“ Do You See All the People ? ”
(Verse-by-Verse Study) Luke 16:19–31
Jesus had just confronted the Pharisees, who were known as “lovers of money” (Luke 16:14), and warned them that what people prize highly can be detestable in God’s sight (16:15). He declared, “You cannot serve both God and Money” (16:13). Our lives will either orbit around money or around Christ. But when we choose Christ, our possessions become instruments of worship, and our daily decisions become eternal investments.
To reinforce this He said: “The law and the prophets were in effect until John came; since then the good news of the kingdom of God is proclaimed, and everyone tries to enter it by force. But it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one stroke of a letter in the law to be dropped” (Luke 16:16–17). In other words, God’s Word is unshakable. The coming of John the Baptist marked the dividing line between the old era of promise and the new era of fulfillment, but the same God who spoke through Moses now speaks through His Son. Jesus came not to cancel the Law, but to fulfill it (Matt 5:17). His kingdom is the culmination of all that the prophets pointed toward, and entry is not gained by manipulation, status, or wealth, but by humble repentance and faith.
The phrase “everyone tries to enter it by force” captures the radical urgency of Jesus’ message. The Greek verb can be read passively: “everyone is pressed to enter it,” highlighting the powerful claim of the kingdom upon every life. To hear the gospel is to feel pressed, urged, even shaken out of neutrality, called to reorient one’s entire life around the values of God’s reign. The kingdom demands a radical decision, and Jesus warns that it is not easily sidestepped.
The Pharisees, however, clung to their own standards. They considered wealth a sign of righteousness and privilege as proof of divine favor. In their pursuit of self-justification, they tried to “force” their way into God’s kingdom, bending the Law to suit their desires while ignoring its central call to justice, mercy, and faithfulness. Jesus’ words cut through their illusions: the Law still stands, every letter of it, and it demands love for God and neighbor. Their problem was not lack of knowledge but lack of obedience.
Into this setting He tells a parable designed to shock: a diseased beggar, despised and forgotten on earth, is carried into heavenly comfort, while a wealthy man, admired for his apparent success, finds himself in torment. To the Pharisees, who considered wealth a sign of righteousness, this reversal would have been scandalous. Jesus exposes how riches, when used selfishly, can blind us to the suffering of others and to the true demands of God’s Word.
The story is not about the evil of possessions themselves but about the heart that hoards rather than shares. The rich man was blessed with much but ignored Lazarus, who lay hungry and sick at his very gate. His sin was not active cruelty but callous neglect—failing to welcome, feed, or care for the one God had placed before him. Jesus presses His hearers, and us, with searching questions: How do you view your wealth? Is it a means of self-indulgence, or is it used to serve and bless others? Do you see the person at your gate, or has your comfort dulled your compassion?
The parable also raises profound questions about life beyond the grave. What happens after death, before the final resurrection? Is there comfort for the faithful and torment for the unrepentant even now? Jesus’ picture suggests a conscious awareness, not mere unconscious “sleep.” Moses and Elijah appear alive and speaking with Christ at the Transfiguration (Luke 9:30–31), pointing to a continued existence with God. Yet the most sobering truth here is the finality of destiny—there are no second chances after death, no bridges across the great chasm. God may be outside of time, but for us time matters: today is the day to repent and believe. This is ultimately a story about vision—what we see, who we see, and how God sees us.
Opening Prayer
Gracious Father,
We come before You today asking for clear vision. Too often we are blinded by comfort, distracted by wealth, or dulled by routine. Open our eyes to see what You see: the Lazarus at our gate, the needs around us, and the eternal weight of our daily choices. Teach us to treasure Your Word, to repent where we have been hard-hearted, and to live with eternity in view. May Your Spirit guide us into truth, that our possessions may become instruments of worship and our lives testimonies of Your kingdom. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets. Amen.
(Verse-by-Verse Study) Luke 16:19–31
V.19 — The Man Without a Name
Defined by wealth, but no identity in God.
There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. Luke 16:19
Jesus begins with an anonymous “rich man.” His life is sketched in broad strokes of luxury: clothed in purple and fine linen, and feasting lavishly every day. These details signal not occasional blessing but a daily rhythm of indulgence. What is striking, however, is that his condemnation in the parable is not for theft, violence, or obvious wickedness, but for what he did not do. He ignored Moses and the Prophets, who repeatedly called Israel to care for the poor (Deut 15:7–11; Isa 58:6–10; Amos 5:24). His disbelief in God’s Word is revealed by his disregard for Lazarus at his gate. From this neglect springs a hedonistic preoccupation with himself. History shows how the burials of the wealthy often mirrored such excess—lavish tombs, monuments, and treasures interred, reflecting not humility before God but an attempt to carry luxury into death itself (cf. Isa 14:18–20, Ezek 28:4–10).
The deeper issue here is not possession but preoccupation. Wealth, in itself, is a gift of God (see Abraham, Job, Lydia), but when it becomes one’s world, it blinds the heart to God and neighbor. Jesus warns against this in Luke 12:15: “Life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.” Timothy Keller explains that wealth shapes identity, whispering, “You are safe and significant because you have me,” turning good gifts into idols. Matthew Henry observed that continual feasting dulls compassion and numbs remembrance of God. William Barclay notes that in a culture that equated riches with God’s blessing, Jesus was radically overturning assumptions—showing that unchecked wealth can lead not to divine favor but to spiritual ruin.
vv.20–21 — The Beggar at the Gate
Known by name in heaven, ignored on earth.
And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.” Luke 16:20-21
At the rich man’s gate lay a beggar named Lazarus—his very name meaning “God is my help.” In all of Jesus’ parables, this is the only character given a personal name, a signal that heaven knows the forgotten. Lazarus is reduced to misery: diseased, unable even to walk since he was “laid” at the gate, longing for crumbs, perhaps scavenging from the refuse that fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs, despised in Jewish culture, offer him a grim companionship, licking his sores as he lies helpless. The rich man’s estate is protected by a grand gate, but that very gate becomes the line of his moral test—luxury within, misery without. The one in need was not hidden; he was in plain sight, yet ignored.
The deeper meaning here is that God remembers those the world forgets. The psalmist declares, “The hope of the afflicted will never perish” (Ps 9:18). Lazarus embodies this truth, even as his circumstances embody the call of the prophets: to share bread with the hungry, to clothe the naked, and not to turn away from our own flesh and blood (Isa 58:6–7). Proverbs warns that to oppress or ignore the poor is to show contempt for their Maker (Prov 14:31).
Paul instructs, “Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment” (1 Tim 6:17). The rich man put his hope in purple robes and daily feasts, but Lazarus—whose very name means “God is my help”—placed his hope in the Lord. As Alexander Maclaren noted, the tragedy here was not inability but indifference: the rich man could have helped, but did not. Malcolm Muggeridge observed that affluence can act like a narcotic, dulling us to reality and numbing us to our neighbor’s suffering. The gate is still with us—our doorsteps, our neighborhoods, our cities. The question is whether we will see with eternal eyes or remain blinded by comfort.
v.22 — The Great Reversal
From neglect to embrace, from silence to song.
“The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried.” Luke 16:22
“The time came when the beggar died” — words that remind us that death is the great certainty for all. The story pivots here: the one forgotten at the gate is now carried by angels to Abraham’s side, while the rich man is buried, his opulence unable to shield him from the same fate. The contrast is deliberate. Lazarus, whose body was ignored by men, is now honored with a heavenly escort. The rich man, whose life was defined by splendor, slips into the grave with no mention of angels, only silence. Jesus makes plain that there are two destinations beyond death, and which way we go depends not on wealth or status, but on faith and response to God’s Word. The reversal is total: the gate that once excluded Lazarus is replaced by Abraham’s embrace.
The phrase “Abraham’s side” evokes the image of a banquet, reclining close to the patriarch, a picture of intimacy and covenant welcome (cf. Matt 8:11). Final destinies disclose true values: what the world overlooks, God treasures; what the world treasures, God may expose as empty. The psalmist says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants” (Ps 116:15). Revelation 21:4 promises that God Himself will wipe away every tear. J. I. Packer reminds us that divine judgment brings comfort to the wronged because God’s holiness will set things right. Donald Coggan stressed that for the faithful, death is not an abyss but a homegoing—into God’s keeping, where mercy replaces misery and hope is fulfilled at last.
v.23 — Eyes Open Too Late
Awareness after death, separation fixed.
“In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.” Luke 16:23
“In Hades, being in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side.” This is the great reversal: from riches to rags, from feasting to famine, from ease to torment. The rich man has not ceased to exist; he retains awareness, memory, and desire, but now sees from a distance what he once ignored. The gulf between him and Abraham underscores a separation that is not geographical alone but moral and spiritual. The haunting question arises: How could a loving God send someone to hell? Yet Jesus makes clear that the rich man is not there for being wealthy, but for being hard-hearted. Hell is not God’s arbitrary cruelty but the outcome of a lifetime of choices. If we say “no” to God’s Word now, we will say “no” then; the echo of our present rejection becomes the trajectory of our eternal destiny.
This moment is a foretaste of judgment. Paul writes that those who persist in hard-heartedness are “storing up wrath” for themselves (Rom 2:5–8), and Hebrews 9:27 reminds us that after death comes judgment. J. B. Lightfoot points out that Luke’s use of Hades describes the intermediate state of the wicked—a preview of separation before the final judgment to come. John Stott often emphasized that neglect of the poor is evidence of a heart untouched by grace: faith without works is dead (James 2:14–17). The torment of the rich man is not an accident of fate but the moral outworking of his choices, revealing that the gates of hell are often locked from the inside (Revelations 3:20).
v.24 — A Cry Without Repentance
Relief requested, but the heart unchanged.
“He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’”
Luke 16:24
“Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue.” Even in torment, the rich man reveals his unchanged character: he still sees Lazarus as someone beneath him, a servant to be dispatched. He does not ask forgiveness, nor does he express sorrow for his neglect; he only seeks relief. His perspective remains self-centered—he notices Lazarus now only because he imagines Lazarus might serve his needs. The tragedy is that judgment has not transformed his heart. This underscores the truth that hell is not filled with repentant people longing to love God, but with souls still curved inward upon themselves.
The deeper meaning is sobering: sin deforms our loves until self takes the central place meant for God. Proverbs 28:27 reminds us that those who close their eyes to the poor will suffer loss, and Jesus warns in Luke 13:28 that many will see the patriarchs in the kingdom but find themselves shut out. Timothy Keller describes hell as “the trajectory of a soul” locked in self-absorption—getting what it chose, life apart from God’s love. Eugene Peterson captures it in paraphrase: the man who made himself the center now inhabits the lonely country of self. The fire that torments him is not just external judgment but the burning fever of self-absorption unhealed.
v.25 — Son, Remember
Memory as judgment, reversal as justice.
“But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony.” Luke 16:25
Abraham’s words pierce with both tenderness and truth: “Son, remember…” He does not deny the rich man’s lineage—he is still a child of Abraham by blood—but reveals that privilege without faith and obedience is empty. Memory itself becomes part of judgment. The rich man is reminded of the good things he received in life, blessings that should have been shared, opportunities that could have been used to relieve Lazarus at his gate. Lazarus, in contrast, received only bad things on earth but depended on God as his help. Ironically, he proved the shrewder of the two, for though he had nothing, he entrusted himself to God, while the rich man squandered grace. The reversal is complete: comfort exchanged for torment, neglect answered with embrace.
The deeper meaning is that God’s grace was never absent; the rich man simply refused it. As Paul says in Romans 2:4, God’s kindness is meant to lead to repentance, but he hardened his heart instead. Jesus had already warned: “Woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort” (Luke 6:24). Paul adds a positive vision: “Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age” (1 Tim 6:18–19). This is exactly what the rich man failed to do—his memory testified against him. But those who steward wealth as God intends find not torment but treasure, not regret but reward.
Matthew Henry observes that the rich man had his heaven on earth, but now nothing remains. Leslie Weatherhead remarked that judgment is God taking our choices with utter seriousness—ratifying the lives we have lived. Alexander Maclaren reminds us the great reversal is moral, not arbitrary: God’s justice unveils what our hearts truly trusted in. Memory itself becomes the testimony of a wasted life.
v.26 — The Great Chasm
Finality of choices, dignity of freedom.
“Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’”
Luke 16:26
Abraham explains, “Between us and you a great chasm has been set in place.” The image is stark: a fixed gulf forbidding passage, no bridge for second chances. It is sobering that Jesus—the same one who is gentle and meek of heart—uses such imagery. Perhaps it is because He wants us to grasp the seriousness of eternity while there is still time. The rich man now sees that he has passed to the end of his judgment, his choices having shaped his destiny. As C. S. Lewis put it, in heaven the soul says to God, “Thy will be done,” while in hell God sorrowfully says to the soul, “Thy will be done.” God respects human freedom—even when it breaks His heart, as we see most clearly at Calvary, where His only begotten Son bore the cost of our refusal so that we might choose life.
The meaning is clear: post-mortem destinies are not fluid. Today is the day of decision. “Now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation” (2 Cor 6:2). Ecclesiastes 11:3 reminds us, “Where a tree falls… there it will lie.” Hebrews 9:27 declares that people are destined to die once and then face judgment. God’s verdict does not override our will but confirms it, showing us the trajectory of choices we pursued in life. The chasm is a final boundary drawn by a holy God who honors the dignity of human freedom but grieves at its misuse. In this way, judgment is both perfectly just and deeply personal—He gives us, in the end, what we have persistently desired, whether fellowship with Him or life apart from Him.
vv.27–28 — Too Late for Mission
A concern awakened, but beyond opportunity.
“‘He answered, “Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.”
Luke 16:27-28
The rich man, having lost all hope for himself, suddenly turns his thoughts to his five brothers: “Send Lazarus to my father’s house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.” For the first time in the story, he voices concern for someone else—but even this compassion is both late and flawed. Late, because the time for influence and intercession has already passed. Flawed, because he still assumes Lazarus can be dispatched like a messenger at his command. His perspective remains unchanged: he sees Lazarus as an errand boy, not as an equal. Yet beneath his self-absorption, there is an unsettling recognition—judgment is real, and those still living need warning.
The meaning here is urgent: mission matters before the chasm is fixed. Evangelism is not an optional extra but an act of love, because our neighbors’ souls are in view. God Himself says in Ezekiel 33:11, “I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live.” Paul in Romans 10:14–15 presses the logic: how can people believe unless someone tells them? John Stott often reminded us that true Christian love sees both the Lazarus at the gate and the brothers in the house—compassion in practical justice and courage in witness. William Barclay highlights Jesus’ pastoral realism: people often ignore what is obvious until it is too late. The rich man’s plea, though belated, becomes a warning for us who still have time: speak now, live now, love now, while mercy’s door is open.
v.29 — The Word is Enough
Scripture speaks clearly—will we listen?
“‘Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.”
Luke 16:29
Abraham’s reply is simple yet profound: “They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.” The rich man thinks his brothers need something extraordinary—a miracle, a messenger from the dead—but Abraham points to what they already have: God’s Word. The Scriptures were clear all along, calling Israel to love God and neighbor, to care for the poor, to pursue justice and mercy. The problem is not lack of revelation but lack of response. The Word is sufficient and authoritative; to ignore it is to ignore the very voice of God. J
This verse reminds us that miracles are not the cure for a resistant heart. Deuteronomy 15:7–11 commanded openhandedness to the poor; Isaiah 58:6–10 called for loosening the chains of injustice; Amos 5:21–24 thundered that worship without justice is worthless. The message was already there. J. B. Phillips, who sought to render Scripture clear to modern ears, would insist that God’s Word speaks plainly—the problem is not light but will. Eugene Peterson often reminded us that discipleship is “a long obedience in the same direction,” shaped not by spectacular signs but by the steady listening to Scripture in ordinary time. The Word of God is not lacking in clarity; what is lacking is the heart that will hear and obey.
v.30 — Signs Without Surrender
Spectacle cannot substitute for obedience.
v.30 — “No, father Abraham… if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.”
Luke 16:30
The rich man protests: “No, father Abraham… if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.” He clings to the idea that what his brothers need is something spectacular—an otherworldly sign that will shock them into faith. His reasoning reflects a common human assumption: that if God would just do something extraordinary, people would finally believe. Yet Scripture and experience show otherwise. Even when another Lazarus was raised from the dead in John 11, many did not believe; in fact, the religious leaders plotted to kill both Jesus and Lazarus (John 12:9–11). Miracles can startle, but they cannot soften a hard heart. Repentance requires something deeper: the humble surrender of the will to the Word of God.
The meaning is clear: signs cannot substitute for obedience to revelation already given. Jesus Himself warned in Matthew 12:38–41 that those demanding signs would be judged by the Ninevites and the Queen of the South, who responded to far less light. Donald Coggan rightly cautioned that the search for spiritual novelties often masks an unwillingness to obey what we already know. Spectacle may impress the senses, but only God’s Spirit through His Word can change the heart. The rich man’s plea reveals a tragic irony: he demands a resurrection sign, not realizing that the greatest resurrection—Christ’s—would come, and still many would refuse to believe.
v.31 — The Final Summons
Resurrection confirms the Word, it does not coerce faith.
v.31 — “If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”
Luke 16:31
Abraham’s final words bring the story to its climax: “If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” The irony is sharp. Jesus, telling this parable, is on His way to Jerusalem where He will die and rise again. Yet He knows that even this supreme miracle will not persuade hearts already hardened in unbelief. The Pharisees, already sneering at Him (Luke 16:14), were so set in their ways that no evidence—even the Son of God Himself risen from the grave—could reach their ears. The rich man’s plea for a sign is denied, not because God withholds light, but because disbelief is not cured by miracles and spectacles. It is a matter of the will, not of proof.
The meaning is direct: the decisive call is to hear and obey God’s Word now. The risen Christ Himself later explained to His disciples that Moses, the Prophets, and the Psalms all pointed to Him (Luke 24:25–27, 44–49). At Pentecost, Peter declared with boldness: “God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of it” (Acts 2:32). Yet even then, some resisted. Alexander Maclaren notes that the parable ends not with sentiment but with a summons—to take God’s Word seriously before it is too late. Timothy Keller and John Stott both stress that repentance is today’s work; resurrection does not coerce faith, it confirms Scripture. The question is not whether God has spoken, but whether we will listen.
Conclusion
Jesus told this story to the Pharisees who “were lovers of money” (Luke 16:14). They knew the Law, preached it publicly, and tried to push into God’s kingdom on their own terms, but they missed its heart: mercy and justice. Even when they witnessed Jesus’ miracles, they refused to believe. By contrasting a nameless rich man with Lazarus—whose very name means “God is my help”—Jesus showed that heaven remembers the forgotten. The name itself is a sermon, declaring that true security rests not in wealth or status but in God’s mercy. In this contrast, Jesus exposed how faith without compassion and religion without obedience to God’s Word are hollow and lifeless. The parable asks each of us: Do you allow God—and the poor He places at your gate—into your life?
At the same time, this story carries deep encouragement for the downtrodden, the sick, and the forgotten. Those who endure hardship with faith are not abandoned. Lazarus, whose life was marked by pain, is lifted into Abraham’s embrace. Paul longed “to depart and be with Christ” (Phil 1:23), and Jesus assured the repentant thief, “Today you will be with me in paradise” (Luke 23:43). The gate that once excluded Lazarus became the door to eternal fellowship. For those who trust in Christ, suffering does not have the last word.
The parable makes clear that only through Christ can the great chasm be crossed. Wealth, privilege, or status cannot save; neither can miracles or religious effort. It is Christ alone who saves, and His Word calls us to repent, love, and believe today. Our task is to see the people at our gates, to steward our resources as tools for mercy, to anchor our lives in Scripture, and to live with eternity in view. The final question is not whether God has spoken, but whether we will listen and obey.
And so Paul’s exhortation to Timothy becomes our call as well: “But you, man of God, flee from all this, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession” (1 Tim 6:11–12). Where the rich man clung to fleeting comforts, we are invited to grasp the life that is truly life. The great fight of faith is not won in grand gestures but in daily choices—to turn from greed, to pursue godliness, and to love with eternal vision.
C. S. Lewis once reflected on his own conversion, naming Tolkien and Dyson as companions on the way, and asked: “Is any pleasure on earth as great as a circle of Christian friends by a good fire?” His words remind us that the true feast is not found in isolated indulgence but in fellowship centered on Christ. The rich man’s table was barren of love, but Lazarus was carried into Abraham’s embrace—the banquet of eternal communion. Lewis’s testimony presses us to treasure the gift of Christian fellowship here and now, for it anticipates the joy of heaven’s table. To see with eternal eyes is to recognize that our wealth is found not in what we hoard but in the circle of grace God gathers us into, both in this life and in the life to come.
Closing Prayer
Merciful God,
Thank You for reminding us that life is more than possessions and eternity more than appearances. Forgive us for the times we have walked past those You placed in our path. Give us courage to act with compassion, generosity, and faithfulness, using what You have entrusted to us for Your glory and the good of others. Keep us anchored in Your unshakable Word, and ready for the day when faith becomes sight. We hold fast to the promise of Jesus: “Today you will be with me in paradise.” May we live each day with eternal vision, seeing as You see, until we are carried at last into Your presence. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.
Reflection Questions & Answers
1. Why does Jesus leave the rich man nameless while giving the poor man the name Lazarus?
Answer: The namelessness of the rich man shows how wealth, when idolized, strips a person of their true identity before God. In contrast, Lazarus—meaning “God is my help”—is remembered by name in heaven, a testimony that God honors those the world forgets (Isa 43:1; John 10:3). The lesson: identity is found not in possessions but in God’s mercy.
2. What was the rich man’s sin, and why was his judgment so severe?
Answer: His sin was not active cruelty but callous neglect. He ignored Lazarus at his gate, failing to use his wealth for mercy (Deut 15:7–11; Isa 58:6–10). As Matthew Henry noted, he “had his heaven on earth,” while Alexander Maclaren stressed that the reversal was moral, not arbitrary. Memory itself became judgment—his wasted opportunities testified against him (Luke 6:24; James 5:1–5).
3. What does the “great chasm” (v.26) teach us about judgment?
Answer: The chasm represents the finality of destiny after death. Hebrews 9:27 affirms that people die once and then face judgment. C. S. Lewis explained that in heaven the soul says to God, “Thy will be done,” while in hell God sorrowfully says to the soul, “Thy will be done.” J. I. Packer adds that this fixity is not arbitrary but the ratification of the life-direction we choose.
4. Why does Abraham direct the rich man’s brothers to “Moses and the Prophets” (vv.29–31) instead of granting a miraculous sign?
Answer: Scripture is sufficient. The Law and the Prophets already commanded love for neighbor and justice for the poor. Miracles can startle but cannot soften a hard heart (John 5:39–40; John 12:9–11). Donald Coggan warned against chasing novelties while neglecting obedience. As Eugene Peterson said, true discipleship is “a long obedience in the same direction.”
5. How does Paul’s teaching in 1 Timothy 6:6–19 shed light on this parable?
Answer: Paul echoes Jesus by warning that the love of money leads to ruin (vv.6–10). He exhorts believers to flee greed and “pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness” (vv.11–12). He gives a positive vision: “Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds… to lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age” (vv.18–19). The rich man failed this test; disciples of Christ are called to pass it by living generously with eternal vision.
6. What encouragement does this parable offer the downtrodden and overlooked?
Answer: The story affirms that God sees and honors those the world ignores. Lazarus, despised on earth, is carried into Abraham’s embrace. Psalm 9:18 declares, “The hope of the afflicted will never perish.” The encouragement is this: suffering now does not have the last word—eternal comfort awaits those who trust in God.
C. S. Lewis, in The Weight of Glory, reminds us that heaven and hell are the two possible futures that await us: “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses… There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” Every person we encounter is on an eternal trajectory—toward everlasting splendor or ruin. This means that the “Lazarus” at our gate is not just a problem to be ignored but a person of eternal worth. The encouragement for the downtrodden is that God has not forgotten them, and the challenge for us is that how we treat them participates in shaping eternal destiniesThe encouragement is this: suffering now does not have the last word—eternal comfort awaits those who trust in God.
7. How should this parable shape our discipleship today?
Answer: It calls us to “see the Lazarus at our gate,” to steward wealth as mercy, and to remember eternity in daily choices. We are to fight the good fight of faith (1 Tim 6:12), anchoring our lives in Scripture and generosity. The rich man’s wasted life warns us; Paul’s vision in 1 Timothy 6 invites us to take hold of “the life that is truly life” (v.19).
