Credit cards promise convenience, rewards, and flexibility—but beneath that smooth swipe lies something more powerful: risk.
Not just financial risk, but spiritual risk.
The risk of forgetting who the true Provider is.
Let’s be honest. For many believers, a credit card starts as a tool for emergencies, travel, or “just-in-case” purchases. But over time, it becomes something else—a quiet test of trust.
In Uniform of the Steward, I wrote,
“Stewardship is not proven in seasons of plenty—it is proven in the moments when faith must override fear.”
Every time you swipe that card, you’re choosing between faith and fear. Are you trusting God’s provision or leaning on borrowed comfort?
1. The Risk of False Security
Credit cards whisper a dangerous lie: You can afford it.
That lie works because it feels empowering. Suddenly, you’re not limited by your bank balance—you’re buoyed by available credit. But what starts as confidence can morph into complacency.
In Putting on the Uniform of the Steward, Thomas warns,
“Debt makes a dangerous promise—it gives the illusion of control while quietly taking it away.”
The spiritual danger here isn’t just overspending; it’s the slow erosion of contentment. You stop asking, “Do I need this?” and start assuming, “I deserve this.”
That’s when stewardship turns into self-sponsorship—and the fruit of peace turns into the weight of worry.
2. The Risk of Emotional Spending
Money always tells a story. When that story is driven by emotion—stress, boredom, loneliness, even celebration—credit cards become the pens that write emotional checks your future self must cash.
Proverbs 25:28 offers a clear warning:
“Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control.”
Unrestrained credit use is often less about math and more about mindset. The risk isn’t just in the purchase—it’s in the habit that follows.
Millennials and Gen Z believers, especially those leading teams or ministries, often face the subtle pull of “presentation pressure.” Looking the part, hosting well, showing excellence—all good things—but they become financial traps when motivated by comparison instead of conviction.
The heart of stewardship is not austerity—it’s alignment.
3. The Risk of Disguised Debt
Here’s the part most people miss: credit cards blur reality.
Your account may say “available balance”, but that doesn’t mean “available blessing.”
Debt hides inside comfort zones. You don’t feel it when you’re swiping. You feel it when you’re sitting in silence later, wondering why your peace feels thinner than your margin.
Romans 13:8 commands,
“Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another.”
That verse is not just about finances—it’s about focus. When your energy goes to managing balances instead of building the Kingdom, you’re financing distraction, not destiny.
4. The Risk of Missed Opportunity
Every dollar you send toward interest is a dollar that could have served purpose.
It could’ve built a savings cushion, supported a mission, or sponsored a student. Instead, it becomes tribute paid to impatience.
In Putting on the Uniform of the Steward, I wrote,
“Interest is the tax on yesterday’s impatience—and the toll that slows tomorrow’s progress.”
Credit card risk isn’t measured only in dollars; it’s measured in delayed obedience.
Every financial decision either accelerates your calling or distracts from it. Stewardship means choosing purpose over points, obedience over impulse.
The Steward’s Call to Action
Take time this week to review your credit statements—not with guilt, but with gratitude.
Ask these three questions:
- Does this spending reflect faith or fear?
- Am I stewarding my credit, or is it steering me?
- What change would bring me closer to peace?
Then, pray. Literally.
Ask God to reveal what habits need healing and what boundaries need building.
James 1:5 gives this promise:
“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives generously to all without finding fault.”
You are not condemned for using credit—but you are calledto manage it wisely.
Stewardship is not about restriction; it’s about revelation. It’s seeing money for what it really is: a means to magnify trust, not temptation.
