We live in a world that worships at the altar of "more": more money. More possessions. More experiences. More likes. More upgrades. Every commercial preaches the same sermon: "You are not enough. You do not have enough. But if you buy this, earn that, or achieve more, then you will finally be satisfied."
This is not just marketing. It is a form of idolatry. A cult with its own priests. Temples. And promises of salvation. The supermarket serves as its cathedral. The smartphone acts as its pulpit. Credit cards are its sacraments. And debt is the bondage that keeps its worshippers enslaved.
Let's call it what it is: consumerism is not neutral. It is a ravening god. Jesus knew this long before Amazon Prime was ever conceived. He stated plainly:
"No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate one and love the other, or you will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money" (Matthew 6:24).
Yet many of us try to balance both. We convince ourselves that we can love God while simultaneously chasing after more. However, the longer we pursue "more," the further we drift from Him.
The Seductive Lie of More
The central lie of consumerism is simple: if you just had a little more, you would finally be happy. It doesn't matter how much you already possess. The appetite never truly goes away. When you get a raise, suddenly you need a bigger house. You buy a new phone, and in just six months, it feels outdated. You fill your closet, yet you're still on the lookout for the next sale.
It never ends. And that's because it was never meant to.
This is why Jesus warned,
"Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions" (Luke 12:15).
He understood that greed is a hunger that can never be satisfied. The desire for more always demands more.
Think about the psychology behind it. Advertisers don't sell products. They sell dissatisfaction. They create a gap between who you are and who they say you should be. Then offer their product as the bridge. You're too fat. Too thin. Too old. Too unfashionable. Too boring. But buy this, and you'll be transformed.
It's a con. And we fall for it repeatedly.
The Bible doesn't call it idolatry for nothing. Idols always require sacrifice, and the idol of more is no different. We sacrifice our peace for the stress of overwork. We sacrifice our families in pursuit of careers. We sacrifice our joy due to anxiety over money. We sacrifice our time, our health, our relationships, all on the altar of accumulation.
In the end, the idol offers us nothing but emptiness.
What Does It Profit a Man? The Bankruptcy of Abundance
Jesus once asked,
"What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?" (Mark 8:36).
That question is deeply relevant in our age. Many of us are on track to acquire everything the world tells us to want. Status. Possessions. Achievements. Yet we risk losing the only thing that truly matters.
Consider this: we scroll through endless feeds of curated lives, constantly comparing and craving. We walk through stores filled with items we don't need but feel strangely incomplete without. We live in homes stuffed with things we rarely use, while our souls remain empty. We are drowning in abundance but starving for meaning.
I've watched people work themselves into early graves chasing financial security that never quite arrives. I've seen marriages collapse under the weight of keeping up appearances. I've lamented young adults crushed by debt they accumulated trying to live Instagram-worthy lives. I have witnessed men lose their lives in betting sites. The idol of more doesn't just take your money. It takes everything.
Paul advised Timothy,
"Godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that. Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil" (1 Timothy 6:6–10).
This isn't just a warning. It serves as a mirror.
Look around: we see ruin and destruction. Debt crises crushing families. Broken relationships sacrificed for "side chicks". Corrupt politics funded by endless greed. Exploited workers producing cheap goods we don't need. Men losing their sight because they drunk adulterated brew. A planet struggling under the weight of endless extraction. Innocent lives lost in Congo, Sudan, Nigeria, Gaza. ... All of this results from the idol of more demanding sacrifices.
We've built an entire civilization on the premise that more is always better, and we're discovering that premise is a lie. But we're so deeply invested in the lie that we can't imagine an alternative.
The Poverty of Riches: When Abundance Bankrupts the Soul
Here's the cruel irony: the more we chase wealth, the poorer we become. Not materially. Spiritually. You can be rich in money and spiritually bankrupt. You can have a full closet yet an empty heart. You can sit in a luxury car and still feel like a failure. You can amass a fortune and die alone.
Jesus told the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:16–21). A man's land produced abundantly, so he built bigger barns, hoarded wealth, and reassured himself of his security. But God called him a fool, saying, "This very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?"
The underlying lesson? "This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God."
You can gain everything and still lose everything. Because life does not consist of abundance. It consists of being rich toward God.
The rich fool's mistake wasn't prosperity. It was misplaced trust. He believed his barns could secure his future. He thought abundance equalled security. He confused wealth with life itself. And in doing so, he lost both.
How many of us are making the same mistake? We're building bigger barns. Better portfolios. More impressive resumes. All while neglecting the one investment that actually matters. We're rich toward ourselves and poor toward God.
The ancient philosopher Seneca, who was himself quite wealthy, observed:
"It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor."
That was true two thousand years ago. It's true today.
The Freedom of Enough: Discovering Holy Contentment
So what's the alternative? Contentment. Not complacency or laziness, but a holy contentment. A deep-seated conviction that Christ is enough.
Paul expressed this from prison:
"I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation... I can do all this through him who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:11–13).
Read that again. Paul wrote those words from prison. Not from a beach resort. Not from a comfortable retirement. From chains. And yet he claimed contentment.
That's the freedom the world cannot give and cannot take away. The freedom to stop measuring life by bank accounts and start measuring it by faithfulness. The freedom to break free from endless wanting and live in gratitude for what God has already given.
Contentment doesn't mean refusing ambition. It means ambition rightly ordered. Not chasing more for its own sake, but pursuing God's kingdom first.
"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (Matthew 6:33).
Notice Jesus doesn't say, "Seek first the kingdom and you'll never need anything else." He says the things you need will be provided. There's a massive difference. One promises abundance. The other promises enough.
And enough is a miracle when you've been taught your whole life that it doesn't exist.
When Jesus is at the centre, more loses its grip. We can enjoy what we have without being enslaved by it. We can work hard without being consumed by greed. We can give generously instead of hoarding anxiously. We can live lightly, free from the chains of endless accumulation.
Practical Steps Toward Biblical Contentment
This isn't abstract theology. It's practical reality. So what does it actually look like to dismantle the idol of more?
Start by practicing gratitude daily. Not as a self-help technique, but as spiritual discipline. Thank God specifically for what you have. Your health. Your family. Your daily bread. When you cultivate gratitude, greed loses its power.
Examine your spending habits honestly. Where is your money actually going? Not where you think it's going. Where it's actually going. Track it for a month. You might be shocked. Most of us are funding our own enslavement without realizing it.
Create space between impulse and purchase. The 30-day rule is simple: if you want something, wait 30 days. If you still want it and can afford it without debt, consider buying it. Most of the time, you'll discover you didn't really want it. You wanted the dopamine hit of acquiring something new.
Practice generosity aggressively. Give before you're comfortable giving. Give until it changes your budget. Give until it reorients your heart. You cannot simultaneously hoard and worship God. Generosity is the antidote to greed.
Simplify deliberately. Not because minimalism is trendy, but because complexity enslaves. The more you own, the more owns you. Every possession demands maintenance, storage, insurance, worry. Simplification isn't deprivation. It's liberation.
Fast from consumption periodically. Pick a month and buy nothing beyond absolute necessities. No restaurants. No Naivas. No retail therapy. Watch what happens to your soul when you stop feeding the beast.
The Call to Dismantle the Idol
Here's the question: are we willing to dismantle the idol of more? That doesn't just mean tidying up our closets or cutting back on shopping. It means a radical reorientation of desire. It means refusing to let money and possessions define our worth. It means asking not, "How much more can I get?" but "How much more can I give?" "How can I be rich toward God?"
It means looking at Jesus, who had no place to lay His head. Who owned nothing. Who died stripped even of His clothes. And realizing that He was the richest man who ever lived. Because He was free. Free from the idol of more. Free to love without fear. Free to give without holding back.
And He invites us into that same freedom.
This is countercultural. Radical, even. Our entire economy depends on us remaining dissatisfied, constantly craving more. When Christians actually live like Christ is enough, it disrupts the system. It threatens the powers that profit from our discontent.
Good. Let it be disrupted.
The early church turned the world upside down not through political power or wealth accumulation. But through radical generosity and countercultural contentment. They shared everything. They cared for the poor. They held possessions lightly. And the world noticed.
What would happen if the modern church did the same? What if we became known not for our building campaigns and book deals, but for our contentment? Our generosity? Our freedom from the tyranny of more?
Living as Rich Fools or Rich Toward God
Every day, we face a choice. Will we live as rich fools? Hoarding for ourselves. Building bigger barns. Trusting in abundance. Or will we be rich toward God? investing in His kingdom. Holding lightly to possessions. Trusting in His provision.
The rich fool thought he had years to enjoy his abundance. He didn't. None of us know how much time we have. But we do know this: we brought nothing into this world, and we'll take nothing out.
So what are we doing with the time between?
Are we chasing more? Or are we chasing Christ?
Are we building earthly kingdoms that will crumble? Or investing in the eternal kingdom that will never fade?
Are we measuring life by abundance? Or by faithfulness?
Jesus asks us still: "What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?"
It's a question that demands an answer. Not someday. Today.
Because the idol of more is not content to share your devotion. It demands everything. And it will take everything if you let it.
But Christ offers something better. Not more. Enough. And in Him, enough is abundance.
Reflection Questions
- Where in your life has the pursuit of "more" silently become an idol? Be specific. What are you chasing that promises satisfaction but never delivers?
- How do Jesus' words about treasure, greed, and contentment challenge your habits of spending, saving, and desiring? What would change if you actually believed Him
- What step could you take this week to practice being "rich toward God" instead of hoarding for yourself? Not eventually. This week
Thank you for reading. Kindly share and may God bless you more!
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