And as he went forth into the way, a person ran up to [him], and kneeling to him asked him, Good Teacher, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?
A man runs down the road, drops to his knees, and asks Jesus the biggest question a person can ask. Everything about him looks right, until you weigh the words he chose.
Mark records the man's approach in close detail. The way he came says as much as what he said.
The Lord went on His way, the disciples with Him. Then one came running to Him, and fell on his knees before Him (17). His eagerness in running, and his kneeling before the Lord, are just the details an eyewitness would likely record. In that posture he put the question the young ruler — as Luke tells us he was — seemed so eager to have answered.
The question itself set him apart.
He had asked the question so many people forget altogether. They pass through the world as though they were on the same level with the animals that die. They think nothing of the life beyond the grave. But here was a man who had thought about the life that is true and eternal. He had come to the right person to learn.
The word "inherit" is not loose language. It means coming into possession of something held in store.
"Inherit life eternal." Inherit stands for "take possession of," as in Matthew 25:34 (Dalman). The same is true in Luke 18:18. The Synoptic Gospels treat it as held in reserve, and so do Paul's letters. Luke 18:22 tells us that the young man was to have treasure in heaven. Some have supposed that there is a difference between "life" and "life eternal," but this is a mistake.
The title the man used sounded respectful, and it was sincere. But it fit a teacher, not the One standing in front of him.
His respectful greeting to Jesus proved that he did not know who Jesus was. So he knew the truth neither about God nor about man. If the young ruler had believed Him to be the Son of the living God, he would not have called Him "Good Teacher." That title suits a respected and honoured teacher. But it is both unnecessary and improper for One who was equal with God and was God.
Christ's counter-question does not deny His own goodness. It presses a claim in the sharpest form.
He was earnest and reverent, and recognised in Him a great Rabbi who could direct men to eternal life. He took for granted that a man gains this life by his own doing, according to the law. Clearly he had no idea of the Deity of Jesus, and so we have the Lord's words in verse 18. He rejected any goodness apart from His being God, saying in effect, "If I am not God, I am not good."
His question assumes he can earn what he wants. Jesus does not correct that at once. He takes the man on the ground he chose.
The young man neither knew himself, nor the state man was really in before God. He was under the law. So Jesus sets out the law first as the rule of life. God gave it as the measure of righteousness for the sons of Adam. The young man does not ask how he may be saved, but how he may inherit eternal life. The Lord does not speak of eternal life. He takes up the young man at the point where he places himself. The law said, "Do these things, and you shall live."
He was not the only one who assumed this.
All His enquirers seemed to be of one mind. They supposed eternal life was the reward of human effort. The earnest young ruler of Mark 10 and the argumentative lawyer of Luke 10 both put their question the same way: "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" It was natural that they should speak like this. Among men you only get a desirable thing by money or work. Yet if they had seen man's true condition before God, and their own, they would have spoken differently. Has not the Spirit of God described men as "dead in the trespasses and sins"? (Ephesians 2:1). What can the dead do?
The question exposes a poverty that money could not touch.
God's providence gives great possessions. Instead of leading the heart to thank Him, they can form a great barrier. That barrier keeps the soul from getting the true riches of divine favour... He seems to have had every present possession a man could wish for. Yet he knew he did not have eternal life, and he plainly thought that having it would complete his happiness.
- Right run. He ran, knelt and asked about eternal life. Most people never ask at all.
- Wrong word. "Good Teacher" was a compliment, not a confession. He did not know he was speaking to One who was equal with God.
- Wrong verb. "What must I do" assumes ability. Christ takes him on that ground rather than correcting it at once.
- Wrong ledger. "Inherit" means taking possession of what God holds in reserve — treasure in heaven, not wages earned on earth.
- Wrong riches. He owned everything a man could wish for, yet lacked the true riches of divine favour — the one thing his wealth could not buy.
But Jesus said to him, Why callest thou me good? no one is good but one, [that is] God.
A man runs up, kneels in the road, and calls Jesus "Good Teacher." The Lord does not take the compliment. He turns it into a question about who He is. Everything hangs on the answer. Is Jesus only the finest man this ruler has met, or is He God?
The Lord does not deny that He is good. He refuses a compliment offered on the wrong ground.
So our Blessed Lord refuses honour that ignored the only right basis for it. He is jealous for the truth as well as for God's glory. And that is the only real love to man. If not God, Christ was not good; if good, He is God.
The way the man greeted Him already gave him away.
The very greeting of honour he gave Jesus proved that he did not know His Person. So he did not know the truth about God or about man either. If the young ruler had believed Him to be the Son of the living God, he would not have addressed Him as "Good Teacher." That title suits a respected and honoured teacher well enough. But it is both needless and wrong when speaking to One who was equal with God and was God.
The counter-question was not only a rebuke. It gave the man a chance to confess who Jesus is.
But Jesus listened to the young man's question and answered it in His own way: "Why do you call Me good?" The word was true. But the question gave the ruler the chance to use his faith in the Lord and to confess His name. He was looking at One who was a "Man of sorrows." Yet that humble Man was the Man God had anointed, God's own equal, the Son of God here below. Jesus was good because He was God. If the young ruler had only believed on Him, his words would have been completely true and right.
One writer puts into words the reply the ruler never made.
I think the Lord gave him the chance to say, "But You are God." If he had truly known and seen who Jesus was, he would have said at once, "You are God." But I take it he saw no more in Christ than a teacher of religion. So when the Lord presses His claims on him, he does not rise to them. He could not, so he turned away sorrowfully.
"No one is good except God alone" is not a passing remark. It settles what man is.
The Lord will not admit that man is good. Not one righteous man can be found among men — no, not one… Here the young man comes to Him as to a human teacher, a rabbi, and the Lord answers him in the same way as he asks. But He lays down this important principle: no one among the sons of fallen Adam is good. It is a humiliating truth, but one of immense weight. We cannot now find a man who is good by nature… What God created good, and declared to be good, the Fall has corrupted. Man goes after his own pleasures and his own interests, not after God and His glory.
The man had asked what he must do. The Lord's answer, followed through, shuts that door.
That ought to have struck his conscience at once: if only One is good, I am not that One, and so I cannot do any "good thing."… Do you think you can do any good thing? I sometimes hear men talk about being better. I have even heard them talk about "doing their best." What folly!
The words have a second side. In refusing the title, Jesus lived out the lesson He taught about giving up self.
Jesus renounces Himself. "Why do you call Me good? No one is good except God alone." He was good, but He would not look at His own goodness. This was self-renouncing. What He gives up speaks of His personal and moral glory. What we have to give up shows our shame and corruption. Yet He practises the lesson He teaches, and goes ahead of us as our Pattern.
- Good means God. The Lord does not disown goodness; He ties it to His Person. If He is not God, He is not good — and if He is good, He is God.
- Good tests faith. The question was an open door: the ruler could have answered, "You are God." He saw only a religious teacher, and could not rise to the claim.
- Good excludes man. "No one is good except God alone" is a verdict on all people. The Fall corrupted what God made good, and man now seeks himself rather than God.
- Good ends doing. If only One is good, no one else can do a good thing — so the question "What shall I do?" has no answer on that ground.
- Good is lived. Only He could claim goodness, yet He would not look at His own. He taught self-giving by walking it first.
Thou knowest the commandments Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Do not defraud, Honour thy father and mother.
A man runs up, kneels, and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus answers with commandments the man already knows — so does the Lord mean the law can save, or is He doing something else with it?
The man asked what he could do, and the answer matches the question. The Lord brings in the law as God's own measure of right conduct for man:
The young man neither knew himself, nor the state in which man really was before God. He was under the law. Jesus sets the law before him first as the rule of life, given by God as the measure of righteousness for the sons of Adam. The young man does not ask how he may be saved, but how he may inherit eternal life. The Lord does not speak of eternal life. He takes up the young man at the point where he places himself; the law said, "Do these things, and you shall live."
The list is selective. It leaves out the first four commandments, which concern God Himself, and it stops short of the tenth:
When the rich young ruler approached the Lord with his question about eternal life, Jesus tested him with five of the ten commandments. He did not quote the first four, which deal with what is due to God, and He did not mention the tenth. The young man could say he had kept the five that the Lord mentioned. No doubt he had, so long as only the forbidden acts were in question. But if the Lord had tested him by the tenth, he would have stood condemned beyond hope.
A man can keep "do not murder, do not steal, do not defraud" by doing nothing at all. But these commands reach further than the surface:
He had viewed the commandments as addressing outward actions only... He knew the letter of these commands, and he had obeyed them to the letter. But their spirit — their real, living, spiritual meaning — reached much further. Carried to their full conclusion, they touched more than outward conduct: they reached the springs of the heart. They said, "You shall not steal" — but they meant "You shall love."
Read that way, one question covers the whole list — and the man's wealth answers it:
Had he loved his neighbour as himself? He had not committed adultery. He had not murdered, stolen, or borne false witness. He had not defrauded anyone, and he had honoured his father and his mother. He was a most respectable man. But did he love his neighbour as himself? Certainly not. Why? Because he was wealthy. If he had loved his neighbour as himself, he could not have been wealthy.
When the man replies that he has kept them all, Jesus does not accuse him of lying. Verse 19 meets the man where he already stood:
He takes him up on the ground where a Jew stood (v. 19). The young man answers, "All these I have kept from my youth." The Lord does not say, "You have not." Instead He looked at him and loved him. He saw what was lovely in his character... His character was lovely in its openness. But once the Lord searched and exposed it, his heart proved to be a thing with nothing in it for God.
A man who could tick off every item was still asking the question:
None of this touched the young man. He said, "All these I have kept from my youth." Yet notice: he was not satisfied — he was still asking, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" It is always so where the conscience is awake. Where any sense of God's claims exists, the soul can never find rest on this ground.
- Ground. The Lord answers a "what must I do" question with a "do this and live" standard. He does so because the man had placed himself under law, not because the law gives life.
- Gap. He names only the commandments about your neighbour. He leaves out the one against coveting — the very one that would have exposed him.
- Depth. Each command reaches past the act to the motive; "do not steal" carries within it "you shall love."
- Test. The Lord let his honest claim stand. Then one word about his possessions searched him, and his heart proved to hold nothing for God.
- Answer. No clean record can settle a conscience. The man never asked how to be saved, only what to do — and on that ground the soul finds no rest.
And he answering said to him, Teacher, all these things have I kept from my youth.
A man runs to Jesus and kneels before Him. Jesus names a list of commandments, and the man answers at once that he has kept them all since he was young. Two questions hang over that reply: was he telling the truth, and if he was, why does the conversation not end there?
Commentators do not treat his answer as a lie. By what people could see, his record stood. One writer sets him beside Saul of Tarsus, who could say the same:
The young ruler in Mark 10:20 could say, honestly believing he spoke the truth, "All these I have kept from my youth." For both Saul and the young ruler, this was true in the sight of men. But both should have known it was not so in the sight of God. The Old Testament told them this: "Surely there is not a righteous man on earth who does good and never sins" (Ecclesiastes 7:20).
The commandments Jesus listed were the ones about how a person treats his neighbour. The young man had read them as rules about actions to avoid. One writer shows how the Lord's next demand reached past the action to the desire underneath:
Not taking another person's goods may be easy enough. But loving that person enough to share your goods with him is a very different matter. And that is what the command implies — the very command this earnest young man claimed to have kept. He had viewed the ten commandments as addressing outward actions only, as Saul of Tarsus did in a later day. So the Lord brought the commandment home to him. He told him to go, sell whatever he had, and give to the poor; then to come, take up his cross, and follow Him. That was a huge test for a man who clung to his possessions. It laid bare in a moment the hidden spring of covetousness.
Mark sets two things side by side. Jesus answers sharply, and Jesus looks at him and loves him. One writer holds both together:
It is striking to see these two things together: the comparative severity of our Lord's answer, and the plain statement that He looked at him and loved him. The first showed how He dealt with a pleasant nature that pushes into what it does not know. The second showed that nothing hindered the Saviour's love for what was sweet and attractive in human nature — not the curt rebuke for spiritual blindness, and not the knowledge that the young man was without faith and would go away sorrowful at His word. Our Lord gave full value to his honouring of the commandments, and He does not contradict them. But He meets him on the ground the man had chosen. That was not the ground of a broken-hearted, convicted sinner asking what he must do to be saved. It was the ground of a blameless man who was conscious of nothing wrong in his life.
Matthew's account records a further question from the man: he sensed a gap he could not name. One writer names it:
He was aware that something was missing, so he asks, "What do I still lack?" I will tell you what he lacked. He lacked the real knowledge of Christ. And, my friend, if you do not have Christ, you lack everything — no matter how beautiful and moral your life may be. A man may have and be anything this world offers; without Christ he lacks everything really worth having.
If conduct was not the true measure of his heart, something else must be. One writer points to what a person wants most:
The thing that governs the heart — its motive — is the true measure of a man's moral state. The qualities a man has from birth are not that measure, however pleasing they may be. Even animals have good qualities. We should value such qualities, but they reveal nothing at all about the moral state of the heart. What gives a man his moral character is the object of his heart. The Lord shows this here so powerfully that it cuts to the quick of human pride.
His excellence was real. It could not take him where he wanted to go:
Human excellence and earthly possessions are right in their place. Even so, they cannot open the way into the Kingdom of God, and they may even be a real barrier to blessing. Nature at its best has no sense of its need of Christ, and no true grasp of the glory of Christ.
- True — men could not fault his record; but before God, no one on earth does good and never sins.
- Shallow — he read the commandments as rules about outward acts, not as a call to love his neighbour with his goods.
- Loved — the sharp answer and the love came together; the rebuke did not cool the Saviour's love.
- Lacking — he needed Christ, not one more virtue. Without Him, a beautiful life lacks everything.
- Exposed — the heart's object, not the record of conduct, is the real measure. Nature at its best feels no need of Christ.
And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said to him, One thing lackest thou go, sell whatever thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me, [taking up the cross].
A rich young ruler comes to Jesus, and Jesus answers with a look of love before naming the one thing he lacks. The verse holds two things at once: real love for a good man, and a demand that exposed him.
Mark sets a sharp reply and a warm look side by side. Neither the rebuke nor the Lord's knowledge of the ending cooled His love for the man.
It is striking to notice these two things side by side. One is the relative sharpness of our Lord's answer. The other is the plain statement that He looked at him and loved him. The first showed how He dealt with a pleasant nature pushing into what it does not know. The second showed something else. He rebuked the man's spiritual blindness sharply. He also knew the young man had no faith and would go away sad at His word. Yet neither of these held back the Saviour's love for what was sweet and attractive in human nature.
This detail is unique to Mark's account.
In Mark's account of the rich young ruler we read that Jesus looked at him and loved him. Neither Matthew nor Luke mentions this feeling of the Lord's heart.
The Lord's diagnosis is personal. It points to Himself, not to a gap in the man's record.
The Lord knew his condition, and expressed it in the words, "One thing you lack." And what was lacking? Attachment to Himself. You have not attached yourself to Me, and there are certain things in the road that hinder you from doing so.
The Lord's word does more than ask for money. It reaches the thing that moved him.
"One thing you lack," says the Lord: "Go, sell what you have, and come and follow Me." Here we see the desire of the heart exposed. The Lord's powerful but simple word lays the young man's true state bare, for that word knows and tests the heart. The fine flowers of the wild tree are worth nothing; the fruits are those of a heart alienated from God. The love of riches ruled this young man's heart, however pleasing his natural disposition was. The low desire for gold lay at the bottom of his heart. It was the mainspring of his will, the true measure of his moral state. If he goes away grieved and leaves the Lord, it is because he prefers money to God manifested in love and grace.
The Lord's answer moves in three steps, and each one probes something different.
There was something he was asked to give up; something to take up; and Someone to follow.
The third step costs the most. It asks who we are willing to be seen with.
The third test is a rejected Christ, for the Lord says to the young man, "follow Me." Are we ready to take our place beside One whom the world hates and rejects? He was born in a stable and laid in a manger. On His way through this world, He had nowhere to lay His head. He died a shameful death on a cross, and they buried Him in a borrowed grave.
The command comes with a promise. The Lord sets two things on the scales and lets the man choose.
He puts the world in one scale, Himself and heaven in the other. He offers him the assurance of the very thing he had asked about. "You will have treasure in heaven." But He offers it on one condition: the man must leave everything and follow Christ on earth. So it is Christ on earth and treasure in heaven. These are in one scale — and in the other, the world. Not the world in its misery, but in its fair and attractive forms.
The Lord gives him something to do because that is the ground the man himself chose.
He told him he lacked one thing. He should sell what he had, give the money to the poor, and come, take up the cross and follow Him. No doubt this was a matter of doing something. It was not the gospel. The man felt no need of the gospel of grace. That gospel asks us to do nothing, but to receive what God freely gives.
The man's case looked closed. It was not.
With man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible. At the very start, the Lord had shown him he was completely on the wrong track, seeking goodness in man. God alone was good, and so the heart came to light. The cross alone would do. Those who follow Him must take it up, for death to what man was is the only path. But then there was a blessed starting point for this: "He came to give His life as a ransom for many."
- Loved first. Christ's love met him before the demand did, and a sharp word did not cancel it.
- One thing lacking. What was missing was not another good deed but attachment to Christ Himself.
- One word testing. One simple sentence exposed what ruled him: he preferred money to God.
- One choice offered. The world in one scale; Christ on earth and treasure in heaven in the other.
- One hope left. Doing was never the gospel — with God all things are possible, and He came to give His life as a ransom for many.
But he, sad at the word, went away grieved, for he had large possessions.
The man who ran to Jesus with such eagerness now turns and walks away. Mark tells us why: he owned a great deal. This verse closes one of the saddest meetings in the Gospels. It leaves every reader with one question: what is holding my heart?
The man's fine character was not the whole story. So the Lord set him one test he did not see coming.
But such a character is not everything. The Lord wanted his everlasting welfare. So He addressed him once more and tested him in a way he had not expected... "One thing you lack: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me." Was Christ more to him than all his possessions? ... The Lord probed his heart and uncovered its true state. In a moment what had appeared so fair became clouded. The bud of promise never opened into a flower. It withered away. He who had run to the Lord with such eagerness turned from Him with a sad and burdened heart. What an appeal to the law did not achieve, Christ as a touchstone demonstrated.
The refusal was not a small failure of nerve. It exposed what had been driving him all along.
Here we see the desire of the heart exposed. The Lord's powerful but simple word laid the young man's true state bare, for that word knows and tests the heart. The fine flowers of the wild tree are worth nothing. The fruits are those of a heart alienated from God. The sap is the sap of a bad tree. The love of riches ruled this young man's heart, however interesting he was in his natural disposition... If he goes away grieved and leaves the Lord, it is because he prefers money to God manifested in love and grace.
This gives a measure for anyone, however pleasant.
You can find good qualities even in animals. We should value them, but they do not at all reveal the moral state of the heart... What gives moral character to a man is the object of his heart.
His good qualities were real. Something was still missing.
Yet all this natural excellence left him without any true appreciation of the Person and glory of Christ. It also left him without any true sense of the state and need of his own heart. He could see the outstanding excellence of Christ as a Man, but he could not see the glory of His Person as the Son of God.
Selling everything was only half of what the Lord asked. The rest was to take up the cross and follow Him — and that second half is easily overlooked.
Self-denial is the first requirement of a disciple, and he lacked it. At the very least, he loved his riches too well to give them up at the bidding of a prophet of Nazareth. We need not suppose he was a miser. Yet it is quite clear that he did not find enough attraction in the person of Jesus, or enough authority in His words. Neither outweighed his regard for his store of earthly treasure. And here it is important to notice one thing. Giving away all his possessions for charity did not cover "taking up the cross."
He left with what he came with. What he carried away besides was sorrow — and the exchange he refused was never a bad bargain.
Instead of the gladness that the company of Jesus would have brought him, he went away sad and grieved. How much better the divine blessing in the company of Jesus would have been than the grief and sadness his possessions brought him. He might have used his present possessions to lay up treasure in heaven.
The grief was not only his. Writers note that the One he walked away from felt it too.
He turned back again into darkness from the light he had come to. He returned again to that circle in which he himself was the centre. He turned away from the One who had rightly claimed to be his Centre... We may be sure that the heart of the Lord was grieved.
The disciples were shocked. The answer takes the whole matter out of man's hands.
He had the best dispositions, a readiness to be taught, and plenty to make good use of. Even so, the state of the heart came out. "Who then can be saved?" With man it is impossible, but with God all things are possible... The cross alone would do; those who follow Him must take it up — death to what man was, the only path. But then there was a blessed starting point for this: "He came to give His life a ransom for many."
- Tested — an appeal to the law did not reach him. One word from Christ showed where his heart was set.
- Exposed — the object of the heart is the true measure of a person. Good qualities do not reveal it.
- Blinded — his natural excellence was real. It still left him unable to see the glory of Christ's Person or the need of his own heart.
- Refused — giving money away was not the whole demand. He was also to take up the cross and follow. Self-denial was what he lacked.
- Possible — he kept his wealth and carried away grief. With man salvation is impossible, but not with God. The One he left came to give His life a ransom for many.