The Gate

There once was a man named Julian Raines, a tycoon of tremendous wealth. Every morning, he stepped out of his marble estate wrapped in violet robes and white linen tailored from the finest Egyptian cotton. His table overflowed with delicacies—grapes from Greece, wines from Italy, meats from distant lands—his appetite knew no restraint. Every day, he passed by the gate at the end of his long driveway. Lying there, nearly invisible to him, was a man named Lazarus.

Lazarus was sick, broken, and poor. His skin was covered with sores, his clothes were rags, and he had nothing—except a name that meant “God has helped.” He never asked for much. Only the crumbs. Just a scrap from the abundance that passed by him every day. But all he received were looks of pity from the servants, and silence from Julian. To Julian, Lazarus was just another stain on the otherwise polished curb of his perfect life. He never noticed how often the beggar looked up to heaven. Or how, even while dogs licked his wounds, Lazarus whispered prayers under his breath.

Then came the day when the music stopped, the doors closed, and the curtain fell.

Lazarus died. No funeral, no flowers—yet the skies opened. Angels descended. He was carried, not to a grave, but to Abraham’s side, wrapped not in rags, but in glory. Not long after, Julian died too. The city mourned. Columns were written in his honour. His mausoleum stood taller than most buildings. But Julian opened his eyes in a place he never imagined: torment.

He looked up. And there—far above the flames—he saw the same man he had passed by day after day. Lazarus, now resting in peace and honour, beside Abraham. “Father Abraham!” Julian cried. “Have mercy! Send Lazarus—just a drop of water to cool my tongue. I’m in torment and agony in this flame!” Abraham’s voice was gentle but firm: “Son, remember. In your lifetime, you had everything. Lazarus had nothing. Now he is comforted—and you are tormented. And besides, there’s a great chasm between us. No one can cross over.”

Julian wept. But even in his sorrow, he still saw Lazarus as a servant. “Then send him, send Lazarus to my family! I have five brothers. Warn them—don’t let them end up here!” But Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets. Let them hear them.” “No! No! No!” Julian insisted. “But if someone from the dead goes, they’ll repent!” Abraham said, “If they won’t listen to the Word of God, they won’t believe—even if someone rises from the dead.” And that was the last Julian heard.

Reflection:

Julian Raines had everything—but failed to use it for anything that mattered.

He ignored the man at his gate, and forgot the God who gave him breath.

Scripture warns us:“Command those who are rich… to do good, to be rich in good works, ready to give, willing to share… laying up treasure for the time to come.”—1 Timothy 6:18–19

Julian lived for himself. But Lazarus lived in hope. One was buried. The other… was carried.

What will be said of you? You have Moses. You have the prophets. You have the gospel of Christ. And Someone has risen from the dead. Will you believe?