The Rich Young Man Whom Jesus Loved

“To properly understand the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard it must be studied, like all Scripture, with reference to its context. And to do this in the present instance it is necessary to go back to the previous chapter. (The division is at an unfortunate point; the passage from Verse 16 of Chapter 19, to Verse 16 of Chapter 20, is all one account and should have constituted a chapter by itself.) There we find the circumstances which moved our Lord to utter this parable.

Commencing with Verse 16 of Chapter 19 we read the story of the rich young man whom Jesus loved. A young ruler-rich, learned, and of dignified position, yet modest, humble, sincere, had come to Jesus with every gesture of courtesy and deference, to ask Him how he-might win eternal life. Despite the temptation of luxury, he is pure; despite the temptations of wealth: and reputation he is humble, modest, dissatisfied with his present attainments, eagerly stretching forth to things before. The Lord Jesus bade him; if he would enter life, keep the commandments. This demand the ruler was able to say that he had met. He had kept the commandments.

And Jesus, looking on him, and seeing, we suppose, that on the whole he had been as good as his word, loved him. But the young ruler, emboldened by the grace and love of Christ, reveals the secret ambition of his heart, mark how pure and lofty that ambition is. He is not content with mere life, even though it be life eternal; he longs to be perfect, perfect in all his relations with God and man. Not content with mere salvation he asks counsel of perfection.

And our Lord gives him what he asks. So high and pure an ambition as his can be attained only at the cost of utter self-sacrifice. “If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell what thou hast, and give to the poor.” It was a difficult demand to make on a young, wealthy, learned man; and all the more difficult because it was sudden and unexpected. For, in all probability, the ruler anticipated nothing more than that he should receive a new and more austere rule of life; that he would be urged to a profounder study of the Law, or a more rigid attendance on the duties of religion. To Bear that he must voluntarily become poor and homeless, that he must part with all he prized and loved, to follow One who had not where to lay His head, must have taken him by surprise. For the moment, the test is too severe. Amiable, modest, with a heart set on the eternal realities, the young man, cursed with great possessions, cannot, all at once, give them up. In his surprise and consternation he finds himself unable to meet the rigorous demand. He goes away sorrowful.

The Master’s Gracious Spirit

But if he was sorrowful as he went away, can we suppose that Jesus, who loved him, was not sorrowful to see him go? — That He did not yearn over him, and pity him, and long to bring him back? We may be sure that He did. For, see, the young ruler, smitten with shame and grief, has no excuse to offer for himself; but Jesus begins to make excuse for him. Turning to His disciples He tells them, lest they should judge the ruler harshly, how hard it is for rich men to enter the Kingdom. It is easier for a loaded camel to push through the Needle-gate, than for a man burdened with wealth to enter the Kingdom of heaven.

Now if Peter and his brethren had been in sympathy with their Master, if they had shared His loving, gracious spirit, what would they have done on hearing Him speak so tenderly of the young man who had just gone away? Would they not-above and before all would not ardent, impulsive Peter, have run after him, and told him how sorry the Good Master was to lose him and have ‘ besought him to come back? But instead of manifesting the Master’s spirit of love and tenderness, they are thinking only of themselves.

“We have left all, and followed Thee;” cried Peter, “what, then, shall we have.”

And no words could have more conclusively shown Peter’s lack of sympathy with his Master. It is easy to conceive how this boast and question must have jarred on the heart of Christ. He was full of pity for the young man who had won His love, and who loved Him, though as yet he could not leave all for Him. And to see that Peter, instead of sharing His pity, instead of being moved with regret for a man who had had so heavy a trial to meet, was pluming himself on, his superior virtue; to hear him exalting himself over the modest, refined, meditative ruler, who had just gone away sorrowful, with scalding tears of shame at his own weakness — this, we may be sure was hard for Christ to bear.

Christ was mourning that a man of a disposition so lovable, with a heart bent toward the loftiest aims should miss the high mark of perfection; and Peter breaks in on His tender, wistful, reverie with: “Never mind him, Lord; He won’t come. But we, we have left all to follow Thee.” We like to think that Peter’s words here were not entirely selfish; that in his rough, blundering way, he meant to console Jesus and to remind him that, if some went away from Him, others were ready to cleave to Him; but his very attempt at consolation must have been a new wound to Christ, for He loved Peter as well as the young ruler, and would be grieved at his boastfulness, and selfishness. Yet with what infinite grace He responds to his selfish demand. There is an infinite grace, but also, we think, a little weariness and conscious patience in the words: “No man hath left all for My sake and the Gospel’s but shall receive an hundred-fold, now in this life, and in the world to come life everlasting.”

But it would not be for Peter’s highest good that his selfishness, his lack of sympathy with his Master, his want of pity of the young ruler, should escape without rebuke. And so our Lord follows up His gracious promise with a warning and a parable.

“No man hath left all for my sake and the Gospel’s but shall receive an hundred-fold now, and by and by life everlasting, but many first shall be last, and last first.”

There is the warning appended to His gracious promise. And then to make the matter plain our Lord proceeds to relate the parable of the laborers in the vineyard:

“But many (Not all, not yet always and necessarily, but ‘many‘) who are first shall be last and last first, for the kingdom of heaven is like unto a man that was a householder, who went out early in the morning to hire laborers into his vineyard.” Then comes the story of some laborers who, though called into the vineyard at the eleventh hour of the day received an equal wage with those who had been called at the first hour. What did the warning mean but this — that though Peter and the other disciples had been the first to respond to Christ’s call, others might yet be called who would rank before them; that though they were the first they might become the last, and were in danger of becoming the last so long as they could boast of their superior fidelity or show a selfish and unloving spirit?

Many First Shall be Last

In this warning and parable it was as though our Lord had said to Peter: “You and your brethren have indeed left all to follow me. Have no fear of your reward. You shall receive it to the uttermost farthing. You were amongst the first to enter the vineyard, and you work in it as well as you know how. You have done much and well. You are bearing the burden and heat of the day, and when evening comes, you shall in no wise lose your reward. You shall have a full day’s wage, but while you labor in My Father’s vineyard and employ your time and talents in His service and mine, are you thinking only of reward? Of only how much you may get by serving me?

Well, you shall have even more than you hope. But there are many not called yet who will come to me by and by. These may show a nobler spirit. They may serve from love, and not merely because it is part of the contract. And these last will it not be just that they should be put on a level with you, or even be preferred before you, if you retain your mercenary and servile disposition?”

That this warning, that many first shall be last and last first, is the key with which to unlock the teaching of this parable is, we think, abundantly clear from the fact that after relating the parable, our Lord repeats the warning: “So” says He, “the last shall be first and the first last.” We may be sure that in these two sentences, or rather in this one sentence with which the parable both opens and closes, we have its key, or our Lord Jesus would neither have laid it so conveniently to our hands, nor so emphatically called it to our attention.” (The Herald of Christ’s Kingdom – December, 1934)

Continued with next post.