You know that moment when someone asks you for something and your heart just sinks? That's exactly what happened to the rich young man in Matthew's Gospel. He came to Jesus with such genuine desire, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?". This wasn't just any casual question; this man must have been wrestling with spiritual emptiness despite having everything the world could offer. But when Jesus looked at him with love and said, "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor," the young man's face fell. He walked away grieving, because his possessions had become his prison.
Here's what strikes me most about this encounter: Jesus wasn't being cruel or unreasonable. He was offering this man the greatest freedom imaginable. Jesus saw that this man's riches had become his god, and like any loving teacher, He was showing him the path to freedom. When God blesses us with success or abundance, it's never meant to be hoarded like treasure in a vault. It's meant to flow through us like a river, blessing others as it has blessed us. The wealthy who understand this - who create jobs, fund charities, help suffering family members and friends, lift up communities - they've discovered the secret that this young man missed entirely.
The beautiful irony of the Gospel is that in order to gain everything, we must be willing to lose everything. Jesus watches every corner of our hearts, and He knows exactly what we're clinging to instead of clinging to Him. For some, it's money, for others, it might be status, comfort, security, or even our own pride. He's not asking us to empty ourselves to make us miserable. He's asking us to make room for something infinitely better. When we hold our possessions, our plans, our very lives with open hands, we discover that what we thought we'd lose was actually weighing us down. True wealth isn't what we accumulate; it's what we become when we trust Jesus enough to let go.
Listen - today's gospel isn't just about rich people. It's about all of us who struggle to put Jesus first in everything. When we hoard our blessings instead of sharing them, we're actually sinning against the two greatest commandments that Jesus himself gave us: love God with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself. How can we claim to love God first while clutching our possessions tighter than we hold onto Him? How can we love our neighbors when we're protecting our wealth from them instead of using it to bless them? We will all stand before God one day and give an account for what we did with what He gave us. Of course, we don't know exactly what God will say to each of us, but Scripture gives us plenty of clues, like the parable of the servant who buried his coin instead of investing it, or the widow who gave her two pennies and was praised by Jesus while the wealthy were criticized for their measly leftovers.
The beautiful truth is that this accountability isn't about the size of our bank account; it's about the size of our generosity. That poor widow gave everything she had, just two small coins, and Jesus said she gave more than all the wealthy donors combined. Whether we have little or much, we're all called to share what we've been blessed with. The question isn't whether you have money in the bank, but whether money (or anything else) has its grip on you. When we read about this young man walking away sad, we should feel both compassion for his struggle and determination not to make the same mistake. Jesus is still looking at each of us with that same loving gaze, still offering that same radical invitation to follow Him completely. The difference between sorrow and joy, between spiritual poverty and abundance, often comes down to this simple question: What are you unwilling to give up for Jesus? Because whatever that is, that's exactly what He's asking you to surrender, so He can give you something far greater in return.
©2025 James Dacey Jr.
