We often focus on the rich young ruler’s inability to let go of his possessions in Luke 18:18-23 (cf. Mat 19:16-26; Mrk 10:17-27). However, a closer look reveals a subtler yet equally profound spiritual flaw that is a universal struggle for all Christians, regardless of their wealth.

The Rich Young Ruler came to Jesus with a question: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (v. 18). In reply, Jesus states, “You know the commandments, ‘Do not commit adultery, do not murder, do not steal, do not bear false witnesses, honor your father and mother’” (v. 20).
“All these I have kept from my youth,” the Rich Young Ruler confidently declared. Indeed, he had mastered the art of “do no harm.” He hadn’t betrayed, murdered, stolen from, or lied to his neighbor, nor had he dishonored his parents.

However, Jesus’ response in v. 22 reveals the crucial missing piece: “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.” This isn’t just a test of wealth; it’s a test of love in its fullest expression. It seeks to do good for one’s neighbor.

Jesus taught an amplified version of “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:25-37), when He said, “So whatever you wish others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Mat 7:12).

The Rich Young Ruler had grasped the negative aspect of loving his neighbor: avoiding actions that would cause them harm. He had established a baseline of ethical behavior. But Jesus challenged him to embrace the positive aspect: actively seeking the good of others, even at personal cost. “But when he heard these things, he became very sad,” Luke records, “for he was extremely rich” (v. 23).

While the Rich Young Ruler avoided betraying his neighbors, he didn’t invest in their well-being. He refrained from murder, yet didn’t actively support them in their struggles. Stealing was not in his nature, but neither was sharing when they were in need. He wouldn’t bear false witness, but offering an encouraging word wasn’t his practice. Dishonoring them was out of the question, but elevating them was not on his agenda. (In the same way: The rich man in Luke 16:19-31 didn’t do poor Lazarus any harm, but he didn’t do him any good either, and for that he was consigned to torment.).

The love Jesus demands isn’t a passive, “What must I not do?” but a proactive “What can I do?”

The account of the Rich Young Ruler challenges us to examine our hearts, considering this active love. A faith solely defined by the absence of evil deeds reveals a heart that has loved less than halfway. May we be moved beyond this limited expression, cultivating a love that actively builds up, serves, and blesses those around us, reflecting the fullness of Jesus’ own heart for humanity.

As Christians, our hearts are moved by the suffering and conflict we witness globally, rightly encouraging prayers for places like Israel and Ukraine, lands of strife and loss. Yet, we must ask Why our intercession often focuses on certain nations while others, such as Palestine and Russia, remain outside our petitions? Have political currents dictated our compassion and communion with God? It’s time to broaden our prayers, seeking God's expansive will in these troubled regions.

Let us pray that Hamas and Russia relent from evil and turn to the Lord. Do we prioritize our allies’ military victory over the “enemy’s” salvation? Can we envision praying for their transformation, where hatred yields to love and reconciliation? Our ultimate hope rests not only in the absence of earthly conflict but in the eternal peace and reconciliation offered through Christ, when “nation shall not lift up sword against nation” (Isaiah 2:4).

Let us pray that God executes His judgments on Hamas and Russia for their evil slaughter of innocents. The cry for justice is natural. But too often, Christians view God solely as a benevolent Father, not as a sword-wielding Judge. This limited view fails to grapple with pervasive evil and suffering beyond our comfort. As Paul reminds us, “Note then the kindness and the severity of God” (Rom 11:22). Our prayers concerning war should shatter comfortable theologies, compelling us to grapple with God’s whole character, from compassion to fierce opposition to evil.

Let us also turn our hearts in prayer to all war victims, including Palestinians in Gaza. Witnessing Gaza's devastation – leveled buildings, crumbling infrastructure, lack of sanitation, and a scarcity of food – should move us. Rationalizing their plight by citing Hamas’ control of the region diminishes their humanity. Are Palestinians less worthy of our prayers due to geographical location, governance, religion, or skin color? God’s compassion transcends men’s artificial boundaries; we are to “be merciful, even as [our] Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36).  

Finally, let us pray humbly, acknowledging potential wrongdoing on all sides. Shall we presume our allies, like Israel or Ukraine, are exempt from atrocities? Are we blind to their actions, or do we reserve God’s justice only for enemies? Christian prayer in conflict requires evenly recognizing human fallibility and consistently pleading for universal repentance, trusting God’s impartial justice, for with Him “there is no partiality” (Rom 2:11).

Instead of allowing our prayers to be shaped by the shifting sands of political alliances, where we fervently seek the defeat of one group and the military victory of another, could our intercessions be better focused on the overarching and eternal principles of God’s Kingdom: justice that restores, peace that endures, reconciliation that heals, and the holistic flourishing of all of humanity, created in His image? Yes they can. So, may our prayers encompass not only a yearning for an end to war and the establishment of earthly justice and peace, but also the deeper and more profound hope for the universal salvation and spiritual healing of all of God’s children. Let us place our unwavering trust in His sovereign will and His boundless and universal love for all of His creation.

One of the most heartbreaking verses in all of Scripture is Judges 2:10: “And all that generation also were gathered to their fathers. And there arose another generation after them who did not know the Lord or the work that He had done for Israel.” It’s almost unfathomable. In the immediate aftermath of Joshua’s leadership and the passing of Israel’s “greatest generation”—those who witnessed God’s mighty acts firsthand—an entirely new generation emerged, completely ignorant of God Himself and the incredible deeds He had performed for their ancestors.

I’ve read this verse countless times, thinking the phrase “did not know the Lord” encompassed this lack of knowledge of His revealed will through His Law. However, the tragedy extends far beyond a mere ignorance of God’s decrees. The verse explicitly states that this new generation also did not know God’s “work that He had done for Israel.” As astonishing as it seems, they were completely unaware of the foundational events that defined their nation's identity and demonstrated God's power and love:

• How God orchestrated the ten devastating plagues to secure the dramatic deliverance of His people from Egyptian bondage (Exd 7:14-12:30).
• How Moses, by God’s power, parted the Red Sea, allowing the Israelites to cross on dry ground, only to engulf their pursuers (Exd 14).
• How God miraculously sustained them in the wilderness with daily manna and an abundance of quail (Exd 16; Num 11:31-32; Psa 105:40).
• How God visibly guided their journey with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night (Exd 13:21).
• How, during their forty years of wandering, their clothes never wore out, and their feet did not swell—a testament to God's provision (Deu 8:4).
• How, at the edge of the Promised Land, the waters of the Jordan River parted when the feet of the priests carrying the ark touched its surface (Jos 3:1-4:24).
• How the seemingly impenetrable walls of Jericho miraculously collapsed at God’s command (Jos 6:1-27).
• How God fought for them against their enemies, driving out the Canaanite inhabitants with devastating hailstones, and terrifying hornets (Jos 10:11; Jos 24:12).
• How God listened to Joshua and made the sun stand still (Jos 10:12-15).
• How God graciously bestowed upon them homes they did not build and vineyards they did not plant, a tangible inheritance of His faithfulness (Deu 6:10-11; Jos 24:13).

Why did this generation fall away so quickly and completely? The answer is stark: they apostatized because a generation did not know the Lord through His revealed Law or through the powerful works He had accomplished on their behalf.

There’s a profound and timely lesson embedded in this ancient account for us today. So often in our churches and personal discipleship, we emphasize understanding and obeying God’s commandments—and rightly so. However, we must also recount and remember how the Lord has actively worked in our lives and in the lives of those who have gone before us in the faith. Just as Jesus instructed the healed demoniac, “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you” (Mrk 5:19), we too must share the stories of God’s intervention, His provision, and His grace. While knowing God's law provides the framework, it’s the recounting of His works that fills that frame with the undeniable proof of His character. Otherwise, we're just passing on the laws of a judge, not the works of our Savior.

I was recently lent a copy of “Maury County Cemeteries.” Its pages provide a tangible link to the lives and communities that shaped the landscape of Maury County over the last two centuries. As I paged through the two volumes, rich with historical notes, a recurring description caught my eye with a sense of sadness: abandoned, destroyed, forgotten.

The thought that family and community burial plots lie within our community, though documented but lost to the relentless march of progress, is profoundly sad. These final resting grounds, meant to be places of remembrance and honor, have ultimately succumbed to the march of time and now lie abandoned, destroyed, and forgotten.

I was recently at Polk Memorial, a cemetery where stones endure and names remain legible, a testament to its ongoing care and use. However, the stark descriptions in those volumes serve as a sobering reminder that even this well-maintained ground may, a century or two from now, also face the specter of abandonment, destruction, and forgetfulness.

The individual stories etched in these markers, the very lives of those who rest there, while meaningful to us today, will eventually fade from the memory of those who pass by, and nature will reclaim that place.

Yet, this human tendency to forget stands in powerful contrast to the divine promise articulated by the Apostle Paul: “For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. This perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, and always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Cor 15:52b-58).  

While human efforts to memorialize the dead may crumble and earthly resting places may be lost to the unwavering progress of time, God’s remembrance is eternal. He will not allow His people to be destroyed; even as our physical forms return to dust, He promises resurrection. He will not abandon our bodies to the permanent silence of the grave but will call us forth to new life. Most importantly, He will not forget our labors of faith and service that marked our earthly journey, but He will reward us accordingly.  

Through God’s grace, His people have a lasting significance that surpasses the limits of human memory and the deterioration of earthly monuments.

“Go and make disciples of all nations.” Jesus’ command resonates with all-encompassing clarity, yet our individual practices often reveal selectivity. We often shape our evangelism around unspoken limitations. The uncomfortable truth is that we’ve become adept at hearing what Jesus didn’t say, effectively silencing the unrestricted outreach of his Great Commission.

• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of financially secure people."
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are free from doubt.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are already seeking God.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who live comfortable lives.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of popular people.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are already ‘churched people.’”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who fit nicely into your church.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who will boost your attendance numbers.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are asking the right questions.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those everyone already loves.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who share your beliefs."
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who can financially support your church.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of morally upright people.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who have it all together.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who agree with your political views.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of respectable people.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are easy to reach.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who married with children.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who will never rock the boat.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who already understand the Bible.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are educated and well-spoken.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who are free from addiction.”
• He didn’t say, “Go and make disciples only of those who look like you.”

We stand at a crossroads. Will we continue to shape the Great Commission to suit our preferences, or will we allow its expansive nature to transform us? The uncomfortable truth demands a response. Let’s embrace the ‘all’ in Jesus’ words and commit to evangelism that reflects His boundless love - for ‘all’ people.