Entry

No man is good but one / Only God is good

What did Jesus mean

A man who follows all the rules asks Jesus for the last step to earn eternal life. Jesus won’t give him a step. The man wants a checklist. Jesus wants him to stop living by one.

Where did Jesus say this

Mark 10:17–22:

And when he was come into the way, there came one running and kneeled to him and asked him: “Good master, what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him: “Why callest thou me good? There is no man good but one, which is God. Thou knowest the commandments: Break not matrimony; kill not; steal not; bear not false witness; defraud no man; honour thy father and mother.” He answered and said to him: “Master, all these I have observed from my youth.” Jesus beheld him and had a favour to him and said unto him: “One thing is lacking unto thee. Go and sell all that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come and follow me and take up thy cross.” But he was discomforted with that saying, and went away mourning, for he had great possessions.

This same encounter shows up three times — Mark 10:17–22, Luke 18:18–23, and Matthew 19:16–22. One conversation with one rich man, told by three writers; not a teaching Jesus repeated on different days. Luke: “No man is good save God only.” Matthew: “there is none good but one, and that is God.” That’s the whole “only God is good” idea — one moment, one man.

One story, three tellings — and one big edit

Mark was written first (around 65–70 AD). Matthew and Luke both used Mark as a source and reworked it — so the differences aren’t three eyewitnesses disagreeing; they’re later writers editing the earliest account.

The small changes: Mark’s man runs and kneels; Luke calls him “a ruler”; Matthew calls him “the young man.” Mark alone adds the command “defraud no man”; Matthew alone adds “love thy neighbour as thyself.” Mark alone says Jesus “had a favour to him” (loved him) and “take up thy cross”; Matthew reframes the ask as “if thou wilt be perfect.”

The big change: in the oldest Greek, Matthew doesn’t say “why callest thou me good” at all. Matthew rewrites Mark’s line to “Why do you ask me about what is good? One there is who is good.” That shifts the word good off of Jesus and onto the deed. Scholars read this as Matthew smoothing over Mark’s blunter version, which sounded like Jesus refusing the label. Tyndale followed a later Greek text that harmonized Matthew back to match Mark — which is why the three look nearly identical above.

Takeaway: this isn’t one frozen quote copied three times. It’s an edited line — one more reason not to build a doctrine on a single clause.

Line by line:

The words behind the words

What Jesus did not mean

Jesus did not mean that no one can be good. When we take a sentence aimed at one specific person, in one specific place and time, and slap it onto all of humanity, we do ourselves a huge disservice.

Look at what actually happens. The man asks for another item for his checklist. Jesus gives him the checklist. The man says he’s already done all of it. It’s almost like Jesus is testing him. He asks how to be good; Jesus hands him the simple list; he says he’s already checked every box — so why is he still asking?

So Jesus gives him something obnoxious to do: give away everything. Add that to your checklist. I’m sure you won’t check it off — and that’s the point.

The man wants an easy button. He doesn’t want a relationship. He’s using Jesus to get somewhere. He’s not hearing the message as one whole message; he’s hearing it as fragments to check off.

We (and a lot of the tradition) took a rhetorical jab and inflated it into a doctrine. That’s the whole danger: you take one line, aimed at one person in one moment, and slap it onto all of humanity — and you miss the message.

And here’s the part worth sitting with: God never calls himself “morally complete.” The one time he describes himself, he says he is “full of compassion and mercy… abundant in mercy and truth” (Exodus 34:6). That’s almost better. It doesn’t put him on a pedestal judging us. It puts him right next to us — guiding us, with enough mercy and goodness to help us all along the way, if we ask.

The riddle behind the story

  1. The man wants an easy button: “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
  2. Jesus breaks the button with a riddle.
  3. “Give away everything” — so you can get the one thing you want.
  4. But you can’t give everything away and keep a treasure at the same time. If you’re giving it away to get something, you haven’t given anything away. You can’t. That’s the point.

The treasure

The man is holding entolai — separate rules, a list. This is the same trap from the Mansions entry. There, Jesus switches between logos (one whole message, a way of living) and logous (fragmented sayings you check off one at a time). The man in this story is stuck on the fragments. He wants the list. Jesus offers him the whole thing — “follow me” — himself, the Word, the way of living the rules were only ever pointing at.

And the “treasure in heaven” is not a payout in an afterlife. Heaven is shamayim — the sky, the here, the now (see the Heaven entry). The man wants a future reward for good behavior. Jesus is pointing at a present life he’s locked out of — not because he’s bad, but because he’s too busy checking off a list.

Where to start

Start with the person, not the list.

The man went away sad because he was still stuck on the performance. He missed the whole point of the conversation. If he’d understood it was about the person and the relationship, it would have been easier for him — not harder. But he stayed on the surface. He didn’t get the depth.

That’s where you start: not “which boxes do I check,” but “am I willing to actually know him.” The list is the shallow end. The relationship is the deep end. He never got in the water.

Benefits

You stop performing for a reward you think is waiting somewhere else, and you start actually following the person who was standing in front of you the whole time.