As I confidently sang some of my favourite hymns one Sunday morning, I noticed a latecomer enter the hall. I didn’t know him very well, but from my brief interactions with him, as well as in observing the reactions of those around him, it seemed that he wasn’t the most popular person. Well, it’s not that he’s unpopular, but maybe he’s just not as sociable, and quite lacking in the “it” factor that popular, perfect Christians have. Yet as I eyed him walk in, I noticed he took a detour to shake the hand of a girl sitting in the row in front of me. The girl was a paraplegic sat in a wheelchair. After he left, she strained her body backward so that she could see her benefactor for one more time.
This girl was the beneficiary of acceptance, and it struck me that so few have been so humble to receive others like that. In Mark chapter 10, the disciples rebuked people who brought children to Jesus. But Jesus was indignant, declaring, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” This wasn’t the first time. Back in Chapter 9, right after the disciples discussed about greatness, Jesus picks up a child and says, “whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”
Right after this event in Chapter 9, the disciples want to oust a man from this imagined spiritual superworld, because they were not of their inner circle. This exorcist was casting out demons by the name of Jesus. The disciples were jealous for their name: they were the kosher disciples of Christ. They had gathered a name and reputation for themselves. They had no time for people who, by their status, could not bequeath any glory to the disciples, neither could they stand others who tried to be like them. Unbeknowst to themselves, they were slowly cultivating the hard hearts of the Pharisees in the start of Chapter 10, who were so well-versed in the law, but did not understand its purpose.
And then comes along an earnest young man who kneels before Jesus. “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He asks. This man must be the real deal. He has done everything right from birth, and he appears to be such a godly person. We are not unlike them, we know and like and celebrate the “perfect” Christians in our churches. We court them, pursue them, want their friendship, delight in their company. Their presence makes us feel good, closer to God perhaps. They have so much to offer us. But hidden deep in this young man’s heart is an idol he will not relinquish: his great wealth. He walks away dismayed, thinking he had done what was sufficient, but he had nothing to offer God in return for righteousness.
These sequence of events must have dealt a heavy blow to the disciples, as it has for me. “Then who can be saved?” they ask, exasperated. They thought they were in the right circles, and even when they saw someone more perfect then they, they were disappointed to discover that he fell short. Jesus tells them, with man, it is impossible, but with God, anything is possible.
We know that there’s nothing we can bring to God in return for salvation; yet we secretly think we are still of some value. It shouldn’t surprise us that even Christians amass for themselves some kind of ‘spiritual currency’, thinking that being good at understanding the bible, attending the right talks, serving in the right ministries, doing the right disciplines, hanging in the correct circles, should earn us enough to be accepted. In favour of these currencies, we are often too happy to make split-decision evaluations of the people we want to include, and those we want to exclude, just as the disciples did, looking on with envy at the rich, moral man, looking on in disdain at children, and people who weren’t ‘first-raters’.
But relooking at what it means when Jesus said that, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it,” one way is to see it as Jesus making some obvious qualifications to entering heaven: have the attitude of trusting, dependent children. I learnt that another way is to read it like so: you will not enter the kingdom of God unless you receive it like how you receive children. In other words, only those who are humble enough to receive children (who are of low status), will truly receive the entry. This speaks to the person’s attitude. Are we completely surrendered, having nothing at all to offer? This is humility, and only having emptied our hands can we truly receive this gift in full.
I have dabbled too long in this Christian trade. No matter how tamed I was by a camp, sermon, book, spiritual high, I could never escape this hidden thought at the back of my head: surely, I have something to offer. Surely, I am of some value. For this reason, it was far too easy for me to stay within Christian circles, cultivating friendships with popular, godly people; yet I had little time and patience for those who did not put God first. I thought, perhaps, I was just being rightfully focused on God’s kingdom. But little did I realise that I was filling up my hands with these currencies and looking to Jesus for a fair trade.
Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to the cross I cling.
Signing off,
Fatpine.
fatpine 