What Has Your Heart?

There's a penetrating question that cuts through all our carefully crafted answers about faith, all our theological knowledge, and all our religious activities: What has your heart?
It's not asking what you say you believe. It's not inquiring about your church attendance record or your moral positions. It's asking something far more revealing—where is your heart actually anchored?

Here's a simple diagnostic test: Look at three things. Your checkbook. Your calendar. Your conversations. These three reveal with startling clarity what truly captures your heart. Where you spend your resources, how you allocate your time, and what dominates your words—these are the windows into your soul's true priorities.

Created for the Eternal
In Matthew 6:19-24, Jesus doesn't offer sage advice or ancient wisdom. He issues a command: "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven."
This isn't a suggestion. It's a directive about the fundamental orientation of our lives.
Here's the uncomfortable truth: you were never created to be sustained by temporal things. The problem with earthly treasures isn't that they're necessarily evil—it's that they're insufficient. They can never fill what they were never designed to fill.

We experience this cycle constantly. Something of this world fills us, and it feels good—until it doesn't. Then discouragement sets in. That thing that satisfied you moments ago now leaves a hollow void. Defeat follows, then shame creeps in as we wonder why we thought this time would be different. To mask the shame, we reach for another temporary fix, and the cycle begins again.

Sound familiar?
Jesus spoke of moths, rust, and thieves—images that resonated powerfully in the first century. Moths represented slow decay, an infestation that gradually destroyed everything. Rust symbolized inevitable deterioration. Thieves brought sudden loss.

Today, we might not worry much about moths or rust. We have moth balls and insurance policies. But what about the careers that slowly eat away at our families? The compromises that rust our relationship with God? The sudden losses that reveal where we've placed our security?

The question isn't whether these earthly concerns matter—they do. The question is whether we were created for more than just managing them.

Where Your Eye Focuses
Jesus shifts metaphors but not messages when He says, "The eye is the lamp of the body. So if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness."

In Jewish culture, the "eye" represented what you focused on, what you prioritized, what you made paramount in your life. Jesus simplifies it brilliantly: a good eye is good; a bad eye is bad.

A good eye means being God-centered, flowing in generosity, and—despite all our failures—wanting to see God glorified above all else. A bad eye means being self-centered, greedy, and seeking our own glory.

What you focus on shapes you. Your eye determines what you value, what you pursue, where your energy flows, and where your affections settle. Are you looking toward the light—toward things that are God-centered and generous? Or are you trapped in the fleshly pattern of self-focus?

Hebrews 12:2 tells us to "fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." This is intentional work. You don't accidentally stumble into generosity. You don't unintentionally step into kingdom service. Our natural inclination pulls us in the opposite direction, and we must actively fight against it.

The Master Question
"No one can serve two masters," Jesus declares. "Either they will hate the one and love the other, or they will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money."

While Jesus names money specifically, He's addressing something deeper: idols. Money is certainly one, but so are comfort, security, approval, peace, and control. These aren't necessarily evil things, but they make terrible masters.

God refuses to be a consultant in your life. He won't take second place. He won't share the throne. There shouldn't even be a close second to Him.

The heart of this message isn't about guilt—it's about clarity. Jesus is adjusting the lens through which we see our lives, helping us focus on what truly matters. He's asking: One or two? Which is clearer? As we set our hearts on Jesus, He becomes more clearly evident in our lives. And the more clearly we see Him, the more we value Him above all else.

A Better Treasure
Here's the good news, though don't mistake it for soft news: Jesus never asks you to release what's killing you without offering what will finally make you alive.

Second Corinthians 8:9 reminds us: "Though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you by His poverty might become rich." The Son of God didn't cling to glory or protect His status. He emptied Himself and paid in full—not so you could add Him to an already crowded heart, but so He could take the throne of your heart.

The question isn't, "Do you have money?" or "Do you enjoy comfort?" The question is: What do you panic over losing? What do you protect at all costs? What do you obey without argument?

Whatever you fear losing most already owns you. Jesus isn't threatened by your idols, but He will not share His rule with them. He stands before you—not begging, not bargaining, not condemning—but inviting you into a freedom that only comes when lesser treasures are laid down.

A treasure that cannot be stolen. A security that cannot collapse. A joy that does not expire. This is found in Him, and He alone is worthy of your heart's devotion.
So what has your heart today?