Do your financial decisions reflect who you trust—or who you fear? Ch. 16

Do your financial decisions reflect who you trust—or who you fear?
Long before leadership, long before responsibility, and long before business decisions carried weight, our perspective is already being shaped—not just by what we have, but by what we didn’t. Money shaped my thinking long before I ever led a business, and much of that thinking was formed in seasons where there never seemed to be enough.


We lived in a single-wide trailer for a season. There were times when the water was shut off—not occasionally, but often enough that it became part of our reality. There wasn’t a margin. There wasn’t excess. And there certainly wasn’t enough to help others. We were the family at church where food would show up at our doorstep, receiving what we could not provide for ourselves.


At the time, I didn’t have the words to describe what that felt like, but I understood the tension. I understood what it meant to come up short, the quiet awareness of being on the receiving end, and the lingering question beneath it all: Will there ever be enough?
Those early experiences do more than shape your view of money; they shape our view of provision. When you grow up in lack, money doesn’t just represent opportunity; it represents security. It becomes something you hold tightly, something you protect, something you rely on. And if that belief goes unchallenged, it follows you into leadership.


“Money reveals what you believe about provision long before it tests what you say about faith.”
— Jerry R. Meek


As life progressed and business grew, the external circumstances changed. There was more responsibility, more opportunity, and more resources. But internally, the question remained the same: What do you trust? Because money doesn’t remove pressure, it changes its form.


Now the pressure shows up in different ways. It appears in how you allocate, what you protect, and what you prioritize. It influences decisions that affect not just you, but your team, your clients, and the direction of your company. And beneath it all, the same question lingers: Will there be enough?


Scripture calls us not to anchor our security in what we can accumulate, but to trust in something greater. That is not just instruction, it is reorientation. Provision is not defined by what you have; it is defined by who you trust.


There were moments in business when protecting resources felt responsible, when holding back felt safe, and when financial caution appeared wise. But over time, I began to see something more clearly: faith does not grow in safety—it grows in trust.


I recall when we had our carpentry company and framed a big box store. At completion, they asked us to help with some interior finishes. During that process, they paid us $1,200—twice.


I kept it.


At the time, it didn’t feel significant. It felt small, easy to justify, and even easier to move past. But over time, something stayed with me. It was quiet, but persistent. Not overwhelming or constant, but present enough that I couldn’t fully ignore it. It would surface at unexpected moments, reminding me that something wasn’t right. The amount itself wasn’t what mattered; it was what it revealed.


It revealed what I was willing to justify. It revealed what I believed was acceptable when no one else was paying attention. And it revealed that integrity is not defined by the size of the decision, but by the consistency of it.


By the time I decided I wanted to make it right, the national chain was out of business. There was no one to return it to. So, we donated the money. But even in doing that, I knew something I couldn’t ignore: the opportunity to act with integrity at that moment had already passed. The lesson, however, did not.


Years later, our business had grown. The projects were larger, the clients were different, and many of them had family offices managing their finances. The numbers were no longer small, and the margin for error—or integrity—was no longer insignificant.


Over a period of about six months, we received overpayments. One was $50,000. Another was $150,000. And another was nearly $200,000. Each time, we returned it immediately. There was no discussion, no hesitation, and no internal debate. The decision had already been made—long before the money ever showed up.
That is what stood out to me most. Those decisions were not made in those moments. They were made years earlier, in a much smaller moment that didn’t seem significant at the time. That earlier experience shaped how we would respond when the stakes were higher.


Integrity is easy to claim when nothing is at stake. It becomes real when it costs you something—when there is something to gain, and you choose not to take it. Those moments were not about accounting. They were about alignment.


Because money has a way of revealing what you actually believe—not what you say, not what you intend, but what you do when there is something to gain.


In those moments, the question wasn’t, “What can we keep?” It was, “Who are we becoming?” And the answer mattered more than the money.


Looking back, those early years were not just difficult; they were formative. They shaped my understanding of dependence, gratitude, and ultimately, stewardship. When you have experienced lack, you begin to see provision differently. And when you see provision differently, money begins to lose its control.


It no longer defines your decisions. It becomes a tool—not a source of security. Over time, you begin to understand that money is not something to be held tightly, but something to be stewarded wisely.


Because money does not define your faith, it reveals it. It reveals who you trust, what you fear, and what you are willing to hold or release. And those decisions compound. They shape your character, your leadership, and ultimately the legacy you leave behind.


Because in the end, money is not the test.


Trust is.
Reflection

Reflection

  1. How have my past experiences shaped the way I view money, stability, and security?
  2. Are my financial decisions being driven more by fear, or by trust and wisdom?
  3. Am I treating money as a tool to steward well, or depending on it as my source of security?

Keep building, keep growing, and never settle,

-Jerry.

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