The story of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31) may not be a parable, but an actual piece of history. Jesus tells it in a style quite different from parables, and its meaning is so very bluntly clear: Rich people can go to Hell, even while obeying all the Pharisaical requirements.
Dimas (the nickname scholars like to give the Rich Man) bore all the earmarks of God’s favor, by the Pharisees’ doctrine. He dressed in the best and wiped his hands on pita bread at mealtime. The servants would dump this used pita near the gate, where Lazarus could fight the dogs for a bite. He was so weak, he couldn’t keep those dogs from licking his open sores, which was more close contact from a dog than any Jew could normally tolerate. That the situation was reversed in Eternity would have rattled the Pharisees. Jesus’ final comment, in the mouth of Father Abraham, was, “If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rise from the dead” (v. 31).
God works through His Word. If that’s not good enough to clarify His demands to people, then they aren’t interested to begin with. Miracles aren’t going to help. It’s quite possible Jesus is here rubbing salt into the wounded reputation of the Pharisees by using the name Lazarus, the name of a man whom He had very publicly raised from the dead. That miracle had not changed their tune one bit — they still rejected the message of Jesus. Further, they were trying hard to prevent anyone else from hearing it.
Thus, Jesus turned to His disciples and warned them about hindering the fragile faith of fresh converts (17:1-2). Nothing could prevent random events shaking such faith dangerously, but one who did it purposely deserved a fierce condemnation from Jesus. He didn’t suggest a household millstone, with which a strong man might be able to swim briefly, but the large ones pulled by donkeys. So great was the sin in Jesus’ eyes that He ordered them to put up with the most exasperating behavior from one who was still struggling to learn (verses 3-4).
For this, the Twelve knew they needed a lot more faith than they felt they could call on right then. In the context, their word “faith” implies a sort of surrender and commitment which empowered one to act with absolute constancy. To respond good-naturedly to such weakness in others would be very costly, requiring a great store of self-denial which seemed more than even the best could possess. Notice, though, Jesus added the condition that the offender must actually repent. The trial for the disciple was honoring the righteous desire in the hearts of those unable to carry out their own wishes to do right.
Jesus replied they probably already had sufficient faith for the exercise, if they would just use it. “If you have faith as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you” (v. 6). Surely they had enough to outweigh a mustard seed! Of course, far too many have taken this aphorism too literally; they have tried yelling at trees unfortunately placed. Context is everything in the Hebrew culture.
Then Jesus addresses the real issue: Don’t expect to approach perfection in this life. God willingly uses us as we are, even with just a small dab of faith. It is neither the amount of faith, nor necessarily the quality of it. It’s just a matter of using what’s there. We don’t need great strength or power; we need humility. Putting up with the failures of others isn’t so challenging when you consider what God puts up with from you.
“And which of you, having a servant plowing or tending sheep, will say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and sit down to eat’? But will he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare something for my supper, and gird yourself and serve me till I have eaten and drunk, and afterward you will eat and drink’?” (vs. 7-8)
What is normal for the life of a servant amounts to an awful lot of work. Plowing with oxen was arduous, because they cannot be driven with any great finesse. Tending sheep was not quite a peaceful job, either; it was constantly chasing after strays, to say the least. So after a good 10-12 hours of this, the same servant might be expected to serve at the table. That’s what servants were for, and what they expected. While their personal needs did get attention, their comfort didn’t count for much.
Jesus was saying we are servants of God. That’s the best life anyone could hope to see, to be accepted as one of God’s slaves. Consider what our sins have done, and what we deserve. So we have upon us a monumental burden of responsibility to God. He owns us; we are not our own. How fortunate we are to be so!
“Does he thank that servant because he did the things that were commanded him? I think not. So likewise, when you have done all those things which you are commanded say, ‘We are unprofitable servants. We have done only what was our duty to do'” (vs. 9-10).
No matter how thoroughly we give of ourselves in service, we cannot possibly repay what we owe Him. If we should manage to fully obey in every respect, as Jesus had done, we are nothing special. Holiness remains forever a standard, not a destination. While it is just possible for earthly servants to push themselves so hard as to impress their earthly masters as exceptional among other slaves, that comparison doesn’t exist for servants of God because human achievement bears no relation to the divine calling, except as a mere reflection.
There was a time when holiness as a concept was a harsh rod in the hands of Church leaders. We have seen plenty of emotional thrashing and other forms of abuse in fringe groups today. The mainline churches have long forgotten this message, though. In our attempt to be modern, we have pressed all too hard for making folks comfortable with their God, to the point they remain spiritual children, if spiritually alive at all.
Jesus did say in verse 3, “If your brother sins against you, rebuke him.” Let him know what sin is. Then, if he seems to grasp it, and declares a readiness to leave his sin, we place our offended sensibilities under the Blood. If your brother fails in his efforts to lay hold of the truth of holiness in his life, but hasn’t forgotten what it means to be holy, you are to rebuke and forgive, again and again. All he takes from you in the process, including the emotional cost, is already bought and paid for — it belongs to God. We are in His debt, so we charge such sins to His account.
This is not the counsel of despair saying, “You can’t please God.” It is the counsel of prodding; you can’t overdo it. You owe Him your whole self. And when you are weak, and can’t go on, one of His other servants will be there to forgive and show you His love.
