Treasures That Can't Crash or Lose Value

Stability and Hope in a Shaken and Unstable World

Last Thursday and Friday, executive orders were issued that shook the global economy. Within two days, markets plummeted, trillions in value vanished, and fear spread quickly. Portfolios took a punch in the gut. Retirement accounts were rattled. But the impact wasn’t just financial—it was emotional, even existential. For many, the volatility struck at the foundation of where we place our hope for peace and stability.

Unsettling moments like this force us to face what we often ignore: the fragility of the things we lean on most. Whether it’s a financial system, a job, or a relationship, even the most stable-seeming parts of life can be swept away in an instant.

And yet, these unsettling moments are not without grace. They offer us a chance to pause and ask: Where is my trust anchored—truly? Losses like this can gently redirect our gaze from what is temporary to the one treasure that is eternal and cannot be taken from us—our life in Christ.

The more our hearts are rooted in Jesus—His unchanging love, His eternal kingdom, His steady, redemptive purposes—the more we find an anchored peace that holds, even when everything else is shaking. In a trembling world, those who look to Him still find strength, joy, and rest. These words from the often overlooked prophet, Habakkuk, provide perspective. His was an agrarian economy in which crops and cattle were currency. So, each time he mentions a tree, vine, sheep, or cow, replace it in your mind with things like “life savings” and “net worth.”

“Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to tread on the heights.”
(Habakkuk 3:17-19)

But let’s be honest: most of us aren’t prophets, and keeping this kind of focus is hard. The daily demands of work, family, bills and mortgages that still need to be paid, and personal ambition pull at our attention. They quietly urge us to build our lives on things that—though often good gifts from God—were never meant to bear the weight of our souls.

Jesus understands this tension. He sees our divided hearts, and rather than scolding us, He offers something better: Himself.

When Good Things Become False Treasures

Every human heart clings to something. We all look somewhere for security and meaning—often in wealth (which, very tellingly, we store in something we call a “safe” or in investments we refer to as “securities”), as well as in relationships, achievement, or reputation. But in Matthew 6:19–20, Jesus warns us not to anchor our lives or attach our hearts to what won’t last:

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal."

Today we might add: “…where markets crash, economies falter, and best-laid plans evaporate.”

Earthly treasures are fragile. Even when we get what we hoped for, we often find ourselves asking, “Is this all there is?”

We lose 10% of our net worth in two days—almost like a forced tithe.
A once-secure job disappears.
A cherished relationship begins to unravel.
A long-awaited dream, once realized, still leaves us wanting more.

In Luke 12, Jesus tells the story of a man who believed he was finally secure: “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But God responds, “Fool! This night your soul is required of you.” Not because the man was wealthy, but because he placed his ultimate trust in his wealth, which cannot last and not a dime of which he will take with him.

He leaned on creation, rather than the Creator.

There’s a deep ache in every human heart—a longing for something more, something lasting, something bigger than us. That ache is real. It’s God-given. But when we aim it at temporary things—financial security, comfort, control—these things eventually collapse under the pressure of our expectations.

Even the best gifts can become burdens when we ask them to do for us what only God can. Tolkien’s Gollum in The Lord of the Rings gives us a vivid picture of this. What began as a gift—the ring—slowly became an obsession. It twisted his heart, distorted his identity, and ultimately enslaved him.

The same happens to us when we take good things and make them ultimate instead of penultimate. We begin to ask them to be our Savior. But they can’t carry that weight. And when they fail us, we’re left feeling empty, confused, angry, and scared.

But when Jesus is at the center, the good things in our lives can be enjoyed, not worshiped. We become free to receive them as gifts—not gods. That’s where peace begins.

Tim Keller once said, “If you love anything more than God, even though you may think you’re in control of your life, that thing will eventually control you.”

Our longings aren’t the problem. Neither is our sadness when dreams die or plans fall apart. These experiences reveal we are human. But what we do with those longings—and where we place them—makes all the difference. When we bring them to Someone strong enough to hold them, we find the peace and safety we’ve been chasing elsewhere.

Jesus knows how prone we are to wander. And still, He offers a way back.

Where Your Treasure Is

Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:21). If we want to know where our hearts are, we can ask:

• What occupies my thoughts when I’m alone in a quiet space?

• What most easily makes me feel safe—or afraid?

• What do I believe I must have to be happy?

• Where do I most effortlessly spend my time, money, and energy?

These aren’t questions to shame us—they’re invitations to clarity. Reminders that joy and peace are found not in striving, but in surrender. No matter how far we’ve drifted, Jesus welcomes us back. He doesn’t just tolerate us—He runs to meet us.

The emptiness we often feel, even at the height of success, isn’t failure. It’s a sign. We were made for something more.

Tom Brady once asked, “Why do I have three Super Bowl rings and still think there’s something greater out there for me?” Jim Carrey said, “I wish everyone could get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it’s not the answer.”

And then there are the heartbreaking stories of those who seemingly had it all—fame, wealth, success—but ended their lives still searching for peace: Robin Williams, Amy Winehouse, Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf, Kurt Cobain. Their tragic stories remind us: what the world calls “everything” may still leave us with nothing.

But Jesus offers better.

“Everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands, for my name’s sake, will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life.” (Matthew 19:29)

He doesn’t ask us to discard the blessings of life. He simply calls us to love Him so deeply that everything else finds its rightful place beneath Him, not above Him.

The 19th-century pastor Thomas Chalmers called this “the expulsive power of a new affection.” We don’t overcome our false and lesser loves through willpower. We overcome them by being captured by something—Someone—more beautiful.

When we treasure Christ, we become better stewards of everything else:

A husband who loves Jesus first will love his wife more faithfully.
A parent who loves Jesus first will raise children with more grace and wisdom.
An employee who works for God’s glory will be more trustworthy and productive.

Jackie Hill Perry once said, “Anything you love more than Jesus will either break your heart or become your master.”

If you’ve ever found yourself settling for less than God’s best—looking to your net worth, work success, relationships, or control to fill what only He can—Jesus offers you better. With every sunrise comes His invitation to return, to lift your eyes, and to rediscover Him as the one true and lasting treasure.

Everything minus Jesus equals nothing.
Jesus plus nothing equals everything.

When we seek first His kingdom, everything else finds its place (Matthew 6:33). In a world of uncertainty, Jesus is the one treasure that will never crash, lose value, fade, or fail.