For Whom Is the Kingdom of God? (Mark 10.1-22)

We all know how frustrating it can be when we have a discussion, and the person in front of us constantly changes the subject. It usually happens when the discussion is a little uncomfortable—maybe you’re talking to a member of your family about a conflict—and they keep interrupting, trying to flip the blame back on to you, or on to something else. You get distracted for a second—because you want to take into account what they’re saying—and then you say, “Please don’t change the subject. We can talk about that after if you want, but right now I’m talking about this.” And then they do it again. So you say, “Please don’t change the subject.” And again.

We’ve all had discussions like that, and we know how frustrating it can be.

Christians are experts at changing the subject. When we read the Bible, one thing jumps out at us, and we get stuck on that thing. It’s not that that thing is unimportant, but it’s not the point. And while we start going down rabbit holes in our thinking, God is yelling down at us: “Don’t change the subject!”

Of course there are reasons for this. Sometimes, we see something we don’t understand, or that hits a particularly sensitive nerve in us. And sometimes we do this just because we enjoy it—we like trying to figure things out. It can be like intellectual candy.

But we need to pay attention to God when he says, “Don’t change the subject.”

I say that because the text we just read contains two verses that will immediately want to make us change the subject.

What Jesus says in this text is wildly countercultural. I even had to take a minute to talk to the elders, to ask them what they thought about why they think this text is structured the way it is, and that discussion was incredibly helpful for me. It’s a difficult text. So it’s natural to want to get sidetracked by the very intense things Jesus says here.

But he says both things to teach a greater truth—and it’s that greater truth that we want to keep in our sights today.

There is one central truth undergirding the three main sections of our text today. I’m sure you already noticed these sections when we read the text. We have the discussion between Jesus and the Pharisees in v. 1-12; we have Jesus’s teaching about being like children in v. 13-16; and we have Jesus’s discussion with the rich young man in v. 17-22.

This text is structured like a sandwich—the biblical authors often do this, it was a common way of making a point. You have one part that says one thing (A), another part that says something else (B), and then a final part that says the same thing as the first (A)—so it’s A-B-A, like a sandwich.

Because in our day we’re more used to linear thinking and this sandwich structure can be a bit confusing for us, I’m going to make it a little easier for us and talk about the bread of the sandwich first: the first part and the last part. Both of these parts show Jesus dismantling a false idea that someone brings to him. Then we’ll get to the meat (or the soy steak, if you’re a vegetarian), by talking about the second part—where Jesus establishes the true idea that goes against those two false ideas. And hopefully we’ll be able to see what Jesus is getting at, because it’s really important.

So let’s start with the first piece of bread, in v. 1.

The kingdom of God doesn’t belong to those who know the commandments (v. 1-12).

And he left there and went to the region of Judea and beyond the Jordan, and crowds gathered to him again. And again, as was his custom, he taught them.
2 And Pharisees came up and in order to test him asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”

So we need to ask, why are the Pharisees asking Jesus this question? The Pharisees made a point of studying the law in the minutest detail—they know perfectly well what the law of Moses says. So even if they’re not trying to trap him, at the very least, they want to test either Jesus’s knowledge of the law, or his faithfulness to the law.

Of course Jesus knows this, so he does what he does so well and answers their question with another question. V. 3:

3 He answered them, “What did Moses command you?” 4 They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce and to send her away.”

This is only partly true. The law allows that such a thing might happen, but rather addresses the question of remarriage after a wife has married a second husband (if her second husband dies, for example). If you read the law as it is given in Deuteronomy 24, there is no suggestion that this is a good thing to do. It just allows that such a situation might come up, and tells how it should be handled.

But, of course that’s how these things go: we read the Bible, and we see it say, “This might happen,” and because we see the words written down on paper, we assume that if it could happen, it must be okay. (Look at how they say it: “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of divorce.” It’s a subtle twisting of what the law actually says.)

What’s interesting is that Jesus doesn’t pick apart the way they answer his question. Instead, he goes to the heart of the matter. V. 5:

5 And Jesus said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart he wrote you this commandment.

Before we go further, we need to address this. A lot of people have a lot of issues with this idea, that God might make allowances for people in some situations, allowances that aren’t ideal.

But we all understand this. Little Alice (Tom & Silvia’s little girl) is a baby; she’s just learned to walk not too long ago. If she’s on one side of the room, and Tom calls to her and says, “Alice, come here,” and Alice starts to come, she’s not super steady on her feet yet. She’s just learned to walk. So she’s going to wobble, and she might fall. So Tom will say again, “Alice come here,” and she’ll totter again, and maybe fall again, maybe get distracted by a ball she sees on the ground (she’s a baby, after all). Getting a toddler to come to you is not easy.

But what is Tom not going to do? He’s not going to punish Alice for getting distracted. He’s not going to yell at her for being so slow and not listening to him—“Why is your heart so hard towards me, your father?” He’s going to make allowances for her, keeping in mind that she’s a baby, and that he can’t expect from her the same kind of reaction he’ll be able to expect when she’s thirteen.

This is, essentially, where the people of Israel are in the desert when God gives the law to Moses. They’ve just come out of centuries of slavery. They know nothing about God’s character or God’s holiness. They’re babies in the faith. God gives them his law in order to structure their society and teach them what he is like, but he knows they won’t be able to take in everything all at once. He makes allowances for their hardness of heart.

But these allowances God makes—just like the allowances we make for our kids—are not meant to last. Our intention is not that our kids keep on not listening to us when they’re teenagers. Our intention is that they listen to us, and learn to obey us.

So what is God’s intention for his people on this subject? V. 6:

6 But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ 7 ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, 8 and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two but one flesh. 9 What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.”
10 And in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. 11 And he said to them, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her, 12 and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

So to put it succinctly: God’s intention for his people is that they form societies around families, and that these families be composed of one husband and one wife, who remain united in a faithful and monogamous relationship as long as they are both alive. Why? If you’ve ever been to a wedding here at Connexion, you know why: because the marriage of a man and a woman under God is meant to symbolize the relationship between Christ and his church. Christ remains faithful to his church, and the church is called to remain faithful to Christ. So our marriages should follow the same pattern.

That’s God’s intention, and he means us to take it incredibly seriously. Marriage is meant to reflect the union between Christ and his church—it is no light matter.

Now what does that mean? Several of us here have families that have been formed following a divorce, either ourselves or our parents. Does that mean those families are not legitimate, because they came from divorce? Of course not. Even if those families were formed in less-than-ideal circumstances, there is always grace, and God can always restore what was broken.

But Jesus’s point here is not to talk about divorce. His point is to show the holes in the Pharisees’ thinking.

The Pharisees know the law of Moses inside and out. They know the ins and outs of every commandment. But knowing the commandments isn’t enough.

That’s Jesus’s point. That’s what he shows here so brilliantly. The Pharisees know the commandments better than anyone…but they still can’t get to the heart of the matter—which, in this case, is that just because you lawfully can do something doesn’t mean it’s what God intends for you.

Do you see what he’s doing? He’s pulling apart the Pharisees’ source of confidence, which is their knowledge of the law. They have adopted the false idea that the kingdom of God belongs to those who know the commandments. But Jesus shows that knowing the commandments doesn’t get them any closer to understanding what God’s intention is.

I know we love to think that we’d not be on the wrong side of this conversation, but this is something I’ve seen again and again over the years, and it’s something I saw a lot in myself when I was a young Christian. In our church circles we love to study the Bible. We love to learn doctrine. We love to be able to argue and debate and point out the reasoning behind obscure and difficult points of theology.

This is a good thing. Knowing the Bible as thoroughly as possible is our job as Christians; if we are followers of Christ, we need to know what he tells us.

But it’s not enough.

I know a good number of people who have made an absolute shipwreck of their faith—and many of them know the Bible incredibly well. They have a very firm grasp of Christian doctrine, and can explain that doctrine very well.

But the kingdom of heaven does not belong to those who know the Bible. All of our study, all of our knowledge, our ability to clearly articulate the ins and outs of the Bible’s teaching is not enough. Knowing the Bible is not enough.

So that’s the first false idea that Jesus dismantles here: that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who know the commandments. It doesn’t

Here’s the second false idea—the second piece of bread on our sandwich.

The kingdom of God doesn’t belong to those who follow the commandments (v. 17-22).

What Jesus says here probably won’t shock us as much as the first point—but it should actually shock us more.

V. 17:

17 And as he was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 18 And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.

Quick side note—this verse often confuses people. Jesus isn’t saying he’s not good; he’s saying that it doesn’t make sense for the young man to call Jesus “good teacher” unless Jesus is God, because “no one is good except God alone.” He’s reframing the young man’s thinking.

19 You know the commandments: ‘Do not murder, Do not commit adultery, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honor your father and mother.’ ” 20 And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.”

So this young man knows the commandments too. He may not know the details of the law of Moses as well as the Pharisees do, but he knows the ten commandments at least, as every young man born in Israel would have at the time. So Jesus gives him some examples from the ten commandments—don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, etc.

The young man, probably feeling good about himself, can say in all good conscience: “I’ve kept all of these since my youth.” Most of us here could probably say the same, or close to it. There’s nothing in the text to suggest that this young man is full of pride, or that he’s got bad intentions. He’s simply stating a fact: he’s obeyed the precepts of the law since his youth.

Now he was surely expecting Jesus to stop there—he’s asked the question, “What do I have to do to inherit eternal life?”, and Jesus responds the same way he responded to the Pharisees: “What does the law say? You’ve done that? Good.” That should be the end of the story, you would think.

But no. V. 21:

21 And Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said to him, “You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” 22 Disheartened by the saying, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

Why does Jesus say this? He didn’t ask the other disciples to sell everything they had and give it to the poor. He didn’t tell the crowds to sell everything they had and give it to the poor. So why did he say it to this young man?

Because Jesus knew that this was the one thing—perhaps the only thing—that would give this young man trouble.

You see, he’s not trying to trap this young man, but to show him what’s really going on in his own heart. This young man came asking how to be saved—that’s a good question. It’s a right question.

And Jesus responds by saying, “You’ve followed the law, yes—that is good. But where is your heart? Here’s a test for you: sell everything you have, give it to the poor, and lay up treasure in heaven. Then come, and follow me.”

And the young man couldn’t do it. Because although he had followed the commandments, the commandments couldn’t change his heart. His heart was in his wealth. That’s where his security was; that’s where his identity was.

Knowing the commandments cannot save you; even following the commandments can’t save you.

And that’s really interesting, isn’t it? We tend to think of the law of Moses as the way the people of Israel could be saved—follow the commandments, and you’ll be saved, right? Wrong. The law of Moses served two purposes. It served as a guide for the people to follow, and it served as proof that even following the guide wouldn’t be enough to save them. It was enough to form a basis for society in Israel, and it was enough teach them what they needed to know about worshiping God. But it would never be enough to save them.

Jesus tells the Pharisees, and this young man, that they know the commandments, and they follow the commandments, but that despite this, they still don’t know everything. The commandments are not an end in themselves; on their own, they’re not enough.

So the question is, what can save us? The kingdom of heaven doesn’t belong to those who know the commandments, and it doesn’t belong to those who follow the commandments.

So to whom does the kingdom of heaven belong?

The kingdom of God belongs to those who depend on God for their salvation (v. 13-16).

So we have the conversation between Jesus and the Pharisees on one side; the conversation between Jesus and the rich young man on the other side. In between those two conversations, we see something vastly different, but that actually highlights what Jesus is saying in both of them.

V. 13:

13 And they were bringing children to him that he might touch them, and the disciples rebuked them. 14 But when Jesus saw it, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God. 15 Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” 16 And he took them in his arms and blessed them, laying his hands on them.

So here, Jesus says it clearly. To whom belongs the kingdom of God? The kingdom of God belongs to those who are like little children.

Of course you can understand that to mean several different things. Some people have suggested that the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who are humble like children, to those who are innocent like children. That simply can’t be right, because kids are great, but they are not humble, and they are not innocent. Sin shows itself in children very early.

So what characteristic in children do we want to see in ourselves?

Jesus actually tells us in v. 15. He says, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.”

Children work for nothing. I love my kids more than I love myself, and Jack’s a little older now, so it’s slightly less true of him—but everything our kids have, they’ve received. They don’t earn any money. They don’t buy any groceries. They don’t pay for electricity or water. They are completely dependent on us for everything they need.

And that’s normal; they’re kids. They’re supposed to be dependent on their parents.

That is the characteristic of children that Jesus is highlighting here. Children are not humble, and they’re not innocent. But they are dependent. On their own, they will die. They need their parents to keep them alive.

The only way to enter the kingdom of heaven is to receive it, the way a little child receives what he needs to live. It’s what the Pharisees and the rich young ruler didn’t understand. It’s not by working hard to know the commandments and keep the commandments that we are saved, but by depending on God alone for the salvation we receive.

I know I’m saying nothing new for most of you; we say this all the time. It’s three of the five “solas”: Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, Sola Christus—we are saved through faith alone, by grace alone, in Christ alone.

But as often as we repeat this to ourselves, functionally we still operate as if we play a part. There is a toy you can get for children’s car seats, which is essentially a plastic steering wheel with a little horn that you can clip on to the front of the car seat, and the kid can turn the wheel and feel like they’re driving. We say that we’re saved through faith alone, by grace alone, in Christ alone…and we still sit in the backseat, trying to “drive” with our plastic steering wheel.

Or maybe this is a better illustration. Trying to earn or deserve our salvation through our obedience is like buying a plane before you get your pilot’s license. I mean, you can do that, and you’ll have a plane, and that’s great. But you can’t fly it. And if you try to fly it anyway, you might be able to keep it in the air for a while, but chances are, it will kill you.

Obeying God’s commandments to earn our salvation will always lead to either pride, depression, or disillusionment. Pride when you feel like you’re managing it; depression and disillusionment when your obedience doesn’t seem to give you what you thought it would.

The only way to salvation is to receive it, like a little child who is entirely dependent on his parents for his needs. A child will reach out his hand and take a piece of bread offered to him, but he didn’t make the bread, he didn’t buy the bread, he didn’t earn the bread. We do need to reach out our hand and take the salvation offered to us, trusting Christ for his forgiveness and grace, but we don’t earn it, and we didn’t make it happen.

We are wholly dependent on God for our salvation, and the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who receive it in just that way.

Conclusion

So if that is true, why do we obey? Think again of what Jesus says to the Pharisees and the rich young man. Jesus applies an even stricter rule than the law of Moses on the subject of divorce; and Jesus gives a commandment to the rich young man that is far more comprehensive than anything the ten commandments say.

Jesus never says that obedience isn’t important, quite the contrary. Following Jesus requires a lot of work. It’s just not what saves us. Our work, our obedience, is profoundly important, just not the way the rich young man thinks it is, or the way we often think it is.

What do we see in this text?

We see commandments from Jesus, which essentially become tests of the heart. The rich young man’s obedience is good up to a certain point—but when Jesus tells him to sell everything, give it all to the poor, and follow him… That’s the step too far for him, the step where his heart can’t go.

Jesus’s commandment reveals that for all of this young man’s good discipline, for all of his good behavior, his heart is still not changed. Perhaps it’s only partial—I don’t want to be too hard on this young man, because he did at least ask Jesus a question—“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”—that shows that he’s sensitive to Christ’s teaching. Then Jesus asks him a very hard thing, and we don’t know what happened to the young man after. But at least at this point, there is a barrier between him and Jesus that he’s not willing to take down.

So how do I know that I am still receiving the kingdom like a little child? Ask yourself: What am I still not willing to do for God? What commands am I not willing to obey? At what point will we consider that God is taking it too far?

This is a profoundly important question to have in our minds, because all of us will reach a point where we see a commandment that we don’t want to follow. I had to have a really difficult conversation with a brother in Christ, a pastor friend, this week. I absolutely did not want to have it. I was dreading it all week long. But it was clear that, because of what the Bible tells us, that conversation needed to happen. So even though I really did lose sleep over it this week, I asked him to talk, and we talked.

Why did I do that? I did it because God has saved me, and because I am entirely dependent on him for everything—including the final result of that difficult conversation. And because God is good, I could trust him with that, and do the hard thing. And God was faithful—it wasn’t an easy conversation, but it was good, I’m closer to that brother today because of it.

The kingdom of God belongs to those who depend on him entirely—for our salvation, and for our obedience.

Why did God send Christ? Why did he save us? Because we couldn’t save ourselves.

We jumped out of the plane, we didn’t have a parachute, and he jumped out, grabbed on to us, and opened his chute.

So what do we do now? We hold on to him for dear life, we hang on with everything we have, because he is all that’s keeping us from falling. Every act of obedience, every practice of discipline, every prayer we pray, every conversation we have to help a brother or sister in the faith, is an act in which we grip even tighter to our Savior, knowing that his parachute is good, and he really will keep us from falling.