Let Go

A Sermon for the Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 23, Year B)
October 13, 2024

Text: Mark 10:17-31

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

As most of you know, I go to the Blue Bird Coffee Company each week on Thursdays from about 9:00 in the morning until 10:00, doing something I like to call “Coffee with the Priest.”

It’s an opportunity for me to make myself available to anyone in the community who just needs someone to talk to or someone to pray with them.

Sometimes, I go, and I don’t have much interaction with anyone other than the staff at the coffee shop. So, I’ll sit and wait, and if no one shows up, I’ll use that time to work on a sermon or respond to some emails.

Sometimes, people reach out ahead of time and make plans to meet with me at the coffee shop for a one-on-one conversation.

And then, sometimes, I’ll have random encounters with complete strangers, which is exactly what happened to me this past Thursday.

I walked into the coffee shop like usual, put my sign out that says “Coffee with the Priest,” made a quick post on social media about being at the coffee shop, and then I stood in line to get a cup of coffee.

And, as I stood in line, I overheard the person in front of me—a man I had never seen before—talking with the cashier about how he and his family had to evacuate from Florida this past week due to the hurricane.

After he was done talking with the cashier, he got his coffee and went and sat down at a table.

And, then I got my coffee, and as I was walking back to my table, I saw the man again, and we struck up a conversation.

I was wearing my clergy collar at the time. So, he knew I was a minister of some kind, probably a Catholic priest.

And, he told me more about his situation.

He and his family had evacuated on Monday and found their way to Andalusia.

I asked him if they were able to find a hotel room nearby, and he told me that they were staying in a camper in a local RV park.

He also shared that, thankfully, none of his property had been severely damaged by the storm, and he was hopeful that they’d be able to return home soon.

I wished him well and I told him that, if there was anything they needed while they were here, our church was right down the road.

Then, I sat down at my table, which was right next to the man I was talking to.

And, after a few minutes, we started talking again.

This time it was about church.

He asked me if I was a Catholic priest, and I told him, “No, I’m an Episcopal priest.”

Then, he wanted to know the difference between Catholic and Episcopal. So, I started listing some of the differences and sharing with him some of the things I love most about the Episcopal Church.

I could tell he was genuinely curious, but I wasn’t quite sure why.

Somehow, in the midst of our conversation, he shared with me that he was a non-believer, and it sounded like a lot of that had to do with a bad history with the church and Christians trying to convert him to their way of thinking.

Judging from his tone, I got the feeling that his overall sense of Christianity is that it’s just a church full of people whose primary mission is to go out and convert everyone they meet.

And, as I sat and listened to the man’s story, I thought to myself, “I wish people like him knew that there are other types of Christians in the world.”

I wish more people knew that there are churches in this world—like our church, for example—that exist, not to try to convert people or to convince them to think or believe the way we do—but who work and strive to be examples of God’s love to those we meet and to spread the Good News of God in Christ with the world.

Jesus didn’t instruct the disciples to go out and convert the world to Christianity. He instructed them to go out and share the Good News of the Gospel—to show people through their words and deeds that the Kingdom of God has come near.

That’s why we’re here.

We do what we do—not for own benefit—but for the good of God’s Kingdom.

We do what we do—not to try and save people’s souls (as if we could if we wanted to), but to invite them into a deeper and more meaningful relationship with the God who loves them.

But, far too often, people who don’t know any different are convinced that they already know what our intentions are before ever getting the chance to know more about us.

They think they know who we are because of past experiences of church or second-hand knowledge from people who’ve had bad experiences.

Not that I blame them because there are plenty of Christians in this world who think it’s their mission to save people and convert them.

But, that’s not us.

In reality, there’s so much more to who we are and what we’re called to do as followers of Jesus.

As I was reflecting on my time with the man at the coffee shop, I thought about how all of us, in some way, get trapped and weighed down by our own pre-conceived ideas or notions about people who are different than we are.

Especially people who have different beliefs or ideas than we do.

I think a really good example of this today is the current political climate in our country, especially with the upcoming election.

It’s so easy for us get pulled into the idea that we have to dehumanize or look down upon those who have different beliefs and ideas than we do.

And, when we do that, we create walls of our own making—separating ourselves from those who think or believe differently than we do and possibly even making enemies out of those who are different.

But, that’s not what God calls us to do.

God calls us to break down the walls that divide and separate us.

God calls us to examine our lives and to think about those biases and prejudices that infect our hearts—those destructive ideas about other people that keep us from experiencing the abundant life that God wants for each of us.

God calls us to let go.

To let go of what we think we know about other people.

To let go of the idea that we have everyone perfectly figured out and grouped into a box that’s easily defined.

To let go of our need to look down upon those who think or believe differently than we do.

To let go of the idea that we’re right and everyone else is wrong.

Today’s Gospel lesson from Mark is all about letting go.

Letting go of those things in our lives—whether they’re spiritual or material—that are keeping us from experiencing the joy and peace of following Jesus.

In today’s reading, we hear the story of Jesus’ encounter with the rich man who comes to Jesus and asks him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

In other words, “What must I do to find joy and peace in God’s kingdom?”

Jesus looks at the man and basically tells him, “You already know what you need to do. Follow God’s Law.”

The man tells Jesus that he’s lived a good life and followed all of God’s commandments, even since his youth.

Then, we come to my favorite part of the story.

And, it’s so simple.

The author of Mark’s Gospel writes that Jesus looked at the man and loved him.

He didn’t judge the man.

He didn’t criticize him.

He loved him. The way I read that part of the story is that Jesus looked at the man and had compassion for him.

He thought he had done everything he was supposed to do up to that point in his life.

But, knowing the man better than he knows himself, Jesus tells him that there’s one more thing he has to do in order to receive the abundant life he seeks.

He says to the man, “Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

I can’t imagine the look of shock and disappointment that must have been on the man’s face when he heard Jesus’ instruction.

In the end, it’s too much of a burden for the rich man to bear.

He isn’t willing to let go of his wealth and possessions in order to follow Jesus.

So, he turns around and walks away.

Contrary to what some people believe about this lesson from Mark’s Gospel, it isn’t intended to cast judgment on the rich, and it doesn’t mean that there’s no room in God’s kingdom for wealthy people.

This story is about much more than money and wealth. It isn’t about what we own or how much we have.

It’s about our attachment to those things in our lives—the things we so desperately want to hold on to—that keep us from following Jesus.

The rich man in our Gospel lesson is so attached to his wealth and worldly possessions that he’s unable to see the grace that’s right in front of his eyes when Jesus offers it.

It was easier for him to turn around and walk away from Jesus than to give up that which he cared about the most.

The story of Jesus and his encounter with the rich man teaches us that, in order to receive the abundant life we seek, we have to be willing to let go of those worldly attachments in our lives—both material and spiritual—that cause us to lose sight of our need to follow Jesus.

This story can be applied to so many corners of our lives.

Because, truth be told, we can be attached to lots of things that can be a stumbling block in our lives.

Not just money and wealth.

But also our tight grip on anger and resentment toward those who’ve hurt us.

Not just material or physical possessions.

But also biases toward those who think or believe differently than we do.

Not just the things we can see, taste, and touch.

But also those intangible things that infect our hearts, like jealousy toward those who have more than we do or the feeling that we’re better or more deserving than anyone else.

Because, in the end, it’s not about us at all. It’s about God and what God is doing in us and through us to change the world.

God calls us to let go.

To let go, and let him be the center of our lives.

Amen.