The Rich Young Ruler: When Good Isn't Good Enough (Matthew 19:16-22)

There's something deeply unsettling about the story of the rich young ruler in Matthew 19:16-22. Here's a man who seems to have it all—wealth, youth, apparent moral integrity—yet he walks away from Jesus "grieving." What went wrong in this encounter, and what does it teach us about the cost of discipleship?

The Question That Started It All

The passage begins with what appears to be a sincere question: "Teacher, what good deed must I do to have eternal life?" (v. 16). On the surface, this sounds like genuine spiritual seeking. The young man approaches Jesus with respect, calling him "Teacher," and his question shows he's thinking about eternity—surely a mark of spiritual maturity.

But Jesus immediately redirects the conversation in an unexpected way: "Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good" (v. 17). This isn't merely semantic correction; Jesus is pointing to something deeper. The young man is looking for a transaction—what good deed can purchase eternal life—but Jesus is pointing to the very nature of goodness itself.

The Mirror of the Law

Jesus then does something interesting. Instead of immediately presenting the gospel, he holds up the mirror of the law: "If you would enter life, keep the commandments" (v. 17). When pressed for specifics, Jesus lists several of the Ten Commandments, focusing primarily on those dealing with relationships between people.

The young man's response reveals both his sincerity and his blindness: "All these I have kept. What do I still lack?" (v. 20). Here's someone who has genuinely tried to live a moral life, yet he senses something is missing. The very fact that he asks "What do I still lack?" shows an awareness that external compliance isn't enough.

The Moment of Truth

Then comes the devastating diagnosis: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me" (v. 21).

This isn't arbitrary. Jesus has identified the young man's true god—his wealth. The commandments Jesus initially listed were all ones this man could keep while maintaining his comfortable lifestyle. But when Jesus touches the nerve of his real allegiance, the man's true heart is revealed.

The Great Departure

"When the young man heard this, he went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions" (v. 22). This single verse contains one of the most tragic departures in all of Scripture. Here was someone who came so close to discipleship, who showed genuine spiritual hunger, who had lived a moral life—yet walked away because the cost was too high.

The word "sorrowful" is telling. This wasn't anger or dismissal; it was grief. He knew Jesus was right. He sensed what he was walking away from. But his possessions possessed him more than he possessed them.

What This Means for Us Today

This passage challenges several modern assumptions about faith and wealth:

Good works aren't enough. The young man had kept the commandments, yet something was still lacking. External moral compliance, while important, doesn't address the heart's ultimate allegiance.

Jesus demands lordship, not just salvation. The call wasn't just to believe certain facts about Jesus, but to follow him—even when it costs everything we hold dear.

Wealth can be a spiritual barrier. This doesn't mean all wealthy people are spiritually doomed, but it does mean that attachment to material security can prevent us from the radical trust that discipleship requires.

Jesus meets us where our real idols are. For this man, it was wealth. For others, it might be reputation, relationships, or ambition. Jesus has a way of putting his finger precisely on what we're really worshipping.

The Question That Remains

The story ends without resolution—we never learn whether the young man ever returned. Perhaps that's intentional. Perhaps Matthew wants us to ask ourselves: What would we do? What is our "great possession" that we'd struggle to surrender?

The rich young ruler's tragedy wasn't that he was immoral or insincere. His tragedy was that when faced with the choice between Jesus and his security, he chose security. He wanted eternal life, but not at the cost of temporal comfort.

In our consumer culture, where we're constantly told that we deserve more, this ancient story feels remarkably contemporary. The question isn't whether we have wealth, but whether wealth has us. The question isn't whether we do good things, but whether we're willing to surrender everything for the one who is truly good.

The young man went away sorrowful. The invitation, however, remains open. The question is whether we'll accept it—even when it costs us everything we thought we needed.

What possessions, achievements, or securities in your life might be preventing you from fully following Jesus? The rich young ruler's story reminds us that sometimes the things we're most proud of can become the very barriers that keep us from the life we're truly seeking.