Rich in the Right Things

Some songs begin with a Bible story.

Some begin with a personal struggle.

This one began with a conversation.

Recently, I stayed at a hotel where a farming conference happened to be taking place. It was filled with young farmers from across the country. One evening I found myself talking with one of them on the shuttle bus.

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He spoke about farming the way some people talk about their greatest adventure.

He talked about waking up before sunrise.

Milking cows.

Feeding livestock.

Working until his muscles ached.

Living by the seasons instead of the clock.

To most people, it sounded like hard work.

To him...

It sounded like home.

What struck me wasn't the work. It was the joy.

He wasn't chasing a bigger paycheck or a bigger title.

He wasn't dreaming about escaping that life.

He loved it.

His family worked together.

They ate together.

They worshiped together.

Their days revolved around God, hard work, and one another.

As he talked, I couldn't help comparing his life to so much of what I'd seen throughout my own journey.

I've spent years chasing goals, building careers, and believing that success was always waiting just beyond the next achievement.

The finish line kept moving.

There was always another promotion.

Another project.

Another goal.

Another reason to sacrifice today for tomorrow.

Then I thought about something I'd noticed while working in hospitals. Families from many cultures filled the rooms of their loved ones. They stayed together through sickness, celebrated together through healing, and rarely left someone to face hardship alone.

Too often, I noticed how easy it had become in our own culture to let careers, schedules, and distractions slowly replace relationships.

Not always.

But often enough to make me stop and think.

That young farmer reminded me that there is another way to live. One where success isn't measured by what you own. It's measured by who gathers around your table at the end of the day.

That's what inspired Down, But Ain't Out.

The song isn't pretending farm life is easy.

It isn't.

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It's physically demanding.

Financially uncertain.

Dependent on weather, seasons, and circumstances completely outside your control.

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Yet there's something deeply beautiful about ending a hard day's work with gratefulness instead of greed.

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One of my favorite lines says,

                       "Ain't countin' dollars, I'm countin' days..."

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That's a lesson I think all of us need.

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Paul wrote,

                          "Godliness with contentment is great gain." (1 Timothy 6:6)

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Not because money is wrong.

But because money makes a terrible master.

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Jesus said,

                 "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6:21)

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The treasure in this song isn't hidden in a bank account.It's found around the dinner table.

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In calloused hands.

In children learning to work alongside their parents.

In prayers spoken before meals.

In honest work done with integrity.

In knowing that when the day is over, you've invested in something that will last longer than a paycheck.

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The older I get, the more I realize that peace isn't something we buy.

It's something we cultivate.

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Like a farmer tending his field, we cultivate it one choice at a time.

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One prayer at a time.

One meal together.

One act of faith.

One sunrise.

One more row.

One more opportunity to thank God for enough.

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That's the kind of wealth this song celebrates.

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Not the kind that fills barns.

The kind that fills homes.

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The world measures success by what we accumulate. God measures it by what we faithfully cultivate.