This is such a hard text to read. We hear in this Scripture a reminder of Jesus’ ministry being about Good News to the poor. And we need to hear that reminder more often than we do, as does our entire community. But this text…

It’s so harsh to think that Jesus would condemn the wealthy, especially when we’re living in times that are so divided by class. That division exposes the wealthy, and for the most part, we’re it. Some of us might be shaking our heads saying, “No, I live from paycheck to paycheck, or I’ve got a heap of student loans to pay, or I am a student living off Taco Bell and Ramen noodles, or I’m currently without healthcare.” All real and valid laments. But the fact remains that the gap between those of us who have roofs over our heads and food on our tables and those who have neither of those resources is growing larger by the hour.

The chasm between the rich and the poor in our country is wider and deeper now than it has been in over 50 years. David S. Landes is an historian-economist, and he conducted a landmark study called The Wealth and Poverty of Nations, and in that study he concluded that this widening gap is “the greatest single problem and danger facing the world of the Third Millennium.” It’s in this context that Jesus says, “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a wealthy person to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.” Harsh. It’s harsh because Jesus sounds like he’s condemning the wealthy. But is that what he’s really doing? At the heart of this message from Jesus is a call to God’s Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. And at the heart of this message is a call for us to examine how we view the Kingdom of Heaven, and how we view our fellow humanity—how we view one another. The message is simple really. It has everything to do with how we view the wealth in our hands, and how we view everyone around us.

Arthur Simon is the founder and president emeritus of Bread for the World, a citizens’ lobby with the aim of shaping national policies toward the reduction of domestic and global hunger. Why he got that initiative going is a testimony shaped by Jesus’ message we hear today. Reverend Simon explains how private charity is a good thing, but that without public justice we can never move forward as a community. Let me translate, because I want to keep us all on the same page here. Private charity is the wealth in our hands and what we choose to do with it. And public justice is how we view one another.

Reverend Simon contends that private charity and public justice are two legs, and that the remedy for hunger and other social ills requires the use of both. The use of both legs moves the world forward. He cites an example from his days living in Manhattan. He says, “The two wealthiest districts in Manhattan have had more soup kitchens than the two poorest districts because of where the donors, not hungry people, are concentrated.” That’s an example in Simon’s view of good private charity but bad public justice.

No example is better than Simon’s own testimony from his days of being a pastor on New York’s lower east side. He says he was constantly dealing with emergencies, doing his best to maintain authentic charity. His ministry was all about that hand of wealth making good decisions with how that wealth would be spread. But Simon’s best efforts never alleviated the problems of social injustice that were all around him. His public justice was always falling short; so consequently, his private charity never made a dent in the world’s problems.

He says it was in those times in his ministry that he recalled his dad’s wise saying: “It’s better to build a fence at the top of a cliff than to have an ambulance at the bottom.” For Reverend Simon, starting Bread for the World was his way of getting out of the ambulance, climbing a mountain and building a fence at the top of a cliff.

This text is so hard for us to hear this morning. This past weekend I had the chance to visit family and friends in Austin, and many of them asked me, “How’s your ministry going in College Station? How’s the church?” So, I would share with them how things are going, and then I’d tell them, “I’m preaching on a tough text this Sunday. It’s that Scripture where Jesus says that it’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a wealthy man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” And every time I shared that with people—every time—they couldn’t think of anything to say. It’s a conversation stopper. And I think it stops us cold because of our feelings of guilt.

We all have different feelings and different levels of guilt. Guilt over a lackluster day of work. Guilt over doing poorly on a test or a project or a presentation. Guilt over something we said to someone or something we did to someone. Guilt over how little time we’re devoting to the things and people in our lives we like to boast that we care the most about. Guilt over the wealth in our hands and what we choose to do with it.

I have to confess something to you. I harbor a certain amount of guilt over things in my personal life, church life, any number of things. But nothing makes me feel guiltier than when my son hurts himself on my watch. If Mac trips over his untied shoelace and hurts himself, I feel very guilty. If he bonks his head or gets scared because he turns the volume knob on the stereo up to 10, I feel very guilty.

This weekend we stayed at my in-laws house, and they have an upstairs area where Mac spends time playing. Of course my big fear is that Mac will wander over to the stairs and not remember that he’s supposed to get on his hands and knees and crawl down backwards. He might fall and secure my deepest fear of him tumbling down the steps. So, while Mac was playing around, exhibiting his curiosity by picking up anything he could reach and pointing at anything he couldn’t, I watched him like a hawk. If he took a step, I did, too. If he wandered into a room, I followed. And if he got anywhere near the stairs, I picked him up and redirected him toward somewhere else.

Impending guilt was my focus—my drive. Stacy would say I was being a nervous ninny. And that’s when I heard her say to her dad, “Hey, Dad, can you get that safety gate out and put it at the top of the stairs for Mac?” And just like that, the gate went up, Mac was safer, and I stopped being such a worrywart.

Why didn’t I think of that before? Instead of running around like Mary Poppins on Steroids, I could’ve just put up the safety gate and let Mac do as he pleased. That impending guilt was my drive, and that drive kept me so obsessed with the moment and fear of something happening to my boy that I had no room for solutions. I was driving that ambulance that Simon’s dad was talking about when I should’ve been building a fence at the top of a cliff.

I think that at different times we’re all driving an ambulance like this. We’re fueled by guilt over how bad things are in the world and how good we’ve got it, so we drive that ambulance to fix as many problems as we can. But the problems are still there, and the disease is still destroying the ones who can’t afford healthcare, and the hunger is ravaging a majority of the world, and the soup kitchen feeds 300 on one side of town while a thousand go without on the other side of town, and the world keeps spinning. And we keep driving that ambulance. We keep reevaluating what to do with our private charity. We keep hobbling around on one leg.

Well, friends, guilt isn’t going to cut it. Guilt isn’t enough. In fact, guilt has no place here. It’s funny how guilt is often associated with the word ‘church,’ but in reality guilt has no business in the church. It has no place here. I hope that none of us comes to this sanctuary solely driven by guilt in our lives, because here’s the Good News, my friends: God doesn’t want you to feel guilty.

Where in the story of God’s creation, where in the pages of the Bible do we find guilt driving humanity toward a right relationship with God? Where do we find guilt as the catalyst for repentance and redemption? Where is guilt used by God as a means of getting us to do one thing or another? It’s simply not there. God does not want you to feel guilty.

If you feel a sting in your soul this morning over this text about wealth, or if you feel a sting in your heart over any host of other things: abuse done to you, abuse you did to someone else, greed, spite, jealousy, that phone call you never made, that letter you never sent, those opportunities you never seized, that silent treatment you’re getting from certain people you love and how you’re now convinced that it’s your fault; that sting is not guilt. That sting is God’s grace telling you to let go and let God.

Let God love you so that you can see beyond yourself. Let God love you so that you can clearly see where your wealth in its many forms can best be spent. Let God love you so that you can walk with both legs alongside your neighbor for the sake of positive change. Let God love you so that your life can be about extravagant generosity. Let God love you so that you can get out of the ambulance and up to the top of that cliff to build a fence. Let God love you so that you can be a part of making sure that God’s kingdom is built on earth as it is in heaven.

Let God love you. That’s what Jesus is trying to convey to the wealthy man in today’s story. The wealthy man says to Jesus, “Good teacher…” And Jesus says, “Only God is good.” And the wealthy man says, “Teacher, what must I do to enter the Kingdom of Heaven?” And when he asks that—when he asks Jesus that question: What must I do to enter the Kingdom of Heaven—Jesus looks at him and loves him. Jesus looked at him and loved him before he told him what he lacked. And that Jesus is looking at you and me, too.

The man says that he follows the Law of Moses, the Ten Commandments, and Jesus says, “That’s great, but you’re lacking something. Go sell your stuff and give the money to the poor.” And that’s when the man hangs his head in shame and walks away from Jesus. Imagine how guilty he must have felt.

Would it be easier for us to understand this story if the wealthy man had said, “OK, Jesus! You got it! I’m off to sell my possessions and give the money to the poor!”? I don’t think so. Because that would’ve just been one more check off the wealthy man’s list to assure his right place with God, and that’s not what Jesus’ message was about. Jesus’ message was about the first being last and the last being first in the kingdom of heaven.

We’re missing the point if we think that Jesus was merely giving this wealthy man one more reason for his right place in heaven. Surely Jesus knew that this guy wasn’t about to sell his stuff and give the money away! He knew that, and that’s why he said it. The wealthy man walks away in shame, and that shame, that guilt, is what he really needed to deal with in order to have a right relationship with God and a ticket into heaven. His possessions owned him to the point that he felt ashamed in the eyes of God. By instructing the wealthy man to sell his stuff, Jesus was inviting him to a life free of guilt, free of shame. And Jesus’ invitation came from a heart of uncompromising love.

That’s our invitation today. Whatever keeps you from serving your neighbor; whatever keeps you from building up the Church; whatever keeps you from loving others without conditions, as Jesus did the wealthy man; whatever keeps you from being all that God hopes for you and us to be; we’re invited by Christ to get rid of it.

And here’s the capper to this tough text: What is Jesus’ new command he gives us? What’s the command Jesus gives us before he’s betrayed and sentenced to death? “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, so you must love one another.” We’re supposed to love one another just as Jesus loved us.

Wow. So that means that we’re supposed to look at people, like the wealthy man in this story, people that we know are lacking something in our humble opinion. We’re supposed to look at people with whom we disagree, people who are stubborn about issues that keep them from embracing others; we’re supposed to look at them and despite their conditions we’re supposed to love them. Instead of trying to fix everything when the sun goes down, we’re called to love others when the sun comes up. When we love one another as Christ loved us, then God can make those changes in the world that we think are so impossible. When we love one another as Christ loved us, then by God’s grace all things are possible.

May we all get out of our ambulances, climb mountains and build fences at the top of a cliff starting today. O God, establish the work of our hands that your kingdom would come on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.