Sermon on Luke 16: 19-31 - 09/21/2025
Written and read by Pastor Elise Scott, Ballard First Lutheran Church
This week, I heard an interview on NPR with country singer Amanda Shires. The interview focused on Amanda’s new album that dropped this week called “Nobody’s Girl.” As the host of the interview noted, the album is “a series of blunt and honest songs” in which “Shires processes her divorce from fellow national star Jason Isbell.”
And with that, the interview began in earnest. It was a great interview. They delved into the album and her writing process and towards the end of it, the host asked which was her favorite song from the album and why. She responded by saying, “... to me, my finest writing on the record - which isn’t a song that I would play every night ... - it’s called ‘Living’.”
A soundbite of the song, ‘Living,’ then aired and the lyrics played went like this, “Just existing can be hard. Maybe living is an art.” Once it concluded, Shires said the following, “There’s a line in there about maybe living is an art because I think it is true. There’s an art to it, and you want to do it right.” The host responded, “That’s true.” And Shires then concluded the interview by saying, “You’ve got one life. Live it.”
To me, this exchange speaks so much to our texts today. First, in first Timothy, the author hearkens us to take hold of the life that really is life and then, Jesus seems to follow this up in our Gospel text by telling the story of the rich man and Lazarus.
Although our Gospel text seems to speak more to death and existence after death than to life, I don’t think that’s what Jesus is going for. I think he’s actually trying to make a point about how we need to live in this life - for this one life that we have as Amanda Shires puts it and with this story, I think he’s trying to teach us the art of living this life. But, it’s a somewhat difficult story. Most of the time with Jesus’ stories we sort of know with whom we identify. Here, in this story, I think most of us would prefer to identify with Lazarus. Sure - he had a very difficult life in this life, but after death, he was carried away to be with Abraham and we’re told that while he’d had evil things in this life, that he was in Abraham’s comforting presence in death.
On the other hand, we’re not likely to want to identify with the rich man. After all, who wants to end up in agony for eternity. Not me. But, the reality is that we’re sometimes Lazarus and
sometimes, we’re the rich man. While this story focuses on divisions caused by wealth, other divisions create similar chasms to the one Jesus points to in this story - divisions that cause people to be overlooked, ostracized, intentionally ignored, and even physically harmed - divisions like race, gender-identity, sexuality, age or even political beliefs. And because none of us can completely escape these categories, we will at various points of our lives feel like Lazarus.
Just this week, I felt like Lazarus when we received a call to do a funeral, but was told they only wanted a straight man as the pastor. I must admit, I felt a little invisible within this conversation. Just as Lazarus laid by the gate and went unnoticed by the rich man, it seemed too like I was going unnoticed within this conversation - even though it was being held directly with me and so I wasn’t overlooked in quite the same way as Lazarus. But, we’re not always Lazarus, sometimes the tables are turned and we’re more like the rich man in the story. In fact, It’s often tempting to put on blinders when we’re confronted with the discomfort of a suffering neighbor. In fact, we’re pretty adept at creating such blinders - doing whatever we can to keep from seeing the suffering that surrounds us - living in gated communities, sticking with people who look like us and act like us - sticking with people who fail to challenge us. Growing up in Birmingham, as many of you have probably heard me talk about, putting on blinders was taken to a completely new level with what they called the
“over the mountain” communities that consisted of extremely limited public transportation and school buses - all so that the city could for all essential purposes remain segregated based on both race and socio-economic levels. If one wanted, you could avoid ever having to see the poverty in other parts of the city. If one wanted, you could expose yourself only to well-manicured lawns and literal mansions.
And, here in Seattle, I find myself often the rich man - sometimes trying to avoid eye contact with those who find themselves living on the street because I am embarrassed that I don’t have anything to give them to help them or sometimes even because I just don’t want to
give what I have - like when I’m walking home with leftovers that I really want to eat the next day. And because none of us can escape the fact that we’re also sometimes the rich man in this story, it seems pretty difficult to believe that there’s any good news in this story - that there’s any hope of us figuring out this art of living in the one life we have to live as Amanda Shires puts it. Indeed, if anyone should know about this it’s Amanda Shires. She had a pretty nasty divorce that played out in public. She self-proclaimed to not treating herself well
during the process of getting through her divorce. As she puts it, she tried some “weird things.” Some things that weren’t too self-destructive like weightlifting, jujitsu, and
backgammon, but other things that were - things like “overconsumption of some alcohols.” No doubt, in the midst of this, she probably felt pretty invisible to the world. After all, her new album is entitled Nobody’s Girl so it’s not a leap to think she probably felt a little bit like
Lazarus - as though everyone was walking past her and no one - not a single person was noticing her pain. We’ve all been there. Just as we’ve all been the ones walking past, failing to see the pain. To me, this is the good news of the story. If it’s truly a story in the art of living, then Jesus gives us more hope than perhaps we can ask for - especially given the fact that the rich man remains in Hades.
To me, the hope of the story is that we are both
Lazarus and the rich man. We’re not one or another. And to me, the thing that this story promises is that in the moments of our lives when we find ourselves in the
trenches of life like Lazarus, being completely overlooked and forgotten - God is there - comforting us and holding us just as Abraham holds and comforts Lazarus after death ... For in older translations, we’re told that Lazarus was carried to the bosom of Abraham.
Can there be a more hopeful, comforting image of God holding us in our misery, holding us in our grief, holding us in our suffering? And in case that image somehow doesn’t break through for us, Lazarus’ very name reminds us that we’re not in it alone, that God is there for us ... For the meaning of Lazarus is “God is my help.” The story of the rich man - well, it’s a little harder to find the hope, but it’s still there. Clearly, the hope is not in the rich man’s outcome - he’s still stuck in Hades, tormented and in agony from the flames. And, he still doesn’t seem to fully see - he seems stuck in the roles that society has falsely placed on him and Lazarus - so stuck in fact, that there seems to be no way for him to overcome that chasm according to Abraham. And yet, in this part of the story - despite saying that the brothers won’t heed Moses or the prophets or even someone who rises from the dead - Jesus seems to be indicating that it’s not too late for us. That we are still in
this one life - this one hard, beautiful life. And because we’re still in this life, there’s still time for us to adjust to the art of living, to overcome the many chasms that separate
us - to find new ways to share with our neighbors, to take off our blinders and open our eyes and hearts to the suffering that surrounds us, to try and find ways to accompany each other through the suffering and injustices of life, to alleviate the suffering and bring an end
to the systemic practices of our society that cause such suffering, to just be there for one another instead of passing by silently with our eyes peeled in the opposite direction as the rich man does to Lazarus throughout Lazarus’ life.
But, not only that, despite the rich man’s failures, despite his abhorrent living that left him tormented and in agony in Hades, Abraham still engages with him - despite the chasm, Abraham still calls him child, and he still answers the rich man when the rich man calls - even though the answers aren’t the answers the rich man likely
wants to hear.
And so it is with us too, I think. God is always there, trying to break through, encouraging us to repent, to turn to God, to open our hearts to one another, to overcome
the chasms that divide us before its too late, before our one life is lived. In these moments, God may not give us the answers we want, but God is there - guiding us, loving
us, holding us. God is there heeding us to take life that is really life before it’s too late.
This morning, we baptize Gabriel Arthur Roberts. And in the waters of baptism, God once again invites us into that life that really is life. Life as a beloved child of God.
Life that focuses on living among God’s faithful people, life that focuses on Scripture, life that is nurtured through faith and prayer and nourished by God’s holy supper. Life that cares for others and the world, that proclaims Christ through word and deed and works for justice and peace. And, the reality is that no matter how hard we try to live into these promises of baptism, we will fall short. We are all sinner and saint alike, we are all Lazarus and the
rich man alike. But, that doesn’t mean that give up. We keep trying to live into these important promises - into these life-changing promises. And when we do, the chasms that
Abraham tells the rich man are insurmountable, slowly melt away ...
As we live into these promises, we can’t help but see each other for who we truly are. Beloved children of God, yet sinners in need of God’s redeeming. And in this truth, we can finally and completely take hold of life that is really life. We can finally experience the kindom of God as we see each other for who we truly are, as we truly try to understand each other, as we truly try to live together and turn to God our help when it’s too scary to do anything else. And so this morning as we welcome Gabriel Arthur into the waters of baptism, into the family of God, may we be reminded to once again take hold of life that is really life - for Gabriel, for us, for our world. May it be so. Amen.
This week, I heard an interview on NPR with country singer Amanda Shires. The interview focused on Amanda’s new album that dropped this week called “Nobody’s Girl.” As the host of the interview noted, the album is “a series of blunt and honest songs” in which “Shires processes her divorce from fellow national star Jason Isbell.”
And with that, the interview began in earnest. It was a great interview. They delved into the album and her writing process and towards the end of it, the host asked which was her favorite song from the album and why. She responded by saying, “... to me, my finest writing on the record - which isn’t a song that I would play every night ... - it’s called ‘Living’.”
A soundbite of the song, ‘Living,’ then aired and the lyrics played went like this, “Just existing can be hard. Maybe living is an art.” Once it concluded, Shires said the following, “There’s a line in there about maybe living is an art because I think it is true. There’s an art to it, and you want to do it right.” The host responded, “That’s true.” And Shires then concluded the interview by saying, “You’ve got one life. Live it.”
To me, this exchange speaks so much to our texts today. First, in first Timothy, the author hearkens us to take hold of the life that really is life and then, Jesus seems to follow this up in our Gospel text by telling the story of the rich man and Lazarus.
Although our Gospel text seems to speak more to death and existence after death than to life, I don’t think that’s what Jesus is going for. I think he’s actually trying to make a point about how we need to live in this life - for this one life that we have as Amanda Shires puts it and with this story, I think he’s trying to teach us the art of living this life. But, it’s a somewhat difficult story. Most of the time with Jesus’ stories we sort of know with whom we identify. Here, in this story, I think most of us would prefer to identify with Lazarus. Sure - he had a very difficult life in this life, but after death, he was carried away to be with Abraham and we’re told that while he’d had evil things in this life, that he was in Abraham’s comforting presence in death.
On the other hand, we’re not likely to want to identify with the rich man. After all, who wants to end up in agony for eternity. Not me. But, the reality is that we’re sometimes Lazarus and
sometimes, we’re the rich man. While this story focuses on divisions caused by wealth, other divisions create similar chasms to the one Jesus points to in this story - divisions that cause people to be overlooked, ostracized, intentionally ignored, and even physically harmed - divisions like race, gender-identity, sexuality, age or even political beliefs. And because none of us can completely escape these categories, we will at various points of our lives feel like Lazarus.
Just this week, I felt like Lazarus when we received a call to do a funeral, but was told they only wanted a straight man as the pastor. I must admit, I felt a little invisible within this conversation. Just as Lazarus laid by the gate and went unnoticed by the rich man, it seemed too like I was going unnoticed within this conversation - even though it was being held directly with me and so I wasn’t overlooked in quite the same way as Lazarus. But, we’re not always Lazarus, sometimes the tables are turned and we’re more like the rich man in the story. In fact, It’s often tempting to put on blinders when we’re confronted with the discomfort of a suffering neighbor. In fact, we’re pretty adept at creating such blinders - doing whatever we can to keep from seeing the suffering that surrounds us - living in gated communities, sticking with people who look like us and act like us - sticking with people who fail to challenge us. Growing up in Birmingham, as many of you have probably heard me talk about, putting on blinders was taken to a completely new level with what they called the
“over the mountain” communities that consisted of extremely limited public transportation and school buses - all so that the city could for all essential purposes remain segregated based on both race and socio-economic levels. If one wanted, you could avoid ever having to see the poverty in other parts of the city. If one wanted, you could expose yourself only to well-manicured lawns and literal mansions.
And, here in Seattle, I find myself often the rich man - sometimes trying to avoid eye contact with those who find themselves living on the street because I am embarrassed that I don’t have anything to give them to help them or sometimes even because I just don’t want to
give what I have - like when I’m walking home with leftovers that I really want to eat the next day. And because none of us can escape the fact that we’re also sometimes the rich man in this story, it seems pretty difficult to believe that there’s any good news in this story - that there’s any hope of us figuring out this art of living in the one life we have to live as Amanda Shires puts it. Indeed, if anyone should know about this it’s Amanda Shires. She had a pretty nasty divorce that played out in public. She self-proclaimed to not treating herself well
during the process of getting through her divorce. As she puts it, she tried some “weird things.” Some things that weren’t too self-destructive like weightlifting, jujitsu, and
backgammon, but other things that were - things like “overconsumption of some alcohols.” No doubt, in the midst of this, she probably felt pretty invisible to the world. After all, her new album is entitled Nobody’s Girl so it’s not a leap to think she probably felt a little bit like
Lazarus - as though everyone was walking past her and no one - not a single person was noticing her pain. We’ve all been there. Just as we’ve all been the ones walking past, failing to see the pain. To me, this is the good news of the story. If it’s truly a story in the art of living, then Jesus gives us more hope than perhaps we can ask for - especially given the fact that the rich man remains in Hades.
To me, the hope of the story is that we are both
Lazarus and the rich man. We’re not one or another. And to me, the thing that this story promises is that in the moments of our lives when we find ourselves in the
trenches of life like Lazarus, being completely overlooked and forgotten - God is there - comforting us and holding us just as Abraham holds and comforts Lazarus after death ... For in older translations, we’re told that Lazarus was carried to the bosom of Abraham.
Can there be a more hopeful, comforting image of God holding us in our misery, holding us in our grief, holding us in our suffering? And in case that image somehow doesn’t break through for us, Lazarus’ very name reminds us that we’re not in it alone, that God is there for us ... For the meaning of Lazarus is “God is my help.” The story of the rich man - well, it’s a little harder to find the hope, but it’s still there. Clearly, the hope is not in the rich man’s outcome - he’s still stuck in Hades, tormented and in agony from the flames. And, he still doesn’t seem to fully see - he seems stuck in the roles that society has falsely placed on him and Lazarus - so stuck in fact, that there seems to be no way for him to overcome that chasm according to Abraham. And yet, in this part of the story - despite saying that the brothers won’t heed Moses or the prophets or even someone who rises from the dead - Jesus seems to be indicating that it’s not too late for us. That we are still in
this one life - this one hard, beautiful life. And because we’re still in this life, there’s still time for us to adjust to the art of living, to overcome the many chasms that separate
us - to find new ways to share with our neighbors, to take off our blinders and open our eyes and hearts to the suffering that surrounds us, to try and find ways to accompany each other through the suffering and injustices of life, to alleviate the suffering and bring an end
to the systemic practices of our society that cause such suffering, to just be there for one another instead of passing by silently with our eyes peeled in the opposite direction as the rich man does to Lazarus throughout Lazarus’ life.
But, not only that, despite the rich man’s failures, despite his abhorrent living that left him tormented and in agony in Hades, Abraham still engages with him - despite the chasm, Abraham still calls him child, and he still answers the rich man when the rich man calls - even though the answers aren’t the answers the rich man likely
wants to hear.
And so it is with us too, I think. God is always there, trying to break through, encouraging us to repent, to turn to God, to open our hearts to one another, to overcome
the chasms that divide us before its too late, before our one life is lived. In these moments, God may not give us the answers we want, but God is there - guiding us, loving
us, holding us. God is there heeding us to take life that is really life before it’s too late.
This morning, we baptize Gabriel Arthur Roberts. And in the waters of baptism, God once again invites us into that life that really is life. Life as a beloved child of God.
Life that focuses on living among God’s faithful people, life that focuses on Scripture, life that is nurtured through faith and prayer and nourished by God’s holy supper. Life that cares for others and the world, that proclaims Christ through word and deed and works for justice and peace. And, the reality is that no matter how hard we try to live into these promises of baptism, we will fall short. We are all sinner and saint alike, we are all Lazarus and the
rich man alike. But, that doesn’t mean that give up. We keep trying to live into these important promises - into these life-changing promises. And when we do, the chasms that
Abraham tells the rich man are insurmountable, slowly melt away ...
As we live into these promises, we can’t help but see each other for who we truly are. Beloved children of God, yet sinners in need of God’s redeeming. And in this truth, we can finally and completely take hold of life that is really life. We can finally experience the kindom of God as we see each other for who we truly are, as we truly try to understand each other, as we truly try to live together and turn to God our help when it’s too scary to do anything else. And so this morning as we welcome Gabriel Arthur into the waters of baptism, into the family of God, may we be reminded to once again take hold of life that is really life - for Gabriel, for us, for our world. May it be so. Amen.
