The Greatest Horror

Welcome to Scattered Moments. Halloween is a strange holiday, you have to admit it. It's the one time of the year that my neighbors, who are perfectly reasonable people, pay good money to make their homes look abandoned. They hang cobwebs in the corners, put skeletons on the front porch, stick fake tombstones in the yard, and every October, more than a handful of people in my neighborhood decide the best way to celebrate is to install a 25-foot inflatable monster that requires its own electrical substation. They dress up like vampires, zombies, witches, and ghosts and deliberately frighten small children and then reward them with chocolate. And somehow we've all agreed that this is perfectly normal behavior. I suppose everybody has something that frightens them. Some people are terrified by spiders, others fear snakes, heights, and things that go bump in the night. Personally, I've always thought the most frightening words in the English language were we need to talk. Especially when it's spoken by my wife. But seriously, there are things far more frightening than ghosts and goblins. And the Bible contains some stories that would make even the most accomplished horror writer a little uncomfortable. There's a mysterious hand that appears out of nowhere and writes a death sentence on a palace wall. There's a king who visits a medium in the middle of the night and receives a message from a dead prophet. There are tombs that open, bones that rattle, demons that speak, and a man who lives among the graves crying out in darkness. Yes, the Bible has its horrors. But one of the most frightening stories Jesus ever told contains no ghosts, no monsters, no creaking doors, just two men, one rich, one poor, and a gate between them. Jesus tells of a wealthy man who lived in extraordinary comfort. He wore expensive clothing. He enjoyed sumptuous meals. Every day was a feast. Life was good, very good. And just outside the gate lay a poor man named Lazarus. No, not the Lazarus that Jesus raised from the dead, although I still have some pretty weird dreams about that. Lazarus was covered with swords. This one was hungry. He longed for scraps from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came and licked his wounds. Now, here's what strikes me about the story. Lazarus wasn't hidden away in some distant village. He wasn't living on the other side of the world. He was right there at the gate. The rich man didn't need a mission trip to find him. He didn't need special revelation. He didn't need a committee to investigate the situation. All he needed was to open his eyes. And then, as it always does, death came. First, Lazarus dies. Jesus tells us that the angels carried him to Abraham's side. And the rich man died, and suddenly the entire story turned upside down. The man who had everything discovered that he had nothing. And the man who had nothing discovered that he had everything. And in the torment of Hades, the rich man looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. The rich man begged for mercy. He asked Lazarus to be sent to bring just a drop of water to cool his tongue. But Abraham explained that a great chasm separated them, a distance that could no longer be crossed. And then something remarkable happened. The rich man began thinking about his family. He had five brothers, five brothers who were still alive, five brothers who were apparently walking the same dangerous road he had traveled. And suddenly this man, who had spent his lifetime accumulating possessions, wanted something he could no longer purchase. He wanted another chance. Not for himself now. For them. He begged Abraham to send Lazarus back to warn his brothers, but Abraham told him that they already had Moses and the prophets. They had been given the truth. And if they wouldn't listen to that truth, they wouldn't be persuaded, even if someone rose from the dead. And there the story ends. No happy reunion, no miraculous rescue, no opportunity to go back and get it right. Just the terrible finality of a life that had been lived and could not be lived again. And for me, that may be one of the most frightening things in all of Scripture. Not simply the torment of the rich man, as terrifying as that is, but the recognition that he had missed the point of his life. Think about it, he had opportunities. Every single day he had opportunities. He had resources. He had influence. He had enough food to share. He had a fellow human being lying right at his gate. And somehow, in the midst of all his comfort, he missed what mattered. He had been surrounded by blessings without even understanding why he had been blessed. He had enjoyed the gifts while ignoring the giver. And perhaps most tragically, he had passed by somebody made in the image of God without stopping to love him. He had a gate, he had a neighbor, he had a lifetime, and then he had none of those things. Here's something that still haunts me. What if I reached the end of my life and discover that I spent so much time on things that didn't matter that I neglected the things that did? What if I was too busy to notice the lonely person? Too preoccupied to hear the hurting friend, too distracted to recognize the opportunity to speak a word of hope. What if I spent my days managing possessions and schedules and projects while precious opportunities for love quietly slipped through my fingers? You see, I don't need to imagine a ghost lurking in the hallway to fill a chill. I can imagine something far more frightening. I can imagine looking back over a lifetime and seeing all the moments when God invited me to participate in something beautiful, and I was simply too busy to notice. A conversation I never had, a kindness I postponed, an apology I never offered, a person I could have encouraged, a neighbor I could have loved, someone who desperately needed to hear about the grace of Jesus, and I had the opportunity and I missed it. I wonder how many of our greatest opportunities arrive disguised as interruption, the phone call that comes at the wrong time, the stranger, who needs more than a polite smile, the person who is grieving but it's making us uncomfortable, the lonely neighbor whose conversation takes longer than we plan, the child, who wants our attention when our attention is already somewhere else. Maybe the things we call interruptions are sometimes the very reasons God places us in that moment. The rich man had a gate, and on the other side of the gate was Lazarus. I wonder who's on the other side of ours. Now I'm not reminding you of this story to bury you beneath guilt. Guilt can be a terrible motivator and a lousy companion. I'm reminding us of this story because there's something wonderfully hopeful about the fact that you and I are still here. We're still breathing, we are still walking around this remarkable world, and by the grace of God, the story of our lives is not finished yet. There are still people to love, still burdens to lift, still words of encouragement to speak, still opportunities to point someone toward Jesus. There is still time to be generous, to forgive, to reconcile, to listen, to pray, to serve. Not because we're trying to earn the love of God, but because we have received it. And love, when it's truly received, has a way of finding somewhere to go. So this Halloween, enjoy the decorations, laugh at the costumes, and have a piece of candy or two. And if somebody has one of those twelve-foot skeletons standing in the front yard, tell them I said hello. But perhaps when the evening grows quiet, consider the story Jesus told about a man who had everything and missed everything. That's a horror story. And ask yourself a simple question What opportunities has God placed at my gate? Because one day, all of us will reach the final page of our earthly story, and when that day comes, I don't think we'll wish we had accumulated more stuff. I suspect we'll wish we had loved more deeply, given more freely, listened more carefully, and noticed those scattered moments when eternity brushed against our ordinary lives. It's a life so consumed with itself that it never notices the light. And the greatest hope that today, by the grace of God, we can open our eyes, we can open our hearts, and maybe even open the gate. And that's scattered moments for this Halloween. Take heart. Notice the scattered moments.