When is Money Enough

Dear God,

When is money ever enough?

Let me not lie to You, seriously, this question about money did not come from a place of deep spirituality. You see, we had gone out, “we” being the usual suspects from my university days. The Uniben gang. A combination of absolute relatable babes with different world views yet, we find ourselves glued together by grace, chaos, ambition, and unfinished arguments.

Every time we come together, the Uni-days come with us in our laughter, in the way we interrupt each other, in the unnecessary queen’s or down-right Warri Pidgin English accents that came and went like NEPA light between us.

And of course, like every gathering of grown Nigerians pretending to be put together, money entered the conversation uninvited… but expected, especially if KC was on call.

“God when?” KC sighed, dramatically dropping her fork like she had just been betrayed by life itself. We paused. Because when KC says, “God when,” it is not a prayer. It is the start of an annoying conversation.

“I need money. Real money.” She emphasized. I blinked slowly.

“KC… what exactly have you been using all this while? Bitcoin?” I asked.

(KC was arguably the richest amongst us or appears to be. She started work early, gets paid very well and spends it well too. She was worth more in assets, yet, when it comes to Money, she behaves as If she is still scratching the surface)

Vinny didn’t even look up from her drink. “If you get any more money than this, EFCC will not knock. They will camp at your front yard.”

We laughed. Loud. Free. The kind of laughter that comes from knowing someone is not entirely innocent. Vinny is not doing badly either. But KC did not laugh. She adjusted her hair, leaned forward, and lowered her voice like she was about to reveal a national secret.

“I’m serious. I need the kind of money that changes the conversations when I enter a room.”

(Father Lord! Conversation-changing money. When you are big……you are large)

“Say it, Girl! Not rent money. Not school fees money. Not “let me survive this month” money……Bullshit Manney!” Edna clapped hailing her.

(I rolled my eyes……birds of the same feathers. But dad, wait oh, this cant be bad now? If you could give me that level playing field……Atmosphere-shifting currency)

I took a sip of my drink and sighed internally. This would be like graduating from “Give us this today, our daily bread” to “Give us this today, our daily bakery franchise.” Not bad.

Now, we have Chika, faithful, consistent, ever ready servant of Christ. She sat up like a soldier who had just heard the trumpet of righteousness.

“Be careful,” she said calmly, adjusting her glasses. “Money is the root of all evil.”

(Ah. And just like that, the real meeting had started. I closed my eyes briefly, because when Chika and KC begin, you don’t interrupt. You observe. Like wildlife documentary.

“Chika please,” KC rolled her eyes. “If money is evil, kindly transfer yours to me so I can help you manage the sin.”

(Vinny choked on her drink. Edna slapped the table in her laughter. I whispered, “Father Lord, here we go…”)

Chika was just warming up. “It is the love of money that is the problem,” she corrected, with the precision of someone who has memorized scriptures.

KC leaned back, smiling mockingly. “Exactly. So, if I have money and I love God, then we are balanced, right?”

“Life is not algebra!” Chika fired back.

“Neither is poverty a fruit of the Spirit!” KC returned.

(We busted out laughing. Dad, you love this premium entertainment, baa?)

“KC, you cannot serve God and mammon,” Chika pressed on.

“My dear, let mammon come first, then we will negotiate my service fees,” KC replied.

(At this point, even the waiters slowed down around our table, they didn’t want to miss the fun)

I watched them, both of them, two extremes, standing on opposite sides of the same mountain, shouting truths at each other without realizing they were both right… and both wrong. Chika, with her disciplined life, her structured faith, and her suspicion of everything not biblical. KC, with her unapologetic hunger, her love for fine things, and her belief that God did not create money for it to be ignored.

And then there was me. In the middle. Confused… but observant. And Dad, I started thinking… what do You really think about money? Because this thing… it touches everything. Everything. The food on our table. The clothes on our backs. The schools we attended. Even the churches we pray in.

Tell me, Lord, how does a church grow without money? How do we build, feed, travel, give… without it? Even the offering basket needs something inside it that is not just prayer points. I glanced at Chika thoughtfully.

Let’s be honest, Dad… if serious money enters Chika’s account today, will she still be quoting this scripture with this level of confidence? Hmm? Let’s not deceive ourselves. Even fasting becomes shorter when bank alerts become longer. Then I looked at KC, and I shook my head, because desire is good… but this one… this one is Olympic-level desire.

“KC, be grateful small now,” I said finally. “You have more than all of us, that should be enough.”

She turned to me slowly. “Enough for who? Who made you guys my standard?”

Silence.

(I kept very mute and pretended not to hear because that question… that question is dangerous. Truth be told…. Enough is a moving target. What is enough for one person is insult for another. What is luxury for one is survival for another)

Dad, is there even a universal definition of “enough”? Because clearly, KC and Chika did not receive the same memo. As the argument continued, scriptures flying, philosophies colliding, life experiences being weaponized, I sat back and let my mind wander.

Money is not just currency. It is identity. It is power. It is fear. It is security. It is temptation. It is… amplifier. It reveals you. If you are kind, money makes you generous. If you are wicked, money upgrades your wickedness to the next level. If you are confused… ah, money will sponsor your confusion globally. And just as I was about to contribute a profound statement that would restore peace to the group… KC snapped her hand.

“Waiter, bill please.”

The waiter arrived with the bill like he was bringing examination results. KC did not even look at it. Not even a glance. She picked it up, signed it, brought out her card with the confidence of someone who has never feared “transaction declined,” and swiped. Effortlessly. No blinking. No recalculating. No whispering, “let me check something first.” Just swipe… and done.

Then she stood up, adjusted her outfit, smiled at us with senseless mischief and said, “Ladies, I got to run. Continue arguing about poverty and righteousness. I will go mammon while you pray for me.”

And she left. Left us with silence. She swiped out a bill we were supposed to share and walked. Slowly… carefully… I picked up the bill, looked at it, and dropped it without a single expression to maintain dignity. I pretended like what she did and the amount she swiped out was nothing, But inside? I was screaming, where does KC get this money biko? Are we not in this same circle and industry? “JESUS IS LORD.”

Vinny and Edna leaned over and whistled. Chika leaned over, took the slip studied it like a student checking her result. Then she spoke, softly, calmly, wishfully…..

“We ate all of these. For this amount… I would have started a small ministry.”

We were all trying to hold back the laughter when Vinny whispered, “For this amount, I would have forgiven all my enemies.”

I said nothing. Because I was having a private conversation with God. I placed the bill down gently.

“Oh Lord… I have changed my mind.” I said silently. “I think I need more money.”

Not KC-level madness, Not Chika-level resistance. But… a comfortable middle. Where I can swipe… and not blink. Where generosity does not require strategy meetings. Where money answers… but does not control. And just when we thought the moment had passed, Chika cleared her throat.

“Let me say something.”

We turned and exchanged weird looks. We knew a sermon was loading. She adjusted herself and looked at us, then at the bill again.

“This is how money deceives people,” she began. “It makes you think power is in spending. But real power is in control.”

(KC would have rolled her eyes. But she wasn’t there. So, we listened)

“You see this amount?” Chika tapped the bill. “It is not the money that is the issue. It is what the money is doing to your mind.”

Hmm. Silence again.

“Because today you admire it. Tomorrow, you chase it. Next tomorrow… it owns you.”

“Word”, Vinny nodded slowly.

“And if care is not taken,” Chika continued, “you will measure your worth by what you can spend, instead of who you are.”

Hmmm. That one entered. Even for me. As much as I feel that Chika can be very fanatic, she was dead right on this one.

Then she leaned back and sighed. “But also, Ladies…” she added reluctantly, “…if God blesses you like this, please… don’t forget me oh.”

(We laughed. Because there it was. That truth. That Reality. “We All need Money”)

Dad, I smiled. Money (in itself) is not the enemy. Neither is it the saviour. It is just a tool. A loud one. A revealing one. A dangerous one… in the wrong hands. And a beautiful one… in the right heart.

So maybe my prayer should not be… “God give me money.” But “God give me sense… before You give me money.”

Because clearly… KC has money, but Chika has sense. And the rest of us…? We are applying for both.

This is your daug

hter, Lord, still learning, still laughing and is checking in.