For the births of each of my three children, one of my earliest memories is gently stroking their tiny palms and feeling their fingers wrap around mine. It’s such a small movement that feels like an absolute miracle; this person who had been inside me only moments before, now grasping onto me. I remember my surprise the strength of their grips, and how I never wanted those fingers to leave mine.

Scientists call this the Palmar Grasp. Amazingly, it develops months before babies are born, giving them the innate ability to hold onto things before they even take their first breath. The Palmar Grasp is the foundation for a lifetime of touching, holding, and exploration for every human. Not to mention, it gives whoever has the privilege of placing their finger inside a newborn’s hand the purest of pleasures.

Newborns lose the Palmar Grasp reflex within their first months as they move onto more exciting things. But we never lose our propensity for grasping. Until the end of our days, we all live with a desire for full hands. Our Western culture has answered this longing with two directives: Accumulate and Accomplish.* Get more stuff and do more things. This is how we fill our hands; how we hold onto the Good Life. The trouble is, the needle keeps moving. Just when we think we have enough, we find our hands reaching for more, still gripping that which we’ve already obtained. The result? Full hands, yes. But empty hearts. Healthy retirement funds for future R&R, with no plan for actual rest in sight. Garages and attics filled with must-haves that leave us discontent, with a constant need to declutter. The Good Life achieved and, frankly, not all it’s cracked up to be.

So, we resolve to try harder; to give more and plan better and be wiser with our resources. This, we think, will help us loosen our grip on these worldly treasures. More effort, smarter habits–the secret to a more content life. The problem with this is that we were created to cling to something (see: tiny newborn fingers). It’s not enough to simply loosen our grasp on one thing; we have to pick up something else instead. Something better.

Jesus knew this, of course. We’re often told he spoke more about money and giving than any other topic. There’s the rich young ruler, the servant who buried his talents, the woman who gave her only coins away, to name a few. But to say those stories are about finances is to miss the point. Like all Jesus’ stories, these were about belonging to a different Kingdom with a different kind of economy. One where the poor are made wealthy because they inherit the King’s bounty.

In all His stories involving money, Jesus wasn’t concerned about our bank balances or investment strategies. Rather, He was guiding us to release the death grip on things we think are ours so we might cling to the abundant life that is His. He didn’t call us to give because He needs our dollars to accomplish His mission. No, Jesus asks us to be generous so we might receive the joy of partnering with Him on His work in the world. In His kindness, Christ uses our modest and meager sacrifices to remind us of His perfect sacrifice and display His love to others.

As disciples, we’re asked to trade accumulation and achievement for sacrifice and surrender. This is the way of Christ, and He’s promised to teach us if we’ll let Him. Like a father gently removing the shiny toy from his newborn’s grasp so tiny fingers can wrap around his own, our Father beckons us to release the world’s glittery riches. Not so we’re left empty-handed, but so we have the capacity to hold fast to the truest treasure there is.

Singer-songwriter Jon Guerra recently released a song called “I See the Birds.” (It’s beautiful. Listen here.) Near the end, he sings, “I’m letting go of my own life. I’m letting go again.” I love this line because it reminds me how prone I am to pick up things I’ve already surrendered. After all, money and wealth feel good in our hands. We like the weight and power of them and the way others nod in approval when they notice. Left on our own, we will pick them back up. But the good news–the Gospel–is that we’re not left on our own.

We have to cling to this Gospel. We have to hold to the reality of the risen Christ and the truth of His Spirit in us. The Gospel-centered life isn’t just about a one-time decision to follow Jesus, but about a daily posture of repentance–of setting back down the things we’ve picked up and turning back toward the only One who can really satisfy. Again and again and again. It’s here, in the letting go and picking up, that we are transformed into the likeness of Christ, for the joy of our own hearts and the glory of the Savior.

Brothers and sisters, let it not be said of us that we accepted the Father’s gift of grace with open arms, only to keep our fists tightly closed around what we’ve deemed “ours.” Rather, may the astounding generosity of Christ be so impressed upon us that we overflow with our own lavish giving. May the reality that Christ purchased our lives with His death and set upon us the richness of His love compel us to cast aside selfish treasures in favor of fully grasping onto Him. And when we pick back up the things we’ve surrendered, may we be quick to return to the truth of the Gospel, that it may fill our hearts and hands once more.

*In His book, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, John Mark Comer calls accumulation and accomplishment “the West’s twin gods”.