While being a wise steward of what God’s entrusted to us is a virtue, increased wealth isn’t a sign of God’s blessing. It’s possible that we’re putting our identity in the wrong place, finding our value in what moths will destroy than in the One who provides for our every need.

At the beginning of 2022, my church began studying the book of James. This book is so helpful and practical in many ways. But one of the ways that it helps me personally is helping me to see when I’m focused on the wrong things.
Or maybe a better way to say it is, when I’m focused on what won’t last.
The Perennial Issue
James 1:9-11 introduces a perennial issue: our relationship with wealth. More specifically, it challenges the all-too-frequent assumption in a western society that wealth equates blessing or value. But James flips this assumption entirely, writing:
9 Let the brother of humble circumstances boast in his exaltation, 10 but let the rich boast in his humiliation because he will pass away like a flower of the field. 11 For the sun rises and, together with the scorching wind, dries up the grass; its flower falls off, and its beautiful appearance perishes. In the same way, the rich person will wither away while pursuing his activities.
The poor, he says, have cause to boast—to be proud in a godly sense, because they have a special place in God’s kingdom. They know that all they have is from God. They don’t hear the words of Jesus’s example of how to pray, saying “Give us today our daily bread,” as a truism (Matt. 6:11). It’s a way of life. Every day, every moment, is lived by faith. This is the faith of the majority church, not just throughout history, in places like Ethiopia, in Nicaragua, in Haiti, Honduras, El Salvador, China and dozens of other nations, it’s what faith looks like right now.
It’s the kind of faith that looks at their circumstances as an opportunity to boast in God, in His provision; glorifying Him with great joy in all things.
But to our cultural ears, that is strange.
When We’re Focused on What Won’t Last
In our society, the wealthy are exalted. They are our cultural icons whether they became wealthy through their ingenuity, abilities, or good old-fashioned dumb luck.
Jeff Bezos, Richard Branson, Elon Musk… While all have different stories of gaining wealth, they’re all primarily known to us today for one reason only:
They’re weird rich guys who built themselves spaceships.
But we still esteem them. We still exalt them. And, let’s be honest, if you were as insanely wealthy as them, you’d probably build yourself a spaceship, too.
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Faithfulness is obedience—obedience to God’s commands, calling, and gifting—and obedience is success. That means that you may not be the most gifted teacher, you’re the right teacher for your church at this moment. Even though you may not be the greatest evangelist in the world, but you’re the person to share the gospel with your neighbor. And although you may not have much to offer by the world’s standards, but what you do have, you give joyfully.

Some time ago, a friend shared an announcement that he was writing a book for a well-respected publisher. I was, of course, excited—but I was also a little jealous. It was foolish and unnecessary, of course, but it was there. When I should have been fully celebrating my friend’s good fortune, I was wondering why I wasn’t experiencing the same.1
I know I’m not alone in this. All of us have moments where we don’t respond to God’s blessings to others in the way we would want or expect, whether His blessings to an individual, to an organization, or a church. We start to play comparison games, even if only in our heads. We start to wonder why this person or that church is more successful than us.
And there’s the problem: Success.
What does that even mean? What does success look like, especially in the context of ministry?
False Measures of Success
There are two primary ways we define success as Christians, especially when it comes to ministry:

“Orthodoxy.” Success in this sense is defined by our right beliefs. That if we’re consistently proclaiming and teaching truth, then we’re being successful.
Fruitfulness. Perhaps it’s because of how 1980s business culture affected overall leadership culture, but the most common way we measure success is by the numbers: attendance, giving, baptisms, professions of faith, and so forth.

But here’s the problem: it’s possible to be orthodox in word, but convey that truth in a way that undermines it. To be arrogant and belligerent, and mistake people being repulsed by your behavior as their rejection of the Lord. And I know, because I’ve been that guy on occasion, a “jerk for Jesus” wielding my Mighty Theological Hammer of Justice™, ready to smash any and all apparent heresies that might lure away an unsuspecting believer. (It’s not a good look.)
Unfortunately, fruitfulness also falls short as well, at least in the way that we define it.
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