ChristianWeek

Six months ago in this space, I remarked upon coming home from visiting Germany “to a spacious, prosperous, peaceful corner of the planet... an ocean and a continent away from a country whose history is so closely wedded to war, both hot and cold.”

“Why should I have been so blessed?” I asked myself. That question continues to haunt me. On March 17, we marked 10 years in our big white house with the big backyard. In that decade, the value of our home has more than doubled. On paper, at least, we’re reasonably well off.

But while I gladly acknowledge this good fortune is entirely a gift from God, I can just as easily forget that the One who gave it is also the One who can take it away. After all, He owns everything—my house, even my life.

I was reminded of that in a Bible study focusing on Jesus’ encounter with the rich young man in Mark 10. Here was someone of good moral character who apparently thought he could do what was necessary to inherit eternal life without jeopardizing the lifestyle his great wealth had made possible.

No way, says Jesus. For all that you possess, He basically tells him, your spiritual bank account is empty—and the only way you can make a deposit is if you “sell everything you have and give to the poor.” Because it is only then, Jesus says, after you have replaced your fondness for wealth with godly compassion, that you can in fact “follow Me.”

“At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.”

What struck me was Jesus offered no room for compromise, such as letting the man join Him in return for forsaking only part of his wealth. He had to “sell everything” and give all the proceeds to the poor. I suspect if Jesus had instead asked for a sizable charitable donation, the man would have been happy to oblige.

I have enormous respect for people who heed God’s command to go to the mission field. They are willing to put everything on the line for the sake of the gospel. I know one man who did not hesitate to minister in south Lebanon immediately following the war there last summer.

Am I where God wants me to be at this point in my life? Yes. To that extent, my conscience is clear. Unlike the rich young man, Jesus has not commanded me to forsake all that I have and head out off to parts unknown—at least not yet.

Henry Blackaby, the well-known author and speaker, tells the story of addressing a class of seminary students. He asked them to indicate by a show of hands if they were prepared to go wherever the Lord told them to go. Every hand went up.

But then Blackaby asked them, “How many of you have a valid passport?” Only a few hands went up. His point was to suggest that perhaps they were not nearly as prepared as they thought they were. If the Lord should call you or me to leave at a moment’s notice on some potentially dangerous assignment, would we be ready?

I have a valid passport. That’s not the issue. What’s unknown to me is if (or when) God ever does call me to dispose of this comfortable home and leave behind this pleasant neighbourhood, whether I would obey without a second’s hesitation. I trust that I would—but I guess I won’t really know that until it happens.