When a Nation Turns Back

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Deuteronomy 8:17-18 "You may say to yourself, 'My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.' But remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today."

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I spent the night on a yacht once. Isle Morada, Florida. A man I had gotten to know invited me out for an evening on his boat. And when I say boat, I do not mean a fishing skiff. This was a yacht. The kind with multiple decks, a full crew, and enough square footage to make most homes look modest. This man was worth hundreds of millions of dollars. He had built an empire. From the outside, he had everything anyone could want.

But that night, as we sat on the deck under the stars, the conversation went somewhere I did not expect. His marriage was falling apart. His kids barely spoke to him. He had spent decades building a fortune and in the process had lost the people who were supposed to enjoy it with him. I looked at him, this man surrounded by more wealth than most people can imagine, and I said something that surprised us both. "I have more wealth than you." He looked at me like I had lost my mind. But I meant it. Because of Christ, I had a richness in my relationships, in my purpose, in my peace, that no yacht could provide. The next morning, I watched his boat pull away from the dock and disappear on the horizon. One of the loneliest guys I had ever met, sailing off into the distance on a floating mansion.

Moses saw this coming. Three thousand years ago, he warned Israel about the very thing that yacht represented. "You may say to yourself, 'My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me.'" That is the American creed, if we are being honest. Self-made. Self-sufficient. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. And there is something admirable about hard work. God honors diligence. But the moment you cross the line from "God gave me the ability to work hard" to "I did this on my own," you have stepped into dangerous territory.

"But remember the Lord your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth." Notice it does not say God gives you wealth. It says he gives you the ability. The talent, the opportunity, the health, the intellect, the circumstances that allowed you to succeed. All of it comes from him. You did not create yourself. You did not choose the country you were born in or the family that raised you or the brain that processes information. Every good thing you have is a gift from a God who owes you nothing and gives you everything.

When a crisis hits, we run to God. For a few weeks, maybe a few months, God is the priority. Dependence on him feels natural. And then the crisis passes. We go right back to building our kingdoms and forgetting the one who gave us the ability to build.

Crisis drives us to God. Comfort drives us from him. And the cycle repeats itself, generation after generation, because prosperity has a short memory. The moment the pressure lifts, we start taking credit. We start believing the lie Moses warned about: "My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me." And God, who was essential last month, becomes optional again.

My grandfather, G.B. Landrum, was one of the most impressive men I have ever known. Strikingly handsome, a phenomenal athlete, a great speaker, a coach. He was also a deeply committed Christian. He died over twenty-five years ago, but his legacy is still going strong. People who knew him still talk about his character, his faith, his integrity. He left what I call a "vapor trail." Not vapor lock, where your life stalls and nothing moves forward. A vapor trail, where what you leave behind keeps going long after you are gone.

Think about the difference. The man on the yacht had everything the world says you should want. Wealth. Status. A floating palace. But his legacy was loneliness. My grandfather had a fraction of the material resources, but his legacy is still bearing fruit decades later. The difference was not talent or intelligence. The difference was memory. One forgot where his blessings came from. The other remembered every single day. And what they remembered determined how they responded to everything, how they built, who they loved, what they left behind. One built on the strength of his own hands. The other built on the Lord who gave him the ability in the first place.

Deuteronomy 8 is not an ancient warning for a nomadic people wandering the desert. It is a mirror held up to every prosperous nation, every successful person, every church that has gotten comfortable with its own growth. Remember the Lord your God. Not just when tragedy strikes. Not just when the crisis hits. Remember him in the comfort, in the prosperity, in the ordinary Tuesday afternoon when everything is going fine and you are tempted to think you have it all figured out. Because that is when forgetting does its most dangerous work.

That yacht disappeared on the horizon, and I have never forgotten the image. A man surrounded by luxury, sailing away from everything that actually matters. Do not let that be your story. Build a legacy that outlasts you. Build on the One who outlasts everything.

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Check your foundation – Honestly evaluate what you are building your life on. Is it your own ability, your own resources, your own reputation? Or is it the God who gave you all of those things? Today, thank him specifically for three abilities or resources you have been taking credit for.

Pray

Father, forgive me for the times I have looked at what I have and said, "I did this." You are the One who gives me the ability to work, to earn, to build. Without you, I have nothing. I do not want to be the person who forgets you in the good times and only remembers you when the crisis comes. Help me build a legacy that points to you, not to me. In Jesus' name. Amen.