Something More Than Free
“No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money” (Matthew 6:24).
I’ve never heard anyone admit that they worship money. Nearly everyone wants to avoid the stigma of shallowness associated with such a life. Our movies depict the dangers of devotion to greed. Killers of the Flower Moon, for example, centers on the topic, complete with Leonardo DiCaprio’s character, Ernest, proclaiming, “I love me some money,” before committing murderous crimes to feed his devotion. We watch such scenes and shake our heads. No one thinks they’re the ones Jesus is warning.
And yet, Jesus keeps coming back to the topic. He clearly thinks it’s a big problem in the human heart. When the rich man refuses to give all his money on earth to the poor in exchange for treasure in heaven to follow him, Jesus tells his disciples, “Only with difficulty will a rich person enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:23). When Jesus enters the temple and angrily turns over the tables of the money-changers, he’s attacking Mammon worship. The one place on earth devoted exclusively to the worship of God had become a “den of robbers” (Matthew 21:13). People were still coming to the temple to worship; but it wasn’t to worship the living God.
In Matthew 6:19-21, right before the warning about serving two masters, Jesus contrasts laying up treasures on earth with laying up treasures in heaven. It’s foolish to invest our resources in things that don’t last when we have the option of storing up rewards in Christ’s eternal kingdom. Then Jesus closes with this remarkable truth, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” What we value most defines us. We are what we worship. If you really want to know what god you serve, check your bank statement. We will always sacrifice for that which we value the most. Our daily decisions—the ones where we determine where to devote our finite resources of time, attention, energy, and money—ultimately determine what kind of people we become. These decision both reveal the heart and shape the heart.
A Christian is someone who has reached the conclusion that Jesus is the most valuable entity in existence. And Jesus is saying, if we really believe in his pricelessness, it will be reflected in our spending habits. In Matthew 13:44, Jesus says, “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” The kingdom of heaven is embodied in the King. He is the one to whom we devote all our resources.
So, let’s return to the question: Who worships money? Jesus actually uses the word “Mammon” not “money” in Matthew 6:24. Mammon is the personification of money and possessions. When Jesus chooses this word he’s communicating the way money often functions as a deity that we serve and obey. We arrive at the altar expecting blessing, but to secure it, we must meet Mammon’s demands. Think about how we view money. We crave it to provide meaning and happiness to our lives. We use it to grant us access to power and influence. We look to it to purchase love, acceptance, and status. But consider also what we’re willing to give to gain it. In Jason Isbell’s brilliant song, “Something More Than Free,” he captures the experience of being stuck in an endless cycle of work: “My back is numb, my hands are freezing; What I’m working for is something more than free.”
We look to figures like Musk, Gates, Zuckerburg, Bezos, and Jobs, as Mammon’s high priests. They bring down the secrets of how to access it. We read their books and follow their advice. Advertising provides the iconography of this cult of worship as products are sold, not on the merits of functional benefit, but on the promise of achieving the good life. In every commercial we watch, we’re being sold a competing kingdom—one that promises to deliver all our deepest longings. If you live in this world, it’s hard not to bow down at the altar of Mammon.
Mammon even defines our life mission. In a recent interview, Eugene McCarraher points out that we evaluate the economy solely by calculating Gross National Product, or the total market value of goods and services produced in a year. McCarraher says, “We don’t ask whether any of the stuff that we produced actually contributed to human flourishing. We don’t distinguish things like fruit and vegetables from cigarettes and nuclear weapons. It’s all economic growth.” In Mammon’s economy, profit is the only thing that matters.
So, what do we do? Right after the warning about the impossibility of serving two masters, Jesus says, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life.” He’s providing another hint. Anxiety often reveals where we place our trust. If we’re anxious about money, we’re probably serving it. It’s likely become our master. But the answer isn’t some shallow call to stop worrying. No, if we want to stop being anxious about money, direct it toward the greatest treasure: “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33).
If you want to break Mammon’s bondage and defy its cult of false worship and lies, direct your life and worship toward seeking God’s kingdom and God’s righteousness instead. The stability we crave isn’t found in hoarding. It’s found in radical generosity that’s rooted in the assurance of God’s grace and continual care. You can’t serve both God and Mammon. Only Christ can deliver something more than free.
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