So one of my best friends and I have very different approaches when it comes to packing for a trip. She, she always starts like weeks before the actual date that she's leaving. She figures out what clothes she's gonna take. She makes sure that they're all clean, and then she starts actually packing a few days before the flight is scheduled. I, on the other hand, I make sure the laundry's done by the day before I'm leaving, and then I just kind of throw things into my suitcase that I think I'm gonna need, and just in time basically to zip it up and head to the airport.
I would just like it duly noted that she's the one that misses her flights and I never do. So the downside though to packing early and being super organised is that in planning for every eventuality, one sometimes ends up taking things that they're not actually going to need. Packing outfits for every occasion, extra shoes, sweaters, an outfit just in case you go somewhere fancy, jackets for various temperatures, and before long, even with weight restrictions for your luggage, you can end up with far too much, or at least more than you actually are gonna need. And as long as you can get the suitcase zipped, even if you have to sit on it first in order to get that zipper done up, You figure you're covered, right? No matter what arises on the trip, what the weather, what situation comes up, you're going to have it all covered.
But then the trip begins, and you're dragging that suitcase through the airports, lifting it up into overhead bins, hauling it up narrow staircases, rolling it over cobblestone streets depending on where you're going, dragging it on and off of trains, up several flights of an Airbnb that does not have an elevator, and suddenly the weight starts to matter. Your arms ache. You can't move along as fast as you'd like. You risk taking out people's kneecaps as you try to squeeze by them. You get onto a train, realise there's no overhead space left for your luggage, and now you've got it all in the seat with you.
And you start to wonder, did I really need to bring everything that I packed? And then someone says to you, most likely the person travelling with you who's getting frustrated with all of your luggage, "You know, you really don't need to carry all that." But that's harder than it sounds, because everything in that suitcase was packed for a reason. Each item represents a kind of security, preparedness, control. What if I need this? So instead of letting anything go, we keep dragging it along even when it's weighing us down and keeping us from fully enjoying the journey.
And that's the tension at the heart of today's story. So we're looking at Mark chapter 10, verses 17 to 31.
As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. "Good teacher," he asked, '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: You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honour your father and mother.' 'Teacher,' he declared, 'all these I have kept since I was a boy.' Jesus looked at him and loved him. "One thing you lack," he said.
"Go sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." At this, the man's face fell. He went away sad because he had great wealth. Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, 'How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!' The disciples were amazed at his words, but Jesus said again, 'Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.' The disciples were even more amazed and said to one another, 'Who then can be saved?' Jesus looked at them and said, With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.' Then Peter spoke up, 'What?
We have left everything to follow you.' 'Truly I tell you,' Jesus replied, 'no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive 100 times as much in this present age. Homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and fields, along with persecutions, and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.
So in many ways, the rich young man in today's passage is carrying a very heavy suitcase. On the outside, his life looks successful, it looks faithful, but there is something he is resistant to let go of. Something he thinks he needs to hang on to for a variety of reasons. And when Jesus invites him to lay it down, he discovers something about himself that many of us recognise. Sometimes the things that we think we need, the things that we want to keep as a way of protecting ourselves, are actually weighing us down.
So today we're talking about letting go of self-preservation. So let's start with the first point. Which is that self-preservation relies on doing instead of receiving. So the man in this passage approaches Jesus with sincerity. He runs up, he kneels before him, and he asks a deep and honest question: "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" So on the surface, everything about him seems right.
He's earnest, he's respectful, he's spiritually serious. When Jesus names the commandments, the man responds confidently. He has kept them since his youth. He has built a life that is faithful and responsible and by all appearances secure. But it has also been under his control.
His question, "What must I do to inherit?" reveals how he understands the world. Life with God in his mind is something that can be managed, achieved, secured. This is self-preservation at a spiritual level. It says, "If I can do enough, I can secure my future." So the man's not rejecting God, he's just trying to approach him on terms that he, the man, can control. And if we're honest, that instinct kind of feels familiar.
We like faith that we can measure. We like steps that we can follow. We like knowing that if we do the right things, we'll get the right outcome. Because as long as it depends on us, as long as outcomes are within our capabilities, it feels safer. Because we can track it, we can maintain it, we can preserve it.
Now, what do I mean by this? Well, a really practical example of this might be, might be seen in how we approach our spiritual habits. So let's say I tell myself, I'm gonna read my Bible every day, pray for 20 minutes, and go to church every week. Obviously in my case it would be joining a service online, someone, sometime during the week, right? All good things, faithful things, but over time those practises can quietly shift from being ways to know God into ways to feel in control.
So I start to think, if I do these things consistently, I'll be okay. If I cheque all the boxes, then my faith must be strong. If something goes wrong, then maybe it's because I didn't do enough. It becomes measurable. I can track it.
I can maintain it. I can preserve the sense that everything is where it should be. But then life happens. A prayer goes unanswered, a situation doesn't resolve, something breaks that no amount of discipline could prevent, and suddenly that system doesn't feel as secure anymore. Because the foundation wasn't grounded in trust in God, it was built on confidence in my ability to manage the outcome.
That's the shift. What began as relationship building suddenly became self-preservation. If I do my part well enough, I can keep things from falling apart. But real faith invites us into something deeper, to still pray, to still read, to still show up, not so that we can control what happens next, but so that we can stay close to the one who holds what we never could.
So let's look at our second point. Self-preservation clings to wealth security. So I was watching a segment from a TV show that was telling a true storey about something that had happened in a small rural town in the US. And the show was kind of old, but what happened is kind of timeless. So a police officer had been killed in the line of duty.
She was known for her kindness and her friendly smile, which was extended to everyone that she met. And one of the things that she regularly did when she was walking her beat was to cheque in on the homeless, see if they were okay, and talk with them. After she was killed, as you can imagine, many in the town were very sad, and they grieved the loss. And to help with their grief of losing her so young, her fellow officers decided to take up a donation to give to her family. Now, one day, a young man came into the police station and approached the woman who was working at the front desk.
And he just gave her a white envelope and then turned around and left. He didn't say much, just that it was for the police officer's family. The thing that stood out about the young man to the woman who was working was that he appeared to be homeless. But when they opened the envelope, they found inside 8 wrinkled $1 bills and a note that said, "From the people on the streets." The man never said his name, nor were any names given on the note. It was, in that sense, anonymous.
But as the other officers pointed out, those dollar bills were given by people who had no idea when or if they would see another dollar. They didn't have money stored up somewhere that they could take from. They gave all they had. Without any security of knowing that they could get more. Now, the man Mark writes about wasn't poor or homeless.
In fact, Jesus told him those were the people he was to help by selling all he had. And what was the man's response? He walks away grieving because he's finally come to understand exactly what Jesus is asking of him, and it was not something that he wanted to do. You see, he didn't see his wealth only as money. To him, it meant security, control, identity, and safety.
Verse 22 says, "At this the man's face fell. He went away sad because he had great wealth." And that detail matters. He doesn't argue with Jesus. He doesn't ask him for clarification, and he doesn't try to negotiate because he understands. And his reaction, his grief, reveals that what is really going on in his heart.
People don't walk away grieving over something that doesn't matter deeply to them. And his sadness tells us that Jesus put his finger on something central, something that the man was not willing to release. Which means his wealth is not just something that he possesses, it's something that he depends on. It represents security. Control over his future, a sense of identity and stability.
And that's why he walks away, not because he lacks understanding, but because letting go of that would mean letting go of the very thing that he has been using to preserve himself, to protect himself. This is why Jesus lovingly exposes the deeper issue, because if we truly want to follow him, just like the man in this story, we have to be willing to let go of the things that we use to protect ourselves, and to be ready to hand over control and find our security, our identity, and our safety in Jesus. The real issue isn't about money, it's about what the money represents. This man has built his life around something that gives him a sense of safety. His wealth, his stability, his ability to control what comes next, it has quietly taken the place that belongs to God.
And Jesus is not trying to take something from him. He is inviting him to let go of what he is using to preserve himself. Because although self-preservation sounds reasonable—protect what you have, hold on to what makes you feel secure, don't risk losing control—those instincts, if left unchecked, can keep us from fully trusting God. So Jesus's invitation is not simply to give something up, it is to trust him enough to loosen our grip on whatever we are using to secure our lives apart from him.
Lent invites us to ask an honest question: What am I holding onto for security that is, that is making it harder for me to fully trust God? As much as we may fight it, life with God cannot be controlled, and if it cannot be controlled, then it cannot be self-protected either. It has to be trusted. And trust always requires us to confront our instinct for self-preservation, to acknowledge our need to secure our own future at all costs, and to recognise the assumption we may carry that is, if we don't protect ourselves, no one else will. And wealth makes self-preservation easier.
It gives the illusion that we can protect ourselves, provide for ourselves, and insulate ourselves from need. Which is why Jesus says in verse 23, "How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God." Letting go of self-preservation means loosening our grip on anything we use to make ourselves feel ultimately secure apart from God. Which brings us to our third and final point today: What we release in trust, God redeems in grace.
Peter speaks up after hearing the exchange between the man and Jesus and says something that many of us might feel: "We have left everything to follow you." In other words, what about us? What happens to those who do actually let go? But Jesus's response reframes the entire conversation. He promises that those who surrender for the sake of the kingdom will receive far more than they gave up. Not necessarily in wealth or comfort, but in something deeper: a new community, a new family, and a new life rooted in God's purposes.
The kingdom operates on a different economy than the world. The world says protect yourself, preserve what you have. Jesus says trust God with what you release. Caleb and Jordan, can you come up? They are going to be coming around and offering each one of you one Smartie.
One. And you just need to hold on to it. Don't eat it. Okay?
So Lent is the season where we should look to try and practise the trust. When we examine the places where self-preservation has quietly taken hold, where we cling to things that promise safety and status or control. And then to bring those things to God and ask a hard question: What am I holding on to that might be holding me back from following Jesus more freely? Because the promise at the centre of this passage is not loss, it's transformation. What we release in trust, God redeems in grace.
I'm just gonna wait till you all have your Smartie, and once you have your Smartie, I want you to hold that Smartie tightly in your fist. Hold your fist closed as though someone wants to steal it from you and you're not gonna let them, okay?
All right, don't forget to take one, you guys, as well before you eat the rest, okay? So everyone holding it really tight? Yes? Nobody's going to get that Smartie away from you? So you're closed.
Oh, sorry. So see if the person now beside you, see if they can try and get your Smartie out of your hand.
Okay. Were you able to keep protecting that Smartie?
Yes? You could all protect your Smartie? Good, good. But your hand is closed, and your closed hand protects what it holds. But as long as you are keeping it closed so tightly as to not lose what you have, you also cannot receive anything new.
Now open your hand.
So with your hand open, you risk losing what you were holding. But at the same time, your hand becomes able to receive something else.
So the rich man in our passage faced that moment, and Jesus invited him to open his hands, to release the thing that made him feel secure.
You're allowed to eat it eventually if you want to, yes. So Jesus invites him to open his hands and to release that thing that makes him feel secure. Do you think that Jesus asked too much? I mean, he asked the man to sell everything, give it all away, to walk away from his financial security, his stability, his safety net. How would you react if God asked you to do the same?
It feels extreme, doesn't it? But maybe that's exactly the point. Because just moments earlier, Jesus had already begun shifting the man's understanding. So if I look back at verses 17 and 18, as Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. "Good teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Why do you call me good?
No one is good except God alone. So Jesus is gently exposing something. If God alone is truly good, then God alone is truly secure. But the man isn't living like that is true. He has built a life where his sense of goodness is tied to what he does.
Think about how he pointed out that he had been keeping the law since he was a boy. And then you add to that that his sense of security is tied to what he has. So when Jesus asks him to let go of his wealth, it's not an arbitrary demand. It's a direct challenge to his instinct for self-preservation. In other words, if you really believe that God is good, why are you still depending on something else to keep you safe?
So Jesus isn't asking too much. He's asking the man to trust that God is enough, to release the systems that he has built to protect himself, and to step into a life where his security is no longer self-managed but God-given. And that's where this becomes personal, because the question isn't, did Jesus ask too much? The deeper question is, what am I holding on to because I'm not sure that God will be enough if if I let it go.
Jesus isn't correcting the man for using the word "good" as much as he is unsettling the man's confidence in himself. By asking, "Why do you call me good?" Jesus is pressing deeper, inviting him to see that goodness doesn't come from what we do, but from God alone. And if that's true, then the man's carefully constructed life, his rule-keeping, his discipline, his sense of spiritual success, can't actually secure him. And that realisation is what leads to his sadness. He begins to see that despite everything that he has done, something is still missing.
Not because he hasn't tried hard enough, but because his life is still anchored in self-preservation, in maintaining control, in holding on to what gives him security, in defining goodness on terms that he can manage. His wealth simply reveals where that instinct is the strongest. It isn't just that he has possessions, it's that he depends on them. They represent stability and identity and the ability to safeguard his own future, and in that sense, they compete with God for first place in his life. So when Jesus calls him to follow, he isn't just asking him to give things up, he's inviting him to let go of the need to secure himself, to move from a life built on what he can achieve and protect to a life that is rooted in trusting God as the source of all goodness.
Because real goodness and real life aren't something we preserve for ourselves. They are something that we receive when we finally loosen our grip and follow him. The man couldn't see that what Jesus was offering would be far greater than what he already had. That is the struggle of self-preservation. It convinces us that what we are holding onto is safer than what God is inviting us into.
But Jesus reminds the disciples and us of something essential: for God, all things are possible. We each have a chance to examine our own hands. Now, they might be a little covered in chocolate and candy right now, but what are we gripping tightly? What are we afraid to release? What are we holding that might actually be holding us back?
Because the invitation of Jesus is not about loss, it's about trust. And when we open our hands before God, we begin to discover something beautiful. What we release in trust, God redeems in grace. And maybe it's a little like that overpacked suitcase. We thought we needed all of it to be prepared, to be secure, to be in control.
But along the journey, we began to realise that the weight is actually keeping us from moving freely, from experiencing what's right in front of us. What if following Jesus looks like setting some of that down? Not because it was all bad, but because it no longer is necessary. Because the truth is, we don't travel this road alone. We are not responsible for carrying everything.
And when we finally loosen our grip, we discover that what we thought we needed to hold on to was never what was holding us up in the first place. Let's pray.
Gracious God, you know how tightly we hold on.
You see the places in our lives where we try to protect ourselves, where we try to secure our future, where we try to maintain control.
And if we're honest, Lord, sometimes we trust in what we can do, in what we can manage, and what we can hold on to more than we trust in you. God, forgive us. Gently loosen our grip on the things that we cling to for security. Give us the courage to release what we have been relying on that is apart from you. Teach us what it means to trust not in ourselves but in your goodness, your provision, your love, and your care.
Where we are afraid, meet us with your peace. Where we feel vulnerable, remind us that we are held. Where we struggle to let go, help us to believe that you are enough.
Lord, form in us a faith that is not built on what we can achieve, but on what you have already given. And as we go from this place, help us to walk with open hands, trusting that what we release in faith, you will redeem in grace. We pray all this in the name of Jesus. Amen.
