Scripture: Mark 10: 17-22
As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, "Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus said to him, "Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: 'You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.'" He said to him, "Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth." Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, "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." When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.
Reflection Questions:
What do you value most among your possessions? If Jesus asked you to give away the very things that you prize, then how would you react? What prevents you from demonstrating true generosity? What gets in the way of you being truly free in your giving?
Five-minute Story:
Lying on my back in the rear of an SUV, I was bleeding. My chin was busted open, and the blood was quickly mixing with the greasepaint. It was all my fault, my own most grievous fault.
The day began with great excitement. It was the annual Memorial Day parade in my hometown of Secaucus, New Jersey. A few years earlier I started a teenage clown troupe at St Matthew's Lutheran Church. The Merry Messengers made hospital visits, performed for Sunday Schools and nursing homes. I credit this ministry, which I started during college, as a critical influence in my discernment in becoming a pastor.
Everyone in Secaucus turned out for the Memorial Day parade. The veterans marched but so did the local firemen and the high school band. It was a big deal for the Merry Messengers to get a spot in the parade line-up. We decided to make a good show. For weeks, we planned skits to perform when the parade stopped and antics to do while it was in motion. We had pounds of tootsie rolls ready to toss to the crowd. For my part, I was going to walk on stilts.
Before the day of the big Memorial parade, I had worn my stilts multiple times in public. Although I never walked the parade route before, I was used to my equipment and in good shape at the time.
On the bottom of my aluminum stilts, there was an industrial hammerhead. It was a solid base but one that was smooth and designed to reduce friction. Unfortunately, friction was my friend, and I desperately needed it to keep my feet on the ground. To correct this design flaw, I glued rubber carpet pads to the friction-less hammerhead bottoms.
The parade started with a flourish. Music, sirens, applause. As I mentioned, everyone in Secaucus was out and lined the curbs of the main streets of the town. Thankfully, the parade route was mostly flat and the weather was ideal. It was a perfect day for walking on stilts and waving to the crowds.
Everything was going better than expected until we reached the mile and a half point of the parade route. At that point, the little carpet rubber pads wore out. Imagine a baby giraffe trying to get its long legs under itself to stand up. That was me in reverse. As I took a step, the friction-less bottom of my stilt kept going, sliding away. My other leg headed in the other direction. The only thing I could do was to ride the rapid descent to the pavement surface. I fell hard.
As soon as the rest of the troupe saw me go down, they sprang into action. My clown friends shuffled around, bumping into one another, and picked me up and put me into the back of the large SUV. It was almost like one of the silly skits we practiced.
After finishing the parade, we drove to the Emergency room where a doctor put stitches in my chin. I was humiliated. I kept telling everyone that I didn’t fall; it was my equipment. The distinction didn’t seem to matter to anyone but me. It was a vain attempt to retain some pride.
I still walk on stilts. When I do, I make sure to check my equipment. My experience has taught me that falling, like failure, is always a possibility. Gravity and imperfection are real forces that demand respect and attention.