When you play crooked, God still writes straight lines. The Long Way Home is a reminder that His justice doesn’t sleep, it moves with grace, exposing lies, redeeming in faithful, and carrying us through every desert we’re led into. Truth always comes out. You can't hide. SK-#FaithOverFear #GodsJustice #trueevents #dontmesswithawriter #skelly #fabricthatmademe

https://fabricthatmademe.com/2025/11/05/the-long-way-home-truth-revealed/

Matthew 25:46 - Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.

#Damnation #Salvation #EternalLife #Righteousness #HeavenAndHell #FaithInGod #ChristianTruth #GodsJustice #EternalDestiny #HopeInChrist

Sin, Scripture, and the Smell of Rot.

1,848 words, 10 minutes read time.

I don’t expect you to believe me. Not really. People like James—men who carry their brokenness like a badge and a burden—we’re more warning sign than testimony. The kind of story folks scroll past on Facebook between a political rant and a cat video, pausing just long enough to click “like” on a Bible verse they won’t live by. I know because I take care of him. Every week. I’m his nurse. My name is Clara Jensen.

I’ve seen a lot in my years of home care, but James stuck with me. Not because he’s kind or cruel, but because something about him lingers. His presence, his silence—it’s heavy, like regret that never got named. It’s in the air when you walk through the door: mildew, cigarette smoke, painkillers, and something deeper that clings like old shame.

He’s missing a leg, and the other’s not doing well either. Diabetes, infections, surgeries—doctors have tried everything. But the real rot runs deeper, past the bloodstream and into the soul. His medical file tells a hard-enough story, but it’s the part that’s not in the file that matters. A past he doesn’t talk about. The kind people whisper around. He was involved in things that left scars—on others and on himself. Some of it petty, some of it cruel. Not infamous, just a man who made too many wrong turns and burned too many bridges.

He’s kept much of that life hidden from his family. Covered it up with silence, selective memory, even a few bold-faced lies. But the truth always finds a way through, like mold breaking through drywall. People in the community know more than he thinks. They remember the fights, the broken trust, the way he vanished when responsibility came knocking. Still, James acts like no one sees. Like if he reposts enough scripture, the past might blur around the edges.

His house is a cluttered echo chamber of old tools, stacked books, flea-market leftovers, and framed sayings about strength and faith. His Bible sits on a table nearby, dusty and closed. He shares Christian memes like they’re armor—loud declarations about sin and truth and justice, almost always aimed outward. Rarely about grace. Never about himself.

He never talks about it when I’m there, but I see them when I change his dressings. One day Pastor Micah finally addressed it. Calmly, without accusation. Just a question, light as a scalpel:

“You think sharing those posts helps anyone?”

James blinked, caught off guard. “Just sharing truth.”

“Whose truth?” Micah asked. “God’s truth calls everyone out. Not just the people you don’t like.”

James didn’t answer. Just stared past Micah, toward the wall where a cracked mirror hung—one of the few things in the house that could still reflect anything clearly.

I remember the first time Pastor Micah Reynolds came by. James acted like it was nothing. But I could tell it rattled him. Micah walked through that house with quiet dignity, stepping over stacks of junk and ignoring the smell. He didn’t flinch at the sight of the bandages or the pills scattered on the end table. He just sat down and opened his Bible.

“You ever get tired of posting verses you don’t live?” Micah asked, cool as a spring breeze.

James chuckled and took a drag off a cigarette. “They’re not for me. They’re for the people watching.”

“Is that what you think God is? A spectator?”

James didn’t answer. He just shook a couple pills into his hand—one labeled, one not—and swallowed them dry.

Micah read from Psalm 49. He talked about people who trust in their wealth, who name lands after themselves but still go to the grave with nothing. “Their graves are their homes forever,” he read. James rolled his eyes.

Then Micah told a story about Herod Agrippa. I’d heard it before, but not like that. Herod Agrippa was a king of Judea, a man who craved power and applause more than anything. He was the grandson of Herod the Great—the same tyrant who ordered the massacre of innocent children. Agrippa ruled with an iron fist, crushing anyone who opposed him, including the early Christians. But his greatest flaw was his pride. During a public speech, the crowd hailed him as a god, praising his words as if he were divine. Instead of humbly rejecting their worship, Agrippa accepted it, soaking in their adulation like a man drunk on his own glory.

That moment sealed his fate. Suddenly, without warning, his body began to betray him in the most gruesome way imaginable. According to the Bible, he was struck down by God’s judgment and “eaten by worms.” The worms—parasitic and merciless—devoured him from the inside out, turning his flesh into a rotting, festering ruin. It was a slow, agonizing death that stripped away every bit of his false pride. The man who sought to be worshipped as a god ended his life consumed by decay, a horrifying warning about the price of arrogance.

James called it dramatic. Micah called it justice.

“You saying I’m Herod now?” James asked.

“No,” Micah replied. “I think Herod had more humility.”

I kept quiet in the corner, checking vitals, replacing a bandage. But even I felt the sting of those words—and the heavy, sour smell of rot that seemed to cling to the room, like a silent echo of Herod Agrippa’s fate. James didn’t argue. Not really. He lit another cigarette and stared into the smoke like it held secrets.

After Micah left, James didn’t say a word. He reached down and pulled out an old, faded family photo buried under piles of junk—a snapshot of better days, smiling faces frozen in time before life’s hardships took hold. He didn’t speak of who was in it. I saw him wipe the dust from the frame with his sleeve before setting it gently beside his Bible, its dusty cover closed and untouched.

James isn’t the only one Pastor Micah visits. There are others in similar medical straits—shut-ins with amputations, oxygen tanks, and chronic pain. But their homes feel different. Quieter, cleaner. The air smells of ointment and lavender, not stale smoke and regret. They speak with kindness, gratitude, humility. Their pasts aren’t perfect, but they don’t wear denial like armor. They ask for prayer, not applause. You can tell they’ve made peace with what was, and they’re trying to make peace with what’s left.

The rot hasn’t stopped. James’s leg’s still going bad. The infection’s still spreading, and the rot in his good leg is beginning to bloom, like mold that’s found new flesh. The pills are still there—some from doctors, some not.

I don’t know how this story ends. Not yet. Maybe that’s the whole point—the uncertainty, the unfinished business that makes it real. Because the last chapters—his repentance, his healing, his truth—haven’t been written. Not yet. And as long as those pages remain blank, there’s still room for change, for grace, for something different to take hold. Maybe that’s hope. Maybe that’s what keeps us coming back to stories like James’s. Because if a story isn’t finished, it means it’s still alive. And if it’s still alive, then maybe it can still be changed.

Author’s Note:

This story is a work of fiction. James, Clara, Pastor Micah, and the events within these pages are not based on any real individuals, though they are inspired by the struggles and complexities I’ve witnessed in many lives. The characters and situations are crafted to explore themes of pride, regret, grace, and redemption, not to portray any actual person or event.

The story of James is unfinished, and intentionally so. As the writer, I didn’t want to close the book on him—because real people rarely get neat endings. His journey is still unfolding. Redemption, if it comes, will come in small, unglamorous ways. Maybe he finds peace. Maybe he doesn’t. But the choice to change, to confess, to finally live what he shares—that choice remains. And as long as that choice exists, the story isn’t over. Not for James. And maybe not for you, either.

Your story is unfinished as well. No matter what you have done, no matter the mistakes you’ve made or the pain you’ve caused or endured, how you finish your story is up to you. There is a powerful truth in the saying: you may not have caused the problem, but the problem is yours to fix. That responsibility can feel heavy, but it is also where hope begins. The chapters ahead can be written with courage, honesty, and grace.

So take this story as a mirror and a challenge. Like James, you carry the power of choice within you. The past does not have to define the future, and the weight of regret can be lifted, step by step. The story isn’t finished—not really. And that means it can still be changed.

D. Bryan King

Sources

• Psalm 49 – Bible Gateway (NIV)
• Psalm 49 Commentary – Matthew Henry
• Herod Agrippa I – Encyclopedia Britannica
• Herod the Great – Christianity.com
• Type 1 Diabetes Overview – National Institute of Diabetes and Digestive and Kidney Diseases
• The Truth About Diabetes – Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC)
• Painkiller Addiction: What You Need to Know – Healthline
• The Painkiller Epidemic – Psychology Today
• Home Care Nursing – American Nurses Association
• What Does the Bible Say About Pride? – FaithGateway
• Pride in the Bible – BibleHub Topical
• Fate vs Free Will – GotQuestions.org
• Fate in the Bible – Dictionary of Bible Themes
• How Home Health Nurses Help Patients Stay Home – NBC News
• The Impact of Facebook on Society – Social Media Explorer

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

Related Posts

• From Rock Stars to Athletes: Inspiring Christian Testimonies That Will Strengthen Your Faith Date February 2, 2025
• Devotion: The Life of Peter – A Journey of Faith, Failure, and Redemption Date February 8, 2025
• Mary Magdalene: A Testimony of Faith and Transformation Date December 12, 2024

#addictionAndRecovery #BibleStoriesInFiction #BibleTeachings #bibleVerses #biblicalJustice #brokenFamily #ChristianFaithJourney #ChristianMemes #ChristianPastorStory #ChristianRedemptionStory #ChristianSocialMedia #chronicIllnessStory #diabetesComplications #diabeticLegAmputation #drugAbuseConsequences #faithAndDoubt #faithAndPain #faithStruggles #familyConflict #familyEstrangement #fictionalShortStory #flawedNarratorStory #GodSJustice #graceAndForgiveness #healingAndGrace #homeCareNursing #homeCareStory #homeHealthNurse #illnessAndFaith #JamesStory #KingHerodAgrippa #LGBTQPosts #modernChristianStory #moralAmbiguityStory #nursePerspectiveStory #painkillerAddiction #pastoralCare #personalDownfall #PersonalGrowth #personalRedemption #personalReflectionStory #personalTransformation #prideAndRegret #prideAsAFlaw #Psalm49 #redemptionIsPossible #repentanceTheme #socialMediaSharing #spiritualDecay #spiritualHealing #sufferingAndHope

I Had It All… Until I Lost Everything: One Man’s Journey Through Darkness

1,998 words, 11 minutes read time.

I wasn’t always this way, sitting here alone, a shadow of who I used to be. Once, I had everything — everything a man could dream of. I had wealth, land, cattle that stretched as far as the eye could see. My children, ten of them, were my joy, and I had a beautiful wife who stood by my side. People respected me. I was known as the man who walked upright, who did right by his family, his workers, and his community. I lived in peace, and I thought it would last forever.

I thought I had earned my place. I thought my faith, my good deeds, my sacrifices — they all protected me from the storms that wrecked the lives of others. How foolish I was. I believed that if I stayed true to my values, if I honored God with my actions, I would be safe from harm. I believed I had a deal with the universe — do good, and good would follow. But life, as I would soon learn, doesn’t work that way.

One day, the messengers came. They came one after another, each with worse news than the last. The first told me that my oxen and donkeys were stolen by raiders, and my servants were killed. Before I could even process that, another arrived, speaking of fire from heaven that had consumed my sheep and the men who tended them. Then the next brought word that my camels had been taken by another raiding party, and again, more servants had died. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, the final messenger arrived with a look of horror on his face.

“Your children,” he said, choking on his words. “Your children were in your eldest son’s house. A mighty wind came and collapsed the roof. They’re gone, all of them.”

And just like that, everything I had worked for, everything I had loved, was taken from me. All at once. In the blink of an eye.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to process it. I fell to the ground. I tore my clothes, shaved my head, and sat in the ashes. The pain was unbearable, but I couldn’t escape it. It was as if the whole world had turned its back on me. I could hear my wife’s voice, her anguish, but I couldn’t even lift my head. She spoke words I couldn’t fully grasp at the time. “Curse God and die,” she said. What else was there to say, after all? I couldn’t blame her. My life, my existence, had been destroyed.

But even in that moment, a part of me — a small part, buried under the weight of my grief — refused to let go. Something deep inside told me that God, despite everything, was still in control. I might not understand why this was happening, but I couldn’t turn my back on the one who had once blessed me so abundantly.

The days turned into weeks, then months. The suffering grew deeper. As I sat in the dust, day after day, my body was ravaged by sores, large and oozing, festering under the heat of the sun. I had no comfort. My friends — those who had once looked up to me — now came to visit me. They called me their “friend,” but they came with a judgmental air. They too had their theories, their beliefs about why this had happened to me.

“You must have sinned,” said Eliphaz, one of the older men. His voice was filled with an air of certainty, as though he knew the answers. “God does not punish the righteous. You must have done something wrong. You are reaping what you have sown.”

I tried to defend myself, to tell them that I had not sinned in the way they believed. But they wouldn’t listen. The accusations kept coming — from Eliphaz, from Bildad, from Zophar. Each of them pointing to my “hidden sin,” and demanding I confess what I had done wrong. They could not understand that this was not the result of something I had done, but a trial that I was being forced to endure.

But what could I say? What could I tell them that would make them understand? Their words stung, but they also began to shake something in me. Doubt. The question began to creep into my mind: “What if they’re right? What if I have missed something? What if I have been blind to my own fault?” Perhaps I had been so proud, so convinced of my own righteousness, that I had failed to see my own flaws. After all, no one could be perfect. Not even me.

As the days wore on, the self-doubt began to gnaw at my spirit. I could feel it, like a disease spreading from within, from the deepest recesses of my soul. I wanted to scream at my friends to leave me alone, to stop accusing me. But I didn’t. I sat in silence, stewing in my pain, my confusion. The silence was unbearable, but so were the words of my friends.

“Tell me, Job,” Eliphaz pressed one day, “why would God punish you if you are truly innocent? Think about it. We all know that suffering follows sin. God is just, and He would not bring such destruction on an upright man.”

His words hit like a hammer. Were they right? Was I truly just fooling myself? Had I spent my whole life building a false image of righteousness? I tried to reason with myself, to say, “I haven’t done anything wrong,” but deep down, the question remained: Why was this happening to me? Was I being punished for something I didn’t understand? Did I have hidden sins that even I wasn’t aware of? Was I truly as righteous as I thought I was?

It was as if the pain wasn’t just physical but spiritual, a gnawing hunger for an answer that never came.

Then, there was the moment that would break me. One evening, sitting in the darkness of my despair, I heard my wife’s voice again. She had stood by me all this time, but I could see the cracks in her resolve. The pain had shattered her, and with it, her faith.

“Do you still hold on to your integrity?” she asked, her voice trembling with exhaustion. “Why don’t you just curse God and die? If this is what life is, if this is all that God has for us, then what is the point? What are we living for?”

I could hear her despair, but her words cut me like a blade. I wanted to scream back, to say, “I don’t know why, but I can’t let go!” But instead, I just sat in silence. I couldn’t find the words. The pain of losing everything, my wealth, my health, my children, was crushing. But I still had that one fragile hope: that somewhere, somehow, God was still present.

And then, in the midst of my suffering and their accusations, I began to question everything. What was the point of this? What had I done wrong? Were my friends right? Did I deserve this?

I cried out to God, in my pain, in my helplessness, asking for an answer — any answer. I had lost everything, and now I was losing my grip on hope.

That night, as I lay on the ground, broken and battered, I asked God, Why? Not just a superficial, fleeting question, but a desperate, soul-ripping cry. “Why am I suffering like this? What have I done to deserve this?”

And then, in that stillness, God spoke.

It wasn’t a whisper. It wasn’t a gentle voice. It was as if the very heavens shook. It was a voice that reverberated through every part of me — powerful, overwhelming. It was as though everything I had ever known was being undone.

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?” God asked. His words were not angry, but they were piercing. “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!”

I was struck silent. For the first time, I saw how small I was in comparison to the vastness of the Creator. Who was I to question His ways? Who was I to demand answers for things far beyond my understanding? The questions He asked me, they weren’t meant to shame me, but to make me see the great chasm between my finite perspective and His eternal wisdom. My heart sank as I realized how little I knew — how arrogant I had been.

God continued, His voice like thunder, shaking me to the core.

“Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place? Have you entered the storehouses of the snow or seen the storehouses of the hail, which I reserve for times of trouble, for the day of battle and war?”

I felt the weight of those words. What did I know of the mysteries of creation? What did I understand about the vast, intricate workings of the universe? My mind had been clouded with bitterness and confusion, but now, in the presence of His voice, I saw just how small I was. My suffering, though deep and real, was part of a greater plan — a plan I would never fully understand.

In the face of God’s power and wisdom, I was left speechless. I had demanded answers, but now I saw that the only answer was to trust. Trust that He was in control, even when everything seemed lost. Trust that He knew what I could not possibly comprehend.

And so, I repented. I fell to my knees, not in pride, but in humility. I had questioned God, had demanded that He explain Himself, but now I knew — He did not owe me an explanation. I had seen only a small part of the puzzle, and I had presumed to know the whole picture.

God did not leave me in my brokenness. He restored me — more than I could have ever imagined. My wealth returned, twice as much as I had before. My health was restored, my sores healed, my strength returned. And even in my sorrow, I was blessed with ten more children. My joy was complete, but more importantly, my relationship with God had been renewed.

I had not been left alone in my suffering. God had been with me all along. He had allowed me to go through the fire, but He had never forsaken me. In the depths of my pain, I had found Him, and in finding Him, I had found peace.

I don’t understand everything, but I trust in the One who holds it all. And so, here I am — a man who once had everything, who lost it all, and who has been restored with so much more. Not just in material things, but in the richness of knowing God more deeply than I ever did before. I may never have all the answers, but I know this: God is good. Even when we don’t understand.

D. Bryan King

Sources

• Job 1 (Bible Gateway)
• Book of Job Overview (Bible Study Tools)
• GotQuestions: Who Was Job?
• “Though He Slay Me” Meaning (GotQuestions)
• Desiring God: The Life of Job
• Blue Letter Bible: Job’s Suffering and Faith
• Christianity.com: Summary of the Book of Job
• Bible Hub: Commentary on Job 1
• Ligonier Ministries: God Speaks to Job
• Open Bible: Verses Related to Job’s Life
• The Bible Project: Job (Video Summary)
• Lessons from Job (Patheos)
• Crosswalk: What We Learn from Job
• The Gospel Coalition: The Patience of Job
• Monergism: Job and Endurance

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

Related Posts

• When Life Feels Overwhelming: How God’s Challenges Lead to Greater Strength Date September 22, 2024
• Overcome Any Obstacle: The Powerful Lesson from Peter’s Walk on Water Date July 24, 2024
• How Gratitude Can Transform Your Life During Life’s Toughest Seasons Date March 29, 2025

#biblicalFaithLessons #biblicalStoryOfJob #biblicalSuffering #divineWisdom #faithInDifficultTimes #faithThroughHardship #findingPeaceAfterSuffering #GodAnsweredJob #GodSBlessingsAfterTrials_ #GodSJustice #GodSJusticeAndMercy #GodSPlanForSuffering #GodSPurposeInSuffering #GodSRestoration #healingAfterSuffering #JobSConversationsWithFriends #JobSFaith #JobSFaithInGodSPlan #JobSFaithStory #JobSHardships #JobSJourney #JobSRepentance #JobSRestoration #JobSStory #JobSTrialsAndTriumphs #lessonsFromJob #lessonsFromTheBible #lessonsInSuffering #lifeLessonsFromJob #lossAndGrief #overcomingAdversity #overcomingHardship #patienceThroughTrials #restorationAfterLoss #spiritualGrowthThroughHardship #spiritualLessonsFromJob #strengthInFaith #sufferingAndFaith #sufferingAsATestOfFaith #trialsOfJob #trustInGod #trustingGodSPlan #understandingDivineJustice #whyDoesGodAllowSuffering #wisdomThroughSuffering

#hopeinGod #trustGod #forgiveness #GodsJUSTICE #GodsWaysarePERFECT

⚜ place your Hope & Trust in GOD in ALL of life's challenges

https://youtube.com/watch?v=fat5JhOCNJk&si=9sy7A6dGtTwzseaf

https://youtu.be/elbAXbdJS5Q

Psalm 146:4, 6 Happy are they who have the God of Jacob for their help! whose hope is in Abba God…Who gives justice to those who are oppressed, and food to those who hunger.

Introduction

If we’ve learned anything from the gospel of Mark it’s that being a disciple of Christ isn’t easy and comfortable, it demands reconsideration of things familiar and comfortable, it conflicts with the way the world works and the kingdom of humanity operates, it can rupture relationships, it will force you into an inner crisis of identity. What we’ve gleaned from Mark’s Jesus about what it means to follow him clashes with common notions that being a Christian means worldly prosperity, power, popularity, and privilege (often defined by the kingdom of humanity); it clashes with the idea that being a Christian means being nice and happy; it clashes with the idea that being a Christians means allegiance to a flag or nation; it clashes with the idea that being a Christian means doing one set of things on Sunday and spending Monday through Saturday doing whatever you want.

To follow Christ as one of the disciples—those baptized and partaking of the cup—is to render one’s whole life in service to the mission of God’s revolution of love, life, and liberation in the world for the wellbeing of God’s beloved (you, me, us, and especially all who suffer and are heavy laden outside of these walls). There isn’t one part of us that isn’t claimed by the Spirit of God that descended on Pentecost and now lives in us, yoking us to God by and through our faith in Christ. Mark’s Jesus takes very seriously that you are the fragile, breakable vessel of God, working through you as the epicenter of divine judgment and justice—condemning that which promotes death, indifference, and captivity and exalting that which nourishes, life, love, and liberation. This is the demand on the faithful disciple of Christ (then and now); it is the pursuit of divine love that lets them know we are Christians of the reign of God. Nothing else qualifies but to love God and love those whom God loves.

Mark 12:28-34

And then the scribe said to him, “Well said, teacher! You spoke on the basis of the truth that God is one and there is not another except this one. And to love God out of the whole heart and out of the whole intellect and out of the whole strength and to love the neighbor as oneself is greater than all of the whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”[1]

This entire discussion is rather banal.[2] Since there are (about) 613 mitzvot (separate commands) within Genesis to Deuteronomy, discussions about  which commandments were seen “as more essential” and even debates about which ones were “light” and “heavy” happened regularly among the local scholarly network (Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees, etc.).[3] Even a “summary” of the law—some idea that ties up the Torah—was expected.[4] Thus, Jesus’s summary fits in with other Jewish summaries of the law (causing absolutely no surprise) and is extended to include the prophets.[5] The only thing that is interesting (and considered unprecedented) is that Jesus links two well-known first testament texts: Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and Leviticus 19:18.[6]

So, why include this story in the gospel and in our lectionary? Because the most central feature of a Christian’s life of faithful discipleship is love. Fullstop. Love God and love your neighbor. Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord your God the Lord is one, and you will love the Lord God from your whole heart, and from your whole soul and from your whole intellect and from your whole strength.’ The second [is] this, ‘You will love your neighbor as yourself.’” The entirety of the Christian life is defined by love that is born by the reign of God and made known in the kingdom of humanity (vertical and horizontal, divine and human, spiritual and material). Not only is the disciple exhorted to love God with their whole self, but they are also to love the neighbor (whoever and wherever they are[7]) in the same way; this is the way for the disciple of Christ. To prove this point and to drive it home, Jesus adds, There is no other command greater than these. Here things get a bit more interesting. Jesus has, first, not given one command but two when the scribe asked for what command is first of all? And, second, Jesus created a hierarchy between the love of God and the love of neighbor and the other commandments. According to Mark’s Jesus, there is a preferred way,[8] subjecting all other commands to these two.

The scribe’s response—“Well said, teacher! You spoke on the basis of the truth that God is one and there is not another except this one. And to love God out of the whole heart and out of the whole intellect and out of the whole strength and to love the neighbor as oneself is greater than all of the whole burnt offerings and sacrifices”—reveals two things. The first is implicit, the scribe gets something that the disciples are still trying to ascertain and understand[9] and the other scribes (and Pharisees and Sadducees) refuse to get.[10] The scribe affirms the fact that Jesus’s words are founded on truth thus revealing his own inherent disposition toward Jesus and also Jesus’s mission in the world (thus why Jesus can say to him later, “You are not far from the reign of God.”; #notallscribes[11]).[12]

The second is explicit, there is nothing within religiosity and religious traditionalism that rival these two commands. Nothing—no ritual, no tradition, no pilgrimage, no vigil, no quiet time, no eucharistic celebration, etc.—absolutely nothing is more important to the Christian life in the world before God and among the neighbor than love, love, love. Everything else is not only subverted[13] to these two commands to love God fully and completely and to love the neighbor as one loves themselves but should be viewed in support of this demand for love in two directions, vertically and horizontally. Thus, for Mark’s Jesus and this humble scribe, to love God is to love the neighbor and to love the neighbor is to love God. [14] What is essentially and primarily ruled out here is any conception of a privatized relationship between one person and God as if that’s all that matters. A disciple of Christ cannot love God and ignore their neighbor because to ignore their neighbor is to ignore God. You don’t get the option to do half of the chief commandment; it’s either both or its nothing.

Conclusion

If you’ve ever wondered what God’s will is for your life as a disciple of Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, wonder no more. The entirety of your life is summoned into a robust and vigorous relationship fueled, inspired, and sustained by God’s love for the cosmos. We love because we have first been loved; we love our neighbor because God loves us, and we love God and thus love what God loves. To love God with our whole selves is a definitive mark of a disciple of Christ because it manifests as loving our neighbor as if we are loving ourselves the way God loves us (and loves our neighbor). Thus they truly will know we are Christians by our love…

To go further, and to put darker lines around what it means to love God and love the neighbor, it must be stressed that to love God is best expressed not only in devotion through prayer, worship, and glorifying, but specifically expressed in loving that which and those whom God loves. This means loving God’s justice—God’s mission of life, love, and liberation[15]—that seeks to right the wrongs created and promoted by the kingdom of humanity. Thus, to quote Felipe from Ernesto Cardenal’s The Gospel in Solentiname, “‘To love your neighbor then is to love God. You can’t love God without practicing justice. And you can’t love your neighbor without practicing that justice that God commands.’” [16] In other words, the systems of the kingdom of humanity oriented toward injustice–those systems and ideologies oriented toward death, indifference, and captivity—are to be categorically rejected by those who claim to follow Christ by faith as his disciples by the power of the Holy Spirit.[17]

I can’t stress it enough that we are so very, very loved by a good, good God—a God who is love. This is worth celebrating. But if it never goes further and farther than that, then we will find ourselves distant from the reign of God. God’s love can’t be purchased and owned privately as if it can be just for ourselves. God’s love is always on the move, always seeking the object of God’s desire: God’s beloved, you, me, and more importantly, those who have been cast off and pushed to the margins by the ideologically inspired actions of the residents of the kingdom of humanity. We love because we have first been loved; we strive for justice on behalf of the neighbor, because God’s love strives for justice.

[1] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[2] Placher, Mark, 174. “Just as it is important to note that Mark portrays this scribe in a sympathetic light, so it is worth remembering that Jesus was not saying anything radically new or at odds with the Jewish tradition.”

[3] R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC, eds. I. Howard Marshall and Donald A. Hagner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 477. “Given that there are, according to scribal reckoning 613 separate commandments in the five Books of Moses…the question of priority could not be avoided. The rabbis discussed which commandments were ‘heavy’ and which ‘light’, and sometimes ranked certain categories of law as more essential than others.”

[4] France, Mark, 477. “There was a natural desire for a convenient summary of the law’s requirements, a single principle form which all the rest of the Torah was derived…”

[5] France, Mark, 477.

[6] France, Mark, 477-478. “But for his explicit linking together of these two very familiar OT texts [Lv. 19:18 and Dt. 6:4-5] we have no Jewish precedent.”

[7] Placher, Mark, 174. “Further, we should love our neighbors, and there should be no limits on who counts as a neighbor.”

[8] France, Mark, 478. The “evaluative language is not typical of the rabbis, who spoke of ‘light’ and ‘heavy’ commandments, but on the understanding that all are equally valid, and who, while they might look for summarizing principles, do not seem to have ranked individual commandments as ‘first’ or ‘more important.’”

[9] France, Mark, 482. “In Mark’s previous mentions of the kingdom of God we have repeatedly noted a contrast between the divine and human perspective, and a sense of surprise, even of shock, as the unfamiliar values of God’s kingship are recognised. It is a secret given only to those who follow Jesus and hear his teaching (4.11). But here is a man who Is already a good part of the way through the readjustment of values which the kingdom of God demands and which the disciples have been so painfully confronting on the way to Jerusalem.”

[10] France, Mark, 478.

[11] William C. Placher, Mark, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 173. “The question is sincere, the scribe’s response to Jesus is wise, and Jesus tells him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’ Mark….goes out of his way to indicate that not all Jewish scholars where corrupt or were Jesus’ opponents.”

[12] France, Mark, 482. “…the scribe’s reply has assured Jesus that his mind is well attuned to the divine perspective. This place him οὐ μακρὰν ἀπὸ τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ, not yet a part of it apparently, but unlike the rich who will find it so hard to enter the kingdom of God…this man is a promising potential recruit.”

[13] Cardenal, Solentiname, 530. “I: ‘But here he’s not talking only about false rites but true rites. He says that love is worth more than all religious rites.’”

[14] Cardenal, Solentiname, 529. “You can say, then, that those that obey the second, it’s as if they’re obeying the first. Those who don’t love God, for example, because they don’t believe in God, but love their neighbor, according to Christ it’s as if they’re obeying the first commandment.”

[15] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 528. “So to love [God] is to love liberation and justice and that’ s the same things as to love your neighbor. To love God, then, is to love love. And therefore it’s logical that the second commandment should be very similar to the first one.”

[16] Cardenal, Solentiname, 528.

[17] Placher, Mark, 175. Verses leading up to the Leviticus quotation should be considered in defining ethical action of love toward the neighbor, “Maximizing profit at all costs and cutting corners are contrary to love of neighbor.”

https://laurenrelarkin.com/2024/11/03/love-god-love-neighbor/

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