Lay up treasures in heaven!

What depth of divine wisdom is unveiled in the words of Jesus Christ: "But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal" (Matthew 6:20)? Shall we envision amassing gold in a realm where the very streets gleam with celestial gold? Can the treasures of heaven be measured by the fleeting wealth of earth? How, then, does heaven’s worth eclipse that of this transient world? What surpasses the infinite value of Christ’s blood, poured out for humanity’s redemption? What greater treasure could exist than God Himself—His boundless essence, His unfathomable love, His eternal majesty? The priceless blood of Christ purchased the salvation of souls, and the treasures we are called to store are the sanctified deeds that spring from a heart transformed by divine grace—works that resonate with God’s eternal purposes, NO DOUBT!

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also" (Matthew 6:21). Do our hearts pulse in harmony with God’s? Do we cherish what God cherishes, with the same fervor as Christ, who is the radiant embodiment of divine love and its flawless expression? Does our value system align seamlessly with Christ’s, or do subtle oppositions linger, creating a chasm between our priorities and God’s eternal will in thought or practice?

God’s thoughts and ways tower above ours, as the heavens soar beyond the earth (Isaiah 55:8-9). Yet, in His boundless mercy, the divine Logos—the eternal Word, Christ Himself—descended to earth, planting the seed of His truth within us, frail vessels of clay, that we might bear fruit aligned with His holy will. This promised Seed is Christ, the fountainhead of all transformation, the cornerstone of all heavenly treasure.

The love of God demands faith, for without it, His love may appear irrational, unjust, or overwhelming to the human mind. Through faith, we embrace the intricate workings of His love, allowing its wisdom to flourish outwardly in our lives, like branches laden with the eternal fruit of the Cross. Loving those who love us is universal, a trait shared by all humanity. But to love those who repay our love with hatred, to turn the other cheek even unto death, to forsake the fleeting pleasures of this world to serve the needy, to remain steadfastly faithful to a spouse despite their choices, to endure unjust persecution for embodying Christ’s teachings as He and His apostles did—this is the radical, transformative love of God. To the new creature in Christ, endowed with His mind, this is the only logical outpouring of a heart reborn.

In the earliest centuries of Christianity, the love of God in the church was a spectacle that confounded the world. Multitudes, touched by the Spirit, were transformed the moment they believed. Pagans, once shrouded in darkness, were instantly reshaped by God’s power through faith. Their reasoning, habits, pursuits, visions, hopes, dreams, and desires were wholly reoriented in an instant. Rich and poor alike poured out their resources to uplift believers and unbelievers. Wealth was surrendered for the common good; racists embraced a love that transcended borders; fragmented purposes converged into a singular devotion to what the Spirit inscribed on their hearts. Unity was not a struggle but a natural fruit of their shared salvation, rooted in a common faith in their common Head, Christ Jesus.

"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Does your heart beat as one with God’s? Does it dwell where His heart resides? Do your earthly treasures bear witness against your Christian confession? What does it reveal when we store only some treasure in heaven, hedging our bets with a little here and a little there, lukewarm in our devotion? Ignorance may account for such divided loyalty, but to willfully choose the vanities of this life over the blessedness of God’s promise is irreconcilable with the mind of Christ.

Laying up treasure on earth does not mean securing what is necessary for God’s kingdom or genuine personal needs. It is hoarding for ourselves—clinging to excess while neglecting eternal priorities. Each of us must examine our hearts with unflinching honesty, probing the sincerity of our love for God and the true location of our treasure.

Consider the allure of jewelry: If Christ commands us to store treasures in heaven, not on earth, how can we justify investing in lifeless ornaments? Jewelry has no soul, no eternal worth. It never hungers, thirsts, or suffers. Yet countless Christians pour resources into such vanities. A gold necklace or aid for the poor? Christ would never choose both. To do so would divide His heart, soul, mind, and strength between lifeless trinkets and the living God. It would mean ministering to a few while others languish, their needs unmet because of our misplaced priorities. Jesus did not die for gold necklaces. Compared to the infinite value of souls for whom Christ shed His blood, such treasures are mere refuse. To love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength is impossible when part of us is adorned with fleeting ornaments rather than invested in eternal souls. This is not to say that anyone wearing jewelry is headed toward hell, but that such need to examine if their hearts are aligned with heaven.

As followers of Christ, we are called not only to proclaim principles but to embody their application in word and deed. What value is the command to "love your neighbor as yourself" (Mark 12:31) if we squander time and resources on fleeting thrills, worthless amusements, and vain pursuits? The world may nod in agreement with this principle, but does Christ affirm our application? Is there not a cause more worthy of our resources than self-indulgence? Are we so blinded by pride that we cannot see the spiritually lost, the thirsty, the naked, the hungry? Dear friends, Christ was not crucified so we might revel in the world’s pleasures. He was crucified to make us dead to the world (Galatians 6:14). For all that is in the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life—is not of the Father but of the world (1 John 2:15-17).

All resistance to God’s will should have been shattered when the scourge, thorns, and cross broke the body of Christ. Our desire for the things in the world should have perished with Him. The nails that fastened Him to the cross pinned our sins there, so that, through faith, the power of sin within us died with Him. If we have truly tasted the love and grace of Christ, partial obedience could never satisfy. The heart of the new creature finds no joy, peace, or contentment apart from complete surrender to God. To resist any desire of our Savior is to unravel the wholeness He wrought in us. Our longing is to fully please the One who made us whole.

How, then, do we move from "I must obey" to "I delight to obey"? From duty to desire? From clinging to what we should have long forsaken? Our obligation to obey was crucified with Christ. Through His sacrifice, our "must" is transformed into a fervent desire to follow in His steps. With the Psalmist, we proclaim, "For great is Your mercy toward me; You have delivered my soul from the lowest hell" (Psalm 86:13). Let us, then, lay up treasures in heaven, where our hearts will forever dwell in the radiant presence of our Savior.