"The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And before him no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.” - Hebrews 4:12-13
As a kid, I grew up doing sword drills at church and Bible camp. A "sword drill" is where you hold your Bible up by the binding and wait for someone to give you a Bible verse. Then everyone at the same time tries to find it, and the first person to find it stands and reads the text. This was a way to train young evangelical Christians to be good with "their weapon," their "sword," the Bible. It's imperative in the worldview of evangelical Christianity to be prepared to do spiritual warfare at any time with the Enemy, and the weapon of choice is the Word of God.
As mainline Protestant Christians, we have a very different relationship with the Bible. I suspect many Episcopalians don't even own a Bible, let alone know how to look up passages as fast as possible.
When I look back on the sword drills, I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I appreciate the knowledge of the Bible I gained in that upbringing. On the other hand, I think the evangelicalism I grew up in missed the point. This sword of scripture is two-edged. We were eager to use the weapon on others, but less willing to let the sword cut us deeply.
Are we willing now to let it rend our bone and flesh, our soul and body?
Every week in the Episcopal Church we pray the Collect for Purity in the Holy Eucharist, praying:
Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.
We come to the Lord’s Table for forgiveness and solace. We come for grace and new life. But when we come, there is an awe, a majesty, and a wonder that ought to induce a kind of fear. This is what we call numinous, the experience of the Divine, of something truly and utterly other than the limited, frail, trembling creatures that we are as human beings. By nature, God ought to be terrifying to us.
Yet we gather, completely exposed, before God. We present ourselves before him, and we dare to stand, in boldness. The author of Hebrews goes on to write: “Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
We may approach the throne of grace with boldness.
This coming Sunday in our gospel lesson, there is a man that approaches the throne of grace with boldness. Mark’s gospel tells us that just as Jesus was about to leave for a journey, a man runs up to him and kneels before him, asking what he must do to inherit eternal life. He tells Jesus that he has followed the law since his youth. In response, Jesus looks at the man, and the text tells us something remarkable, it says that Jesus loved him. Jesus loved this man, whoever he was, and tells him “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’” Mark’s gospel goes on to say that, “When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”
This is a text that cuts us to the bone like a two-edged sword. We can try to circumvent the challenges it offers. We can try to find all manner of loopholes to say that this command from Jesus doesn’t apply to us, or it doesn’t mean that wealth is inherently bad. We can find all kinds of ways to avoid the guilt that comes from being North American Christians living lavishly compared to the rampant poverty around the world.
This difficult passage is fixated in Mark’s gospel in a long section of difficult teachings. In the story Jesus has predicted his passion, and is now teaching what it means to be a disciple. Being a disciple means sacrifice, it means persecution, it means suffering and death. Being a disciple means taking up your cross and following. It means becoming a servant to all. It means being willing to lay down your life. For this man, at least, it meant selling all he owns and giving the money to the poor.
Notice that Jesus doesn’t condemn his wealth for its own sake in this passage. He simply commands him to give all the wealth he is worth to the poor, as in those who are in need. Perhaps Jesus was trying to teach the man that he was blessed not just for himself, but to be a blessing to many.
So what do we do with this difficult passage?
Perhaps this man is all of us, approaching the throne of grace with boldness, seeking to inherit eternal life. Jesus looks on us with love and perhaps pity. He tells us the impossibility of this work, seeking the life of the age to come.
“For mortals it is impossible,” Jesus said.
The text cuts each of us to the bone. If each of us is the man, approaching Jesus asking to inherit eternal life, then Jesus’ answer to each of us may be different. What stands between you and the life of the age to come? What do you cling to, hold onto? What won’t you relinquish to God, or for the benefit of others? This text speaks to each of us, and if we let it, it will cut us deeply, removing those things that stand between us and Life. This text is hard, but it is good news.
After all, the text says that Jesus loved this man. “For mortals it is impossible,” Jesus said, “but not for God; for God all things are possible.”
For God, all things are possible.
When we stand before the throne of grace, when we stand before the Lord’s Table, we come naked, exposed before our God. All of our fears, doubts, regrets, and secret shames are known to him. All our desires, our wants, the things we crave, laid bare to him. He knows the things we cling to for safety and security instead of giving them to him, and to others. He knows our weakness in asking, and how far we are on our own to the life of the age to come, to living the way of love.
This is why he gave us is his Son.
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin.”
If we come bold and naked before God, it is because our Great High Priest Jesus became naked and exposed for us: whipped, torture, and beaten. Naked before all, he was hung on the cross. He suffocated and died, and his side was pierced.
Because we have a great high priest and mediator in Jesus, we do not need to fear as we come before the throne of grace. God’s way is demanding and difficult. It means taking up our cross. It means giving all that we have. It means becoming last in the eyes of the world. It means when we are too selfish or weak to follow, he looks on us with endless love and compassion. For us, it may be impossible. For God, all things are possible.
All things are possible for God, and the good news is that it is not up to us to find the words of eternal life. Jesus is the one who gives us the words of eternal life and the resurrected life of the age to come. May we come to the throne of grace with boldness and stand before him, redeemed, so that we may go out into the world blessing in his name.
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