There are moments when the Lord, in His gentle mercy, does not merely nudge us—He redirects us. Not because He delights in correcting us, but because He loves us too deeply to allow our hearts to settle into the shallow comforts of a temporary world. That is what makes Jesus’ words in Matthew 6 so piercing and so tender at the same time. He speaks plainly about treasure, about what we gather, what we protect, what we chase, and what we fear losing. And then, with a single sentence, He reveals what is truly at stake: “Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.” (Matthew 6:21, NLT). In other words, the question is not simply what we own—it is what owns us.
Most people do not wake up one morning and decide, “Today I will worship the things of this world.” It is almost always more subtle than that. The world does not typically demand our devotion all at once; it collects it slowly—through anxiety, through distraction, through ambition, and through the quiet belief that if we can just secure enough, we will finally be at peace. And so we store. We plan. We accumulate. We protect. We measure our lives by what we have, what we can prove, what we can accomplish, and what others can see. Yet Jesus, with fatherly compassion, reminds us that earthly treasure is vulnerable. It can be diminished by decay, by time, by shifting markets, by failing health, by sudden tragedy, by theft, by loss, and by the unstoppable reality that life in this world is uncertain. Even when we keep our treasures safe, we cannot keep our hearts safe if our hearts are anchored to what cannot last.
This is why Christ does not merely say, “Do not store up treasures on earth,” as though He is trying to deprive us. He is exposing the fragile foundation beneath our feet. Earthly treasure makes a poor god and a cruel master. It can never promise what it advertises. It cannot guarantee tomorrow. It cannot heal the soul. It cannot cleanse the conscience. It cannot defeat death. It cannot carry the weight of eternity. And when we give it our hearts, we may discover—sooner or later—that our hearts become as fragile as the thing we treasured.
But Jesus does not leave us with a warning alone. He gives us a better invitation. He calls us to store up treasure in heaven—not because heaven needs our treasure, but because we need a heart that has been freed from the tyranny of the temporary. Heavenly treasure is not stored in vaults, barns, closets, or accounts. Heavenly treasure is stored through faithfulness, obedience, worship, humility, generosity, repentance, compassion, endurance, and a steady love for God that does not depend upon circumstances. Heavenly treasure is what remains when the lights go out, when the crowd disappears, when money runs thin, when relationships strain, when the body weakens, when grief visits, and when life becomes heavy. Heavenly treasure is secure not because we are strong, but because God is faithful.
And this is where the Scriptures come together so beautifully. Paul’s words in Colossians are not separate from Jesus’ teaching—they are a continuation of it. Paul reminds the believer that our lives have been fundamentally altered by Christ. If we belong to Him, then we have been raised to new life with Him, and therefore our orientation must change. We do not merely claim heaven as a destination; we learn to let heaven shape our desires. Paul’s instruction is both direct and deeply spiritual: set your heart and mind toward Christ above, and refuse to be ruled by the earth beneath. Colossians 3:1–2 (NLT) calls us to lift our gaze, not because the world is unreal, but because the world is not ultimate. It is one thing to know what matters; it is another to think, choose, and live as though it matters.
That shift is not always dramatic. Often it is a daily re-centering. It is the quiet decision to place Christ back on the throne of our priorities. It is the practice of asking, “Lord, what do You value?” before we ask, “What do I want?” It is the discipline of refusing to let our hearts be swept downstream by the current of cultural cravings. It is the humility of confessing that we are easily distracted. And it is the grace-filled determination to seek the things above, even while we work, serve, plan, provide, and remain responsible here below.
John, in his first letter, speaks to the same heart issue—but he does so with the urgency of a shepherd who knows what competing loves can do to a soul. 1 John 2:15–17 (NLT) warns believers not to love the world in the sense of devotion, dependence, and craving. John is not condemning creation itself, nor the ordinary responsibilities of life. He is warning against an attachment that becomes worship—an affection that slowly squeezes out love for the Father. He describes the world’s pull in terms of craving and pride: the appetite for pleasure, the hunger to possess, and the impulse to build identity on achievement and appearance. Then John presses the matter further by reminding us of the world’s expiration date: the world and its desires do not endure, but the one who does God’s will remains.
This is not meant to make the believer fearful; it is meant to make the believer clear-minded. The world is constantly selling a vision of “the good life,” but that vision is short-sighted. It is like building a dream house on sand and calling it security. It is like filling your hands with mist and insisting you have captured something solid. And so Scripture, in love, keeps asking us questions we must not ignore: What do you chase when no one is watching? What do you worry about most? What do you celebrate most? What do you envy? What do you refuse to surrender? Those answers often point directly to our treasure—and therefore to our heart.
Jesus’ statement—“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also”—works like a spiritual mirror. It does not exist to accuse the faithful believer; it exists to reveal what needs reordering. If your treasure is in the approval of people, then your heart will rise and fall with every compliment and criticism. If your treasure is in comfort, then your heart will be shaken by inconvenience. If your treasure is in possessions, then your heart will fear loss more than it trusts God. If your treasure is in status, then your heart will be restless, because there is always a higher rung to climb. But if your treasure is in Christ—if your deepest trust and longing is anchored in Him—then even when the winds of life blow hard, your heart can remain steady. Not because storms do not hurt, but because your foundation does not move.
This is what it means to live with eternal intentionality. It is not about pretending the world does not matter; it is about refusing to treat the world as though it is everything. It is about placing God back at the center of our focus, because the heart was never made to be centered anywhere else. It is about learning to hold the temporary loosely so we may hold the eternal firmly. It is about investing in what will outlast us—souls, truth, love, faith, obedience, and the quiet acts of righteousness that God sees even when no one else does.
And here is the hope that rests beneath this entire teaching: God does not call us to this perspective and then abandon us to achieve it by sheer willpower. He invites us, corrects us, strengthens us, and reshapes us. When we confess our misplaced treasures, He does not cast us away—He draws us back. When we realize our hearts have drifted, He does not shame us—He restores us. When we recognize that we have been living too close to the ground, He lifts our eyes again and reminds us that our true inheritance is not fragile. It is secure in Christ.
So today, let this message rest gently upon your spirit: you do not need to live enslaved to what can be lost. You do not need to build your peace on what can crumble. You do not need to define your worth by what fades. You are invited—again and again—to store your treasure where it cannot be stolen, corroded, diminished, or destroyed. You are invited to place your heart where it was always meant to be: in the hands of the Father, under the lordship of Jesus Christ, guided by the Holy Spirit, and anchored in eternity.
Because in the end, the Lord is not merely asking what you value. He is inviting you to value what lasts.
So, I say to you, "May the Lord strengthen your faith and use it for His glory, as you walk humbly in His presence."
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