Wealth

We Still Have Time

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Luke 16:19-31

“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 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. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. 

In Hades, where he was being tormented, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. 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.’ 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. 

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.’ 

He said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ 

Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”


The world was supposed to end on Tuesday. It was the latest prediction of the rapture to gain notoriety. 

Pastor Joshua Mhlakela from South Africa claimed he received a vision from Jesus that September 23—maybe the 24th—would be the day the holiest of God would be taken up, leaving the rest behind for the seven years of tribulation. So either it didn’t happen, or none of us made the cut: you decide.

What circulated around the internet this week, especially TikTok, were the great lengths some went to prepare. One man said, “I won’t need my car.” So he sold it. I wonder what dealership he visited over the weekend.

There were multiple reports of people quitting their jobs. One couple left a $1,900 tip for their Uber driver because they wouldn’t need the money, implying, of course, that the driver would.

But the response I found most fascinating was a woman who left a guide on what to do before being whisked away: unlock your phone, write down all your passwords, leave Bibles around, and write a note about why you were selected, and what others could do to be taken up after the seven-year tribulation.

I don’t believe in the rapture, and I’ve preached on that before. I’m not bringing this up to make fun, because for some people, anxiety about when—or if—they will be taken is crippling. What a dreadful fear that must be. 

I bring this up because it raises a deeper question: What does it take for someone to repent? To change their mind, their heart, their life, here and now? That’s what the woman on TikTok was after as she left notes and Bibles. And that same question lies at the heart of today’s parable: What will it take to repent?

After being away from the lectionary for two months, I was hoping for a less challenging text. Not challenging because it’s hard to understand, but challenging because its meaning seems so crystal clear: if you suffer in this life, you will be rewarded with good things in the life to come. If you receive good things in this life and do not help others, you will suffer in the life to come.

But I don’t think this parable is primarily about the afterlife or how to get there. The hyperbole, extremes, and exaggeration are all there to tell a memorable story. They grab our attention, which is the goal, because above all, this is a parable of warning—and of hope.

It is through this lens that we meet the rich man, set up as someone so wealthy we can’t even identify with him. That’s why he remains nameless throughout the parable. 

Every day he donned the finest clothes and feasted extravagantly. He lived in a way that made sure everyone knew he was wealthy. And it worked—that’s how Lazarus came to be at his gate. The text implies that Lazarus was brought and laid there intentionally. Townspeople likely thought, “Surely this man, who is so rich, will do what Jewish teaching says and take care of him.”

Lazarus was clearly in need: lying on the ground, hungry, covered in sores. The only source of companionship and care came from the dogs, who licked his wounds. All the while, the rich man came and went, passing Lazarus at his gate, never lending a hand. Even the dogs realized what the rich man could not: people who are poor and in pain need help.

After they both die, the story shifts to the rich man’s perspective. Tormented in Hades, he looks up—and to his shock sees Abraham, with Lazarus right beside him. He thinks, “I know him! That’s Lazarus. Abraham can send him to help me!”  In that moment, two truths become clear.

First, the rich man knew Lazarus - called him by name. He had become acquainted with the poor, sick, hungry person dying at his gate—and still did nothing. 

Second, and worse than that, even looking up in Hades, he still saw Lazarus only as someone beneath him; fit to fetch at his command: first a drop of water, then to warn his brothers.

The sad, enraging thing is that the rich man still doesn’t grasp why he ended up in torment. His concern is only for sparing his brothers, not for relieving the suffering of the countless people without food, shelter, or care.

And yet, he is convinced! If a ghost were to visit them, like Marley in A Christmas Carol, perhaps those scrooges could be saved from the same torment that awaits him. But Abraham repeats, “They have the commands from Moses, they have the prophets, and they did not listen to them. What makes you think hearing from the resurrected will change anything?”

What Abraham says to the rich man, he also says to us. We are the rich man’s siblings. And the parable does for us what the rich man wanted done for his brothers: it brings us a word of warning from the resurrected one. So we must ask: What will it take for you to repent? 

What will it take for us to repent—not only as individuals, but as a society?

We already have what we need, no? We have the commands of Moses: love God, love neighbor, care for the immigrant, the impoverished. We have the voices of the prophets. Amos says it plain: Woe to those stretched out on beds of comfort, lounging without a care. Woe to those who feast on the finest meats, who drink wine by the bowl and drench themselves in luxury, yet never pause to grieve the ruin of their neighbors, never shed a tear for the suffering of people.

And still, Lazarus waits at our gates—here, today, in our own community.

Today Lazarus is the child whose family lost SNAP benefits and doesn’t know where dinner will come from because over the summer, our elected officials cut snap benefits by billions of dollars.

Today Lazarus is a single mother here on the east side of Indianapolis, stretching herself thin after the On My Way Pre-K funding was cut in half. Families living far below the poverty line now have even fewer options for their children. Cierra, a single mother of twin boys, explained: “With all the shortages, it’s making us single moms work longer hours and find more money. Daycare costs are going up, but the help is going down.”

These are just a few examples of policies and funding cuts that save a dollar but create more Lazaruses laying at the gates, camping behind walmarts, and standing in line at the food pantries. 

What will it take for us to repent? A note from the raptured? A word from the prophets? The teachings and life of the resurrected Jesus Chirst? We have them all. 

The hope in all of this is that we still have time. We still have time to learn the names of our neighbors who are struggling—and to help them. 

We still have time to call on elected officials to enact policies that lift up the Lazaruses among us, not give more money to the rich man; to care for this beautiful creation God has entrusted to us; to be generous with the resources, money, and talent God has given each of us. 

We still have time as a church to imagine how, over the next twenty-five years, we can grow our mission and ministry—not just our building—to better serve a community in need of God’s grace. 

If you are wondering where to begin, we have options here: 

  • contribute to a meal for Agape, our ministry serving sex workers on the east side; 

  • sign up to help with our food pantry or donate a couple bags of food; 

  • give to Project Rouj and help build homes in Haiti; 

  • join our Racial Justice team and learn what so often leads to a Lazarus lying at the gate in the first place.

We still have time to live as God’s generous people, to love our neighbors, and to care for this world we share. 

We still have time. After all, the world didn’t end on Tuesday. Amen.

The Rich Man and The Prodigal Son

Mark 10:17-31

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”


I hope you’ll bear with me today, because this might be a stretch and a little bit strange and it’s something I’m still making sense of myself, but this week I feel like I learned a new thing - or noticed a new thing - and I want to share it with you. I found myself drawing connections between this morning’s gospel story in Mark and the Parable of the Prodigal Son, as most people know it, in Luke’s Gospel.

I think most of us know enough about this one without having, even, to break out our Gospels of Luke – the only place in Scripture where Jesus tells that particular parable. There are a million details that matter in this oldy but goody, but the short of the long is this: there’s a father who has two sons, the younger of which comes to his dad and asks for his inheritance, even before his father has kicked the bucket. And the generous, loving father gives the young son half of what he might inherit when the time comes – presumably no small amount of money, stuff and valuable things – and the kid hits the road, spends, uses, and wastes it all on “dissolute living,” as the story goes. (In other words, ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ kind of living.)

And when he can no longer take care of himself – when he’s out of money, things and stuff – when he’s as broke as can be – when he finds himself slopping it up with the pigs – the young son comes back to daddy, broken… ashamed… empty in every way – and asks to be let back in to the family’s good graces. Which happens, because remember the young man’s dad – who plays the part of God in that parable – is a generous and loving Father. It’s a beautiful story about the nature of God’s abundant grace and mercy, love and forgiveness. It points to a vision of what life in God’s kingdom is like, or can be for us.

And, if Jesus is anything like the rest of us, he knows a good story – a good sermon – a good lesson – when he hears one. So I have to think, even though we only hear him tell this parable one time, in Luke’s Gospel, that Jesus probably told that story and taught that lesson more often. And even if he didn’t, Jesus had it in his back pocket and he knew the power and impact of the lesson it held.

All of that to say, I couldn’t help but imagine that this oldy-but-goody is swimming around in the head and heart of Jesus when this strange, rich man interrupts him as Jesus is apparently packing for his next road trip. “Good teacher,” he says, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “How do I get my cosmic inheritance.” “What do I need to do – what’s the silver bullet – what’s the magic pill – is there a BuzzFeed list of 12 things that can tell me the way to eternal life?”

Of course, there is no list. Even the 10 Commandments wouldn’t cut it, according to Jesus. The man implies that he’s kept all of those his whole life long and Jesus says, “You still lack one thing. Sell what you own, give the money to the poor, and you will find treasure in heaven. Then come and follow me.”

Do you see the connection to that other story?

Something about an inheritance, and then “take what’s been given to you. Unload it. Be rid of it. Empty your coffers until there’s nothing left. And you will find treasure in heaven. THEN come back and follow me.”

The solution is the same for both the Rich Man this morning and for the Younger Son in the parable: we will find out what really matters when we stop pretending that what really matters is money, wealth, things and stuff. We will find our way to the Kingdom – we will inherit eternal life, in this world and for the next – when we stop valuing the things of this world, when we lose our attachment to them, when we remove their power over us, and when we, instead, leave ourselves no other option but to follow and rely on and trust in the ways of Jesus.

(And it’s important to notice that it doesn’t matter one bit that the Prodigal Son lost his wealth to dissolute living and that the Rich Man was commanded to give his wealth to the poor. The common ground for them was not in their righteousness, in their good works, or lack thereof. It wasn’t about whether they did the right or wrong thing with their money. Their common ground – their way to the Kingdom – as Jesus sees it, is found in their poverty, plain and simple, however they accomplished it. Their way to the Kingdom would come through their loss of what they valued most; through their giving up of what they thought would save them.)

See, the power and challenge for me, then, in recognizing that both of these stories come from the lips of Jesus lies in the hard truth that, the more money and things and stuff I have – and whatever safety and security and status they afford me … along with the striving I do to get and hold onto them – all of that actually keeps me from the Kingdom; it removes me from the fullness of joy God intends for me; it limits my access to eternal, abundant life as God hopes I’ll experience it on this side of the grave – not just the next – which is the other reality check for me this morning.

Because, I wonder, when you think of eternal life, what comes to mind? When you consider the Kingdom of God, what do you imagine? When we hear the rich man in this morning’s Gospel ask about how he can inherit eternal life, what do we presume he is asking?

(My hunch is that most of us – like the guy who asks about it this morning – think about eternal life as something we’ll experience or be assured of after we’re dead and gone. My hunch is that most of us think about the Kingdom of God as having an address somewhere up there and out there and on the other side of our tombstone.)

 But, we’re meant to believe, with the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus, that God has already broken ground on the establishment of heaven’s kingdom, right here on earth as we know it. And if that’s the case, we don’t have to wait to experience the joys of that kingdom, until after we’re dead. And we don’t have to wait to start sharing the joys of that kingdom with the world around us until this life, as we know it, is over, either.

So all of this is about getting rid of our money and being generous. It’s not about works righteousness or buying God’s love or earning our way into heaven. This is about going without, doing without, becoming less and relying more on God’s provision than on our own. This is an invitation, if not a command and a double-dog-dare from Jesus, to experience the joys of selflessness and generosity – to practice poverty, if you will – in order to trust in God’s abundance and to experience the very Kingdom of God in our midst – on earth as it is in heaven, you might say.

I think one of the reasons our work in Haiti is so compelling for me – and to anyone who’s been there – is because we get a glimpse of the Kingdom in Fondwa, where possessions are hard to come by; where wealth and riches aren’t even a possibility; and where we are reminded about what we can live with and what we really can and should live without more often than we do.

I think the Kingdom comes to earth for those who participate in our Agape Ministry, too, because when our people serve and sit with the prostitutes on the city’s east side, what we think matters so much about our identity on this side of the tracks – what we do for a living or where we live or what kind of car we drive – couldn’t mean much less on that side of the tracks.

And I think the Kingdom is alive and well in the midst of our SonRise Bibe Study ministry, too, because none of the measuring sticks that matter to the rest of the world mean a lick to those adults with physical and intellectual differences and disabilities, who share in and celebrate the grace of God, just as fully, if not moreso, than you and I are able to a lot of the time.

Jesus dares us to rid ourselves of whatever the world tells us is valuable – our money, our things, our stuff, and our status – and to rest in and rely on what God can accomplish through all that we give up, give away and do without. Jesus invites us to follow him toward this kind of selfless generosity. And Jesus promises us that when we do, we will experience the Kingdom of God, here and now, where less is more; where the last are first and the first are last; where death becomes life, even, in this world and for the next, thanks be to God.

Amen