While waiting for lunch today, I noticed a young mother at the next table.

Her little boy was tapping his fork happily on the table,

but she didn’t even look up—

her eyes were locked on the stock-chart dancing on her phone.

In that brief moment, I realized something:

people aren’t always driven by circumstances;

often, our hearts have already gone somewhere else first,

and our bodies simply follow.

Jesus’ words, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also,”

are not about money management.

They unveil a spiritual mechanism:

your heart always moves toward what you truly prize—

not what your mouth says you love,

but what your emotions, attention, and anxiety cling to.

Modern treasures rarely look like gold.

They look like approval,

competence,

security,

a sense of control,

or the fragile comfort of “being seen.”

None of these are inherently wrong.

The problem arises when they quietly move into the center.

Augustine famously said,

“Sin is disordered love.”

We don’t necessarily love the wrong things—

we simply love them out of order.

We place secondary things in the place reserved for God,

and they instantly turn into burdens.

Midday often reveals our true loves more honestly than morning prayers or evening reflections.

In the morning, we can still rely on discipline.

At night, we can still tidy up our mood.

But midday—busy, cluttered, unfiltered—

exposes our heart’s direction with surprising clarity.

Your heart goes where it feels safest.

Your heart goes where it expects life.

Your heart goes where it hopes to be held.

And Jesus, rather than rebuking us,

is gently uncovering what exhausts us.

We think freedom comes from “having more,”

but Jesus insists freedom comes from “being rooted in the right place.”

If your heart clings to things that shift,

you’ll live in perpetual insecurity.

If your heart clings to people’s opinions,

you’ll always feel inadequate.

If your heart clings to control,

you’ll always feel tense.

But when your heart returns to God,

a quiet steadiness emerges—

not because life becomes easier,

but because the soul finally finds a home.

Spiritual maturity isn’t merely “doing more spiritual things.”

It is the slow reordering of love.

Letting God return to the center

allows every other love to return to its proper place.

This is not deprivation.

This is liberation.

Sometimes God allows us to hit emotional walls,

not to punish us,

but to show us that the things we cling to

cannot bear the weight of our souls.

But He can.

He always can.

He invites you to gather your scattered affections

and let your heart settle in Him.

When that happens,

you still work, still love, still give your best—

but you’re no longer enslaved by outcomes.

You breathe again.

You live again.

Prayer

Lord, my heart is easily pulled in many directions—

by anxiety, comparison, the desire for control,

and a thousand tiny loves that promise comfort but give me unrest.

Reorder what is disordered within me.

Remove from the throne what does not belong there.

Set my heart again in You,

so that I may live grounded, free, and joyful.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Questions for Reflection

• What is pulling my heart most strongly today?

Does it truly deserve this much space?

• If God asked me to loosen my grip on one thing today,

would I trust that He will still provide?

Today’s Practice

Pause for three minutes sometime at midday.

Turn off your phone, close your eyes,

and whisper this Scripture once:

“My heart belongs where You are.”

Let this short moment re-center your inner world,

so the rest of your day flows from a heart anchored in God.