Luke 16:19-31 · The Rich Man And Lazarus
Living in Denial
Luke 16:19-31
Sermon
by King Duncan
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Imagine you are a race car driver in the Indianapolis 500 automobile race. How would you deal with the inherent risks associated with this sport? How would you deal with the possibility of crashing, even dying, on that track?

According to one driver, you don’t. “[If a fatal accident occurs,] you don’t go look at where it happened. You don’t watch the films of it on television. You don’t deal with it. You pretend it never happened.”

The Indianapolis International Speedway operation itself encourages this approach. As soon as the track closes the day of an accident, a crew heads out to paint over the spot where the car hit the wall. Through the years, a driver has never been pronounced dead at the race track. A trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Racing Museum, located inside the 2.5‑mile oval, has no memorial to the 40 drivers who have lost their lives here. Nowhere is there even a mention.

It reminds me of a line in the old Broadway musical Jumbo. Jimmy Durante, who has just stolen a circus elephant, is tiptoeing across the stage with the huge pachyderm clomping behind him. He’s stopped by the sheriff, who demands, “Where are you going with that elephant?”

And Durante, looking as innocent as only Durante could, says, “WHAT elephant?” (1) Let’s talk for a few minutes about living in denial.

Living in denial is a favorite occupation of many people. Some people would simply prefer not to face reality.

Jane Wagner once said, “I made some studies, and reality is the leading cause of stress amongst those in touch with it.” Then she adds, “I can take [reality] in small doses, but as a lifestyle, I found it too confining.”

Reality is stressful. If we could only turn a blind eye to it, life would be so much easier.

Our story today is about a man who had learned to do just that. You know the story well.

There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury. At his gate lay a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs came and licked Lazarus’ sores.

The time came when Lazarus died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side in heaven. The rich man also died. In hell, where he was in torment, the rich man looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, “Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.”

But Abraham replied, “Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.”

The rich man answered, “Then I beg you, father, 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.”

“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

“No, father Abraham,” he said, “but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.”

Abraham said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”

Focus please on those words: “ . . . they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”

Some people live in denial. Even if someone rises from the dead, they will not change their minds!

IT’S AMAZING HOW EASY IT IS FOR US TO SEE DENIAL IN OTHERS. We see the young woman in love with a scoundrel. Can’t she see where this relationship is leading? Or does she not want to see? We see the middle-aged man not taking care of his body. Can’t he see what he is doing to himself? Sometimes we get frustrated if it is someone we love. We want to grab them and shake them into reality. Don’t you know that, if you do not get help for this problem, you are going to wreck your life? Denial. There are many possibilities for living in denial. Some of them are suggested by this story that Jesus told.

Let’s begin here: We are living in denial if we believe that casual christianity is a viable choice. Casual Christianity. It’s a comfortable place to be. Eternal life with very few demands. Forgiveness without true repentance. Respectability with few responsibilities. Yes, it’s a nice lifestyle. The only problem is that it is an illusion.

You may remember the time-honored story of the frustrated skeptic who blurted out, “If I believed what you Christians believed, I would crawl through a field of broken glass to tell others about it . . .”

And, if we think about it, which we try not to do, it is an accurate statement of fact. Our commitment as Christians is a poor imitation of the real thing. Oh, in our mind, we make excuses.

You may be familiar with the story of some GIs who were on furlough. A commanding officer was furious when nine of these soldiers failed to show up for morning roll call. The first man didn’t straggle in until 7:00 p.m.

“I’m sorry sir,” the soldier explained, “but I had a date and lost track of the time, and I missed the bus back. However, being determined to get in on time, I hired a cab. Halfway here, the cab broke down. I went to a farmhouse and persuaded the farmer to sell me a horse. I was riding to camp when the animal fell over dead. I walked the last ten miles, and just got here.”

Though skeptical, the Colonel let the young man off with a reprimand. However, after him, seven other stragglers in a row came in with the same exact story: had a date, missed the bus, hired a cab, bought a horse, it died, etc. By the time the ninth man reported in, the colonel had, of course, grown weary of it. With a great deal of impatience, he asked, “What happened to you?”

“Sir,” the GI said, “I had this date and missed the bus back so I hired a cab.”

“Wait!” the colonel screeched at him, “don’t tell me the cab broke down.”

“No sir,” replied the soldier. “The cab didn’t break down. It was just that there were so many dead horses in the road, we had trouble getting through.” (2)

As they say, one excuse is about as good as another for letting our commitment to Christ assume a low priority in our lives. Casual Christianity. Is that where you are today? Denial. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Unfortunately, it’s an illusion.

Here’s another example: We are living in denial if we believe we can be Lone Ranger Christians. That is, that we can ignore our neighbors, be blind to the needs of strangers, and still say that we follow Jesus.

The rich man in Jesus’ story was an expert at this. Lazarus lay right outside his door and chances are he never saw him. Oh, maybe at first. But soon he was able to shut the desperate man out of his visual field. The poor beggar was an “Inconvenient Truth,” to use Al Gore’s phrase, that the rich man was able to ignore.

It’s amazing how easy that is to do. Oh, we don’t have beggars lying outside our houses, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t have neighbors who have needs. If we were to survey our community, we would find people with heartbreaking needs. People grieving over a dying mother, parents struggling with a son’s or daughter’s addiction, middle-aged people with a ton of guilt. Sometimes all they need is a word of encouragement, an invitation to worship, a chance to express their grief. But we don’t even know them. We can live blissfully in our own little world and pretend that Jesus didn’t say anything about being a good neighbor, about being sensitive to people who have special needs. But he did, and because he did, we may need to take stock of our lives.

I read a story recently about a good neighbor. A pastor’s wife tells about a friend who once lived in the remote town of Victory, Vermont:

“No school, no church, no store, and famous for being the last town in Vermont to receive electricity. During the course of earning her master’s degree, this friend found it necessary to commute several times a week from Victory to the state university in Burlington, a good hundred miles away. Coming home late at night, she would see an old man sitting by the side of the road. He was always there, in sub-zero temperatures, in stormy weather, no matter how late she returned. He just sat there--he made no acknowledgment of her when she drove by.

“She often wondered what brought him to that same spot every evening--what stubborn habit, private grief or mental disorder. Finally she asked a neighbor, ‘Have you ever seen an old man who sits by the road late at night?’

“‘Oh, yes,’ said her neighbor, ‘many times.’

“‘Is he . . . a little touched in the head?’ she asked.

“‘He’s no more touched than you or me,’ her neighbor laughed, ‘and he goes home right after you do. You see, he doesn’t like the idea of you driving by yourself out late all alone on these back roads, so every night he walks out to wait for you. When he sees your taillights disappear around the bend and he knows you are OK, then he goes home to bed.’” (3)

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a neighbor like that? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to BE a neighbor like that? But we would rather live in denial. It’s so much easier.

One final example: We are living in denial if we believe we have no responsibility for the least and lowest in our world.

One of the saddest occurrences of our time is how hard-hearted many Christians have become to the people at the bottom of society. I know, the poor are not easy to love. Some of them have the problems they have because they have been irresponsible. Many of them will not help themselves. Many of them have gotten to the point where they are powerless to help themselves. So we ignore them. We try to shut them out. There was once a time when a Christian would look at someone in that condition and whisper, “There, but for the Grace of God, go I,” and lend a helping hand. But like the rich man who ignored Lazarus, many of us have built up a system of rationalizations that make the poor responsible for their own redemption.

We are like Bobby and Billy, two brothers, who were assigned the responsibility of mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges while their parents went on a short trip.

When the parents returned, nothing had been done. Dad was very upset. He asked Bobby, “What have you been doing while we were gone?”

Bobby replied in a low voice, “Nothing.”

Dad then turns to Billy and asks, “What have you been doing?”

Billy replied, “Helping Bobby.”

Maybe we can make it work. Maybe we can continue to be casual in our commitment to Christ. Maybe we can continue to live in our own little world and ignore our neighbors. Maybe Jesus didn’t mean it when he said, “When you did it not to the least of these, you did it not to me.” But I doubt it. We have a choice to make: denial or discipleship?

Stuart Jackson once wrote a novel which he titled THE DAVIDSON AFFAIR. Here’s how the story goes. Television news anchor, Cass Tennell, is sent by his network to cover an intriguing story. It seems that a man named Jesus Davidson has reportedly been resurrected from the dead in one of the outlying colonies of the Roman Empire.

Tennell interviews Pilate and Herod and hears them say that there is no truth to the rumor. They tell him the grave was robbed. He interviews Thomas, before he has seen the Lord, and finds him dejected and unimpressed by the reports. But then come electrifying interviews with Mary Magdalene and Zaccheus and then Cleopas himself. Try as he might, the hard‑bitten reporter cannot keep himself from being persuaded by the testimony of these artless people, obviously as thunderstruck by developments as Tennell himself.

“And so he begins to piece together his program, in “60 Minutes” and “20/20" style: commentary and interviews interspersed. And he puts it together intending to persuade, and thinking that when people hear his witnesses they will begin to believe it too. But he is sadly mistaken. The TV higher‑ups are as cynical as ever; delighted with his ratings, but uninterested in the subject. The book ends with a conversation between Tennell and an associate.

“‘Even if Davidson has come back to life, Cass, [these people] don’t have a chance,’ [says the associate.]

“‘I think they do,’ [Tennell responds].

“‘No, Cass,’ [argues the associate], ‘You know they don’t. You can’t change the world--with a handful of wise sayings, a seasoning of compassion and a miracle or two.’

“‘Even if one of the miracles is a dead man coming back to life?’ [Cass asks].

“‘Not even then,’ [says the associate]. He got up and held out his hand. ‘Come on, Cass. It’s been a long day. Time we went home.’”

Tennell says hopelessly, “But the world he promised them. The freedom and . . .” The associate smiled, a small, tired smile. “It’s no use, Cass. We like it in prison. We don’t want to be rescued.” (4)

And it’s true. We would rather live in denial. We would rather believe that casual Christianity is possible, that we can be Lone Ranger Christians, that we have no responsibility for the least and the lowest in our community and in the world. Father Abraham says sadly to the rich man who pleads on behalf of his brothers: “ . . . they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” How about you? Are you convinced? Does it make any difference in how you live?


1. Bob Hope, Don’t Shoot, It’s Only Me (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1990).

2. Mark Adams, http://www.redlandbaptist.org/sermons/sermon20050904.htm.

3. As told by a colleague of Rev. Eugene Nelson, Jr., http://www.uccseb.org/Sermons/2005/September%204,%202005.htm.

4. Dr. Robert S. Rayburn, http://www.faithtacoma.org/sermons/Seasonal/EasterNight00.The%20Appearances.4.23.00.htm.

Dynamic Preaching, Third Quarter Sermons 2007, by King Duncan