Dig Deeper into this Sunday’s Gospel: Read Luke 16:1–13

What’s in your Amazon cart?

For some, this is a cute and funny icebreaker question. For me? A little terrifying.

Because if one could peek into my Amazon account, I’d be found out.

Not for anything scandalous, but for something far more revealing. If you really want to know what idols I’m tempted to place on the altar of my heart, all you’d have to do is scroll through that familiar site with the smile logo.

Now, in fairness, my actual Amazon cart is empty. But my “saved for later” list? Well over 600 items.

Six. Hundred.

On the first page alone, you’d find scar tape (a story for another day), tighten-and-lift neck cream (don’t get me started), a decorative fall porch mat (never mind the three collecting dust in my basement), a puff-sleeve floral dress, and three blazers in three different colors—because clearly one just won’t do.

It’s easy to laugh at this list, but when I look closer, I see something deeper. These aren’t just products. They’re longings. A longing to look young, to be stylish and noticed. A longing to refresh my home and present myself polished and put together. Behind each “saved for later” is a little piece of my heart whispering: If only I had this, then I would feel … enough.

That’s why Jesus’ words in this Sunday’s gospel stop me in my tracks:

No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon. (Luke 16:13)

Mammon. A word that historians say comes from Aramaic or Hebrew, meaning “the treasure a person trusts.” In different Bible translations, you’ll see substituted “money,” “wealth,” or “riches.”[1] But at its heart, mammon is whatever we lean on, chase after, or cling to instead of God.

For some of us, it isn’t money. It might be affirmation, appearance, control, or security. For me, those 600 items reveal my desire for youth, beauty, and order. (Ouch, my pride is so being pricked right now!) For you, it might look different. And yet, Jesus’ words are clear: we cannot serve Him while clinging to another master.

The extended version of this gospel tells the parable of the dishonest steward (Luke 16:1–9). He knows he’s about to be fired, so he cleverly rewrites his master’s accounts, making friends and shrewd arrangements intended to help him later. Jesus points us to the virtue we can learn more about from this dishonest steward’s actions: prudence.

The steward prudently made choices that would set him up for financial and worldly gain in the future. Prudent, yes. Moral, well that’s debatable. 

Prudence is wisdom in action. It’s what Proverbs 14:8 calls “giving thought to your ways.” It’s the equivalent of hitting a “virtuous pause” before making a choice. It’s a gift of grace that helps us see beyond what is temporary and invest in what is eternal.

Our mammon may not necessarily be stock portfolios or IRAs. Often it’s the subtler idols we cling to: perfectionism, comparison, people-pleasing, or an Amazon cart full of “if onlys.” And yet, Jesus is inviting us to redirect our investments—every one of them—not into fleeting comforts, but into eternal treasures.

To cultivate prudence is to be discerning in our decisions. Whether it’s financial planning for the future, leading a Walking with Purpose small group, or simply getting up when the alarm goes off to spend time with our Lord, exercising prudence means choosing to prioritize His will over our own. 

Prudence is asking, “Am I making choices based on serving a temporary idol, or am I seeking God’s wisdom, insight, and guidance first?”

Every time we choose prayer over scrolling, forgiveness over resentment, generosity over self-protection, we are investing in eternity. These hidden choices ripple outward. They form our children. They encourage our friends. They strengthen the Church. The legacy of our spiritual motherhood, of what we will leave behind in faith for the next generation, is built on the quiet, faithful, and prudent choices that we make today.

And when those idols and attachments feel too heavy to clear out on our own, the Church gives us the beautiful gift of the sacraments. Reconciliation is like a holy decluttering. Jesus tenderly removes the sin and the clutter of our hearts, making room for grace. Just as we feel lighter after cleaning out a closet, we walk out of the confessional renewed and free, able to love Him and others with greater joy. 

And after we’ve made space in our hearts through Reconciliation, the Lord invites us to be filled in the most perfect way—with His very Body in the Eucharist. Here, we will find the true nourishment that fulfills every longing and will never fade.

Our Amazon carts? They’re for the here and now. Their return is instant gratification; however, the satisfaction we feel fades with the very next click.

Oh, but Jesus? He is forever. He is the only One who satisfies the longing behind every purchase and the ache behind every “saved for later.”

My friend, our carts will always be full, but only our Lord can truly satisfy us. Let’s invest in Jesus. His return is eternal, the treasure that lasts.  

Banking on Jesus,
Jeannine

Food for thought or reflection …

What “saved for later” longings or idols have I been clinging to, hoping they will make me feel enough? How is Jesus inviting me to place these at His feet?

​​Lord Jesus, You are my true treasure and my lasting joy. Remove from my heart all that competes with Your love. In the sacrament of Reconciliation, cleanse me of my sin; with the Eucharist, fill me with Your very life. Teach me to hunger for what is eternal and to invest all that I am in You. Amen.

P.S. Curb your cravings for more by checking out our Bible study, Keeping in Balance, specifically Lesson 13: Balance Through Simplicity and Lesson 16: Balance Through Self-Discipline.

[1] “Strong’s Greek, 3126,” Bible Hub, accessed September 8, 2025, https://biblehub.com/greek/strongs_3126.htm.