There’s a phrase I hear repeatedly in my law practice: “I just want what’s mine.” I’ve watched adults spend tens of thousands of dollars in legal fees fighting over 10 feet of property line or over an inheritance that’s eaten alive by the cost of fighting for it. Solomon wrote three thousand years ago:
There is one who makes himself rich, yet has nothing; And one who makes himself poor, yet has great riches. The ransom of a man’s life is his riches… (Proverbs 13:7-8a)
A man can possess the riches of the world and still have nothing. That’s not a contradiction; it’s a diagnosis. You can own the house, the car, the portfolio, and the collection, and still walk around feeling completely empty. And the second verse names exactly why. Our riches hold us for ransom. Not ransom in the sense that someone kidnapped us for money, but ransom in the sense that our own possessions hold us captive and demand a payment we must keep making for the rest of our lives.
I’ve seen it in my own life and in others. We think that the next landscaping project will finally satisfy us. We think the next purchase, the next vacation, or the next binge of entertainment will finally bring that great joy. And for a few hours, it does. Then the bill comes due, not just financially but emotionally. We become anxious about protecting what we have, comparing it to what someone else has, and grieving over what we haven’t gotten yet. That’s the ransom. We pay with our peace and the thing charges interest for as long as we hold on to it.
Here’s the truth the enemy never wants us to know: The anxiety of owning more or experiencing more pleasure is a full-time job with no vacation.
But there’s another way to live, and Solomon points right at it in that same verse: the one who makes himself poor yet has great riches. That’s not a call to literal poverty. Rather, it’s a call to live “poor in spirit,” as Jesus taught in the Beatitudes. It’s a call to loosen our grip and acknowledge that we HAVE nothing and ARE nothing without God. The result?
It’s the difference between possessing something and being possessed by it.
When we release all we are and all we have to Jesus, we make Him the Prince of our lives—and peace necessarily reigns:
For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6)
When Jesus becomes the Lord of our lives, He isn’t a landlord collecting rent; He’s a King who owns us completely and gives us all the satisfying goodness our souls desire. It has very little to do with physical assets. Jesus didn’t ransom us for a price we can never finish paying. He already paid it. What He gives back is peace that doesn’t fluctuate with the stock market or the neighbor’s new car.
And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)
This peace isn’t something we stockpile and protect like a possession. It’s something we carry and are constantly giving away, because the Spirit inside us keeps producing it. In fact, peace is one of the many priceless gifts that born again believers can give away!
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law. (Galatians 5:22-23)
There is no greater personal tragedy for a born again believer than to possess the treasure chest of God’s rich love, joy, and peace and never experience them.
I’ve been there—I know. But, my friend, when we surrender every room of our lives to Jesus, He begins to fill them with the greatest treasure—His presence. He produces so much of His priceless treasure (the kind money can’t buy) within us that it must be shared. And notice—we don’t hoard love the way we hoard money, worried we’ll run short before month’s end. We don’t ration joy like it’s a limited inventory item. Because Jesus is the One filling us, the well doesn’t go dry when we give what He has given us. Compassion, kindness, and gentleness aren’t things we own and protect; they’re things we become and distribute, and it is the giving that makes the experience of our lives superbly rich.
This is what it looks like to live in the attitudes of Christ, the Beatitudes He described, where the poor in spirit are called blessed and the meek are promised an inheritance. It’s an upside-down economy where the currency flows from God, not possessions. And not only do we have the here-and-now experience, but the return is also in eternal crowns.
Blessed is the man who endures temptation; for when he has been approved, he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him. (James 1:12)
The eternal riches never depreciate, are never repossessed, never need insurance, and never become the thing we’re anxious about losing. So the question today isn’t whether you have too much or too little. It’s whether what you own has started owning you and whether you’re ready to hand it all over to Jesus.
God always gives more than He takes.
Prayer:
Lord, I confess how easily I let what I own become what owns me. I’ve paid ransom after ransom to my own possessions, trading my peace for things that can’t satisfy. Thank You for being the Prince of Peace who paid it all so I could be in Your presence. I surrender what I hold on to so tightly, and I ask You to fill me instead with Your Spirit, with love and joy and peace that don’t run dry. Teach me to give away what You keep pouring into me, and to live for the crown that never fades rather than the possessions that never satisfy. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
