Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (Matthew 6:19-21, KJV).

ABSTRACT

A profound exploration of the spiritual peril of covetousness, this article dissects Jesus’ encounter with the inheritance-seeker and the parable of the rich fool to argue that obsession with earthly wealth severs our connection to God, blinds us to eternal realities, and demands a radical reorientation toward stewardship and generous love of neighbor as the only path to true security in Christ.

STEWARDSHIP & LAST-DAY EVENTS

The soul’s value infinitely outweighs the world’s total wealth, a truth our grasping hearts perpetually forget. “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Mark 8:36-37, KJV). This central, chilling question from Christ hangs over every human transaction, every whispered ambition, every quiet compromise. We live in a negotiation, bartering moments for money, integrity for influence, peace for property, and the auditing of these trades occurs not in any earthly court but in the sanctuary above where motives are laid bare. My own life, I must confess, has often resembled that of a frantic merchant, convinced the next acquisition will finally be the pearl of great price, only to find myself clutching gilded refuse. We see this played out in Scripture with terrifying clarity, from a man fixated on an inheritance to a landowner convinced of his own invincibility. Their stories are not ancient footnotes; they are the live feed of our modern spiritual condition. The kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it (Matthew 13:45-46, KJV). No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon (Matthew 6:24, KJV). For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows (1 Timothy 6:10, KJV). Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal (Matthew 6:19, KJV). But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal (Matthew 6:20, KJV). For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (Matthew 6:21, KJV). Ellen G. White frames this cosmic conflict in stark terms: “The love of money, the desire for wealth, is the golden chain that binds them to Satan” (Patriarchs and Prophets, p. 147, 1890). She further observes, “Covetousness is one of the most common and the most subtle of sins” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 3, p. 544, 1875). The inspired pen warns, “The spirit of covetousness is the spirit of Satan” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 204, 1882). In a powerful indictment, she writes, “The covetous man becomes more covetous as he draws nigh the close of his life” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1, p. 195, 1855). We read that “covetousness has taken hold of men in all the walks of life” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 412, 1875). A solemn truth emerges: “To live for self is to perish. Covetousness, the desire of benefit for self’s sake, cuts the soul off from life” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 259, 1900). This foundation forces a piercing question upon us: when divine glory shines so brightly, why does our gaze so stubbornly drop to the dust?

WHY DO WE MISS GLORY FOR GRIT?

The scene possesses a jarring, almost comic tragedy: the Prince of Life, enmeshed in teaching about the Holy Spirit’s power and the final witness before kings, finds His discourse severed by a shout about probate court. Here was eternity pressing into time, and a man saw only a useful arbiter for his temporal dispute. He stood perhaps close enough to feel the vibration of Christ’s voice, yet spiritually he inhabited another universe—one bounded by property lines and familial grievance. This is the anatomy of a blinded heart. His request, “Master, speak to my brother, that he divide the inheritance with me” (Luke 12:13, KJV), was not a plea for justice but a demand for leverage. He acknowledged Christ’s authority only insofar as it could be weaponized for gain. The man’s soul was elsewhere, preoccupied with soil deeds and currency, making him a ghost in the presence of the Resurrection. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things: and an evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth evil things (Matthew 12:35, KJV). For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh (Matthew 12:34, KJV). This man’s heart, like a overstuffed granary, had no room for the seed of the word. For the heart of this people is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them (Matthew 13:15, KJV). He that received seed among the thorns is he that heareth the word; and the care of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, choke the word, and he becometh unfruitful (Matthew 13:22, KJV). For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? (Matthew 16:26, KJV). For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit (Romans 8:5, KJV). Ellen G. White dissects this moment with prophetic precision: “In the midst of the solemn instruction that Christ had given, this man had revealed his selfish disposition. He could appreciate that ability of the Lord which might work for the advancement of his own temporal affairs; but spiritual truths had taken no hold on his mind and heart” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 253, 1900). She notes how “the crowd closed about Christ as He ceased speaking, and many pressed in close to Him to present their cases for arbitration, or to seek His help in regard to their worldly business” (The Desire of Ages, p. 493, 1898). The messenger explains, “He was constantly urged to decide contested matters, to divide inheritances, and to settle disputes” (The Spirit of Prophecy, vol. 2, p. 329, 1877). A stark warning follows: “When the mind is filled with worldly schemes and anxieties, there is no room for the truth of God” (Counsels on Stewardship, p. 211, 1940). We are told, “Satan is ever ready to fill the mind with plans that will engage the entire attention and absorb the whole energy” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 73, 1882). The conclusion is inescapable: “The soul that is absorbed in earthly treasure is weighed down, and cannot rise to divine and heavenly things” (The Adventist Home, p. 373, 1952). Christ’s refusal, “Man, who made me a judge or a divider over you?” (Luke 12:14, KJV), was not a dismissal of justice but a radical redirection toward the only court that matters. His answer peeled back the skin of a civil case to reveal a gangrenous soul. But if this is the disease of misplaced priority, what specific delusion does it breed in those who believe they have succeeded?

WHAT DELUSION DOES WEALTH CREATE?

Jesus, sensing the poison in the air—a greed so palpable it threatened the entire crowd—pivots from the specific petitioner to a universal parable. He tells of a rich man whose land “brought forth plentifully” (Luke 12:16, KJV). This is not a villain from melodrama; he is the portrait of secular success. His sin is not theft or violence, but a serene, totalizing self-possession. His internal monologue is a liturgy to the first person singular: “What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits? … I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods. And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry” (Luke 12:17-19, KJV). The delusion is threefold: that time is guaranteed, that possession equals security, and that the soul can be nourished by grain. He believes he has built a fortress against uncertainty, a monument to his own foresight. But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided? (Luke 12:20, KJV). So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God (Luke 12:21, KJV). Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain (James 4:13, KJV). Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away (James 4:14, KJV). For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that (James 4:15, KJV). Take heed, and beware of covetousness: for a man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth (Luke 12:15, KJV). Ellen G. White amplifies the horror of this miscalculation: “The picture is true for all time. You may plan for merely selfish good, you may gather together treasure… but you cannot build wall so high or gate so strong as to shut out the messengers of doom” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 259, 1900). She writes, “The man had laid up his treasure for self, and not for God. He lived as though there were no God, no heaven, no future life” (Sermons and Talks, vol. 2, p. 148, 1990). The messenger states, “He forgot that his life was from God, that his power to gain was given by God” (Our High Calling, p. 176, 1961). A dire analysis follows: “The love of money becomes a ruling power, and for its sake honor, truth, and justice are sacrificed” (The Great Controversy, p. 591, 1888). We are warned, “Many are laying up for themselves a wretched pile of remorse for the last great day” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 1, p. 196, 1855). The parable’s core is exposed: “This man has chosen the earthly rather than the spiritual, and with the earthly he must pass away” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 259, 1900). His planned ease was the prelude to eternal poverty. Yet, if God’s response is a thunderous “Thou fool,” where in that judgment can we possibly discern the fingerprints of divine love?

HOW DOES JUDGMENT REVEAL LOVE?

God’s declaration, “Thou fool,” seems a hammer blow of pure wrath, yet it rings with a love more severe and profound than any sentimental affection. This judgment is love’s last, desperate intervention. The rich man’s abundance—the very source of his pride—was itself an unmerited gift, a daily testimony of a love that sends rain on the just and the unjust. The sun had shone, the rains had fallen, the soil had yielded not because of his virtue but because of God’s indiscriminate grace. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning (James 1:17, KJV). For he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust (Matthew 5:45, KJV). The eyes of all wait upon thee; and thou givest them their meat in due season (Psalm 145:15, KJV). Thou openest thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living thing (Psalm 145:16, KJV). O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever (Psalm 136:1, KJV). The LORD is gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy (Psalm 145:8, KJV). The LORD is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works (Psalm 145:9, KJV). By calling him a fool, God shattered the man’s idolatrous illusion before it could completely consume his soul. It was a catastrophic mercy, a loving refusal to let him perish in his delusion. God’s love is not merely soft provision; it is also the hard truth that rescues us from worshipping the provision instead of the Provider. Ellen G. White explains this loving source: “The sun had been permitted to shine upon his land; for its rays fall on the just and on the unjust. The showers of heaven descend on the evil and on the good. The Lord had caused vegetation to flourish, and the fields to bring forth abundantly” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 256, 1900). She affirms, “God’s love is revealed in all His dealings with men” (Education, p. 76, 1903). The inspired counsel states, “God’s goodness and mercy are following us continually” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 2, p. 593, 1871). We read, “It is because God is love that He withholds from men the things that would be their ruin” (The Upward Look, p. 44, 1982). A profound insight is given: “The Lord often removes our idols that we may lean more entirely upon Him” (Our High Calling, p. 311, 1961). The core truth is this: “God’s love is the source of all our blessings” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 8, p. 279, 1904). His judgment is the scalpel of a surgeon, not the club of an executioner. But if all we have is a gift held in trust, what then is the non-negotiable duty that gift imposes on me?

My responsibility toward God in light of this truth is total, humbling, and exhilarating: I am a steward, not an owner. The rich fool’s foundational error was claiming sovereignty. He said “my fruits, my goods, my barns, my soul,” enacting a pantomime of ownership over a life and assets that were on loan. To be “rich toward God” is to live in conscious, joyful acknowledgment of this trusteeship. It means every dollar in my account, every skill in my mind, every breath in my lungs is a sacred capital entrusted to me for investment in the eternal kingdom. For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God’s (1 Corinthians 6:20, KJV). What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? (1 Corinthians 6:19, KJV). Moreover it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful (1 Corinthians 4:2, KJV). Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s (Matthew 22:21, KJV). The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, saith the LORD of hosts (Haggai 2:8, KJV). For all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee (1 Chronicles 29:14, KJV). But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you (Matthew 6:33, KJV). My duty is to administer this trust with radical fidelity, knowing I will give account for every talent. Ellen G. White defines this stewardship: “He did not think of God, from whom all his mercies had come. He did not realize that God had made him a steward of His goods that he might help the needy” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 256, 1900). She states plainly, “We are not our own; we belong to Him who died for us” (Steps to Christ, p. 70, 1892). The counsel is clear: “All that we have is from God, to be used for His glory” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 9, p. 245, 1909). We are told, “God’s claim is paramount to every other” (Counsels on Stewardship, p. 77, 1940). A powerful charge is given: “We are to be channels through which the Lord can send light and grace to the world” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 340, 1911). The principle is absolute: “The consecration to God of a tithe of all our income establishes a regular system of beneficence” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 474, 1880). This vertical responsibility to God, however, finds its inevitable and tangible expression in a horizontal direction. If my wealth is God’s currency, who is its intended recipient?

My responsibility toward my neighbor flows directly from my stewardship toward God. The rich man’s surplus grain was not his personal security fund; it was God’s provision for a community he refused to see. His sin was a sin of omission, of hoarded grace. By building bigger barns, he imprisoned blessings meant to flow. My duty is to be a conduit, not a cul-de-sac, for divine benevolence. When I close my hand to the poor, I am not merely being stingy; I am disrupting the circulatory system of God’s love on earth. To love my neighbor is to recognize him as a fellow steward and potential heir of grace, and to act as the delivery mechanism for the provisions God has placed in my care. He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the LORD; and that which he hath given will he pay him again (Proverbs 19:17, KJV). Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again (Luke 6:38, KJV). Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? (Isaiah 58:7, KJV). Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world (James 1:27, KJV). But whoso hath this world’s good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? (1 John 3:17, KJV). Love worketh no ill to his neighbour: therefore love is the fulfilling of the law (Romans 13:10, KJV). This duty is not optional charity but essential obedience, the practical test of my claim to love God. Ellen G. White paints the missed opportunity: “He could easily have relieved himself of a portion of his abundance, and many homes would have been freed from want, many who were hungry would have been fed… and a melody of praise would have ascended to heaven” (Christ’s Object Lessons, p. 256, 1900). She instructs, “We are to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and comfort the suffering” (Welfare Ministry, p. 29, 1952). The duty is “plainly enjoined” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 6, p. 265, 1900). She writes, “The spirit of liberality is the spirit of heaven” (The Acts of the Apostles, p. 339, 1911). A profound connection is made: “In ministering to the poor, we are ministering to Christ Himself” (The Desire of Ages, p. 639, 1898). The standard is high: “God calls for deeds of sympathy and benevolence” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 7, p. 296, 1902). This law of love, when violated, carries eternal consequences. What, then, is the ultimate cost of choosing self over solidarity?

WHAT IS THE ETERNAL COST OF SELF?

The parable’s conclusion is abrupt and terrifying: “This night thy soul shall be required of thee.” The ease promised for many years vanishes in a single syllable. This is the eschatological verdict on a life of covetousness. It illustrates the investigative judgment in microcosm: the books are open, the soul is weighed, and found wanting because it is attached to dust. To live for self is to build your identity on a substrate that will be incinerated. The rich man’s soul was “required”—it was called in, as a debt comes due. He had invested his very being in perishable commodities, and when they perished, he had nothing left. The loss is total. For what is a man advantaged, if he gain the whole world, and lose himself, or be cast away? (Luke 9:25, KJV). And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell (Matthew 10:28, KJV). For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 6:23, KJV). And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever (1 John 2:17, KJV). Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth (Colossians 3:2, KJV). For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ (Philippians 3:20, KJV). Lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses (1 Timothy 6:12, KJV). The eternal cost is the soul itself, traded for a kingdom of rust. Ellen G. White connects this fate to the final judgment: “The time is coming when all earthly things will be swept away” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 8, p. 98, 1904). She warns, “Eternal interests are at stake” (The Desire of Ages, p. 636, 1898). The prophetic voice declares, “The love of the world has crowded out the love of Christ” (Messages to Young People, p. 58, 1930). A solemn truth stands: “When Christ ceases to intercede in the sanctuary, the fate of every soul is forever fixed” (Maranatha, p. 250, 1976). We are told, “The things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal” (The Adventist Home, p. 374, 1952). The final analysis is stark: “He who dies in his sins will die a death from which there will be no hope of a resurrection” (Selected Messages, bk. 1, p. 356, 1958). This verdict should arrest us, but how do we, living in the very atmosphere of covetousness, practice a different way?

HOW DO WE PRACTICE A DIFFERENT WAY?

We practice by daily, deliberate acts of divine economics. We audit our hearts, asking not “What can I get?” but “What can I give?” We see our paychecks not as personal property but as church treasury funds awaiting distribution. We practice by tithing meticulously, not as a tax but as a joyful declaration of God’s ownership. We practice by looking at our possessions and asking, “Who needs this more than I do?” We practice generosity until it becomes reflex, until the spirit of getting is choked out by the habit of giving. We make our budgets a spiritual document, our checkbooks a record of faith. Sell that ye have, and give alms; provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not, where no thief approacheth, neither moth corrupteth (Luke 12:33, KJV). It is more blessed to give than to receive (Acts 20:35, KJV). There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth to poverty (Proverbs 11:24, KJV). Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not highminded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy (1 Timothy 6:17, KJV). That they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate (1 Timothy 6:18, KJV). But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased (Hebrews 13:16, KJV). Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver (2 Corinthians 9:7, KJV). This practice reshapes our character from the inside out, making us living antitypes of the rich fool. Ellen G. White calls us to this active reformation: “Self-denial and the cross are our portion” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 3, p. 240, 1873). She affirms, “In giving we receive” (The Ministry of Healing, p. 161, 1905). The counsel is practical: “Liberality is a duty on no account to be neglected” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 4, p. 80, 1875). We are told, “The Lord expects us to use wisely the means He has entrusted to us” (Counsels on Stewardship, p. 65, 1940). A promise accompanies the practice: “When we give with an unselfish heart, the act is recorded in heaven” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 9, p. 246, 1909). The principle is clear: “God will bless those who thus manifest a tender, sympathetic spirit toward the needy” (Welfare Ministry, p. 215, 1952). This practice leads to liberation, but can chains forged over a lifetime truly be broken?

CAN GOLDEN HANDCUFFS BE SHATTERED?

Yes, but only by a power greater than gold. The tragedy of the golden handcuffs is their illusion of security; they feel like armor but are actually shackles. The man in the crowd wanted a fair division of property; Jesus wanted to give him an undivided heart. The rich fool wanted expanded storage; God wanted an expanded soul. We break free not by mustering more willpower, but by a total reorientation of desire—a miracle of grace. We allow the Holy Spirit to perform divine surgery, cutting the golden chain that binds us to Satan’s agenda. We consent to have our treasures transferred, our security re-rooted, our identity re-written from “owner” to “son.” We choose to be rich toward God, which often looks like being poor toward the world. This is the exchange: our soul for the world, or the world for our soul. We cannot keep both. The breaking is a daily crucifixion of the covetous self, and a daily resurrection into the liberty of Christ’s ownership. I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20, KJV). For ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich (2 Corinthians 8:9, KJV). But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19, KJV). Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee (Hebrews 13:5, KJV). For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out (1 Timothy 6:7, KJV). And having food and raiment let us be therewith content (1 Timothy 6:8, KJV). But godliness with contentment is great gain (1 Timothy 6:6, KJV). The shattering is both crisis and process, accomplished by looking “unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2, KJV). Ellen G. White points to the source of this power: “The soul must be delivered from the love and power of sin by a power from without” (Messages to Young People, p. 95, 1930). She promises, “He will break the chains that bind you to your former habits” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 5, p. 514, 1889). The transformation is described: “When we surrender ourselves wholly to God, He uses us as vessels unto His own glory” (Our High Calling, p. 48, 1961). We are assured, “The grace of Christ is sufficient to subdue sin” (Selected Messages, bk. 1, p. 394, 1958). A powerful truth is given: “It is through the gift of Christ that we receive every blessing” (Steps to Christ, p. 75, 1892). The ultimate victory is declared: “The religion of Christ will hold us secure under all circumstances” (Testimonies for the Church, vol. 8, p. 129, 1904). In Him, the handcuffs are not merely unlocked; they are melted down in the refiner’s fire, and the gold is repurposed for the kingdom.

The path of stewardship is the narrow way that leads through a world screaming for accumulation and into the quiet, abundant life of trust. It asks us to see everything—our homes, our retirement, our hard-earned comforts—as temporary loans. The parable of the rich fool is not just a story; it is a prophecy awaiting fulfillment in every un-surrendered heart. The investigative judgment proceeds now. Our accounts are being examined. What will the ledger reveal—a history of hoarding, or a legacy of liberality? The voice that said “Thou fool” still speaks, seeking to rescue us from our own doomed plans. Let us then, today, conduct a personal audit. Let us ask the Holy Spirit to reveal our hidden covetousness. Let us make restitution where we have withheld. Let us plan our giving with the same zeal the world plans its getting. For soon, very soon, the night comes when no one can work. The bargain is before us: the whole world, or your own soul. You cannot have both. Choose this day whom you will serve. I choose to be a steward. Will you?

SELF-REFLECTION

How can I, in my personal devotional life, delve deeper into the truths about stewardship and covetousness, allowing them to shape my character and priorities?

How can we adapt these themes on greed and eternal security to be understandable and relevant to diverse audiences, from seasoned church members to new seekers or those from different faith traditions, without compromising theological accuracy?

What are the most common misconceptions about wealth and spiritual life in my community, and how can I gently but effectively correct them using Scripture and the writings of Sr. White?

In what practical ways can our local congregations and individual members become more vibrant beacons of truth and hope, living out the principles of stewardship and generosity amid a materialistic world?

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