Since the earliest days of organized religion, money has played a pivotal role. It has been used to “spread the word” and to entrench religious power, sometimes abused for exploitation, but also put to good use. It has funded countless schools, hospitals, and welfare that shaped much of our society today.
The Roman Catholic Church, for centuries, built its power on a system of tithes. People were taught that by giving money, they could buy tickets out of purgatory and into heaven.
My own family’s story is intertwined with the Lutheran tradition. My grandparents were hardworking farmers who managed to build some wealth through self-sufficiency and discipline. But extravagance was frowned upon. Any money not reinvested in the farm usually went to the church. Holidays, luxury clothing, and even the small consumer comforts that many middle-class families enjoy today were considered wasteful. The unspoken rule was simple: every cent could be put to “better use.”
Is money the root of all evil?
I often heard the phrase: “Money is the root of all evil.” It shaped me more than I realized. Wealth, if earned at all, had to come through sweat, toil, and tears. Quick fortunes, whether through inheritance or the stock market, were regarded with suspicion. For years, I carried this heavy view of money as something dangerous, almost shameful.
But over time, I began to see that this idea rested on a mistranslation. Paul actually wrote: “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Timothy 6:10). Not money itself, but the love of it, the obsession, the addiction, the false security it promises. That realization was freeing. Money is not moral or immoral; it is neutral. It simply amplifies what is already in us.
Money amplifies character
I have seen this truth play out in my own circle. Friends who were always kind and generous only became more so when entrusted with wealth. They gave freely, they created opportunities, they lifted others up. But those who were by nature fearful, self-centered or controlling became even more so once money entered their lives.
I also found new meaning in the parables I had heard as a child. The Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30) used to feel like a simple lesson about money and responsibility, but as an adult it spoke to me on a deeper level. In the story, a master entrusts his servants with sums of money before leaving on a journey. Two of them take risks, invest, and return with more than they were given. The third buries his portion in the ground, paralyzed by fear of losing it. When the master returns, he praises the first two as faithful and trustworthy, but calls the last one lazy and casts him out.
For me, this is no longer a story about coins or wealth. It is a metaphor for life itself. Each of us is entrusted with something: gifts, time, energy, relationships, and resources. To bury those gifts, to let fear dictate our choices, is to betray the trust of the One who gave them to us in the first place.
The ultimate sin, I have come to realize, is not failure: It is waste. It is letting your unique talents go unused, your light hidden behind a veil, your voice silenced. From the moment of birth, we are called to grow into the fullness of who we are meant to be. Ignoring that inner calling is not just a missed opportunity. It is, in a sense, a treachery against the soul itself.
Burying your talent, your voice, or even your capacity for love is just as wasteful as burying a coin in the dirt. We are meant to risk, to create, to step out in faith, even if it means stumbling along the way. For it is only in using our gifts, be it wealth, wisdom, or creativity that you truly live in alignment with our calling.
Another great example from scripture is the widow in the temple (Mark 12:41–44). She gave two small coins, all she had, while others gave out of their abundance. Jesus noticed her, not for the amount, but for the spirit of trust with which she gave. That story has always humbled me. It reminds me that generosity has nothing to do with size, but with the heart.
Money is a form of energy
Through these reflections, I began to form a new relationship with money. I no longer see it as shameful or corrupting, but as a form of energy. It can be something that can be directed toward building, healing, and serving. If invested ethically, money can create jobs, sustain communities, and bring hope. Used rightly, it becomes spiritual because it reflects love in action.
I hold onto these mantras now:
- Money creates freedom of choice.
- Money provides the means to be generous.
- Money provides comfort and joy.
- Money removes anxiety and fear.
When money is a gift, not a god, it can truly serve. As Proverbs 11:25 says: “A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”
That decision to quit a safe job set me on an entirely new path into writing, podcasting, giving workshops, and exploring the realms of self-realization and spirituality. At first, it felt like stepping into a void, but slowly I discovered that the void was full. Every time I shared my journey, someone would come forward and say, “I needed to hear that.” Every time I gave a workshop, I realized that the experiences and lessons I had once considered private struggles could become bridges of connection.
And strangely, once I began to live into that calling, resources began to align with my purpose. Opportunities opened, doors I couldn’t have forced began to swing wide, and money itself flowed differently, less as something to chase, more as something that supported the work I was meant to do. It was as though life itself was saying: finally, you are using what I gave you.
But the inward and outward journey has shown me a different truth. Money, like talent, is a gift. It is neither evil nor good on its own, but it becomes holy when it is placed in service of something greater. It is energy waiting to be directed. To hoard it, or to bury our gifts in fear, is to shrink from the life we are called to live.
Jesus praised both the servants who multiplied their talents and the widow who gave her last two coins. The size of the gift never matters. What matters is the courage to release it, to trust that God can do more with it than we can ever imagine.
That is the lesson I carry forward: when money is a gift, not a god, it can be a force for freedom, generosity, and joy. And when talents are used, not buried, life opens in unimaginable ways and miracles.
I no longer see money as the root of all evil, nor do I see security as the highest goal. My prayer is simpler now: to be a faithful steward of what I have, to invest in love, to risk my gifts, and to walk each path with trust, knowing that even the detours are part of the journey.
Reino Gevers – Host of the LivingToBe podcast
P.S.: If you enjoyed this article, you might be interested in my latest book, Sages, Saints, and Sinners. Get it today on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and wherever good books are sold.
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