Lenten Reflection – Day 25 of the Great Lent
What Do I Still Lack? – St. Matthew 19:16-26
“Jesus said to him, ‘If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.’ But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.” (19:21โ22)
Yesterday was Mid-Lent. The Cross was placed in the middle of the church. The Exaltation of the Cross lifted it to the four directions. The red-draped Golgotha now stands in the nave. For the remaining weeks of the fast, every time we enter the church, the Cross is there. Reminding us. Not of our sin. Of His love. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son.”
Today a young man walks up to Jesus and asks a question. A good question. An honest question. The kind of question you would expect from someone who takes the faith seriously.
“What good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life?”
And Jesus gives him an answer that sends him away weeping.
Not because the answer is cruel. Because the answer is precise. It locates the one thing the young man is not willing to give up. The one attachment he values more than eternal life. More than following Christ. More than everything.
We are twenty-five days into the fast. We have given up food. We have given up time. We have given up comfort. We have confessed, repented, prayed, and served. But there is a question the fast has not yet asked. The question the rich young ruler heard and could not bear.
What is the one thing we still will not let go of?
Good Teacher, What Good Thing Shall I Do? (vv. 16โ17)
“Now behold, one came and said to Him, ‘Good Teacher, what good thing shall I do that I may have eternal life?’ So He said to him, ‘Why do you call Me good? No one is good but One, that is, God. But if you want to enter into life, keep the commandments.'” (19:16โ17)
The young man is not a villain. He is not a Pharisee trying to trap Jesus. He is not a sceptic testing a claim. He is sincere. He runs to Jesus (Mark’s version tells us this). He kneels. He asks with genuine urgency. He wants eternal life and he wants to know how to get it.
“What good thing shall I do?”
The question reveals his framework. He thinks eternal life is something you do. Something you achieve. A task to be completed. A box to be ticked. He has been living in the economy of merit his entire life. Do the right things, get the right reward. He has done many right things. He is looking for the one he has missed.
Jesus redirects the question. “Why do you call Me good? No one is good but One, that is, God.” This is not false modesty. Christ is not denying His own goodness. He is pointing the young man toward the source. Goodness is not a human achievement. Goodness belongs to God. If you want to call someone good, start with God. If you want to enter life, start with God’s commandments.
“Keep the commandments.”
A straightforward answer. The young man knows the commandments. He has kept them. This is not where the story gets difficult. This is the easy part.
All These Things I Have Kept (vv. 18โ20)
“He said to Him, ‘Which ones?’ Jesus said, ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not bear false witness, honor your father and your mother, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ The young man said to Him, ‘All these things I have kept from my youth. What do I still lack?'” (19:18โ20)
Jesus lists six commandments. The young man knows them all. He has kept them all. Since his youth. He is not lying. He is not exaggerating. He is a genuinely moral person. He does not steal. He does not kill. He does not cheat. He honours his parents. He loves his neighbour. By any external measure, this is a good man living a good life.
And he knows something is missing.
“What do I still lack?”
This is the most honest question in the passage. And possibly the most courageous. He could have walked away satisfied. He has kept the commandments since his youth. He could have said “thank you, Rabbi” and gone home with a clean conscience. But he doesn’t. Because he feels the gap. Something is incomplete. The commandments are kept. The moral life is in order. And yet there is a hollowness. A sense that all the doing has not quite reached the thing that matters most.
On Day 19, the Pharisee stood in the Temple and listed his achievements. He fasted twice a week. He tithed everything. And he went home unjustified because he did not know what he lacked. The rich young ruler is different. He knows he lacks something. He has the humility to ask. He has the courage to hear the answer.
But courage to hear and courage to obey are not the same thing.
St. John Chrysostom, in his Homily 63 on Matthew, praises the young man’s honesty while noting the fatal flaw in his question. He says the young man approached Christ correctly. He knelt. He was humble. He asked sincerely. But his question was still framed in the language of doing. “What good thing shall I do?” Chrysostom observes that eternal life is not one more thing to do. It is a Person to follow. The young man was looking for an additional task when Christ was offering an entirely different relationship. He wanted a commandment. Christ offered Himself.1
Twenty-five days of fasting. We have been doing. Fasting. Praying. Confessing. Giving. And the question surfaces: what do I still lack? Not “what have I done wrong?” We have been dealing with that since Day 1. The deeper question. The one the moral person, the obedient person, the person who has kept the commandments since youth, must eventually face. What is the one thing that all my doing has not touched?
Go, Sell What You Have (v. 21)
“Jesus said to him, ‘If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.'” (19:21)
Four commands. Go. Sell. Give. Come.
“If you want to be perfect.” The word is teleios. It means complete. Whole. Finished. Not morally flawless. Fully formed. The young man asked what he still lacked. Jesus tells him what will complete him. What will close the gap he has been feeling. What will turn a good man into a whole man.
“Go, sell what you have and give to the poor.”
This is not a universal command to poverty. Jesus does not tell every person He meets to sell everything. He told Zacchaeus to give half. He told the rich fool to stop hoarding. He told the widow’s offering was enough. Different people receive different instructions because different people are held captive by different things.
For this young man, the thing was wealth. His possessions were the one attachment he had not surrendered. He had kept every commandment. He had obeyed every rule. He had done everything religion asked of him. But he had not let go of the one thing that stood between him and total freedom.
“And you will have treasure in heaven.”
On Day 17, we reflected on “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” On Day 22, the widow gave her last two coins and Jesus said she gave more than all. The treasure theme has been building throughout the series. But today it reaches its sharpest point. The young man has treasure on earth. Christ offers treasure in heaven. The exchange is available. But the exchange requires letting go of one before we can receive the other. We cannot hold both. Our hands are not big enough.
“And come, follow Me.”
This is the destination. Not poverty. Following. The selling and giving are not the point. They are the clearing of the path. The removal of the obstacle. So that the young man can do the one thing that matters. Follow.
St. Ephrem the Syrian, in his Commentary on the Diatessaron, teaches that Christ’s command was not about money. It was about the heart’s deepest attachment. Ephrem says that every person has a “ruling love.” One thing that sits on the throne of the heart. For some it is money. For others it is reputation. For others it is comfort. For others it is control. For others it is a relationship. For others it is their own righteousness. The ruling love is the thing we cannot imagine living without. And until it is dethroned, the heart is not free. Christ looked at the young man and saw the throne. He saw what was sitting on it. And He said: remove it. Not because wealth is evil. Because anything that occupies the throne of the heart other than God is an idol. Even a good thing. Even a lawful thing. Even a thing that has been with you since your youth.2
He Went Away Sorrowful (v. 22)
“But when the young man heard that saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.” (19:22)
The saddest sentence in the Gospels.
He went away. Not angry. Not defiant. Not arguing. Sorrowful. He knew what he should do. He could not do it. The attachment was too strong. The ruling love would not yield. The throne would not be vacated.
“For he had great possessions.” Or: his possessions had him.
Notice the contrast with Levi on Day 15. Levi sat at the tax booth. Jesus said “follow Me.” Levi stood up and followed. Everything left behind in an instant. No negotiation. No hesitation. No sorrow.
The rich young ruler heard the same invitation. “Come, follow Me.” And he turned and walked the other way.
What was the difference? Not morality. The young man was more moral than Levi. Not theology. The young man understood the commandments better than Levi. Not sincerity. The young man was genuinely seeking. The difference was the ruling love. Levi’s attachment to his booth was weaker than the pull of Christ’s voice. The young man’s attachment to his wealth was stronger.
St. Cyril of Alexandria, in his Commentary on the Gospel of Luke (on the parallel passage in Luke 18:18โ27), teaches that the young man’s sorrow reveals the nature of spiritual bondage. He was not free. He thought he was. He had kept every commandment. He was morally impeccable. But he was a slave. A slave to his possessions. And the most dangerous form of slavery is the form that looks like freedom. The rich man appears free because he can buy anything. But he cannot walk away from his wealth. He is chained to it. The commandments he kept so faithfully were the easy commands. “Do not steal” is easy when you have everything. “Do not murder” is easy when your life is comfortable. The hard command is “let go.” And letting go was the one thing his slavery would not permit.3
Twenty-five days into the fast. We have let go of many things. Food. Comfort. Time. Sleep. But there is one thing we have not let go of. We all know what it is. It is the thing we protect while surrendering everything else. The thing we negotiate around. The thing we bring into God’s presence but never place on the altar.
The young man walked away sorrowful. He could not let go. And the sorrow was real. It was not the sorrow of a bad man who does not care. It was the sorrow of a good man who wants to follow but cannot release what is holding him back.
Which sorrow is more bitter? The sorrow of the sinner who falls? Or the sorrow of the righteous person who sees the path clearly and cannot take the first step?
With God All Things Are Possible (vv. 23โ26)
“Then Jesus said to His disciples, ‘Assuredly, I say to you that it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. And again I say to you, 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.’ When His disciples heard it, they were greatly astonished, saying, ‘Who then can be saved?’ But Jesus looked at them and said to them, ‘With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.'” (19:23โ26)
The disciples are astonished. In the first-century world, wealth was understood as a sign of God’s blessing. The rich were assumed to be favoured by God. If the rich cannot be saved, who can?
Jesus does not soften the picture. A camel through the eye of a needle. The largest animal the disciples would have seen trying to pass through the smallest opening they could imagine. Impossible. Not difficult. Not unlikely. Impossible.
“With men this is impossible.”
Let that sink in. Salvation is impossible for human beings. Not just difficult. Not just requiring effort. Impossible. No amount of commandment-keeping, fasting, praying, giving, or striving can get the camel through the needle’s eye. No amount of moral achievement can dethrone the ruling love. No amount of human willpower can break the chain that holds the rich young ruler to his possessions.
This is the most important sentence in the passage. Because it demolishes the foundation the young man was standing on. His whole approach was: what good thing shall I do? Jesus answers: there is nothing you can do. With men, this is impossible.
“But with God all things are possible.”
And here is the Gospel. Not in the command to sell everything. In the declaration that what we cannot do, God can. The camel cannot squeeze through the needle. But God can open a door wide enough for camels, elephants, and the entire broken human race to walk through. And that door is the Cross.
Yesterday at Mid-Lent, we saw the Cross placed in the middle of the church. We heard John 3:16. God so loved the world that He gave. The Cross is the “with God” of verse 26. The thing that is impossible with human effort becomes possible through the sacrifice of the Son. The chain that human willpower cannot break, divine love can shatter. The ruling love that no amount of commandment-keeping can dethrone, the presence of Christ can displace.
St. Macarius the Great, in his Spiritual Homilies, teaches that the phrase “with God all things are possible” is not a general statement about divine omnipotence. It is a specific promise about the interior life. The attachments that enslave us, the ruling loves that we cannot dethrone, the deep habits of the heart that resist every spiritual discipline we throw at them: these are the impossible things that become possible with God. Macarius says that the human person is a battlefield. The will wants to follow Christ. The attachment wants to stay. The will alone is not strong enough. Only grace can tip the balance. And grace does not force. It invites. It woos. It waits. But when the person finally says yes, grace does what willpower could not. It opens the hand that has been clenched around the possession for a lifetime.4
What This Means for Day 25
The day after Mid-Lent. The Cross stands in the middle of the church. And Jesus turns to us and says: what do I still lack?
Not what we have done wrong. What we have not released. The one thing we have carried through twenty-five days of fasting without placing it on the altar. The one attachment that has survived every discipline, every confession, every prayer. The ruling love that sits on the throne of our heart and will not yield even to the presence of the Golgotha in the nave.
We know what it is. We have known since the fast began. We have been circling it. Coming close to it. Touching the edge of it. Then pulling back. Because letting go of everything else was manageable. Letting go of this one thing feels impossible.
It is impossible. With men, it is impossible.
But with God all things are possible. The Cross that was lifted to the four directions yesterday was lifted for this. For the impossible thing. For the ruling love that will not yield to willpower. For the hand that is clenched so tight the fingers have gone numb. The Cross does not ask you to open your hand by your own strength. It asks you to bring your clenched fist to the foot of the Golgotha and say: I cannot open this. But You can.
The young man went away sorrowful because he tried to do the impossible with his own hands. He did not know that the One standing in front of him was the God with whom all things are possible. He saw a teacher asking for everything. He did not see a Saviour offering everything.
We see the Cross. We know what it means. Bring the one thing to the foot of it. And let the God who loved the world enough to give His Son do the impossible thing in your heart.
For Our Journey Today
Name the one thing. Not the sins we have already confessed. Not the food we have already fasted from. The one thing we have been protecting. The attachment we have negotiated around. The ruling love that sits on the throne of our heart. Name it. Out loud if we can. We cannot release what you will not name.
Bring it to the Cross. The Golgotha stands in the middle of the church. It was placed there for this. Not just for contemplation. For surrender. Today, whether we stand physically before the red-draped Cross in the nave or we hold a cross in your hand at home, bring the one thing to it. Not with a promise to try harder. With an admission that we cannot. “With men this is impossible.” Say it. Mean it. Then add: “But with God all things are possible.”
Do not go away sorrowful. The young man turned and walked away because he believed the command was something he had to accomplish alone. We are not alone. The Cross in the middle of the church is the physical reminder that the God who asks us to let go is the same God who gives us the power to let go. The command and the grace come from the same Person. He does not ask the impossible and then stand with folded arms watching us fail. He asks the impossible and then does it in us. Stay. Do not walk away. Stay at the foot of the Cross and let the impossible become possible.
Lord Jesus Christ, who looked at the rich young ruler with love and asked for the one thing he could not give, look at us today with the same love. We have kept the commandments. We have fasted for twenty-five days. We have prayed and confessed and given. And we know what we still lack. We know the one thing we have not placed on the altar. We bring it to the foot of the Cross that stands in the middle of our church. We bring it not with strength but with honesty. We cannot open our hands. The grip is too strong. The attachment is too deep. With men this is impossible. But with You, all things are possible. Do the impossible thing in us. Dethrone the ruling love. Open the clenched fist. Free us from the thing that we love more than we love You. Not so that we can be poor. So that we can follow. Following is the point. Everything else is clearing the path. By the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos, the holy Evangelist Matthew, and all the saints, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.
A blessed twenty-fifth day of the Great Lent. The young man went away sorrowful. He knew what he lacked and could not release it. The Cross stands in the middle of the church today. It is there for the impossible things. Bring your one thing. With men it is impossible. But with God all things are possible.
- St. John Chrysostom (c. 349โ407). Homily 63 on Matthew, on Matthew 19:16โ26. โฉ๏ธ
- St. Ephrem the Syrian (c. 306โ373). Commentary on the Diatessaron. โฉ๏ธ
- St. Cyril of Alexandria (c. 376โ444). Commentary on the Gospel of Luke, on Luke 18:18โ27 (the parallel passage to Matthew 19:16โ26). โฉ๏ธ
- St. Macarius the Great (c. 300โ391). Spiritual Homilies (Homiliae Spirituales) โฉ๏ธ
