“And Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, ‘You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.'” – Mark 10:21 (ESV)
The question had burned within me for years:
Despite my wealth, my youth, my religious observance,
Something felt missing, incomplete, uncertain.
“Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Not a theoretical question, not a trap,
But the deepest longing of my heart:
To know with certainty that my life mattered,
That my soul was secure, that eternity awaited.
His first words caught me off guard:
“Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.”
A subtle challenge to my understanding,
A question about whether I recognized who he truly was.
Then he listed the commandments I knew by heart:
“Do not murder, do not commit adultery,
Do not steal, do not bear false witness,
Do not defraud, honor your father and mother.”
I answered with genuine conviction:
“Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.”
Not boasting, but honest assessment.
I had lived a moral, upright, observant life.
What happened next is forever etched in my memory:
Jesus looked at me—truly looked at me.
Not a glance, not a passing acknowledgment,
But a gaze that penetrated to my very soul.
“You lack one thing.”
“Go, sell all that you have and give to the poor,
And you will have treasure in heaven;
And come, follow me.”
The words fell like a hammer on my heart.
All? Everything? My lands, my investments,
My comfortable home, my fine clothes,
My security, my identity, my future?
I wanted to add Jesus to my life,
Not rebuild my life around Jesus.
I wanted eternal security as an additional asset,
Not at the cost of my earthly treasures.
So I walked away—
I often wonder what might have been
Had I said yes that day, had I sold everything,
Had I given to the poor and followed him.
What adventures might I have experienced?
Perhaps you, like me, come to Jesus earnestly,
Seeking assurance, security, eternal life,
Willing to add him to your well-ordered existence,
But hesitant to let him rearrange everything.
Perhaps you, too, have that “one thing”—
Not necessarily wealth, but something you cling to,
Something that occupies the throne of your heart,
Something you cannot imagine surrendering.
Will you, unlike me, accept the diagnosis?
Will you allow him to identify your “one thing”?
Will you receive the grace to do what seems impossible?
Will you choose treasure in heaven over treasure on earth?
For the invitation that I declined still stands:
“Come, follow me.”
And the love I saw in his eyes still shines,
Waiting for your response.
