RICHES AND POVERTY

RICHES AND POVERTY

"There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day:

"And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores,

"And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table: moreover, the dogs came and licked his sores.

"And it came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried;

"And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom."—

Luke xvi. 19—23.

There are probably few readers of the Bible who are not familiar with the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. It is one of those passages of Scripture which leave an indelible impression on the mind. Like the parable of the Prodigal Son, once read it is never forgotten.

The reason of this is clear and simple. The whole parable is a most vividly painted picture. The story, as it goes on, carries our senses with it with irresistible power. Instead of readers, we become lookers on. We are witnesses of all the events described. We see. We hear. We fancy we could almost touch. The rich man's banquet,—the purple,—the fine linen,—the gate,—the beggar lying by it,—the sores,—the dogs,—the crumbs,—the two deaths,—the rich man's burial,—the ministering angels,—the bosom of Abraham,—the rich man's fearful waking up,—the fire,—the gulf,—the hopeless remorse,—all, all stand out before our eyes in bold relief, and stamp themselves upon our minds. This is the perfection of language. This is the attainment of the famous Arabian standard of eloquence,—"He speaks the best who turns the ear into an eye."

But, after all, it is one thing to admire the masterly composition of this parable, and quite another to receive the spiritual lessons it contains. The eye of the intellect can often see beauties while the heart remains asleep, and sees nothing at all. Hundreds read Pilgrim's Progress with deep interest, to whom the struggle for the celestial city is foolishness. Thousands are familiar with every word of the parable before us this day, who never consider how it comes home to their own case. Their conscience is deaf to the cry which ought to ring in their ears as they read,—"Thou art the man." Their heart never turns to God with the solemn inquiry,—"Lord, is this my picture?—Lord, is it I?"

I invite my readers this day to consider the leading truths which this parable is meant to teach us. I purposely omit to notice any part of it but that which stands at the head of this paper. May the Holy Ghost give us a teachable spirit, and an understanding heart, and so produce lasting impressions on our souls!

I. Let us observe, first of all, how different are the conditions which God allots to different men.

The Lord Jesus begins the parable by telling us of a rich man and a beggar. He says not a word in praise either of poverty or of riches. He describes the circumstances of a wealthy man and the circumstances of a poor man; but He neither condemns the temporal position of one, nor praises that of the other.

The contrast between the two men is painfully striking. Look on this picture, and on that.

Here is one who possessed abundance of this world's good things. "He was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day."

Here is another who has literally nothing. He is a friendless, diseased, half-starved pauper. "He lies at the rich man's gate full of sores," and begs for crumbs.

Both are children of Adam. Both came from the same dust, and belonged to one family. Both are living in the same land and subjects of the same government. And yet how different is their condition!

But we must take heed that we do not draw lessons from the parable which it was never meant to teach. The rich are not always bad men, and do not always go to hell. The poor are not always good men, and do not always go to heaven. We must not rush into the extreme of supposing that it is sinful to be rich. We must not run away with the idea that there is anything wicked in the difference of condition here described, and that God intended all men to be equal. There is nothing in our Lord Jesus Christ's words to warrant any such conclusion. He simply describes things as they are often seen in the world, and as we must expect to see them.

Universal equality is a very high-sounding expression, and a favourite idea with visionary men. Many in every age have disturbed society by stirring up the poor against the rich, and by preaching up the popular doctrine that all men ought to be equal. But so long as the world is under the present order of things this universal equality cannot be attained. Those who declaim against the vast inequality of men's lots will doubtless never be in want of hearers; but so long as human nature is what it is, this inequality cannot be prevented.

So long as some are wise and some are foolish,—some strong and some weak,—some healthy and some diseased,—some lazy and some diligent,—some provident and some improvident;—so long as children reap the fruit of their parent's misconduct;—so long as sun, and rain, and heat, and cold, and wind, and waves, and drought, and blight, and storms, and tempests are beyond man's control,—so long there always will be some rich and some poor. All the political economy in the world will never make the poor altogether "cease out of the land." (Deut. xv. 11.)

Take all the property in England by force this day, and divide it equally among the inhabitants. Give every man above twenty years old an equal portion. Let all take share and share alike, and begin the world over again. Do this, and see where you would be at the end of fifty years. You would just have come round to the point where you began. You would just find things as unequal as before. Some would have worked, and some would have been idle. Some would have been always careless, and some always scheming. Some would have sold, and others would have bought. Some would have wasted, and others would have saved. And the end would be that some would be rich and others poor.

Let no man listen to those vain and foolish talkers who say that all men were meant to be equal. They might as well tell you that all men ought to be of the same height, weight, strength, and cleverness,—or that all oak trees ought to be of the same shape and size,—or that all blades of grass ought to be of the same length.

Settle it in your mind that the main cause of all the suffering you see around you is sin. Sin is the grand cause of the enormous luxury of the rich, and the painful degradation of the poor,—of the heartless selfishness of the highest classes, and the helpless poverty of the lowest. Sin must be first cast out of the world. The hearts of all men must be renewed and sanctified. The devil must be bound. The Prince of Peace must come down and take His great power and reign. All this must be before there ever can be universal happiness, or the gulf be filled up which now divides the rich and poor.

Beware of expecting a millennium to be brought about by any method of government, by any system of education, by any political party. Labour might and main to do good to all men. Pity your poorer brethren, and help every reasonable endeavour to raise them from their low estate. Slack not your hand from any endeavour to increase knowledge, to promote morality, to improve the temporal condition of the poor. But never, never forget that you live in a fallen world, that sin is all around you, and that the devil is abroad. And be very sure that the rich man and Lazarus are emblems of two classes which will always be in the world until the Lord comes.

II. Let us observe, in the next place, that a man's temporal condition is no test of the state of his soul.

The rich man in the parable appears to have been the world's pattern of a prosperous man. If the life that now is were all, he seems to have had everything that heart could wish. We know that he was "clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day." We need not doubt that he had everything else which money could procure. The wisest of men had good cause for saying, "Money answereth all things." "The rich hath many friends." (Eccles. x. 19; Prov. xiv. 20.)

But who that reads the story through can fail to see that in the highest and best sense the rich man was pitiably poor? Take away the good things of this life, and he had nothing left,—nothing after death,—nothing beyond the grave,—nothing in the world to come. With all his riches he had no "treasure laid up in heaven." With all his purple and fine linen he had no garment of righteousness. With all his boon companions he had no Friend and Advocate at God's right hand. With all his sumptuous fare he had never tasted the bread of life. With all his splendid palace he had no home in the eternal world. Without God, without Christ, without faith, without grace, without pardon, without holiness, he lives to himself for a few short years, and then goes down hopelessly into the pit. How hollow and unreal was all his prosperity! Judge what I say,—The rich man was very poor.

Lazarus appears to have been one who had literally nothing in the world. It is hard to conceive a case of greater misery and destitution than his. He had neither house, nor money, nor food, nor health, nor, in all probability, even clothes. His picture is one that can never be forgotten. He "lay at the rich man's gate, covered with sores." He desired to be "fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table." Moreover, the dogs came and "licked his sores." Verily the wise man might well say, "The poor is hated even of his neighbour." "The destruction of the poor is their poverty." (Prov. xiv. 20; x. 15.)

But who that reads the parable to the end can fail to see that in the highest sense Lazarus was not poor, but rich? He was a child of God. He was an heir of glory. He possessed durable riches and righteousness. His name was in the book of life. His place was prepared for Him in heaven. He had the best of clothing,—the righteousness of a Saviour. He had the best of friends,—God Himself was his portion. He had the best of food,—he had meat to eat the world knew not of. And, best of all, he had these things for ever. They supported him in life. They did not leave him in the hour of death. They went with him beyond the grave. They were his to eternity. Surely in this point of view we may well say, not "poor Lazarus," but "rich Lazarus."

We should do well to measure all men by God's standard,—to measure them not by the amount of their income, but by the condition of their souls. When the Lord God looks down from heaven and sees the children of men, He takes no account of many things which are highly esteemed by the world. He looks not at men's money, or lands, or titles. He looks only at the state of their souls, and reckons them accordingly. Oh, that you would strive to do likewise! Oh, that you would value grace above titles, or intellect, or gold! Often, far too often, the only question asked about a man is, "How much is he worth?" It would be well for us all to remember that every man is pitiably poor until he is rich in faith, and rich toward God. (James ii. 5.)

Wonderful as it may seem to some, all the money in the world is worthless in God's balances, compared to grace! Hard as the saying may sound, I believe that a converted beggar is far more important and honourable in the sight of God than an unconverted king. The one may glitter like the butterfly in the sun for a little season, and be admired by an ignorant world; but his latter end is darkness and misery for ever. The other may crawl through the world like a crushed worm, and be despised by every one who sees him; but his latter end is a glorious resurrection and a blessed eternity with Christ. Of him the Lord says, "I know thy poverty (but thou art rich)." (Rev. ii. 9.)

King Ahab was ruler over the ten tribes of Israel. Obadiah was nothing more than a servant in his household. Yet who can doubt which was most precious in God's sight, the servant or the king?