Proverbs 13:7

This verse comes from the book of Proverbs, a collection of ancient wisdom sayings largely credited to King Solomon, who ruled Israel around 970–930 BC. It holds up two contrasting portraits: a person who performs wealth they don't actually have, and a person who quietly conceals the wealth they do. In Solomon's world — as in ours — social standing was often tied to visible displays of prosperity through clothing, property, and generosity. The proverb doesn't explain why either person behaves this way; it simply observes the gap between appearance and reality. The implication is that things are rarely what they look like on the surface, and that the performance of wealth — in either direction — is a kind of deception.

God, you see right through every version of me I construct for other people. Give me the courage to stop performing and start being honest — with you, with myself, and with the people I love. Free me from the exhausting work of managing my image. Amen.

There's a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from performing a life you don't actually have. The leased luxury car, the carefully curated social media feed, the casual mention of a vacation you're still paying off two years later — the math of looking successful is brutal and never-ending. Most of us know someone living this way. If we're honest, we've lived it ourselves at some point. But the second portrait in this verse is equally worth sitting with: a person of real means who chooses to look like they have nothing. Maybe it's genuine humility. Maybe it's a fear of being used. Maybe it's wisdom about what money does to relationships once people know you have it. The verse doesn't tell us which person to admire — it just holds the mirror up. What would it feel like to let go of the image management entirely, to simply be what you are — no inflation, no deflation, no performance? That kind of honesty costs something. But the alternative costs far more.