What Must I Do?

What must I do to inherit eternal life? It is a question that feels both sincere and searching. Yet when it is brought to Jesus, the answer does not lead to a checklist, but to something deeper — an invitation that moves us from striving to trust.

Bible Readings

• Luke 10:25–37
• Luke 18:18–27
• John 6:28–29
• Acts 16:30–31
• Romans 3:21–24

Reflection

There is a question that seems to rise naturally within us: What must I do?

It appears in different forms — sometimes quietly, sometimes with urgency — yet it carries the same underlying hope: that life with God might be secured through effort, if only we could find the right thing to do.

This question is brought to Jesus more than once. A lawyer asks it, seeking clarity. A rich man asks it, sincerely and earnestly. In each case, the desire seems genuine. Yet what follows is not the reassurance they might have expected.

Jesus does not simplify the requirement. He reveals it.

To one, He speaks of loving God fully, and loving our neighbour without limit — a love that crosses boundaries, gives without hesitation and holds nothing back. To another, He says: “Sell all you have… then come, follow me.” Not as an abstract ideal, but as a direct invitation — one that reaches into the very place where trust is held.

In both moments, something is uncovered.
Not simply what is required, but what cannot be given.

The question, “What must I do?”, begins to give way to a quieter realisation: I cannot do this.

Yet this is not where Jesus leaves them — or us.

Elsewhere, when the question rises again — “What must we do to do the works God requires?” — the answer comes with a different clarity:
“The work of God is this: to believe in the one He has sent.”

The movement is subtle, but profound.
From doing… to trusting.
From striving… to receiving.

This does not diminish the call to love or to follow. Rather, it places them in their rightful place — not as a means of earning life, but as a response to having received it.

We are not invited to secure our place with God through effort, but to come to Him with empty hands.

And perhaps that is where the question finally finds its rest.

Not in discovering one more thing to do,
but in hearing the quiet invitation beneath it:

Come. Trust Me.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
So often my heart turns toward what I must do — how I compare myself to others, seek to prove myself, or try to earn Your favour.

Yet You see more deeply.
You reveal not only what is required,
but what I cannot achieve on my own.

Gently lead me from striving into trust.
From self-reliance into dependence upon You.
Teach me to receive what You freely give,
and to rest in the grace You have already secured.

And from that place of rest, shape my life into one that loves more freely, gives more willingly, and follows You more closely.

Amen.