Curious Christian

Reflections on culture, nature, and spirituality from a Christian perspective

Living Without Chains

Debt is so normalised, it hardly feels like a choice. It’s just how things are done. You want a house? Get a mortgage. Need a new fridge? Buy now, pay later. Your phone broke? Sign a new plan. And bit by bit, the chains tighten.

Most people I know aren’t living large—they’re just trying to stay afloat. And yet the burden of owing shapes how we work, where we live, even what we feel allowed to hope for.

As followers of Jesus, I wonder if we’ve stopped asking questions about this. I mean really asking.

Jesus spoke often about money—not just in parables, but in prayers. “Forgive us our debts,” he taught us. That wasn’t only metaphor. In his world, debt could mean losing everything. Today it’s more polite—digitised, automated, dressed up in apps and contracts—but the effect is similar. We become beholden. We work to pay it off. We stay compliant. We worry.

What would it look like to live differently?

Maybe it begins with learning to be content. Not the passive kind, but the kind that says: “I don’t need the latest thing to feel worthwhile.” That’s not easy, in a culture built on marketing and comparison. But I think the early church understood something we’ve forgotten: that freedom doesn’t come from owning more, it comes from needing less.

And maybe it means not always needing to own everything at all. The car, the tool, the house. What if we shared more? What if we leaned into community not just for worship, but for food, transport, housing, support? That’s how the church started. Not with bank loans, but with people holding things in common so no one was in need.

I don’t say this to shame anyone who’s already in debt. Most of us are. The system pushes us there. But we can still ask: where do I have choices? Where am I being sold slavery disguised as convenience? Where can I say no?

There are spiritual powers behind this. Mammon is not a metaphor. And resisting debt, even in small ways, is part of resisting Mammon’s grip. It’s part of choosing a different kingdom.

We can’t opt out of the system entirely. But maybe we can loosen its hold. Maybe we can find joy in simplicity. Maybe we can support one another in living lives that aren’t weighed down by owing.

It starts small. It starts with trust.

“Seek first the kingdom,” Jesus said.

And maybe that kingdom looks like freedom, even in our finances.

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