Robbery of Persons
“You shall not steal” - Exodus 20:15
We shrink this commandment to the size drachma, as though Yahweh thundered from Sinai merely to protect our wallets and bank accounts. We imagine He descended in smoke and fire from heaven to issues us a command about guarding goats and purse strings, barns and property lines. But the Eighth Commandment is more expansive than that. It does not stop at silver and gold or ledgers and products. It guards our neighbor’s entire estate — which as our confessional standards include, this also means things like his rest, joy, hope, courage, peace, reputation, and his very dignity before God and man.
And here is the horror: every sigh that drowns another’s hope, every whisper that tarnishes a name, every envy that corrodes joy, every criticism that corrodes courage, every bitterness that poisons fellowship, every nagging word that drips despair, every selfish act that devours rather than gives — all of it is theft. Not merely personality. Not merely “honesty.” Theft. And worse: satanic theft.
A THEFT WITHOUT SILVER
Stealing is not confined to silver and gold. You steal every time your sigh drains hope from another, every time your tone hollows out courage, every time your words corrode peace, every time your envy vandalizes joy, every time your bitterness poisons fellowship, every time your nagging drips despair, every time your selfishness devours what was meant to be given. You may not lift your neighbor’s purse, but you have plundered something far more precious: his faith, his joy, his dignity, his peace before God.
Look at the spies of Israel. Ten men returned from Canaan with grapes in their hands and despair in their mouths, and in a single night they robbed an entire nation of courage. Their theft was so complete that God Himself swore their generation would bleach the wilderness with their bones (Numbers 13–14). Discouragement is not realism; it is robbery. A father’s groaning can grind joy from his children like a millstone. A wife’s ceaseless sighs can hollow her husband’s resolve until even his labor feels like refuge. A single elder’s gloom can infect a session, draining courage, spreading cowardice, steering the whole church into unbelief.
And what of disparagement? Every whispered “concern,” every poisoned compliment with a barb hidden in it, every sly subtraction from a man’s reputation — these are not insights; they are burglaries. Satan is the accuser of the brethren (Revelation 12:10), and you imitate him when you strip beams from your brother’s house while pretending to build. A man’s good name is more precious than rubies, and to chip at it is to rob him of a treasure God Himself esteems. Heaven records every whisper; one day the Judge will repeat them back to you.
Envy, too, is theft. When your brother’s blessing feels like your bankruptcy, when another’s crown makes you sneer, you are not merely discontent — you are a thief. Satan fell from heaven for that very sin, because he could not bear to see God exalted above him. His jealousy kindled hell. James tells us envy breeds “every vile thing” (James 3:16), and history proves it. Envy has gutted families, split churches, toppled ministers. It is the burglar of blessing, the vandal of joy, the arsonist of peace.
Criticism often disguises itself in virtue, but corrosion is theft. There is counsel that builds, rebuke that restores, correction that gives life — but criticism that strips, tones that tear, “honesty” that leaves nothing standing is not truth, it is robbery with a mask. Paul commands that every word must give grace (Ephesians 4:29). Every word that does not is a crowbar wielded by a burglar.
Bitterness is theft in its blackest form. It is hell’s banking system, where Satan, the eternal scorekeeper, nurses an infinite grudge against the Almighty, keeping accounts he will never settle. And you mimic him when you replay offenses, rehearse slights, brood over wrongs. One bitter root can choke an entire family tree, blacken a congregation, blight a generation. Your ledger is not harmless — it is embezzlement of joy, siphoning peace from everyone who touches your life.
Nagging, too, is theft. The serpent conquered Eve not in one blow but in a slow drip of insinuation, needle after needle until her trust collapsed (Genesis 3). And you rehearse that hiss every time your complaints drip, your suspicions gnaw, your words corrode. You are not improving; you are hollowing. You are blowing out the candles of hope one by one.
And selfishness — selfishness is theft at its core. Satan is the cosmic devourer, prowling not to bless but to consume (1 Peter 5:8). Every act of selfishness, when you demand the first word, the first place, the first bite, is larceny. You are hoarding glory meant to be shared, gorging on blessings meant to be given. Selfishness is not a minor flaw; it is satanic gluttony. And the more you hoard, the less you have, until your soul becomes nothing but an empty vault echoing with hunger.
All of it — sighs, whispers, envy, criticism, bitterness, nagging, selfishness — is theft. Theft of joy. Theft of peace. Theft of hope. Theft of dignity. And theft of the very glory Christ is building in His church.
THE LAW’S VERDICT
Husbands, if your wife dreads your “honesty,” you are not bold — you are brutal, and you are imitating Satan.
Wives, if your husband hides at work to escape your tongue, you are not discerning — you are suffocating, and you are imitating Satan.
Parents, if your children know your scoldings better than your smile, you are not shepherding — you are siphoning, and you are imitating Satan.
Children, if your sighs and groans bleed your parents of peace, you are not “just being kids” — you are rehearsing the serpent’s rebellion.
Elders, if your prudence saps faith, if your counsel divides more than it unites, if your whispers sound more like gossip than guidance, you are not shepherds of Christ’s flock — you are apprentices of the Accuser.
Do not wriggle free. “I’m blunt.” Then you are bluntly satanic. “I’m sensitive.” Then your sensitivity is tuned to hell’s frequency. “I just tell the truth.” Then you are parroting the Accuser. “I never said anything.” Then your silence is theft — holding back the wages of love (James 5:4). “But I was right.” Then you are rightly damned, for truth without love is a burglar’s crowbar (1 Corinthians 13:4–5).
THE GOSPEL’S RESCUE
If the Law stopped here, then every one of us would be doomed — marked as thieves, accomplices of Satan, bankrupt of hope, stripped of joy, and condemned to the wilderness grave. The verdict is clear: we have stolen. We have robbed. We have plundered. And the Judge of heaven has heard every sigh, every whisper, every envious sneer, every bitter ledger. His court remembers what our selective memory would rather forget.
But the Law does not have the last word. Christ does.
Hear Him: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). Where we emptied others, He poured Himself out. Where we stole peace, He purchased peace with His blood (Colossians 1:20). Where we whispered accusation, He silenced the Accuser by bearing his roar on the cross.
Do you see Him? Christ was robbed of everything — stripped of His clothes, forsaken by His friends, denied justice in the courts, mocked of His dignity, crucified for crimes He did not commit. The sinless Son of God was treated as the greatest thief of all, so that real thieves — men and women like us — might be pardoned. He was looted so that we might be enriched. He was plundered so that we might be restored. He was forsaken so that we might be welcomed. He was left with nothing so that in Him we might inherit everything.
And when He rose, He did not rise to leave us as slightly less selfish sinners, slightly less bitter, slightly less envious. He rose to crucify the thief in us and raise up a new man who does not steal but builds, who does not plunder but blesses, who does not vandalize joy but multiplies it. “Let the thief steal no longer, but rather let him labor, performing with his hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with the one who has need” (Ephesians 4:28).
Christ does not forgive thieves so that they can return to their burglary. He forgives thieves so that they can become fountains. He takes robbers of joy and turns them into builders of hope. He takes vandals of peace and turns them into planters of orchards. He takes burglars of dignity and turns them into protectors of glory. He takes a world of takers and remakes them into givers, who spend their lives pouring, serving, blessing, and restoring.
This is the abundance of His kingdom. This is the wealth of His mercy. This is the victory of His cross.
THE DEMAND OF THIS HOUR
Repent. Today. Stop stealing with your sighs, your tones, your whispers, your suspicions. Stop echoing the Serpent. Confess, be forgiven, and then repay. Where you cut, bless. Where you cursed, encourage. Where you drained, serve. Where you robbed, restore.
The church does not need another generation of thieves wearing Sunday smiles. The church needs saints filled with the Spirit, pouring courage into faint hearts, building households of joy, planting orchards of peace.
You shall not steal. Not money. Not hope. Not joy. Not courage. Not peace. Not dignity. And not the glory of Christ in His church.
Stealing is satanic. Building is Christlike. Which will heaven say you were?
