The Version of Me You Haven’t Met (Yet)

Reflections on: Mark 10:17–31/Matthew 19:16–30/Luke 18:18–30

You’ve always felt like you were meant for something special.

Yes, there’s a voice inside you that is self-critical… but underneath it, you have always also been able to faintly hear a deeper, truer, rumble from within you.

Something beautiful that was always meant to come out into the world.

A self beyond even your own understanding.

The rumble was never about achievement. It was never about success. Even though that’s what the world seems to want.

The rumble was so deep inside you… it was coming from a core you barely understand. And it’s always been about something profound.

You know you’re meant for a purposeful existence. You can sense something that feels like destiny… maybe (although you’re not sure if you believe that’s how it works).

Me too.

I’m like you. I have felt the deep rumble. I know there’s a truth I’m meant to live out that is just beyond my understanding. Just beyond my limits.

I found myself trying to name it poetically a while ago.

The version of me you never met

The one who placed a bigger bet

Unafraid of all the falls and failings

Willing to see beyond the railings

Lived beyond expectations small

Took the risk and placed the call

Vibrant hues and boldened lines

A life less dull a soul that shines

Missed potential haunts me most

So now I bet big; choose not to coast

The version of me you never met

Just hasn’t made your acquaintance yet

Let me pause.

This message is not a cheap motivational speech. This message is not about the hidden power inside you if only you would manifest it for yourself.

Maybe that’s someone else’s sermon, and maybe it’s real, but that’s not what I’m here to preach today.

This message. And that poem. They are about love.

The me you haven’t met yet? That’s not the billionaire me. It’s not the tycoon me. It’s not the Hollywood influencer me.

It’s the deeply rooted, sweet, gentle, loving me. It’s the me who is far more patient than the me you know. It’s the me who is not trying to out earn my childhood image of “success.” It’s the me that is not trying to get your applause and approval. It’s the me who isn’t obsessed with how cool or funny or handsome or perfect you think I am.

That’s the me you haven’t met yet.

There’s this story in the synoptic Gospels that I come back to over and over. Jesus is asked by a wealthy young man with power, “…what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus first tells him to follow God’s fundamental commandments. When the rich young ruler says “Teacher, all these I have kept since I was a boy.”

Jesus… according to Mark’s account… looks at him and loves him.

He doesn’t judge him or shame him. He looks at him. And he loves him.

And then Jesus says, “One thing you lack. Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

The rich young ruler leaves sad. For he was very wealthy.

This story is so uncomfortable.

You spend a whole life chasing “success,” and then you’re reminded by this ancient teaching that… the ladder you’re climbing is leaning against the wrong wall.

You spend your whole life trying to check all the boxes on the imaginary form of your “good person” application.

You try and try and try to do it all and achieve and succeed and win.

But at some point in your life you’re confronted with a hard truth: This life isn’t about all that. It’s only always been about love.

The “bigger bet” I mentioned in the poem that I want to place in this season of my life… is on love.

Selfless, generous, curious, wonder-filled love.

That’s the rumble deep inside. Love. Profound. Magnificent. Beautiful love. Heavy wonderful love. Well-worn, scuffed and scarred love.

Sorry. This isn’t a message encouraging you to chase your dreams. It’s a sermon that asks if the dreams you’ve been chasing are the ones you will really care about in the end.

The version of me you haven’t yet met is the one who leans into sacred human connection.

It’s the one who sacrifices the worldly “success” for the moments of holy togetherness.

It’s the version of me who follows the humble, dusty, ragged way of Jesus. It’s the one who opens his sacred heart to the world. It’s the one who welcomes boldly and radically.

It’s the one who loves. So hard. The one who loves with all his might. The one who loves instead of chases. The one who loves.

I don’t know if I’ll ever sell all my belongings. I don’t know if I’m that brave. But I want to lean my ladder on the right wall. I want to orient my future toward love. I want to bravely walk away from my false self and toward the rumble of love I hear inside.

Let’s walk there together.