1,712 words, 9 minutes read time.
I was raised in a home of privilege, a family that was blessed with much. From my earliest years, I was taught the importance of following the law, of adhering to the commandments. My family believed that obedience was the path to Olam Habah, eternal life. I excelled in my religious studies, quickly becoming a leader within my community. I was known for my moral integrity, for my outward displays of religious piety, for my meticulous observance of the law. People admired me for my dedication, for the way I upheld the traditions of our faith.
Outwardly, my life was a picture of success, of devotion. I had wealth, status, and the respect of my community. I was, by all accounts, a model citizen, a pillar of righteousness. Yet, despite all my outward accomplishments, a void remained within me. A nagging feeling that something was missing, something essential. I questioned whether my meticulous adherence to religious practices was truly the key to eternal life. It felt like a transaction, a “get-rich-quick” scheme, where my good deeds were a way to guarantee my place in the afterlife. Was it truly enough? Was there something more I needed to do, to be? I wanted assurance, a guarantee that my efforts would secure my place in Olam Habah, but deep down, I knew that something was lacking.
Driven by this desire for certainty, I sought out Jesus. I had heard the whispers about his teachings, about his miracles, about the way he challenged the established norms. It was not uncommon for teachers to have disciples, similar to apprentices, who would give their lives to learn from the teacher. I ran to him, eager to understand the true path. I approached him with what I thought was a sincere heart, calling him “Good Teacher.” This, I realized later, revealed my limited understanding of who he truly was; I saw him as just another wise man, another scholar, a learned teacher, not the Messiah. “Good Teacher,” I asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
He responded by listing some of the commandments, emphasizing the importance of obedience to God’s law. He said, “You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honor your father and mother'”. I, with confidence, stated that I had kept all of these since my youth. “All these I have kept since I was a boy,” I proclaimed, my voice filled with self-assurance. I felt a sense of pride, of accomplishment. I had done all that was asked of me, had followed the rules, had played my part in the divine plan, as I understood it. Looking back, I see the arrogance in my words, the self-reliance that had blinded me to my true spiritual condition. My response revealed a common attitude, one of those who say, “Oh, I go to church,” or “Oh, yeah, I’m a Christian,”.
Then, Jesus, looking at me with a piercing gaze, made a radical request, one that shook me to my very core. He said, “If you wish to be completely whole (shalem), go, sell your possessions, and give to the poor, and so you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow Me”. His words hung in the air, a challenge to my very identity, a direct attack on my carefully constructed world of wealth and status. He was asking me to give up everything, not just my possessions, but also my social standing, my security, everything I had worked for, everything I thought defined me.
His words exposed the true state of my heart. I had thought of Olam Habah as a commodity, an investment where my good deeds were a guarantee of a positive return. I sought one more commandment, one last “to-do” that would shield my investment forever. But Jesus was asking for complete devotion, for an alignment of my heart with His, not just outward compliance with the law. He wanted me to understand that the purpose of this life is to bring the Kingdom of Heaven down to earth and that Olam Habah is a responsibility, not a commodity. He was inviting me to become his disciple, to follow him, which meant a complete surrender of my will, my life, and my resources.
His request was not merely about giving away my wealth; it was a call to a complete transformation of my heart, an invitation to a different way of living. It required a paradigm shift, from a fragmented approach to Olam Habah, to one where I would see myself as a vehicle of God’s material bounty, where the focus was no longer on what I could gain but what I could give. The cost was for me to see myself as a vehicle for God’s material bounty, so that my daily life could bring more of Him into the world.
I grappled with the implications of Jesus’s words. I understood, in that moment, that discipleship was not a matter of checking off a list of religious duties, not a program to be completed7. It meant abandoning the life I knew, laying down my self-reliance, and embracing a life of service to God and others. It was a radical call to embrace a different set of values, to prioritize the eternal over the temporal10. I recognized that my identity was rooted in my social status, in the power that came with my wealth. Following Jesus would mean laying down my life as I knew it, truly dying to myself so that Christ could rise to live in me9.
I looked at my life, at my possessions, and I was unable to let them go. I couldn’t fathom a life without my wealth, without the power and prestige I had become so accustomed to. I could not bring myself to give it all away and follow an itinerant teacher. My possessions had become an idol, more valuable to me than God. I was not willing to make the sacrifice that Jesus was asking of me. I went away sad and grieved, not angry or confused. I was not willing to pay the price of discipleship. I chose the financial, social, and political perks of this world over kingdom treasures.
I walked away from Jesus that day, head hung low, my heart heavy with the weight of my decision. I had asked him how to obtain eternal life, but my true motive was to seek assurance, not to surrender my life to God. I had wanted the reward without the cost, the blessings of God without giving up my own desires. I was more concerned with how to obtain eternal life rather than surrendering to God and loving others. My life had been about internal morality and rigorously keeping a list of commandments rather than becoming more like Jesus. I realize now, that my focus was on myself, on my own salvation, rather than on loving God and my neighbor.
In the days that followed, I reflected on my encounter with Jesus, and the emptiness that remained. I had missed an opportunity to know the true meaning of life, of Olam Habah. I had clung to the things of this world, the temporal, rather than embracing the eternal. I realize now that salvation is not something that can be earned through good deeds, but it is a gift of grace that requires a complete surrender to Christ. It requires a person to be a visible and verbal follower of Jesus, and there is a cost to that. I had wanted to be blessed without being willing to pay the price of discipleship. I had been unwilling to lay down my life and serve God rather than mammon.
My encounter with Jesus revealed the seductive power of wealth and how it can hinder a person’s relationship with God. It is not that wealth itself is evil, but the love of money, the desire for more, that can lead to idolatry and self-reliance. I had become so attached to my possessions, my status, that they had blinded me to my true spiritual need. I had allowed them to define me, to control me.
The world is full of people who seek the rewards of faith without the cost of discipleship, people who want the blessings of God but are unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices. They seek a comfortable faith, one that does not challenge their values or call them to a life of service and sacrifice. They want to be “saved”, but do not want to be disciples, to truly follow Jesus. But true discipleship is more than just being forgiven; it is a process of moving toward spiritual maturity, and that comes with a cost.
My story is a warning, a reminder that the path to true fulfillment lies in surrendering to the will of God, not in clinging to the things of this world. It is not about what we can do to earn God’s favor but about receiving his grace and becoming more like Jesus. It is about a transformation that changes us from the inside out. It is about loving our neighbors, not just ourselves, and about having an attitude of generosity to those in need.
I urge you, do not make the same mistake I did. Examine your hearts, your priorities, and ensure that your devotion to Christ surpasses any attachment to worldly possessions. Do not seek a faith that is convenient, but one that transforms and challenges you to live a life of love, service, and sacrifice. For, in the end, it is not about what we have but about who we are in Christ, and the treasures we have stored up in heaven rather than on earth. Following Jesus requires a willingness to forsake all for his sake. It’s a life of radical generosity, a life that repels the spirit of mammon.
The cost of discipleship is real, it is high, but it is worth it. I chose to walk away, to choose the temporal over the eternal. I pray that you choose differently, to choose the narrow path, the path of discipleship, the path that leads to true life in Olam Habah.
Resources
Website Pages:
- The Material Cost of Discipleship
- What was Jesus really asking the Rich Young Ruler?
- Topical Bible: The Rich Young Man and the Cost of Discipleship
- Rich Young Ruler: A Lesson in Loving and Discipleship
- The Rich Young Ruler’s Shocking Choice in Mark 10
- Tony Evans — The Rewards of Discipleship
- The Cost of Discipleship
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