What Can You Do To Enter Heaven? (Mark #35)

I want to start with a story from when I was four years old.

My brother, two years younger than me, and I had just finished our baths. We had a babysitter that night, and we were in our bedroom — we lived in a small two-bedroom house — while he helped my brother into his pajamas and I got mine on.

He was quizzing me on the sort of things you ask small children in case they ever get lost. What are your parents’ names? What city do you live in? What’s your phone number? And: what’s your address?

Four-year-old me proudly answered: 810 Harrison.

And then my little mind started spinning. How does a house get an address? Who decides the number?

And my babysitter said, “Oh, that’s easy. There’s a number on the back of your dresser. You get your address from your dresser. Whatever number is back there goes on the house.”

It didn’t sound right. But he was older than me and smarter than me. So — okay. That must be how it works.

A Few Months Later

The only reason I remember this silly story is because of what happened next.

Our family of four needed to move out of that small two-bedroom house into something larger. We bought a much older but much bigger home with four bedrooms — 111 East Summit Street.

And as they carried the dresser out, I finally had a chance to see the number.

I was genuinely curious about the logistics. Would it automatically change? Would someone have to swap the numbers on the two houses? So I came around to the back of the dresser.

There was no number.

Forty-eight-year-old me understands my babysitter was simply teasing a four-year-old — it’s probably something I’d have done myself. Five-year-old me felt duped. I felt tricked. There was no number on the back of the dresser.

Some People Are Going to Feel Tricked

I tell you that story because I believe there are people who, when they move from this life to the next, are going to feel exactly that way. When they breathe their last breath here and step into the spiritual realm, they will discover there’s no number on the back of the dresser.

Because we live in a culture that tells us the entrance to eternal life is simply being a good person. Give more than you take. Don’t tell too many lies. Be kind. Be decent. And heaven is yours.

Today we’re going to hear Jesus say no — and pull back the curtain.

What he says will be offensive to our culture. It was offensive to his own culture too. But rather than walking away angry or writing us off as closed-minded, I hope you finish this encouraged — because you’ll see how much Jesus loves you, and you’ll learn the actual way into eternal life. And that can rescue us from the lie.

The Passage

Mark 10:17–31. As Jesus was setting out on his journey, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus answered, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone. 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.”

And the man said, “Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth.”

Then Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said: “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.”

Disheartened by this, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions.

Jesus looked around and told his disciples how difficult it will be for those with wealth to enter the kingdom of God. They were amazed. He said it again — how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God; it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter.

They were exceedingly astonished and asked, “Then who can be saved?”

And Jesus said: “With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God.”

The Word He Chose

One commentary I read this week said this young man was asking what he must do to earn his way into heaven. The more I studied, the less I think that’s right — because he uses the word inherit. You don’t earn an inheritance.

But there’s still a problem with the question. An inheritance is assigned to you. You’re due to receive it. You didn’t earn it, but it’s set aside for you because of who you are.

So in asking what he must do to inherit eternal life, this man assumes something about himself qualifies him. And when Jesus lists several commandments, his response is essentially: yes, I’ve done all that.

“And Yet”

But the very fact that he ran to Jesus reveals doubt.

He has done everything his culture and his religion required, and something underneath is still nagging at him. Do I actually have this right?

Have you had an “and yet” moment? Where you’ve poured in the time and energy and work — and yet?

You practiced and practiced to make the team, to make the honor band — and yet. You bought the ring, asked her father, planned the proposal perfectly — and yet. You nailed the interview — and yet. You blew past the standardized test, so they have to admit you — and yet.

That’s where this man is.

Wealthy men in that era did not typically humble themselves by dropping to their knees in public. This one does. Because he’s thinking: if anyone can erase this “and yet,” it’s this man. I’ve heard him teach. He has an authority no one else has. Surely he can tell me how to be connected to God.

“Why Do You Call Me Good?”

Skeptics love verse 18. They argue it proves Jesus didn’t consider himself God.

But consider what Mark has already shown us.

In chapter 1, Jesus is teaching when a man possessed by a demon interrupts, and the demon identifies him: you are the Holy One of God. And Jesus expels the demon with nothing but a word — because he has that authority as God.

In chapter 2, four men bring their paralyzed friend, tear open a roof, and lower him down. And the first thing Jesus says isn’t “get up and walk.” It’s your sins are forgiven. The Pharisees are immediately offended, because they know only God can forgive sins. Exactly.

In chapter 4, Jesus is asleep in a boat when a storm hits. The disciples wake him in a panic, and he simply says, “Peace, be still” — and the wind and waves stop. And Mark tells us they became more afraid. They had been afraid of drowning; now they’re more afraid of the man in their boat. Because Psalm 107 makes clear that only God commands the sea.

So when Jesus asks why this man calls him good, he isn’t denying his divinity. Mark hasn’t suddenly changed his mind. Something else is happening.

Our Definition of “Good” Is Terrible

First, Jesus is challenging the man’s definition.

In our culture, “good” means acceptable. How are you today? Good. Meaning: not great, definitely not wonderful, better than okay, and certainly better than terrible. Just good.

How was the movie? Good — worth watching, though not worth theater prices; wait for streaming. How’s that restaurant? Good — fine occasionally, but not your favorite.

That is not Jesus’s definition. His definition of good is pure, holy, righteous — and only God fits that.

And yet as you study the Scriptures, you discover Jesus was the only human ever to live without sin. Which means Jesus himself was pure and holy and righteous. That is precisely why he alone could go to the cross and absorb our sin. If you or I went to a cross, we’d die for our own sin. Because Jesus had none of his own, he could die for ours.

And He’s Setting Him Up

But Jesus is also setting a trap — the loving kind.

He says only God is good. Then he lists commandments. And the man works down the list: yes, I’ve done that. Yes, I’m fine there. I guess I’m… good.

But wait — Jesus just said only God is good.

And that’s when the spiritual gut punch lands.

Verse 21: Jesus, looking at him, loved him — hold onto that phrase — and said, “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.”

He Walks Away Sorrowful

Verse 22 says he was disheartened and went away sorrowful.

Here is a man saying I want God, I want eternal life — and what he just heard was: you’re not good enough.

Because his goodness was what he was counting on. If this man had died, people would have said at his funeral exactly what we say at ours. He was a good man. Everyone liked him. If anyone’s in heaven, he is. He’s in a better place — he was so good.

And Jesus pulled back the curtain: there’s no number on the dresser. Your good works cannot save you.

This Runs Through All of Scripture

Ephesians 2:8–9 is one of the most famous statements of it. Paul planted the church in Ephesus and lived there three years, so he loves these people — and in writing to them he reminds them of what he taught: by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing. It is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.

You cannot earn your way in. And you don’t earn a gift — a gift is simply given.

This rich young man had been longing for eternal life and assuming he had it handled. And Isaiah 64:6 says that even our righteous deeds are like filthy rags before God — because in our sinfulness, even our best efforts are tainted and stained.

This man’s good works weren’t purely aimed at pleasing God. They were also aimed at impressing everyone around him. They were compromised at the root.

The Disciples Take It Just as Hard

Verse 23: Jesus looks around and tells his disciples how difficult it is for the wealthy to enter the kingdom — and they are amazed.

In that culture, wealth was understood as clear evidence of God’s blessing. So when this young man approached, the disciples would have been impressed. And hearing him say he’d kept every commandment, they’d have thought: if anyone gets eternal life, it’s him. Just look at the money. Look at the robes. God has obviously blessed this man.

Now, don’t mishear me. Sometimes wealth genuinely is a blessing from God. But it can also become a curse.

This man believed his money proved he had come to God. Jesus revealed that his money was the very thing keeping him from God.

Notice Jesus didn’t say, “I’d never let someone like you in.” He said there’s one thing you lack — go sell everything. Because Jesus loved him enough to say: you have an idol. Something is barricading you from God. You value your wealth more than you value him. If you want to show that God is truly first, sell it all — and you’ll have treasure in heaven.

And isn’t treasure in heaven better than treasure on earth?

He couldn’t do it. Because he valued his wealth more than he valued God. And in that moment Jesus exposed the idol.

“Then Who Can Be Saved?”

The disciples are stunned. If he can’t get in, who can?

And Jesus says it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle.

I learned this week that in Greek, changing a single letter in the word for “camel” gives you the word for “rope.” Some scholars think that’s what’s behind it. Either way the point stands — you cannot thread a rope through a needle.

A Beautiful Illustration That Isn’t True

When I was a college freshman I had to take a Bible course, and we were studying Mark. My professor — a local pastor with a doctorate — reached this passage and told us a story I’ve since found is enormously popular.

The story goes that there was a narrow gate in the wall of Jerusalem, and you couldn’t get a camel through it unless the camel knelt down and you stripped everything off its back. And the gate was called the Needle’s Eye.

So my professor concluded: if you want to come to God, get down on your knees, shed everything, and squeeze into the kingdom.

Beautiful illustration. It just isn’t true.

First, there’s no reliable evidence such a gate ever existed. And if it did, the earliest reference to the idea appears in medieval times — hundreds of years after Jesus.

But more importantly, that reading turns the passage inside out. It makes entry into the kingdom a work: I kneel, I remove everything, I bring myself in. And that contradicts the entire point Jesus is making.

He says it is impossible with man.

But Not With God

Verse 27: With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God.

Paul writes about this again to a pastor named Titus: God saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy — by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.

So: you want eternal life? It will not come through your obedience to the commandments. It will not come by jumping through the hoops Christianity sometimes throws at people. It will not come through your goodness.

Try that and you’ll find there’s no number on the back of the dresser.

The entrance to heaven is through Jesus Christ alone. It is all God. Which means our part is simply to come to him, humble ourselves, and let him give us the faith, wash away our sin, and bring us in.

The First Will Be Last

Jesus closes the passage in verse 31: many who are first will be last, and the last first.

Every culture I know of is busy identifying who’s first — who has the most talent, the best looks, the most money, the most charisma, the most respect. And we elevate those people.

Jesus warns that those “firsts” often turn out to be last.

Because the things we assume will finally make us something — enough money, enough respect, the right job, the right spouse, the right number of kids — Jesus says many of those are genuinely good things, and they can also be squarely in the way. The very things you think make you first can be what makes you last.

And sometimes the thing we assume secures our place is exactly what we need to release — so that we feel last, and in being last, become first.

The Hard Question

Giving something up is genuinely difficult. But if I’m going to be a good pastor, I have to ask you:

What is the one thing holding you back from fully coming to God?

For the rich young man it was wealth — and when Jesus said to release it, he couldn’t.

Maybe for you it’s also money — trusting your bank account or your investments to provide.

Maybe it’s talent. You’ve been relying on a genuine gift to get you the job, get you ahead, get you attention.

Maybe it’s reputation. You’ve been living a certain way so people think a certain thing about you, so you can be first.

Maybe it’s an addiction you’ve kept hidden from everyone — the thing you’ve quietly put first, that everything else orbits.

Get the Order Right

Please don’t misunderstand me. I am not saying that in order to get God you must first get rid of that thing.

We just established that entrance into the kingdom comes through Jesus alone. You do not perform the great work so God finally admits you.

Flip it around. We release these things because we have God. Because Jesus has already done everything. And so the response becomes: the cross before me, the world behind me — Jesus, you gave it all for me, so I’ll give it all to you.

He’s Only Asking What He Already Did

Here’s what we need to remember: what Jesus asked that young man to do is exactly what Jesus himself had already done.

Back in 2008 I had a moment where I sensed God calling me to eventually start this church. And I didn’t want to. It felt like losing everything. It felt like moving into last place — because I was giving up a good job, a church I loved, close friends, a city I enjoyed.

So if the Holy Spirit is telling you to release something right now and you’re wrestling with it, I understand. And note this: what God asks you to give up may well be a good thing. Sometimes we have to give up the good thing in order to get the better one.

Jesus is worth it. He is the best.

So yes, you can set aside the thing you thought would make you first. And yes, it will feel like dropping into last place. But remember — the last will be first.

But it’s impossible. It’s too attached to me.

Yes. And with God, all things are possible.

Because He Gave It Up First

Jesus can ask you to give something up because he gave everything up.

He left his throne. He set aside his rights. He took on human flesh and entered a painful, sinful world. He lived a spotless life — and then went to a cross.

He gave it all up for us, because having you was better.

So Jesus gave it up for you. Will you give it up for him?

When you take the bread and the cup, let them remind you that Jesus gave everything for you — and that he is only asking you to do what he has already done. If you need courage to release that one thing, let those elements be your reminder. The bread is his body, broken for you. The cup is his blood, shed for you. And the same Spirit who raised him can empower you to do what he is calling you to do.

Because Jesus is better.