Audio Transcript

Are rich Christians commanded to downgrade their living standards? It’s a question from Kevin, a listener to the podcast in South Dakota. “Pastor John, thank you for this podcast and for your ministry. And thank you for preaching against the prosperity gospel and for your personal model of contentment and generosity. All of this is prophetically needed in our age. But I also have a remaining question on wealth, specifically about 1 Timothy 6:17–19. I am a middle-class American, not fabulously wealthy according to the cultural standards of my day. But in the global perspective, and historically, I am wealthy. Whenever I hear you teach on Paul’s text, I hear you imply that the Christian wealthy are called to intentionally downgrade their lifestyles. They should live in smaller homes than they could manageably afford and enjoy the simpler pleasures of life. There’s a wonderful warning here about trusting in wealth that we should all be aware of.

“However, Paul does not seem to say in this text that the wealthy should downgrade their personal lifestyles. I read Paul and presume that a wealthy Christian today could live in an eight-thousand-square-foot, two-million-dollar mansion, drive a new BMW, and still also have their hope set on God, the giver of all these gifts, as they magnify Christ in their honest business dealings. But in that situation of abundance, Paul would tell them: Don’t be proud. Die to self-sufficiency. Enjoy it all as a gift, and never set your hope on riches. Instead, ‘be rich in good works’ and ‘be generous and ready to share’ (verse 18). I can see him discouraging the rich from seeking greater wealth accumulation or ‘barn-building,’ as Jesus called it. But Paul also does not seem to be too concerned with calling the wealthy to purposefully downgrade their own living conditions either. Am I missing something here?”

Cultural Conditioning

Well, let’s start by saying something controversial: Not only does Paul not seem too concerned with calling the wealthy to purposefully downgrade their own living conditions, but neither does he seem too concerned with calling slaveowners to account for holding slaves. So there you go. That ought to get everybody feeling defensive.

No, I’m not equating wealth-holding with slaveholding. The point of that comparison is this: If Paul chose to explode slaveholding not with direct indictment but with theological dynamite like 1 Corinthians 7:23 — “you were bought with a price; do not become bondservants [slaves] of men” — could it be that he might take the same theological, explosive approach to weaning people away from luxury?

Now before I illustrate what I mean by that, let me clarify something that I’m very aware of: I am aware that any warnings or admonitions that I might give to someone who lives a life ten times more lavish than my own, someone could give to me whose life is one-tenth as lavish as my own. And I am aware, as an American, that this latter group, globally, who live lives that are less than one-tenth as lavish as mine, are 99 percent of the world.

Now, here’s the implication of that awareness: Either I am a first-class hypocrite, which is possible, or I am a culturally conditioned voice trying to let the word of God call Western affluence to account, including my own, in the light of Scripture, without specifying precisely what degree of affluence is destructive to spiritual life and witness.

What’s Left?

So then, how does the New Testament address the issue of luxury and opulence and lavishness and riches? Kevin, of course, is right that Paul does not speak to the wealthy in his churches with condemnation — or to the slaveholder either, by the way. The text Kevin refers to is this:

As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life. (1 Timothy 6:17–19)

So here’s the question: When these wealthy Christians have reckoned with the uncertainty of riches, set their hope in God, have done good, have been rich in good works, have been generous, have been ready to share, have taken hold of life that doesn’t consist in possessions, what do you think is left for them to live on?

“The New Testament relentlessly pushes us toward simplicity and economy for the sake of the gospel.”

Well, right: it doesn’t say — which is why I have never precisely specified what degree of luxury is destructive to spiritual life and witness. On the other hand, as I read the New Testament, I think it is my job, as a biblical voice trying to be faithful to what’s there, to disturb the wealthy — including John Piper, especially him — by drawing attention to the ways that the New Testament relentlessly pushes us toward simplicity and economy for the sake of gospel advance and away from luxury and affluence and finery.

So, let me push in the other direction from Kevin when he says this: “I . . . presume that a wealthy Christian today could live in an eight-thousand-square-foot, two-million-dollar mansion, drive a new BMW, and still also have their hope set on God, the giver of all these gifts, as they magnify Christ in their honest business dealings.” Now, my response to this is to push in the opposite direction, knowing that there are far more powerful ways to magnify Christ than through honest business dealings, as good as that is, and knowing that there are many other passages of Scripture that ought to get under the skin of those of us who want to surround ourselves with vastly more than we need.

Four Reasons Wealth Is Dangerous

So, here’s one way to show what I mean. Jesus said in Luke 18:24, “How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of heaven!” He did not say, “How hard it will be for those who love riches to get into the kingdom of heaven.” In other words, it’s a warning about the danger of being rich, not just of wanting to be rich.

Now, why would that be? Why would Jesus say that? Why does wealth make it hard to get into heaven? Why is being wealthy dangerous? Let me mention four biblical pointers to why that would be.

1. Wealth tends to choke faith.

Jesus warns in the parable of the soils in Luke 8:14 that people are “choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life.” These are not neutral; they have a tendency to choke the vitality of radical Christian living. So, the word to the rich like me should never be merely, “Oh, you’re okay if you’re honest.” Actually, you’re not necessarily okay. You’re in danger.

2. Wealth hinders us from radical obedience.

Jesus said in Luke 14:33, “Any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.” Now of course, from all the other texts, we know this doesn’t mean that Christians don’t own anything. It means they are radically free from the control of possessions and always ready to do the most life-threatening acts of obedience. But the more accustomed we become to the lap of luxury, the more difficult this is and the less it looks to outsiders as if we are in fact that free from things, and that ought to matter to us. It ought to matter to us what inferences people might be drawing.

3. Wealth confuses our true treasure.

In Philippians 1:20, Paul said that his goal in life was that Christ would be magnified in his body, “whether by life or by death.” In other words, he wanted to live and die in a way that would appear to the world that Christ was magnificent to him — more satisfying than possessions or life.

And to that end, he said in Philippians 3:8, “I count everything as loss [rubbish] because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” In other words, we don’t magnify Christ just by being honest in our business dealings. We magnify Christ by living in such a way that communicates to the world that Christ is more valuable to us than houses and cars and lands and life itself.

4. Wealth distorts pure motives.

Which brings us finally to the fourth pointer to why it’s hard for the rich to enter heaven — namely, whether the motives for pursuing symbols of wealth (whether we think of them that way or not, they are) are pure. It is difficult to keep them pure — very difficult.

So, back to the two-million-dollar mansion, or there is a house here in Lake Minnetonka that went on sale yesterday in my area for fifteen million dollars. Why would a Christian — whose treasure is in heaven, and whose life is devoted to doing as much good as he can, and whose desire is to show the world that Christ is more precious than things — why would a Christian want to look like riches are his treasure? What would be the motive for buying such a mansion and surrounding yourself with more and more and more than you need?

“Why would a Christian want to look like riches are his treasure?”

And maybe I should end with just one more question for the mansion owner: Who are you going to leave it to when you die? If you have experienced the miracle of treasuring Christ above all things and of living for the good of others, do you think that handing off all this wealth to others will help them experience that miracle? Do you think it will do your children good to make them wealthy or to put a palace in the hands of some ministry?

My position is this: without specifying what measure of wealth is destructive to the soul or to our witness, the New Testament relentlessly pushes us toward simplicity and economy for the sake of the gospel and away from luxury and affluence.

She knew that typically the man would make the first move. She knew that what she was doing would appear at least suspicious, perhaps scandalous. She knew what other people might say. She knew just how much she might lose (after all she had already lost). And yet there Ruth lay, in the dark — vulnerable, hopeful, trusting, courageous — waiting quietly at the feet of a man who might wake up at any moment.

Even in a more egalitarian age, the strange and brave step Ruth took that night can make many of us uncomfortable:

When Boaz had eaten and drunk, and his heart was merry, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain. Then she came softly and uncovered his feet and lay down. (Ruth 3:7)

Such was Ruth’s way of asking Boaz to take her as his wife. But why did she ask like that? Wasn’t there another way? Couldn’t her mother-in-law have put out some feelers with Boaz’s servants?

Maybe. But God, in his wisdom, decided to join this man and this woman in this unusual way. And when we stop to look closer, the strangeness of the scene actually enhances the beauty of their love. This potentially embarrassing moment highlights what makes Boaz a worthy husband — and what makes Ruth a worthy wife.

Worthy Woman

As scandalous as it may seem for Ruth to lie down next to Boaz while he was sleeping, it seems that, in God’s eyes, she acted honorably and in purity. For all the beautiful glimpses we get of Ruth in these four chapters, she is called a “worthy woman” just once, and it’s right here, at this most vulnerable moment. Boaz, recognizing her in the dark and receiving her humble and submissive initiative, says to her,

Now, my daughter, do not fear. I will do for you all that you ask, for all my fellow townsmen know that you are a worthy woman. (Ruth 3:11)

“A truly worthy woman is as worthy in secret as she is when others are watching.”

Worthy when her husband died, worthy when her mother-in-law was left alone, worthy in a foreign land, worthy while working long days in the fields, worthy even here, in the darkness, on the threshing-room floor, waiting at the feet of the man she desired. A truly worthy woman is as worthy in secret as she is when others are watching — and Ruth was just such a woman.

So, what sets Ruth apart as a worthy wife-to-be — yes, in the eyes of Boaz, but all the more in the eyes of God?

Loyal Woman

The story of Ruth’s worthiness begins with her surprising loyalty.

Her mother-in-law, Naomi, had lost her husband as well as her two sons, including Ruth’s husband. Naomi saw how bleak their future had become and tried to convince her two daughters-in-law to go back to their families. In response, “Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her” (Ruth 1:14). When Ruth had great reasons to leave and save herself, she stayed and cared for her mother-in-law instead. Listen to the intensity of her loyalty:

Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the Lord do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you. (Ruth 1:16–17)

Ruth could have walked away, but faith and love had bound her to Naomi. Staying meant suffering. Staying meant sacrifice and risk. Staying could have even meant death — especially in a period when the judges in Israel, though charged to care for the widow, “did what was right in [their] own eyes” (Judges 17:6). But nothing would make Ruth leave now.

As news spread, her future husband was especially drawn to this loyalty in her: “All that you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband has been fully told to me, and how you left your father and mother and your native land and came to a people that you did not know before” (Ruth 2:11).

Fearless Woman

Ruth could not have been loyal in these circumstances without also being courageous. You hear and feel her fearlessness in the vows she makes to Naomi:

Where you die I will die, and there will I be buried. May the Lord do so to me and more also if anything but death parts me from you. (Ruth 1:17)

She was not naive about what they might suffer. Remember, she had already buried her husband and her brother-in-law (and likely had never even met her father-in-law). Death had become an intimate part of their family. She left with no guarantee that a widowed life in Israel would be any better than the trials they had known. And yet, when love met fear — real, serious, life-threatening fear — her love prevailed.

In this way, Ruth was a daughter of Sarah, that worthy wife before her, who hoped in God and clothed herself with the beauty of obedience. For, despite how fragile and daunting her life had become, Ruth “[did] good and [did] not fear anything that [was] frightening” (1 Peter 3:5–6) — because Sarah’s great God had become her God (Ruth 1:16). Women like Ruth are not easily deterred, because they have experienced a wise and sovereign love bigger than all they might fear.

Unwavering Woman

Ruth was not just fearless but determined, and her mother-in-law knew so. “When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more” (Ruth 1:18). Her love was a fierce, durable, stubborn love.

It’s not that Ruth wouldn’t hear and consider counsel (Ruth 2:22–23; 3:3–5), but she also wouldn’t retreat or give up easily. She kept loving when lesser women would have walked away. She kept working when lesser women would have quit. For instance, when she came to Boaz’s field, his servant reported, “She said, ‘Please let me glean and gather among the sheaves after the reapers.’ So she came, and she has continued from early morning until now, except for a short rest” (Ruth 2:7). Even the servants were surprised by this woman’s effort and endurance in the field.

Ruth did what she could (even straining her capacity at times) to care for those God had given to her, even when the risks were great, even when her strength ran low, even when others would have understood if she stopped, because Ruth was a worthy woman.

Godward Woman

Lastly, Ruth was a worthy woman because she was a Godward woman.

Though Ruth had been a foreigner, a Moabite by blood, she was now also a God-fearer by heart. “Your people shall be my people,” she said to Naomi, “and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16). She sounds like the apostle Peter when Jesus asked if the disciples wanted to leave with the others: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68). Ruth’s loyalty to Naomi, and her fearlessness in leaving home, and her tireless determination, surely all blossomed from the garden of her newfound faith in God.

Faith tied Ruth to Naomi, and it also drew Boaz to Ruth. On the day he met her, he said,

All that you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband has been fully told to me. . . . The Lord repay you for what you have done, and a full reward be given you by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge! (Ruth 2:11–12)

“Do not be mistaken: worthy women are not proudly independent women.”

Yes, he admired how she cared for her mother-in-law, but he also saw how she had hidden herself in God, taking refuge under his wide and strong wings. She was not only a faithful woman, but a faith-filled woman. Do not be mistaken: worthy women are not proudly independent women. They know themselves to be needy, dependent, and vulnerable, and entrust themselves to the grace of God. They serve and sacrifice and risk with their eyes lifted above this earth to where their true hope lives.

When Boaz awoke and saw his future wife lying at his feet, he did not see the simple, fleeting beauty of a younger woman (though she was much younger); he saw the deeper, more complex, more durable beauty of a truly worthy wife.

Should She Move First?

What about single women today wondering if they should take a step toward their own Boaz? Should the man always act first, as the counsel so often goes? Was Ruth wrong to make the move and let her interest be known? Could she still be a model for women today who want to honor the man’s calling to take initiative? For my part, I believe Ruth is one wonderful example for single women today, and not just despite the unusual step she took, but even in it. I suspect some potential godly relationships may be prevented by an excessive fear that any initiative by women would undermine a man’s call to lead.

I do believe that God calls the man to bear a special burden of responsibility and take the greater initiative toward the woman. I believe the man should generally be the one risking rejection, protecting the woman by consistently putting himself forward in ways that require courage, great and small. I also believe that, should the couple marry, the man will uniquely bear the responsibility to lead, protect, provide, and shepherd her and their family — and I believe the tracks for that kind of healthy leadership are laid from (and even before) the first date. A godly woman should want a boyfriend, and eventually a husband, who consistently initiates and leads in their relationship.

Ruth, however, was in an unusual situation. Perhaps you are too. Boaz, being a worthy man (and a considerably older man, Ruth 3:10), might never have considered approaching Ruth. He also knew that he was not the next “redeemer” in line (Ruth 3:12), and so he may have not wanted to dishonor the other man by making the first move toward Ruth. Perhaps Ruth and Boaz never would have married if Ruth had not been willing to communicate her interest.

And as strange, even suggestive, as the scene may seem to us today, it very well may have been the most honorable way for Ruth to communicate that interest in her day. Even her bold step was discrete, and left the ultimate initiative in his hands, not hers. She found a way to communicate interest that upheld and encouraged his honor and leadership as a man.

So, yes, God calls men to take the initiative in Christian dating, but that doesn’t mean a godly woman never takes any steps of faith to communicate interest, especially in the context of a Christian community that can help her express that interest while shielding her from some of the pain of rejection. If there is a particular godly man you would like to pursue you, ask God if there are creative, humble, open-handed ways you might invite his initiative.

And as you do, it may not hurt, following that worthy example of Ruth, to ask an older woman in your life for counsel and help.