Close Isn’t Close Enough
This is my short Lectio Divina reflection on today’s Mass reading from the Gospel of Mark (Mk 12:28-34). By the way, the Gospel of Mark is a great book to read in one sitting—especially for Lent.
They asked Jesus, Which commandment matters most? And He didn’t give them a lecture, He gave it to them straight: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.” No disclaimers. Just that.
And when the scribe repeated the answer back to Him, Jesus didn’t say, “Congratulations, welcome to the Kingdom.” He said, “You’re not far.”
Not far. As in, close. As in, almost. As in, you’re standing at the gates, but you haven’t walked through them yet. It is a reminder for all us that memorizing commandments or being able to parrot back the commandment isn’t the same as living them.
If we’re going to finish the journey, we have to actually live the first commandment—to love God as the absolute center of everything. Not one priority among many. Not a vague vibe of self-care. No. There is one God. Not the god of ambition. Not the god of aestheticized suffering. Not the god of curated friendships that exist just to reflect a flattering version of ourselves. Only when that one God becomes the axis around which everything spins can we begin to live the second commandment.
Let’s be brutally honest—loving our neighbor is a lie if we don’t love God first. Without Him, our “love” is just approval addiction, or a sort of emotional outsourcing. Are our acts of kindness just curated content for likes. Ouch. Real love is the love that that grieves sin because it wounds the heart of Jesus. Its a love that sees broken people not as obstacles but as siblings. And we cannot love in this manner without God taking over the whole system: heart, soul, mind, and strength.
Yesterday, I spent time with St. Catherine of Siena in her Dialogue. Jesus says something that literally wrecked me: that the sorrow God desires most is sorrow for the sins committed against Him, and for the sins we see others commit. Not outrage. Not superiority. Sorrow.
No amount of ministry or moral virtue can erase the rupture sin causes between the soul and God. Only sorrow—real, gut-wrenching contrition—can begin to close the wound.
And that kind of sorrow? It only comes when the heart is properly ordered: God first, everything else in second-hand orbit. Then, and only then, do we see our neighbor. We can see them not through the lens of comparison or resentment or pity. We see them as Jesus sees them—through His merciful, blood-washed eyes.
That’s what love looks like. Not sentimental. Not easy. Not optional. Surrendered. Holy. And costly. And absolutely worth it.
© 2025, Lawain McNeil, Mission Surrender, LLC.
Very good, Lawain…