Title: When Everything Falls Apart, What Remains
Intro: Jesus calls us to the same shrewdness, the same wisdom, and the same understanding that in a world where everything is temporary, only love endures.
Scripture: Luke 16:1-13
Reflection
Dear Friends,
There is something deeply unsettling about the story Jesus tells in Luke chapter sixteen. A manager gets caught stealing from his boss. He is about to lose everything—his job, his reputation, his future. But instead of falling into despair, he does something unexpected. He makes friends with his master’s debtors, reducing their bills dramatically. When the master finds out, he actually commends the dishonest manager for acting shrewdly.
What are we supposed to do with this story? Jesus seems to be praising a crook. At first glance, it feels like everything we have been taught about honesty and integrity has been turned upside down. But that is exactly the point. This parable is not about endorsing dishonesty. It is about recognising a crisis and responding with wisdom rather than panic.
The manager in this story faces what we might call an existential moment. Everything he has built his life on is crumbling. His security is gone. His identity as a successful businessman is about to vanish. He stands at the edge of a cliff, looking down into an uncertain future. Sound familiar? Most of us have stood in similar places, maybe not with our jobs on the line, but with our marriages failing, our health declining, our dreams dissolving, and our children walking away from everything we tried to teach them.
What strikes me most about this manager is that he does not waste time on regret. He does not sit in his office wallowing in self-pity or plotting revenge against those who exposed him. He does not spend his final days cursing his fate or drowning his sorrows. Instead, he asks himself a brutally honest question: “What am I going to do now?” This is the question that separates the wise from the foolish, the survivors from the victims.
The manager realises something profound. He is too proud to beg and too weak to do manual labour. But he has something else—relationships. He understands that in a world where everything can be taken away, the connections we build with other people might be the only thing that endures. So he uses his remaining authority to create a network of people who will remember his kindness when his power is gone.
This is where the story becomes less about a crooked businessman and more about all of us. Because every single one of us is a steward of something. We are managing time that is not really ours. We are caring for bodies that will eventually fail us. We are responsible for talents and opportunities that came to us as gifts. We are overseeing resources—money, influence, relationships—that we will one day have to give an account for.
The question Jesus is asking through this parable is simple but piercing: What kind of steward are you? When everything you think you control is stripped away, what will remain? When your health fails, when your savings disappear, when your status crumbles, when the things you have built your identity on prove to be temporary, what foundation will you be standing on?
The manager in the story understands something that escapes many of us. He recognises that his position is temporary. He knows he is going to lose his job, but he also knows this is not the end of his story. So he invests in relationships that will outlast his current circumstances. He uses his remaining time and authority to create connections that will serve him when his official power is gone.
Jesus commends the manager’s shrewdness because he acts with the future in mind. He does not cling desperately to a position he has already lost. Instead, he leverages what he has left to build something that will last beyond his current crisis. This is wisdom. This is what it means to be shrewd in the way Jesus wants us to be shrewd.
But Jesus does not stop there. He takes this story and applies it to our spiritual lives in ways that should make us all a little uncomfortable. “Use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves,” he says, “so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings.” This is not an endorsement of buying friendship or using money manipulatively. It is a call to understand that everything we have—our money, our time, our abilities, our influence—should be invested in relationships and purposes that will outlast our earthly lives.
Consider the friends this manager made. When his official authority ended, these people remembered his generosity. They welcomed him because he had shown them kindness when he had the power to do so. Jesus is teaching us that the investments we make in other people’s lives create a kind of eternal return. When we use our resources to bless others, to meet needs, and to show mercy, we are building friendships that transcend temporal circumstances.
This challenges everything our culture teaches us about success and security. We are told to accumulate, to build bigger barns, to store up treasures for ourselves. We measure our worth by our net worth and define our security by our savings accounts. But Jesus consistently teaches that this approach is not just foolish but dangerous. “What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” he asks in Mark’s gospel.
The manager’s story forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth: we are all temporary stewards of temporary resources. The job you love, the house you have worked so hard to pay for, the health you take for granted, the relationships you assume will always be there—all of it is on loan. This is not meant to discourage us but to free us. When we understand that we are stewards rather than owners, we can hold things more lightly and invest them more wisely.
Jesus drives this point home with one of his most challenging statements: “You cannot serve both God and money.” The word he uses for money is “mammon”, which represents not just currency but the entire system of worldly security and status that money represents. He is not saying money is evil, but that it makes a terrible master. When we serve mammon, we become slaves to things that cannot ultimately satisfy or save us.
The manager’s shrewdness lay in recognising that his security did not come from his position or his salary but from the relationships he could build and maintain. Our shrewdness should lie in recognising that our ultimate security does not come from our bank accounts, our careers, or our achievements but from our relationship with God and the relationships we build with others in light of that primary relationship.
This parable also speaks to the reality of judgement. The manager knew he would have to give an account for his stewardship. He knew his time was limited. He knew there would be consequences for his choices. In the same way, we all live under the knowledge that our stewardship will be evaluated. The question is whether we will live with that reality in mind or continue pretending that we have unlimited time and unlimited chances.
But here is what makes this story hopeful rather than terrifying: the master commends the manager. Even though the manager had been dishonest, when he acts wisely with his remaining opportunity, his master recognises and praises his shrewdness. This suggests that it is never too late to begin living wisely. It is never too late to start investing in relationships that matter. It is never too late to begin using our resources in ways that serve something bigger than ourselves.
The manager’s story is ultimately about redemption through wisdom. He could not undo his past mistakes, but he could choose how to respond to his present crisis. He could not change what he had already lost, but he could influence what remained. This is the space where all of us live—between our past failures and our future hopes, trying to make wise choices with whatever time and resources we have left.
Jesus calls us to be shrewd like this manager, but shrewd in service of the kingdom of God rather than our own temporary comfort. This means recognising that every dollar we spend, every hour we invest, and every relationship we build should be evaluated not just by its immediate return but by its eternal significance. It means understanding that generosity is not just nice but wise, because it creates connections that transcend our current circumstances.
When we feed the hungry, we are making friends who will welcome us into eternal dwellings. When we visit the prisoner, we are investing in relationships that death cannot sever. When we care for the widow and the orphan, we are using worldly resources to build heavenly treasure. This is not calculating kindness but strategic love—love that understands the true value of human souls and the true nature of lasting wealth.
The manager’s story also reminds us that crisis can be a gift. His theft was exposed, and his job was lost, but in that moment of loss, he discovered something valuable: he learnt what really mattered. Sometimes it takes the threat of losing everything to help us see what we should have been investing in all along. The relationships we have neglected, the generosity we have postponed, the kindness we have been too busy to show—crisis has a way of clarifying our priorities.
Maybe you are in your own version of the manager’s predicament right now. Maybe something you have built your life on is crumbling. Maybe your security has been shaken, your identity challenged, and your future thrown into question. If so, this parable has a word for you: it is not over. Your current crisis, however devastating, is not the end of your story. You still have choices to make, relationships to invest in, and generosity to show.
The shrewd manager teaches us that even in loss, even in failure, even in disgrace, wisdom can still triumph. Not the wisdom that tries to cling to what is already gone, but the wisdom that asks, “What can I do now with what I have left?” This is the question that opens the door to redemption, to new relationships, to purposes we never would have discovered if everything had not first fallen apart.
In the end, when everything we think we own is stripped away, what remains is love—the love we have given and the love we have received. The manager understood this intuitively. He used his remaining power to create connections that would outlast his position. Jesus calls us to the same shrewdness, the same wisdom, the same understanding that in a world where everything is temporary, only love endures.
When everything falls apart, what remains is the investment we have made in other people’s lives, the kindness we have shown when we had the power to show it, and the generosity that flows from understanding that we are all just stewards of gifts we never earned. This is the shrewd path, the wise way, the road that leads not just to earthly friendships but to eternal welcome.
The manager’s master commended him because he acted wisely in the face of crisis. How much more will our heavenly Father commend us when we use the resources he has entrusted to us not just for our own comfort but for his kingdom and his glory? The choice, like everything else in this parable, is ours to make.
May the heart of Jesus live in the hearts of all. Amen…
