust in me, is a stumbling block to me. Therefore, do not get rid of your intellect, but sacrifice your mind upon my altar, and allow me to instill you with the wisdom that comes down from heaven.” What is it, my dear friend this morning, that prevents you from actually, unconditionally, unreservedly trusting in Christ and being welcomed into his kingdom?

Now, when the people heard this little dialogue, somebody jumped forward and said, “Well, then who in the world can get saved?” You notice how all of these phrases are interwoven: entry into the kingdom, “treasure in heaven,” being saved, “eternal life”—they’re all just talking about the same thing. Life only goes on for so long. This is the entrée; this is not the main course. We’re heading for an eternal destiny. That will be the end of it all, the sum of it all. Therefore, the question “How do we enter into eternal life? How do we enter the kingdom? How are we saved? How do we have treasure in heaven?” is a very important question. And if you’re even asking it, it is an indication of the fact that God is at work in your heart and in your mind. Because the average person right now is not asking that question. The average person right now is reading the Plain Dealer. The average person right now is stuffing their face with donuts and drinking vast gallons of coffee. The average person right now is devoted to their family, is devoted to their freedom, is devoted to their boat, is devoted to whatever they’re devoted to. And the fact that you’re here, and you’ve got an inkling in the back of your mind that you haven’t answered the question about “How do I enter the kingdom? How do I discover eternal life? How do I have treasure in heaven? What does it mean to be saved?”—I have good news for you: God is at work in you! He it is who is prompting you to these things, because by nature, you don’t even think of them. Isn’t that a miraculous thought?

And now he’s saying to you—and to you in a way that I can’t even understand, because I don’t know you—he’s saying, “Here comes a man all these years ago. He asked Jesus, ‘What must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said, ‘If you could keep the commandments perfectly, you could do it.’ He said, ‘Well, I did them.’ Jesus says, ‘No, you don’t understand that your wealth is an idol. Therefore, you’ve broken the first commandment: “You shall have no other gods before me.”’” Yeah. So you’re not going to get there on the base of what you do.

So the people say, “Well, I don’t know how anybody gets saved. Goodness gracious! If poverty is not the way you get saved—you know, if you throw up everything and you just go bust, then God saves you because you’re derelict”—no—“and you can’t get saved if you’re rich, relying on your stuff, then who can get saved? Is it as easy as a childlike entry? Is it as difficult as is represented here in the story of the rich young ruler? Is it even possible?” No! Not with man, but with God. Because God saves people. We don’t save ourselves. I mean, if we saved ourselves, what kind of salvation would that be? If you saved yourself, how could you be ever sure that you’d done a good enough job of it? And if you saved yourself one Sunday, maybe you unsaved yourself on Tuesday, in which case you’d need to save yourself again the following Sunday. How would you ever know? It’s impossible. But when God saves—ah! That’s the business, you see.

So you stand back from it all, and you realize what Jesus is saying. “To some who were confident [in] their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else,” he told the story to point out how easy it is for us to wear the shoes of a Pharisee. He made it absolutely clear that if we anticipate making an entry into the kingdom of heaven on that day, when we enter into it in all of its fullness, then we then need to live the principles of the kingdom now, by God’s enabling, whereby the marginalized of society—the poor and the women and the lost and the widows and the prisoners and the children—are the focus of our love and our devotion, that they might come to hear the message of the gospel. Failure for us to welcome those on the margins of society calls in question whether we really understand what it means for Christ to welcome us.

Unless, of course, we’ve got such an ego that we’ve assumed that it’s obvious why he would welcome us: “Because after all, you know, he knows who I am! He knows what a job I’ve done! He knows how well I’ve done with the commandments! He should be pleased to have me!” Oh, we may not say it so crassly, but that’s what goes on inside of us. And then along comes the Bible, hits us right on the back of the head, says, “You’re never going to heaven that way. Give it up. It may have got you into your country club because you had five people write letters on your behalf—even though you’re a vagabond and a rascal, and we all know it. It may have ensured that you got special treatment in your bank because of the amount that you’ve got in deposit somewhere else. You can use all of those things in the kingdom of man. But none of these things matter a rap in the kingdom of God. That is why it is so hard for rich men and women to be saved.”

“In fact,” says Jesus humorously, “you’ve tried to thread a needle? You’ve been stitching some tents? You’ve been putting that leather through the eye of the needle? Let me tell you something: it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” Why? Because we depend upon ourselves: “I can handle this. I can get those tickets. I can speak to someone. I’ll be able to take care of it. Don’t worry! Don’t worry!” Because money is the universal passport to everywhere in a capitalist culture. It’s the universal passport to everywhere except heaven. And it is the universal introduction to every pleasure except peace.

Those who would inherit life in the future must enter the kingdom of God in the present.

So, feeling the sting of it all, Peter jumps up, and he says, “Hey, Jesus, you know, we’ve left everything to follow you.” Jesus says, “Let me tell you something: the people who leave this earthly journey—in terms of parents and children and family and friends and resources—for the sake of the kingdom will receive many times more in this age and in the age to come.” Who? Those who give it up for the sake of the kingdom. But those who begin to follow Jesus for lesser motives may have no assurance of such a promise. What if I gave it all up because of what I thought Jesus might give to me? What if I gave it all up because I thought of the accolades that may come as a result of hanging with Christ? What if I gave it all up simply because I thought that I would end up with more cash this way than I would have got any other way? What if my name was Judas Iscariot?

So the promises do not accrue to all who simply wander in the wake of Christ. Judas was there, and so was Peter. Nor do the promises accrue to those who give all these things up out of a selfish desire for their own peaceful, tranquil existence. In other words, monasticism is a dead-end street. “Oh, look at him! He gave it all up for the kingdom. He lives in a box. He doesn’t have a wife. He doesn’t have children. He doesn’t have any…” Listen: if he didn’t give it up for the kingdom of God—if he gave it up for all of the accolades that would come or for the fact that he didn’t really like people and he wanted to live in a box—then he has no prospect of the reward coming in the way in which Jesus said.

Well, it’s time to put the camera away. Those who would inherit life in the future must enter the kingdom of God in the present. And those who enter the kingdom of God in the present will be embraced by the topsy-turvy values of the kingdom—of a life that is energized by God’s Spirit, that is galvanized by God’s Word, and that is responded to not on the adult nature of my doubts but on the basis of the childlike nature of my trust.

Father, I pray that out of an abundance of words we might hear your voice calling us away from self-confidence, calling us away from making ourselves feel better because we can look down on others who look worse, and failing to see ourselves as we stand before the majesty and glory of Christ, bereft of anything to plead in our defense, as helpless as a tiny child, as messed up as the tax collector, as self-confident as the wealthy ruler. I pray that you will accomplish your purposes in each of our lives, bringing men and women to an end of themselves and to trust in you, bringing those of us who have been slipping back on the shoes of religious hypocrisy to kick ’em off and to run away from them, to run into your embrace. Those of us who’ve begun to embrace the values of the kingdom of earth, who are deriving our satisfaction and our peace and our security from our bank balance and from our portfolio and from the things that we’ve put around us—help us, Lord Jesus, to realize that you’ve given us all these things in order that we might share them, in order that we might give them away, in order that we might embrace the upside-down values, so that we might choose humility and discover exaltation rather than choosing exaltation and finding ourselves abased.[16] Hear our prayers.

And may the Lord bless and keep us. May his grace and mercy and peace, from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, rest upon and remain with each one until the day when we receive an abundant entry into the kingdom of God. For we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.

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[1] See Luke 18:1–8.

[2] See Luke 18:9–14.

[3] Luke 1:3 (NIV 1984).

[4] Luke 18:10–13 (paraphrased).

[5] Luke 18:14 (paraphrased).

[6] See Luke 1:46–49.

[7] Luke 1:51–53 (NIV 1984).

[8] Luke 6:20 (NIV 1984).

[9] Luke 6:20–22 (paraphrased).

[10] Luke 6:24–26 (NIV 1984).

[11] Luke 18:14 (NIV 1984).

[12] Luke 9:49 (paraphrased).

[13] Luke 9:50 (NIV 1984).

[14] See John 4:1–42.

[15] Luke 18:17 (KJV).

[16] See Matthew 23:12; Luke 14:11; 18:14.