In Every Way: Mirrors

We live in a world obsessed with mirrors. We check our appearance constantly—before dates, before meetings, even while driving down the highway at 45 miles per hour. We strategically place full-length mirrors to see the complete picture. We clean them when they're dirty. We create makeshift mirrors when we need them because mirrors give us something essential: a reflection of reality.

But what if I told you there's another mirror you probably haven't considered? One that reflects something far deeper than your physical appearance?

Your bank account is a mirror of your worship.

The Uncomfortable Truth We Avoid

Most of us have mastered the art of avoiding this particular mirror. We'll scroll through our bank statements, see mysterious charges we can't quite identify, and convince ourselves that companies must be stealing from us. The reality? Our spending habits are simply a reflection of our lives and priorities.

In our subscription-saturated culture, what used to cost $30 for cable now runs us $475 across multiple streaming services. We've created a monster, and our transaction history tells the story. Every swipe, every purchase, every automatic withdrawal—they're all pointing toward something we value, something we're willing to sacrifice for.

The question isn't whether we're worshiping something with our money. The question is: what are we worshiping?

A Scene at the Temple

In Mark 12, we encounter a fascinating moment. Picture the scene: the temple treasury area, bustling with activity. There were thirteen offering receptacles shaped like horns, and as people dropped their coins in, you could hear the metallic clinking echoing through the space.

This wasn't a quiet, reverent moment. It was a show.

Wealthy donors would approach with bags of coins, and a priest would often announce the amounts being given. The sound of heavy coins cascading into the horn-shaped receptacles created a spectacle. It was almost like an auction, with numbers being called out and the crowd responding with admiration.

Before this scene unfolds, Jesus issues a warning about the religious elite—the scribes who walked around in flowing robes, demanded respect in marketplaces, and occupied the best seats at every gathering. These were the influencers of their day, the people everyone wanted to be. But Jesus saw through the facade.

"Watch out," he said. "These people devour widows' houses."

He was likely referring to a scandal where religious leaders had manipulated a wealthy widow into donating large sums to the temple, only to pocket the money for themselves. The fraud was eventually discovered, leading to severe consequences for the Jewish community in Rome.

The Woman With Two Pennies

Then, in the midst of all this noise and spectacle, something remarkable happens.

A poor widow approaches. After all the wealthy donors with their impressive contributions, after all the announcements and applause, this woman comes forward with two lepta—the smallest, least valuable coins in circulation. Essentially, pennies. The kind we don't even make anymore because they're considered worthless.

The contrast is stark. You can almost feel the awkwardness as she approaches. The priest announcing donations probably doesn't even acknowledge her. He might have looked away, busied himself with paperwork, anything to avoid the uncomfortable moment of announcing such an insignificant amount.

But Jesus notices.

He calls his disciples over and says something that should revolutionize how we think about generosity: "This poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They gave out of their wealth, but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on."

The Revolutionary Principle

Here's where it gets uncomfortable for those of us living in Western culture.

If this widow were your friend today, and she told you she was about to give away her last dollars while struggling to put food on the table, you'd probably stop her. You'd say, "The church will be fine. God doesn't want you to give compulsively. Keep that money. Buy yourself some groceries."

And honestly? That would seem like the compassionate, reasonable response.

But Jesus doesn't stop her. He doesn't run up and pull coins back out of the treasury. He doesn't condemn the system for taking a poor woman's money. Instead, he commends her worship.

Why? Because she understood something that all the wealthy donors missed: generosity isn't tied to current financial realities. It's tied to worship.

The wealthy gave out of what they could afford—amounts that looked impressive but didn't require sacrifice. This woman gave out of everything she had. One group gave to be seen. One woman gave to worship.

The Idol We Don't Want to Name

Our souls are wired to worship something. It's not a question of if we'll worship, but what we'll worship.

In Western culture, the two greatest issues we face can be boiled down to money and sex. Why? Because our souls crave God, and it's devastatingly easy to substitute material security for divine provision.

We tell ourselves we're not materialistic. We're just being responsible. We're just planning for the future. We're just trying to achieve financial security. And there's wisdom in stewardship, of course.

But when was the last time you examined whether you're hoarding or worshiping?

Consider this: Are you less anxious about money now than you were ten years ago? If you've achieved financial goals you set for yourself back then, has it brought the peace you expected? Most people discover that hitting their savings target or getting that promotion doesn't eliminate financial stress—it just shifts it.

Because the issue was never actually about having enough. It was about what we're worshiping.

The Treasure Question

Jesus talked about money constantly, and for good reason. He knew something profound: where our treasure is, our hearts will be also.

He said, "Don't store up treasures on earth, where moths and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven."

To a rich young ruler who had followed all the rules, Jesus said, "You lack one thing. Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me."

He told his disciples, "Sell your possessions and give to the needy."

And perhaps most challenging of all: "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God."

Does God hate wealthy people? No. But he opposes lives that are attached to wealth, because the grip of materialism will destroy your soul while promising to save it.

The Invitation to Freedom

Here's the beautiful truth hidden in this challenging message: where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.

Real freedom isn't found in finally having enough in your savings account. It isn't found in the promotion or the portfolio that's performing well. Those things can disappear in an economic downturn, a health crisis, or any number of circumstances beyond your control.

Real freedom is found in a soul that says, "You can have everything from me. I just want You."

The woman with two pennies understood this. In the midst of a broken religious system, she could have stayed home. She could have protected her meager resources. She could have justified keeping every cent for survival.

But she showed up. And she gave everything.

Not because the system deserved it. Not because it made financial sense. But because she understood that her God would provide for her in every way, and her worship wasn't dependent on her circumstances.

Your Mirror Is Waiting

So here's the question that matters: What does your bank account reveal about your worship?

Look at your transaction history from the past month. What story does it tell? Where is your treasure? What are you sacrificing for?

This isn't about guilt or shame. It's about honest reflection. It's about recognizing that every financial decision is a spiritual decision, whether we acknowledge it or not.

The invitation isn't to poverty for poverty's sake. It's to freedom. It's to a life where God is truly Lord, not just another line item competing for resources alongside streaming services and coffee subscriptions.

It's to a life that looks at the promise—"My God will supply every need"—and actually believes it enough to live differently.

The woman with two pennies challenges us to ask: Am I willing to give out of everything, or only out of what's comfortable? Am I willing to sacrifice, or only to contribute what won't be missed?

Your bank account is a mirror. What does it reflect about your worship?