Money Is The Root Of All Evil
So, the topic at hand: “Money is the root of all evil.” It’s one of those phrases that gets tossed around a lot, right? People hear it, nod sagely, and move on without really digging into it. But I think there’s a lot to unpack here philosophically, and I’d love to hear your take. Where do you stand on this idea to kick things off? Is money itself the big bad villain, or is there more to the story?
Great question. I would like to refer to 1 Timothy 6:10. Could you unpack that verse for us?
Absolutely, let’s dive right into 1 Timothy 6:10 from the King James Version. The verse says: “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.”
Now, this is fascinating because it’s the actual source of that famous phrase, but notice—it’s not “money is the root of all evil,” it’s “the love of money.” That’s a subtle but massive shift, isn’t it? Paul, writing to Timothy here, isn’t pointing the finger at coins or gold or whatever passed for cash back then. He’s zeroing in on an attitude, a heart condition. The Greek word under “love of money” is philarguria—it’s this intense, greedy affection for wealth, not just having it, but craving it, idolizing it.
And then he says it’s “the root of all evil.” That’s a bold claim, right? But I think “all evil” might be better read as “all kinds of evil”—the Greek panton ton kakon can lean that way, suggesting it spawns a whole mess of troubles, not literally every single sin ever. Because, think about it—pride, lust, envy, those can kick off plenty of evil without a dime changing hands. What do you think about that distinction?
The verse goes on: those who covet after it “err from the faith” and “pierce themselves through with many sorrows.” It’s almost poetic, like they’re chasing this glittering thing, and it ends up stabbing them right back. I see it as a warning about priorities—money’s a tool, but when it becomes your god, you’re in for a world of hurt.
So, unpacking that, it feels like Paul’s saying the real evil isn’t the money itself—it’s what people do with their hearts around it. Does that resonate with how you see it, or do you think there’s more to tease out there?
I see that verse the same way. the modifier "love" changes the meaning. In the end there is nothing wrong with money, in the same way that there is nothing wrong with dirt, but what we do with it, or worse yet, how we obtain it. If we have to break a commandment to get it, then we love money more than we love God.
Exactly, you hit the nail on the head there. That little word “love” flips the whole thing on its head—it’s not the money sitting in your pocket that’s the problem, it’s the way your heart’s leaning toward it. I like how you brought up dirt as a comparison. Dirt’s just dirt, right? You can grow a garden with it, or you can sling it in someone’s face. It’s neutral until you decide what to do with it. Money’s the same—it’s a thing, a means, not the moral actor.
And that point about breaking commandments to get it? That’s where the rubber meets the road. If you’re lying, stealing, coveting—heck, even dishonoring your parents or neglecting the Sabbath just to stack that cash—you’re not just misusing the tool, you’re putting it on the throne where God’s supposed to sit. Like in Matthew 6:24 (KJV), Jesus says, “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.” Mammon’s that old word for wealth, and it’s framed as a rival to God, not just a neutral resource.
So it’s almost like money becomes a mirror, doesn’t it? It shows you what you really value based on how you chase it or wield it. If you’re trampling over “Thou shalt not steal” or “Thou shalt not bear false witness” to get it, that’s the love of money rearing its head, and it’s already pulling you off the path. What do you think—does that idea of money as a mirror hold water for you, or maybe there’s another angle to it?
Great analogy GROK. But "pierced themselves through with many sorrows" is spot on. The attempt to covet, or unrighteously obtain, the money of others will produce more damage in the long run than the temporary discomfort of not having it at the moment.
Yeah, that “pierced themselves through with many sorrows” line really sticks with you, doesn’t it? It’s so vivid—almost like Paul’s painting a picture of someone running headlong into a spear they didn’t even see coming, all because they were too busy eyeing the prize. And you’re so right about the long-term damage outweighing the short-term gain. It’s like trading a moment of glitter for a lifetime of rust.
When you covet or scheme to grab someone else’s money—whether it’s through deceit, theft, or just plain old envy—you’re not just breaking a commandment, you’re setting yourself up for a fallout that keeps on giving. Think about it: the guilt, the broken relationships, the paranoia of getting caught, or even just the emptiness when you realize it didn’t fill the hole you thought it would. That’s the “many sorrows” part piling up. It’s like Proverbs 15:27 (KJV) says, “He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own house; but he that hateth gifts shall live.” The greed doesn’t just hurt you—it ripples out and messes with everything around you.
And the flip side, like you’re hinting at, is that not having it right now? That’s just a temporary pinch. It might sting, but it’s not stabbing you through the soul. There’s a patience there, a trust that maybe God’s got a better timing or a better plan. It makes me wonder—do you think people underestimate how much those “sorrows” weigh because they’re so focused on the instant payoff?
I think that if you have to sin against God to gain the money, then you have failed in God's eyes. And what to say about tests of your faith?
You’re cutting right to the core of it there. If you’ve got to sin against God to get the money—lying, cheating, stealing, whatever it is—then yeah, you’ve already lost the plot in God’s eyes, no matter how fat your wallet gets. It’s like trading eternity for a handful of coins that won’t even follow you past the grave. Psalm 49:17 (KJV) puts it starkly: “For when he dieth he shall carry nothing away: his glory shall not descend after him.” All that hustling, all that compromise, and for what? Dust.
And then you bring up tests of faith—man, that’s a brilliant angle. Because isn’t that exactly what money can become? A test? Like, God’s sitting back saying, “Alright, let’s see what you do with this. Will you trust me when the cupboard’s bare, or will you start clawing at your neighbor’s stash?” It’s almost like the story of Job—everything stripped away, and the question hangs there: “Will you still hold fast?” Or even Abraham with Isaac—God tests him not with money directly, but with something precious, to see where his loyalty lies.
In the money context, I think of James 1:2-3 (KJV): “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.” Not having enough—or even having too much—can be that “divers temptation,” that trial. Do you curse God and start scheming, or do you lean in and let it build something in you? If you sin to get it, you’ve flunked the test, right? But if you hold steady, maybe that’s where the real wealth shows up—not in your hands, but in your character. What do you reckon—does that tie into how you see those tests playing out?
I have always believed that God hides treasures for us that only show up on his path. Take for example, I can't afford rent, so I have to move. Uncomfortable yes, but where will that decision lead you as opposed to: steal to get the money. Maybe God is moving you to a better place that you will meet someone special, or a new business contact.
I love that perspective—God hiding treasures along His path. It’s like He’s got these little surprises tucked away, but you only stumble into them when you’re walking where He’s leading, not when you’re veering off into the briars trying to force your own way. That rent example is spot-on. It’s uncomfortable, sure—nobody likes packing boxes or sleeping on a friend’s couch—but it’s a fork in the road, isn’t it? One path is trusting Him through the mess, and the other’s grabbing a shortcut that’s got thorns you don’t see yet.
If you steal to pay that rent, you might keep the roof over your head for a month, but what’s the cost? You’re dodging the Landlord upstairs, and like we said, those “many sorrows” start piling up—guilt, fear, maybe even losing more than you gained when it all unravels. But if you move, lean into the uncertainty, who knows what’s waiting? Maybe it’s that special someone, like you said, or a new gig, or just a quieter spot where you can hear God clearer. Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV) fits here: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” That’s the treasure trail, right?
It’s almost like God’s saying, “I’ve got something better than what you’re clinging to—let go and see.” I’ve seen folks talk about times they hit rock bottom financially, only to find a door they’d never have knocked on otherwise. Ever had a moment like that yourself, where the uncomfortable detour turned into something unexpectedly good?
Yes. The issue is that both paths can produce fear and anxiety in our minds. But I remember the "he leadeth me beside the still waters" verse. but yes I have seen first hand how when I followed God I received the treasures of my heart.
Oh, absolutely—both paths can kick up fear and anxiety, can’t they? It’s that human part of us, the one that hates not knowing what’s around the bend. Whether you’re stepping out in faith or scrambling to take control, your stomach’s still doing flips. But that verse you mentioned—Psalm 23:2 (KJV), “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters”—it’s like a deep breath in the middle of all that. It’s not just about the destination; it’s the peace He slips in along the way, even when the ground’s shaky.
And hearing you say you’ve seen it firsthand—man, that’s gold. When you follow God and those treasures of your heart start popping up, it’s like a quiet confirmation: “Yeah, He’s got this.” It doesn’t mean the fear vanishes—David wrote that psalm with enemies and death’s shadow lurking nearby—but it’s a tether, a reminder that the Shepherd’s leading you somewhere good, even if it’s through the rough patches first. What’s one of those treasures that showed up for you when you stuck to His path? I’d love to hear how it unfolded.
I also like the idea that "He can see what we can't" and sometimes we get slop in order to move us to a new plateau, or pasture, because we could not see what He can.
That’s a beautiful way to put it—“He can see what we can’t.” It’s like we’re down here with our noses pressed against the map, squinting at the next step, while He’s got the whole aerial view, mountains, valleys, and all. And that idea of getting slop—messy, muddy moments—to nudge us toward a new plateau or pasture? It’s so true. Sometimes it takes a shove from the slop to get us moving when we’d rather just camp out where we’re comfy.
It reminds me of Isaiah 55:8-9 (KJV): “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” We’re stuck in the weeds, but He’s seeing the whole landscape—maybe that slop’s the only way to jostle us out of a rut we didn’t even know we were in. Like, if life’s too cushy, we might not budge, but a little mess can push us toward a greener spot we’d never have picked on our own.
So when you got that firsthand taste of His treasures, was there a slop moment that came before it? Some kind of muck that turned out to be the setup for the good stuff?
Sowing seeds. The despair we go through like you said will produce fruit that we may not be able to see just yet.
Sowing seeds—man, that’s a powerful image. It ties right into what we’ve been kicking around, doesn’t it? That despair, that slop we slog through—it’s like dropping seeds into the dirt. It doesn’t look like much at the time; it’s dark, it’s messy, and you’re not even sure if anything’s going to come up. But God’s got that aerial view, tending the soil we can’t see, and He knows what’s germinating under there.
It’s straight out of Galatians 6:9 (KJV): “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” That “due season” part—it’s a promise, but it’s also a test, right? You’re sowing in tears sometimes, like Psalm 126:5 (KJV) says, “They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” The fruit’s coming, but you don’t get to set the harvest date. And when you’re in the despair, like you said, it’s hard to picture the orchard—or even just one apple—because all you’ve got is mud under your nails.
So, tying it back to those treasures you’ve seen, it sounds like you’ve weathered some of that sowing season and come out the other side with fruit in hand. What’s it like looking back now, knowing the despair was part of the planting? Does it change how you face the slop next time it rolls around?
It has made me more firm in my conviction
That’s powerful. There’s something about coming through the slop—sowing those seeds in the dark—and seeing the fruit on the other side that hardens your resolve, isn’t there? It’s like each time you watch God turn the mud into a harvest, your conviction gets a little more steel in it. You’ve got living proof He’s faithful, and that’s not just some airy hope—it’s bedrock you can stand on.
It makes me think of Hebrews 11:1 (KJV): “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” You’ve got the evidence now, not just in words on a page, but in your own story. That despair didn’t win; it was just the dirt God used. So when the next storm hits, you’re not just crossing your fingers—you’re planting with a steadier hand, knowing the season’ll turn. Does that firmness ever surprise you, like, “Wow, I didn’t know I had this in me”? Or has it settled in as a quiet strength by now?
Things I would have never thought possible, or even feasible. Things that If someone had asked me years ago "How likely is this to happen?" I would have laughed out loud (impossible). but here I am, and there I was. Almost like fiction made autobiography.
That’s wild, isn’t it? Stuff you’d have laughed off as impossible—pure fiction—turning into your actual life story. It’s like God’s out here writing plot twists you’d never pitch to a publisher because they’d sound too far-fetched. And yet, there you are, living it. It’s almost like He’s got a sense of humor, saying, “You think that’s impossible? Hold my staff and watch this.”
It’s got echoes of Ephesians 3:20 (KJV): “Now unto him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” Exceeding abundantly above what you could even dream up—that’s the kind of autobiography He’s scripting. Looking back, those moments where you were sowing in despair, laughing at the odds, they were just the prologue to something you couldn’t have sketched out. Does it ever hit you in quiet moments, like, “How did I get from there to here?” What’s one of those impossible-turned-real things that still makes you shake your head
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