The Commandment We Don’t Think We Need

“And God spoke all these words, saying, “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery… ‘You shall not steal.’” (Exodus 20:1–2, 15)

I gave a sermon series on the Ten Commandments last year, and after my sermon on the seventh commandment—“You shall not commit adultery”—a few congregants approached me to congratulate me on the hardest part being over. Preaching through the Ten Commandments can be like navigating a minefield. It requires a pastor to address work, rest, the Sabbath, family relationships—especially the relationships between parents and children—adultery, and sex. The eighth commandment only requires one talk about money. Easy, right?

“You shall not steal” may seem the least controversial commandment on the list. Most everyone agrees that stealing is bad. Most people agree that the scammer who rips people off over the phone and takes their retirement account should pay for their crimes. Thieves? Thugs? Most of us do not have much time for those sorts of people. And most people would agree that society would be better off following this rule.

Even more, the eighth commandment is non-controversial because most of us never violate this commandment, right? If there’s one on the list that we are convinced we have handled fairly well in life, it would probably be number eight. We have never robbed a bank; we have never cheated on our taxes; we have never done anything that would qualify as outright theft. Except… except that one time… There might be one time that you remember swiping something you should not have taken. But that was a long time ago as a teen, and habitually speaking, this commandment is not one you struggle with. For many of us, theft is not on the regular list of confessions, I am guessing.

Those who grew up in the VHS era might remember fast forwarding through the fifteen second legal warning about pirating movies. We all know that pirating movies or music is technically illegal; we know that it is stealing, but many of us just do it anyway. I remember reading a.  At that time, the most pirated movie was … The Passion of the Christ—which makes me think that we probably should discuss stealing among Christians.

When the Bible talks about the eighth commandment, it is interested in more than taking inventory of the times you swiped gum from a 7-Eleven when you were eleven, or whether you have made some poor ethical decisions in your business practice. When the Bible talks about this commandment, it is also concerned with the fullness of life and what it means to live it out with integrity. God is doing much more here than curbing criminal behavior in our lives; he desires we live in a way radically different from the way of the world. If we understand what the eighth commandment is about, we see that God seeks to change our lives in such a fundamental way that he ultimately aims our lives in a completely different direction: from being those who steal to those who steward. As we consider the power of the gospel to transform us from stealers to stewards, there are a few questions we must ask first: what exactly does it mean to steal, and how does God expose stealing in our hearts and lives? Then, how does he empower us to be stewards with what he has entrusted to us?

First, what is stealing and how does God expose it? Again, most readers might not consider themselves thieves. But Martin Luther—who is always good for a punch in the mouth just when we are content with life—says this, “The human race is but a vast, wide stable full of great thieves.” I think he includes us in that vast, wide stable of great thieves. Do you think of yourself as a thief? The eighth commandment suggests that perhaps we need to think of ourselves more often as those who are indeed stealing. So, what is it? What exactly does the Bible mean by stealing? Stealing is not just outright theft in the criminal sense we often imagine. Stealing is, fundamentally, taking from others and withholding from others: taking from others what is theirs, and withholding from others what is ours which other people need.

What do we take from others? We learn from an early age—as early as kindergarten—that we should not take what does not belong to us. Kindergarteners establish the rules of ownership quite clearly: it belongs to whoever had it first. You own the blocks you are playing with—at least for that playtime period, and even if you turn around briefly to go and get more blocks, the blocks that are on the table are yours, and no one is supposed to take them. Even within the family, we learn the same lesson. If you borrow your sibling’s clothes without telling them, say a sweater, and you are not really planning to return it anytime soon—even after you leave for college with that item packed in your trunk—you are obviously crossing some boundaries. You are taking something that is not yours. You are stealing.

But there are more sophisticated ways of understanding this as well. If we see clearly enough, we can recognize forms of stealing in ordinary disguises. Consider the workplace. If you are a boss and you demand more hours from your people than you are willing to pay them, you are effectively stealing from them. You are taking money that they are owed because they have put in the time. Or, if you are an employee, and you goof off at work for three or four hours a day by scrolling social media or making sure your fantasy football roster is right where it needs to be before the weekend—when you should be working and someone is paying you for working—you are actually stealing, stealing time and money from those who are paying you for a good day’s work. If you help yourself on a regular basis to the office supply closet without asking permission (and there are reasonable exceptions, of course), and help yourself to reams of paper or other office supplies because you need them for your art projects back home, you are technically stealing.

Or consider school. You are nearing the deadline for that paper you did not take the time to write. So rather than writing it, you ChatGPT the topic and turn that in. Teachers know this is increasingly a problem. Students must know that this is stealing. You are taking someone else’s work, stealing it, and presenting it as your own (and violating the ninth commandment as well!). Plagiarism is fundamentally stealing.

There are all kinds of ordinary, everyday ways we steal. Password sharing is subscription stealing. Pirating music, pirating movies? Stealing. Taking something from the store that you did not pay for is, you guessed it, stealing. Another thought enters the scene as these examples mount: the CEO of Target makes millions of dollars. Target is worth billions of dollars. Are they really going to miss a fruit punch Gatorade? One? Or Netflix, Amazon: they are making millions and billions of dollars. They do not care if I watch for free instead of paying my $24.99 a month. Or your school assignment: your teacher should never have assigned that paper anyway, and everyone else was using AI, so why should I not? What is the big deal? Does God really not have enough to do in the world that he would care so much about that? The answer is that he does care about that, because God cares about our integrity and your character. It matters. It matters to him. And it should matter to us. Integrity—dealing with others—is part of our witness to the world, that shows we serve a God who cares deeply about the way in which we love our neighbor.

My childhood pastor tells a story about meeting with a Christian man who owned several car dealerships in our DC area. They went out for lunch, because he had an idea he wanted to run by the pastor. He wanted to buy about 1,000 copies of the New Testament to give to anyone who walked into his dealership, as a witness to his faith in Christ. Now, the pastor knew that this man was known to be an unfair dealer. He did not treat his employees well; he overworked and underpaid them. He did not treat his customers well and did not sell them good cars at a fair price. Knowing all of this before the conversation, the pastor had hoped the conversation would include a moment of confession and contrition, but it was not so. So, the pastor concurred that it was a great idea for one to hand out New Testaments; it would indeed be a great witness. But he told the man that a better witness would be to stop ripping off your customers, because when you defraud people of what is rightfully theirs, you are already destroying your witness to the world. We must take time to inventory the ways we take from others and justify it.

This is just one part of what the eighth commandment involves. It is the negative side of the commandment, or what it forbids: taking from others. But what it requires of us—the positive side of the commandment—is to give, to give to others who are in need. This is where the language of “withholding” originates. To steal is not just to take from others. It is also to withhold what we have which others need.

In Luke, chapter three, John the Baptist is having a conversation with people as they are coming up out of the baptism waters. They have come to him for the baptism of repentance, turning away from their sin and selfishness, back to God. It is a fascinating conversation because we get insight into what John actually told the people to do.

“And the crowds asked him, “What then shall we do?” And he answered them, “Whoever has two tunics is to share with him who has none, and whoever has food is to do likewise.” Tax collectors also came to be baptized and said to him, “Teacher, what shall we do?” And he said to them, “Collect no more than you are authorized to do.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what shall we do?” And he said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or by false accusation, and be content with your wages.” Luke 3:10–14

The crowds ask, “What shall we do?” essentially meaning, what do you want me to do with my life now that I have turned back to God? John tells them to share their tunics and food with those in need; do not withhold what you have that other people need.

Then the tax collectors ask the same question. John says, do not charge more than you are authorized to charge. Do not take what does not belong to you. Deal justly with those who come to you to pay their taxes.

Then it is the soldiers’ turn to ask. It is fascinating, the spectrum of people who come to John for repentance, asking him how to apply the eighth commandment in their lives. John says to them, do not extort money for protection services. Deal fairly with them and be content with your wages. You have enough.

Paul picks up on this thread in Ephesians, working with the commandment in real time. “Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labor, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.” (Ephesians 4:28). Paul addresses the negative side of the commandment, the taking, “Let the thief no longer steal…” But he also addresses the positive side, the giving, “…but rather, let him labor, doing honest work with his hands so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.”

Paul sets up the opposite of stealing, which is to work hard. Why? So that I can be financially independent and retire early? So that I can live a comfortable life? So that I no longer have to worry about anything because I am financially secure? So that I can take exotic vacations well into my later years and have the house I always wanted? None of these things are wrong to have. But that is not the reason Paul says to work hard. The reason we should work hard, Paul says, is so we would have enough to give generously to those who are in need. The only financial freedom Paul seems to be concerned with here is being financially free enough to be radically generous.

The late Tim Keller says this about this text, “You have not stopped being a thief, biblically speaking, when you have stopped taking. You have stopped being a thief, biblically speaking, when you start giving.” (This is Keller channeling his inner Luther for a moment and punching us in the face a little bit). You are either a thief or a radically generous person; there is nothing in between. This is where the eighth commandment really begins to burrow its way into our lives.

The Ten Commandments are divided into two parts, or two “tables.” One through four are about loving God. Five through ten are about loving neighbor. God exposes our stealing because giving, working so you can give, is very much part of what it means to love our neighbor. So, what comes next once God has exposed our stealing? He empowers us to be stewards with what he has entrusted to us.

The word “steward” is kind of a weird word for us. We use it in church every now and then, but we do not use it often in everyday life. Yet, stewardship is a crucial concept in the Bible, foundational to our ability to understand what it means to follow God’s law. Consider some examples of stewards we know from pop culture. First, think Mr. Carson in Downton Abbey, who takes very seriously the fact that the property and many of the staff have been entrusted to him. He would never say that he owns anything in Downton Abbey, but he would very much say that he is responsible for the day-to-day operations which include the finances, the food, and everything in between. He is a steward of that property.

If Downton Abbey is not quite up your alley, consider Alfred of Wayne Manor. Who would Batman be without faithful Alfred taking care of Wayne Manor and the Bat Cave—probably changing the oil on the Batmobile? We never saw that happen, that I know of, but we do know that in that world, Alfred is very much the caretaker of that place and everything that happens within it.

We do not merely look at pop culture to understand what a steward is, because Jesus talks about stewards frequently in his parables. Parables are stories Jesus tells in the Gospels—everyday stories lifted from everyday life in that culture—meant to illustrate eternal, universal truths about reality. Often, Jesus starts parables with something like this: the kingdom of heaven is like a king who gathers all his servants, all his stewards, and entrusts all of his wealth to them. He goes away on a long trip, and when he comes back, there follows a conversation between the king and his stewards about how well they did in their stewardship. Jesus is telling us something important about the fundamental nature of reality—what it means to be a human being—that whether we realize it or not, we are stewards. God owns it all. God made it all. And he entrusts to us a portion of what is his, not that we would use it on ourselves or serve ourselves, but that we would use everything he has given us—time, talent, treasure—in service to him and in service to your neighbor. That is why the prophet Malachi makes this striking remark: “Will man rob God? Yet you are robbing me. But you say, ‘How have we robbed you?’ In your tithes and contributions.” (Malachi 3:8) He says that we are robbing God by withholding the tithe. It is an extraordinary thing to say. He is not saying that God’s people were being greedy—which they were; he is not saying that they were being selfish—which they were, also. He is saying that they were robbing because what they had did not belong to them. God says to his Old Testament people and to us: you are to give to me that which I require, that which I will use for the things I deeply care about, like caring for the poor, like the work of the gospel, like building up God’s people, you are to give that to me. Why? Because it belongs to me.

Writer and theologian Jerry Bridges describes three postures toward what we have in our lives. In context, he writes specifically about money, but these postures can apply to everything, our disposition toward life:

• • Posture One: What’s yours is mine, I’m going to take it. We recognize this immediately as the thief.
  • Posture Two: What’s mine is mine, I’m going to keep it. We might initially think this applies to the greedy and selfish miser, but as we have learned thus far, this is also the thief.
  • Posture number three: what’s mine is God’s, I’m going to share it.[1]

Hearing that, our natural initial response might be, “that’s nice, but the fact is, a lot of what I have is mine—I earned it. I worked for it.” Now, I will not disagree with you, and I am not going to say that working hard is unimportant. Yet, even as we think about everything we have worked so hard to acquire, if we keep asking the question, “How did I manage to work so hard?” we will likely eventually come to acknowledge things like these: I might be blessed with a certain amount of talent in a certain area; I have had a great education; I had parents who were there to teach me; I have physical health that has allowed me to work for a long time; I am charismatic or good with people, etc. Eventually we will acknowledge the things that we did not earn, things that were given to us.

Another natural response might be, “What about personal property rights?” Many people, especially Americans, care deeply about personal property rights. Fascinatingly the eighth commandment assumes personal property rights? For God to say, “You shall not steal” assumes the fact that there is something to steal, which assumes the fact that someone else has a right to their property, and you have a right to yours. So it is, in fact, a Christian worldview that establishes this idea that, yes, God owns everything, but he entrusts it to us in a way that we can say it is ours. Yet, in a more fundamental way, we ought to say this is not mine to do with what I want; this is mine so that I can be open-handed with it, as everything about my life is an act of faithful stewardship.

Some readers may struggle with this idea, maybe not even thinking that God has anything to do with our lives. Could you agree at least in this: if everyone in the world believed this—that what is mine is not mine, I am here to share it—the world would be a more just and equitable place? That if everyone really believed this is not my time, talent, or treasure to spend on myself, but my time, talent, and treasure to give for the sake of those in need, our efforts to alleviate poverty, to defend the oppressed, to care for the orphan and widow would improve? If that sounds far-fetched, what if the (more than) 2 billion Christians in the world believed it? Or even, what if the (more than) 200 million Christians in the United States believed it? How would this country look different? How would that impact the world?

Before even engaging that challenge, the question we must start with is individual: what if I really believed it? The eighth commandment is like God drawing back his bow and shooting us into the world in a completely different direction than the one into which we are often pressured or forced, which is to just look out for ourselves. But to really live the radically generous life to which God calls us can be terrifying. What is it going to take?

The theologian Francis Schaeffer used to talk about a Christian as someone who bows twice: the Christian bows once to God as creator and once to God as savior. Applying this to the eighth commandment, the first place we bow, to God as creator, empowers us to be a steward because we recognize that everything we have is from him. If we start anywhere else, we have only a shallow encouragement to be generous. But we can be fundamentally changed if we really perceive the reality that we are creatures made in God’s image, and our purpose in life is to be a faithful steward of what God has entrusted to us.

Bow number two, though, is recognizing that we are terrible at bow number one. We take what is not ours and withhold what other people need in all kinds of different ways. We are never going to do this perfectly, so we need the second bow to God as our savior to recognize this. The gospel says that God has never asked of us what he has not done himself for us. God never asks of us in this area something he has not already done for us. In Christ, Jesus came not to take—even though he had a right to take. Jesus came not to withhold—even though he had a right to withhold. Jesus came to give, even to the point of giving his own life for us.

In Matthew’s Gospel, we are told that when Jesus went to the cross, he was crucified between two people, on his left and on his right. We are told they were being crucified because they were criminals according to the Roman government. Do you know what they were guilty of? Stealing. Jesus was crucified between two thieves. : in a sense, Jesus was the third thief—not because he had ever broken this commandment, but because he was bearing for us the punishment for all of the ways in which we have taken and continue to take what is not ours. Jesus went to the cross with thieves for thieves. But we must not forget the last thing he said to one of those thieves before he died—the one thief who looked at Jesus in repentance, contrition, and sorrow over the ways he had failed to live up to God’s law. The thief asked Jesus to remember him, and Jesus said to him, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:43)

Jesus meets us in our place of exposure by empowering us with the gospel to live radically different, generous lives. Let us ask him to help us do that. As Martin Luther—yes, the same Martin Luther who called all of us a “stable full of thieves”—prayed with unshakeable conviction in the finished work of Jesus,

“I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my limbs, my reason, and all my senses, and still preserves them; in addition thereto, clothing and shoes, meat and drink, house and homestead, wife and children, fields, cattle, and all my goods; that He provides me richly and daily with all that I need to support this body and life, protects me from all danger, and guards me and preserves me from all evil; and all this out of pure, fatherly, divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in me; for all which I owe it to Him to thank, praise, serve, and obey Him. This is most certainly true.”

[1] P. G. Ryken, Exodus: Saved for God’s Glory (Preaching the Word) (Crossway, 2016), p. 176.