It wasn’t the title of the article by Guy Trebay in the July 23New York Times that intrigued me—"What’s the Status of Flaunting Your Status,” but its subtitle: “In the world of the ultrawealthy, luxury is only quiet if you don’t know what to listen for.”

Since I am in no danger of inhabiting that world, I read on anyway and discovered that in that world, “The brownstone super rich signal domestic chic with decorative details like a $220 light switch manufactured by the English company Forbes & Lomax.”

Trebay uses the phrase “stealth wealth,” and makes the distinction between Old Money and New Old Money, “For Old Money like [Bunny] Mellon’s, discretion was indeed a key value, while for those in the class of New Old Money—that is, great fortunes made, often in tech, in a time frame bracketed by Myspace and TikTok—wealth display is noticeable, but only to those who know what they’re looking for.”

According to Trebay, “Privacy, discretion and to a large extent anonymity are the baseline for stealth wealth.”

I don’t think God has such a baseline. He does not hide the abundance of his wealth. It’s hard to remain anonymous with your wealth when the heavens declare your glory, skies proclaim your handiwork, and day and night talk about you from one end of the earth to the other.

Add another layer of miracles with Jesus, water to wine, feeding thousands with a single lunch, healing the sick, walking on water, raising the dead. No wonder thousands were following the wonder of this man who could do anything.

Ironically the greatest display of God’s wealth came clothed in humility—a body broken, and blood spilled. And if this wealth were only noticeable by those in the know, we would have missed out since we didn’t know we needed it, being dead and all that.

There really isn’t anything discreet or discriminating about these riches of God. Thirsty? Come and drink. Hungry? Be satisfied. Weary? There is rest. Sinful? Find mercy. Whoever believes? Eternal life.

Whoever? As in whatever person, no matter who believes finds eternal life, and does not perish. Yep, that whoever, and that’s when I am in danger of drifting into the stealth wealth world with its value of discretion, with my curated Who’s Who list of the sinners I love and hate their forgivable sins and the sinners I just hate. Too often I want to curate the art of grace when I forget the poverty of my own sins.

The graced words in Ephesians 2:4, however, block my drift into my stealth wealth world: "but God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us.” He loved us—the ones described in verse 3 as "by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.”

It’s the lavishness of God’s grace, the riches of his mercy that has turned this "whoever" into a dearly loved child who has a standing invitation to a heavenly feast along with other recognizable redeemed beggars, be they lame, poor and blind now, but not forever.

The banquet to come beckons. The riches of Jesus, offered at great cost, yet free to us, transforms all things. Even me. We can touch this way to heaven, wonder and cry out like Thomas, "My Lord and my God."