Key Verse: “Some people are always greedy for more,
but the godly love to give!” (v.26)
Maya was already at the table when I arrived. She looked composed—but the kind of composed that takes effort.
The café smelled like roasted coffee and cinnamon syrup. Late sunlight washed the brick walls in amber. Solomon sat across from her, silver-streaked hair tied back, fingers resting on his weathered leather notebook.
“You both look like you’ve been thinking,” he said warmly as I sat down.
Maya gave a small half-smile. “I have.”
He nodded, but didn’t press her.
Instead, he turned to the passage. “Today we widen the lens before narrowing it,” he said. “In these final lines of chapter 21, I contrast pursuits. I say that chasing righteousness and faithful love leads to life and honor. I remind you that no human plan can stand against the Lord. And then I expose the engine under so many bad decisions.”
He tapped the page. “Verse 26… Some people are always greedy for more, but the godly love to give!’”
The words felt sharper out loud.
“Greedy for more,” he repeated. “The image is someone who craves endlessly. It’s not about wealth itself. It’s about appetite without satisfaction.”
Maya stared into her cup. “That sounds like corporate culture.”
Solomon smiled gently. “It sounds like the human heart.”
He opened his notebook. Two sketches—one clenched fist, one open palm.
“The clenched fist believes survival depends on control,” he said. “It grasps—money, power, reputation, leverage. It calculates constantly.”
I felt a flicker of discomfort. I calculate all the time.
“But the godly,” he continued, “love to give. Not reluctantly. Not under pressure. They love it.”
Maya looked up. “How? Giving feels risky.”
“It can be,” Solomon said plainly. “Because giving declares something dangerous: ‘My security does not come from what I hold.’”
The room seemed to quiet around us.
Maya hesitated, then spoke carefully about the situation with her boss. “What if the people above you only care about profit? What if greed runs the whole system?”
Solomon’s eyes softened. There was that uncanny depth again.
“Systems built on greed always demand more,” he said. “More numbers. More compliance. More silence. But they can never produce peace.”
He tapped the open palm drawing.
“Giving is an act of trust. It says, ‘God sees. God provides. God judges rightly.’”
He leaned back slightly. “You both know this—greed isn’t only about money. It’s about self-protection. When you cling to comfort instead of truth, that’s greed. When you protect your image instead of doing what’s right, that’s greed.”
The words hit closer than I expected.
Maya exhaled slowly. “So loving to give means… what? Giving money away?”
“Sometimes...” Solomon said. “But at times it means giving courage. Giving honesty. Giving mercy. Giving time. Giving kindness. Giving up an advantage.”
Her eyes flickered.
He didn’t mention her boss directly. He didn’t need to.
“Here is the deeper truth,” he said, voice lowering. “The Lord Himself is a giver. Breath, life, forgiveness—none of it earned. When you give freely, you reflect Him. You step into His likeness.”
The espresso machine hissed sharply behind the counter, then went silent.
“Greed shrinks you,” Solomon continued. “It turns you inward. You begin to believe that if you don’t secure yourself, no one will. But generosity expands you. It loosens fear’s grip.”
Maya’s posture softened, just slightly.
“And what if giving costs us?” I asked.
“It often will,” he said calmly. “But what you gain cannot be taken by markets, bosses, or threats. Character. Peace. Alignment with God.”
He closed the notebook gently.
“Remember this,” he said. “No human wisdom or plan can stand against the Lord. Greed always looks powerful in the moment. But it is fragile. Trust in God makes generosity possible—even under pressure.”
Maya nodded slowly. Not resolved. Not finished wrestling. But steadier.
When she stood to leave, she squeezed my shoulder briefly. No words.
The chair across from us felt different after she left—not empty, exactly. Just charged. Like something important was unfolding offstage.
Solomon looked at my hands resting on the table.
“Closed,” he observed softly.
I hadn’t realized.
“Open them,” he said.
I did.
What? Greed is an endless craving rooted in self-protection, but a godly heart delights in giving because it trusts God.
So What? Your posture toward giving reveals whether you believe your security comes from accumulation or from the Lord.
Now What? This week, give something that feels slightly costly—time, money, honesty, mercy—and do it as an act of trust in God.
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