Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost
October 13, 2024
Mark 10:17-31

The audio of this sermon can be found here. The livestream of the full worship service is available on the Trinity Episcopal Church YouTube channel.

In the summer of 2009, I made the questionable decision to drive, by myself, from Houston to Los Angeles. There’s about a thousand miles of nothing out there. But it’s where my extended family lives, and I wanted to see them, so I drove.

And out there on I-10, all by myself, I made another questionable decision. Even though my gas tank was a little low, I decided to push on to the next town to fill up. As the miles ticked by, that fuel gauge started to drop a little bit more. And then the low fuel light came on. And then the little needle dropped to empty, and kept going, with no exit in sight. I turned off the air conditioner, I kept the car at fifty five, trying to eke out every possible vapor of fuel efficiency. I had visions of walking through the desert to the nearest gas station, head hung in shame. In my mind’s eye, I saw the vultures circling. All because I thought I could run on empty. I’ll tell you – there are few times in my life that I prayed harder than I did out there, by myself, with the needle below empty, in the middle of the desert.

It says something about us, doesn’t it? That we pray the hardest when we are in the most need. When things are going wrong. This is called “lifeboat spirituality.” When our ship is going down and we need need that lifeboat, that’s when we start praying; hard. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so we turn to God. It’s why churches were full after September 11, 2001. It’s why we assume that people on our parish prayer list are sick. Because, why else would we pray? The first thing I want to say, is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with turning to God when things are bad; when you’re running on empty. I believe that God wants to hear our prayers; God wants us to lean on the Holy Spirit; Jesus knows what it is to be human, he knows what it’s like to be desperate; so it is good that we cry out to God when we’re running on empty – emotionally, financially, relationally, empty. 

Back to my long drive on I-10; just as I was preparing myself for a long walk to a gas station, behold – an exit! And a gas station! Never before have I felt so good about putting my credit card in that little swiper. Ah, the sweet sound of that flowing gasoline. So I got myself a Diet Coke and a bag of sunflower seeds, and with a full tank, I hit the road again out west.

And I realize it now, when I think back on it, that I stopped praying. My tank was full. I had my snacks. And I was on my way. Running on empty, I needed God; filled up, I was satisfied with myself. This is part of the human condition, part of our life with God.

It happens in the gospel of Mark, too. A young man comes up to Jesus and asks, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus responds by giving him the basic commandments: don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t lie or cheat, honor your parents. But the young man said back to Jesus, “I have kept all these since my youth.” Notice, notice that the young man is full. He’s full of himself. He’s self-righteous. Because, c’mon, who has actually kept all the commandments their entire life? That’s not a thing. This young man is full of his own pride, and he didn’t need God.

Jesus gives the young man another chance. The story says that Jesus loved this young man, and so Jesus tells him, “go and sell what you own, and you will have treasure in heaven.” And at this, the young man walks away, for he had many possessions. He was full. Full of wealth, full of money, his life was full of stuff, and he didn’t need God.

This stands in stark contrast to all the other stories in the gospels; the stories of desperate people, running on empty, who come begging to Jesus. A man’s daughter is at death’s door, and so he begs to Jesus. A woman has been sick for years, and she desperately reaches out to Jesus. There’s a man who cannot walk, and his friends bring him to Jesus on a stretcher. Running on empty, they come to Jesus. Full of themselves, they walk away.

And so the lesson for today is simple, but it is not easy. The call is to empty ourselves. Because it’s when we are empty, that we turn to trust in God. 

Never is this so readily visible than at baptism. As we are baptizing little Court Barkmann today. Think of what his parents and godparents are promising for him – they are turning away from the ways of the world; they are turning away from temptation and self-righteousness. They are emptying themselves. 

And then, they are turning. That’s what the word “repentance” means. It means to turn. Turning around to Jesus, so that in their emptiness, they are asking for the Holy Spirit to fill them. Like a bone dry gas tank on a desert highway. It feels so good to be filled up. 

There is a point in the baptism where this really comes through. I’ll pour water on his head, and think of that as washing away all the stuff. All the stuff with which we could be self-satisfied. But then, being empty is not enough. Because I do believe that God wants us to be full, but to be full on the Holy Spirit. New wineskins deserve new wine. So I will then anoint Court’s head with oil. And as the water washed everything away, the oil of baptism will actually seep in, through his skin and we pray, into his heart, mind, and soul. That’s what we believe happens in baptism – first we are emptied, and in that emptiness we ask God to fill us. Not with more stuff, not with more pride, not with more ego. But with the Spirit of the Living God. And so we are.

And that’s what Jesus tells Peter. Peter says, essentially, “I’m running on empty.” Peter says to Jesus, “we’ve left everything for you.” And Jesus commends him. Because now that Peter is empty, he can be filled up again. Filled with something new. Because those who empty themselves to Jesus will receive back again more than they can ask or imagine. That is the grace of God. 

So today we witness Court and his parents and godparents empty themselves; in order to be filled again. And as baptized people, for all of us, that is our aim, too. To be empty of conceit, of envy; empty of deceit, of self-dealing and self-righteousness; empty of slander, of vulgarity, and of evil thoughts toward our neighbors. To be as empty as Jesus upon the cross, when he pours himself out for us. So we can be filled again. Filled with grace and mercy; filled with kindness; filled with common courtesy and decency – not filled with ourselves but filled with the Spirit of the Living God.

And finally, I know, I know that you know what it feels like to run on empty. I’ve lived life long enough now, to know that it happens. And yes, it will happen even to Court, at some point in his life. That needle hits empty for all of us. We push on just a little farther, thinking that we can make it to the next gas station on our own. And then you lose someone, you lose a job, you lose a dream, you get a diagnosis, the rug gets pulled out from under you, you pushed yourself too hard, and then you’re way out in the middle of nowhere. Empty. When that happens, when, not if, I pray that you would open your eyes, open your hearts, and receive that grace of God that is already there, waiting to fill you up. Not that I want you to go through those hard times. Of course not. But I’m enough of a realist to know that they will happen. And when it does, Jesus will be there for you like a gas station in the middle of the desert. To fill you up. And when you are nice and full, and you’ve loaded up snacks; when you come to this holy table and have topped off your tank, do not forget who filled you up. You prayed to God when you were on empty, give thanks to God that you’ve been filled again by Jesus.