Commentary - Luke 16:19-31

Bird's-eye view

In this sobering account, the Lord Jesus pulls back the curtain between time and eternity to give us a glimpse of the afterlife. This is not a parable in the same vein as the others; it is a direct narrative that names its characters and describes the unseen realm with stark reality. Jesus tells this story to a specific audience, the Pharisees, who were lovers of money and who scoffed at His teaching on stewardship. The story concerns two men whose earthly circumstances could not be more different: a fabulously wealthy man who lives for pleasure, and a desperately poor beggar named Lazarus. Upon death, their situations are dramatically and eternally reversed. The story serves as a blistering warning against the soul-numbing dangers of wealth and comfort when they are divorced from the fear of God. More than that, it is a profound declaration on the absolute sufficiency of Scripture. The climax of the story is not the torment of the rich man, but rather the divine declaration that if men will not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded even by a man returning from the dead.

This is a story about the great reversal, the great chasm, and the great sufficiency of God's Word. It teaches us that earthly wealth is a miserable indicator of spiritual health, that the judgments of God are both just and final, and that the only reliable guide for this life and the next is the Bible that God has already given us. To ask for more is to reveal a heart that has already rejected what is more than enough.

Outline

Context In Luke

This powerful story comes directly on the heels of Jesus' teaching on money and stewardship in the first part of Luke 16. He had just told the parable of the shrewd manager, concluding that one cannot serve both God and money. The Pharisees, who are explicitly identified as "lovers of money," heard all this and "were scoffing at Him" (Luke 16:14). Jesus rebuked them for justifying themselves before men, reminding them that what is highly esteemed among men is an abomination in the sight of God (Luke 16:15). He then affirmed the enduring authority of the Law and the Prophets (Luke 16:17). The story of the rich man and Lazarus, therefore, is not a random anecdote. It is a divine illustration aimed directly at the hearts of these materialistic religious leaders. It is the ultimate case study demonstrating the eternal consequences of serving money instead of God and of ignoring the clear testimony of Scripture.

Key Issues

The Chasm and the Word

We must be careful to identify the central sin of the rich man. Jesus does not say he acquired his wealth dishonestly. He does not say he was a blasphemer or an idolater in the overt sense. His sin was a practical atheism, a complete self-absorption that rendered his neighbor invisible. He lived as though Lazarus did not exist, and by extension, as though the God who commanded him to love his neighbor did not exist. He was not condemned for being rich, but for being a man whose heart was so calloused by his riches that he could step over a dying man at his gate every day without a thought. His life was a violation of the entire second table of the law, which is a violation of the first. He loved himself, not his neighbor, and therefore proved he did not love God.

This story is a bucket of ice water on all forms of the prosperity gospel. It shows in the starkest terms that there is zero correlation between earthly comfort and eternal reward. In fact, for those who, like the Pharisees, love money, there is an inverse correlation. The story forces us to ask what we are truly living for. Are we living for the purple and fine linen of this life, or are we, like Lazarus, those whose only hope is that God is our help?

Verse by Verse Commentary

19 “Now there was a rich man, and he habitually dressed in purple and fine linen, joyously living in splendor every day.

Jesus begins by painting a picture of unrestrained luxury. This man's wealth is not a secret. Purple dye was fantastically expensive, reserved for royalty and the super-elite. Fine linen was the Egyptian cotton of its day. This was his habitual dress, not just for special occasions. And his life was a party, living joyously and in splendor every day. He was living his best life now, as they say. He had everything a man could want in this world, and he was thoroughly enjoying it. There is no hint of guilt or concern; his conscience is clear, because it is dead.

20-21 But a poor man named Lazarus was laid at his gate, covered with sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs which were falling from the rich man’s table; besides, even the dogs were coming and licking his sores.

The contrast is brutal. At the gate of the splendid man lies a destitute man. The fact that he was "laid" there implies he was too sick to get there himself. He is a fixture, a piece of human refuse at the edge of the property. He is named Lazarus, which means "God is my help." This is a profound irony; the man with nothing has a name that points to everything. He has two afflictions: he is starving and he is sick, covered with open sores. His desire is minimal: not for a place at the table, but just for the scraps that fell to the floor. To complete the picture of degradation, the dogs, unclean animals to the Jews, come and lick his sores. Some see this as a comfort, but it is more likely a picture of utter helplessness; he is too weak even to shoo away the street dogs. They treat him as they would a carcass.

22 Now it happened that the poor man died and was carried away by the angels to Abraham’s bosom, and the rich man also died and was buried.

Here is the great pivot. Death, the great equalizer, comes to both. But their deaths are not equal. Lazarus dies, and his soul is given an angelic honor guard. He is escorted to "Abraham's bosom," a term for Paradise, a place of honor and intimacy with the great patriarch of the faith. It is the seat of honor at the eternal banquet. The rich man also dies. And he was buried. That is all. No angels, no honor. His body is put in the ground, likely with a great and expensive funeral, but in the economy of heaven, it is a non-event. His story on earth is over.

23 And in Hades he lifted up his eyes, being in torment, and saw Abraham far away and Lazarus in his bosom.

The rich man's story is not over. He finds himself in Hades, the Greek term for the Hebrew Sheol, the realm of the dead. But Hades is not a neutral waiting room; for him, it is a place of active torment. And part of that torment is sight. He can see across the chasm to the place of blessing. He sees Abraham, the father of his people, and with him, in the place of honor, is the very beggar he ignored. The sight of Lazarus's comfort is an integral part of his own agony.

24 And he cried out and said, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus so that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool off my tongue, for I am in agony in this flame.’

In his torment, he cries out. He claims kinship with Abraham, calling him "father," trying to appeal to his covenant identity. But his request is telling. He is still the rich man. He still sees Lazarus not as a brother to be reconciled with, but as a servant to be dispatched on an errand. "Send Lazarus." He does not ask for salvation, only for a trivial and temporary relief, a single drop of water. He acknowledges his agony in the flame, but he has not yet grasped the justice of it. His pride and arrogance have survived death.

25 But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your life you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus bad things. But now he is being comforted here, and you are in agony.

Abraham's response is firm but not unkind; he calls him "Child." The first word of his reply is crucial: Remember. Hell is a place of perfect, agonizing memory. He is told to remember that he made his choice. He received his reward in full during his life. He chose the "good things" of earth as his ultimate treasure. Lazarus received the "bad things." The accounts are now being balanced. The time for comfort and agony has been reversed, according to a perfectly just standard.

26 And besides all this, between us and you there is a great chasm fixed, so that those who wish to come over from here to you are not able to, and none may cross over from there to us.’

This is one of the most terrifying verses in all of Scripture. There is a "great chasm fixed." It is permanent and uncrossable. This utterly demolishes any notion of purgatory, reincarnation, or a second chance after death. The chasm is fixed by divine decree. The separation between the saved and the lost is final and absolute. The decisions made in this brief life have eternal, unalterable consequences.

27-28 And he said, ‘Then I am asking you, father, that you send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, in order that he may warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’

His first plea having failed, he makes a second. This one appears more noble; he seems to be concerned for his five brothers. But at its root, it is an indictment of God's methods. He is implying that his brothers have not been warned adequately. He is still thinking in terms of signs and wonders. He believes that a ghost story, a messenger from the dead, is what is needed to get their attention. He still thinks he knows better than God how to save his family.

29 But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.’

This is the central lesson of the entire story. Abraham's answer is simple and profound. Your brothers have everything they need. They have the Scriptures. "Moses and the Prophets" was a common way of referring to the entire Old Testament. The written Word of God is God's designated and sufficient means for salvation. If they want to avoid this place of torment, the path is not through a séance but through the pages of Holy Writ. Let them read their Bibles.

30 But he said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent!’

The audacity is stunning. The man in hell flatly contradicts the spokesman of heaven. "No." He argues with Abraham. He is an expert on evangelism now. He insists that the Word is not enough, but a spectacular miracle would surely do the trick. This is the perpetual cry of the unbelieving heart: "Give me a sign. Don't give me a book, give me a spectacle."

31 But he said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

Abraham has the last word, and it is a word of final judgment on the nature of unbelief. The problem is not a lack of evidence; the problem is a hard heart. A heart that is determined to reject the plain teaching of Scripture has already made up its mind. No amount of evidence, no matter how spectacular, can penetrate a will that is set in rebellion. This was, of course, prophetically true. Jesus, the one telling the story, would Himself rise from the dead. And did the Pharisees, who had Moses and the Prophets, believe? They did not. Instead, they tried to suppress the evidence and kill the witnesses. This story is not just about a rich man; it is about the nation he represents, and the Lord they would reject.

Application

First, this story demands that we examine our relationship with our possessions. Money is a tool, but it is a dangerous one. It creates a bubble of comfort and self-sufficiency that can deafen us to the Word of God and blind us to the needs of our neighbor. We must relentlessly fight the temptation to find our security and our joy in the things of this world. We must be the ones who see the Lazarus at our gate, whether he is on our street corner or across the globe.

Second, we must be people of the Book. Our culture is just like the rich man and his brothers, always chasing after the next experience, the next sign, the next emotional high. We are told that the Bible is old, boring, and insufficient for our modern problems. Jesus says the opposite. The Word of God is living, powerful, and utterly sufficient to bring us to repentance and faith. We must build our lives, our families, and our churches on the solid rock of Scripture, and not on the shifting sands of human experience or miraculous claims.

Finally, this story preaches the gospel. We are all spiritually destitute like Lazarus, covered in the sores of our sin, unable to help ourselves. We lie at the gate of heaven with nothing to offer. Our only hope is a name: "God is my help." And God has helped us. He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, who left the splendor of heaven, became poor for our sake, and died our death. And then He rose from the dead, the ultimate sign that the rich man thought would convert his brothers. If we will not believe this gospel, testified to by all of Scripture, then there is nothing else. But if we do believe, if we cling to Christ as our only hope, then when we die, the angels will come for us, and carry us home.