The Rich Man and Lazarus: What Profits Hide and Prophets See (Amos 6:1, 4–7; Luke 16:19–23; 1 Timothy 6:11–19)
Introduction: Unlikely Prophets and Uncomfortable Truths
It’s good to have someone in your life who will tell you the truth. Those people are great to have—a parent, a friend, a coach, a spouse, a teacher, a minister, a sibling, or a coworker. They care enough to give feedback.
Good advice also comes from those we may never meet: writers, athletes, actors, or investors. People who speak words that ring true in our bones. We might call them “unlikely prophets.”
Jim Carrey once said, “I wish everyone could get rich and famous and have everything they ever dreamed of so they would know that is not the answer.”
Tom Brady, after his third Super Bowl, admitted: “Why do I have three Super Bowl rings and still think there’s something greater out there for me? God, it’s got to be more than this.”
Warren Buffett has said: “If you are the luckiest 1% of humanity, you owe it to the rest of humanity to think about the other 99%.”
Muhammad Ali once remarked: “Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.”
They aren’t prophets in the biblical sense, but they are speaking truth that our culture prefers to ignore: money won’t save you, success won’t satisfy you, and comfort will numb you.
Amos 6 Sermon: The Danger of Comfort
Picture the scene: Jerusalem and Samaria humming with activity. The economy strong, the shrines busy, the wine flowing, and the leaders reclining on imported ivory couches. The nation looked invincible.
But Amos saw something others did not. He noticed the debt slavery—men and women sold for something as small as the price of sandals. He observed the court system—justice tilted in favor of the wealthy. He saw music, festivals, and temple sacrifices, but no mercy.
It would have been easy to dismiss him. After all, who wants to listen to a shepherd from the south critique their system? But Amos spoke plainly: “Woe to those who lie on beds of ivory, and lounge on their couches, and eat lambs from the flock… but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph” (Amos 6:4–6).
The ruin of Joseph wasn’t just statistics—it was people. Farmers, families, neighbors. Amos wasn’t angry at wealth itself; he was angry at wealth divorced from compassion. His warning was stark: this kind of blindness cannot last. Nations that numb themselves eventually collapse.
Exile: Punishment or Consequences?
Here’s a question that troubles many of us: was Israel’s exile God’s punishment or simply the inevitable unraveling of their choices?
The answer is yes. Exile was God’s judgment—He will not bless oppression. But exile was also consequence—because no society built on exploitation can stand forever.
It’s like building a house on sand. Sooner or later the cracks widen, the walls lean, and the whole structure falls. Amos wasn’t trying to be cruel; he was trying to prevent collapse. His words weren’t curses—they were rescue missions.
And that makes me pause. When we hear hard truth today—whether from a prophet, a friend, or a preacher—do we dismiss it as negativity? Or do we allow it to save us before the collapse?
The Rich Man and Lazarus Sermon: Luke 16:19–23
Fast forward to Jesus. Instead of addressing a nation, he tells a story of two men.
One is wealthy, clothed in purple, feasting daily. Imagine the banquets, the music, the servants bustling in with tray after tray of delicacies.
The other is Lazarus, laid at the gate. Not across the world, not even across town—right outside the rich man’s door. Covered in sores, hungry for crumbs, overlooked again and again.
The tragedy is not that the rich man didn’t know Lazarus existed. The tragedy is that he stepped over him daily without compassion. He had trained his eyes not to see. His wealth had created callouses.
When death came, everything reversed. The rich man longed for relief and discovered that the chasm he had created on earth now defined his eternity.
Jesus’ parable is sobering, not because it condemns wealth but because it warns of numbness. Callousness is more dangerous than poverty, because it deadens the soul. And once numb, the heart can miss both neighbor and God.
Stewardship Sermon from 1 Timothy 6:11–19
Here’s the hopeful turn. If Amos warns and Jesus awakens, Paul equips.
Writing to Timothy, Paul says: “As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God… They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share” (1 Timothy 6:17–18).
Notice: Paul doesn’t shame wealth. He doesn’t call blessings mistakes. He calls them platforms. They are opportunities for generosity. They are tools for ministry. They are seed meant to be sown, not hoarded.
Think of Abraham, whose wealth was redirected into blessing. Think of Joanna and Susanna, who funded Jesus’ ministry. Think of churches who today use buildings, budgets, and people not as trophies but as tools for serving.
Your blessings are not accidents. They are entrusted to you by God for the sake of others.
What Prophets See and What Profits Hide
This is where it gets practical. The prophets and apostles all circle around the same truth: blessings that don’t flow outward become curses inward.
Our community faces Lazarus at the gate in the form of food insecurity. Twenty percent of Poughkeepsie’s residents worry about running out of food. That’s more than 6,000 people. The Hudson Valley Food Bank is distributing more and more food every year because the need is growing, not shrinking.
This is not abstract. These are neighbors, classmates, coworkers. They are people who quietly wrestle with the anxiety of not knowing if tomorrow’s dinner is secure.
Amos would notice. Jesus would stop. Paul would remind us to share. The question is: will we?
Meaning for Today: From Tomb to Womb
At times, the darkness feels overwhelming—political chaos, economic strain, cultural anxiety. Hunger persists, divisions deepen, hope feels scarce.
But the question posed at a recent presbytery meeting has stayed with me: Is this the darkness of a tomb, or the darkness of a womb?
If it’s a tomb, then despair wins. But if it’s a womb, God is preparing new life.
Here’s where faith changes everything: with Christ, even tombs become wombs. Even what looks like finality becomes the birthplace of resurrection.
So we keep walking in Crop Walk. We keep serving with Hope on a Mission. We keep directing rummage sale proceeds toward feeding the hungry. Because every act of generosity cracks open a little more light. Every gift pushes despair back and lets hope breathe.
FAQ: The Rich Man and Lazarus, Amos 6, and Stewardship
What is the message of the Rich Man and Lazarus?
It’s a warning against numbness. The parable shows how ignoring suffering creates a spiritual chasm that wealth cannot bridge.
What was Amos warning about in Amos 6?
Amos condemned the complacency of the wealthy who ignored injustice. He warned that such blindness leads to collapse and exile.
What does 1 Timothy 6 teach about stewardship?
Paul teaches that blessings are not accidents but gifts. They are entrusted so we can be “rich in good works, generous, and ready to share.”
Conclusion: Refusing to Go Numb
Your blessings are not mistakes. They are not trophies. They are gifts. And when they flow outward, they participate in God’s rescue mission.
The danger isn’t wealth; it’s callousness. The risk isn’t blessing; it’s blindness. But the invitation is beautiful: to live awake, to see Lazarus, to steward blessings with open hands, and to become part of the dawn of God’s new creation.
So may we refuse to go numb. May we turn blessings outward. And may we discover, even in dark days, that God is turning tombs into wombs.
