We check expiration dates on milk, yogurt, and eggs like our lives depend on it. We tilt the carton, sniff the lid, and if the date is even close, we get nervous. Yet most of us never stop to consider that our money has an expiration date too. In James 5.1-6, we are given a kind of spiritual inspection sticker, and it is uncomfortably honest about what happens when wealth goes bad.
Look here, you rich people: Weep and groan with anguish because of all the terrible troubles ahead of you. Your wealth is rotting away, and your fine clothes are moth-eaten rags. Your gold and silver are corroded. The very wealth you were counting on will eat away your flesh like fire. This corroded treasure you have hoarded will testify against you on the day of judgment. For listen! Hear the cries of the field workers whom you have cheated of their pay. The cries of those who harvest your fields have reached the ears of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. You have spent your years on earth in luxury, satisfying your every desire. You have fattened yourselves for the day of slaughter. You have condemned and killed innocent people, who do not resist you. – James 5.1-6 (NLT)
James is not just talking about numbers in a bank account. He is talking about what happens when money moves from being a tool to becoming a master. He paints a picture of wealthy landowners who hoard their riches, cheat their workers, and live in luxury while others suffer. On the outside they look successful, but James says their wealth is rotting, their treasure is corroding, and their comfort is quietly killing their souls.
Most of us will never drag someone into court or withhold wages from field workers. But James wants us to see that the path that leads there starts in the same place our hearts often do. It starts when fear replaces faith, when comfort outruns compassion, and when “But what if…” has more authority in our decisions than the voice of Jesus. When every financial decision is filtered through “But what if the economy crashes?” or “What if I do not have enough?” generosity freezes and trust in God shrinks.
James also reminds us that every act of injustice leaves a sound. The unpaid wages of the workers “cry out” to God, and their cries have reached the ears of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. Even if we are not unjust bosses, we can still withhold compassion, delay obedience, and ignore the promptings of the Holy Spirit to give. What we withhold reveals what we truly value, and withheld obedience has a way of echoing in our souls.
Then James exposes the trap of comfort. He says these landowners have “fattened” themselves for the day of slaughter. That is graphic language, but it makes sense. Comfort feels safe, but it can quietly imprison us. Like sinking into a recliner and never getting up to do what we planned, a life built around luxury and ease will eventually squeeze out purpose, courage, and generosity.
The good news is that James does not leave us in despair or guilt. The antidote to corrosive wealth and comfort addiction is not poverty; it is alignment. It is letting our money serve God instead of silence Him. When we give to the church, to mission, and to people in need, we are not just “paying bills” or being nice. We are declaring, with open hands, that Jesus is Lord and money is not.
The wealthy landowners in James 5 used their power to crush the righteous, but Jesus did the opposite. The truly Righteous One was crushed to make us rich in grace. He did not hoard; He emptied Himself. He did not withhold; He gave. He did not live for comfort; He embraced the cross. Because of His generosity toward us, we are free to live generously toward others.
So here is the question this passage presses into our lives: What story will your money tell? One of fear, comfort, and corrosion, or one of trust, alignment, and grace? Your wealth will testify one day. By God’s grace, let your generosity be the loudest witness.
Upside Down Faith 