The Art of Temporarily Losing Money

As someone who is currently in her sixth year of being a "broke college kid" (four years of undergrad and now in my second year of postgrad), I am no stranger to feeling stressed about money. That said, I am using the word broke in the most privileged sense imaginable. I have never once worried about where my next meal will come from or if I will have a bed to sleep in at night. But I have gone through seasons of only grabbing the essentials at the grocery store or not getting the guac at Chipotle because it costs extra (I told you, very privileged broke-ness).

I worked on-campus jobs throughout undergrad to ensure I had the money for rent, my car payment, credit card payment, etc. About a month ago, I got my first ever full-time, "big girl" job as I like to call it, and I moved into an apartment by myself. It's exciting, isn't it? The idea of building my savings, putting money into a 401k, having health benefits through work, it makes me wonder how I blinked and suddenly became such an adult.

But lately, I’ve been learning that adulthood isn’t just about earning and saving—it’s also about knowing when to spend in ways that don’t always make perfect financial sense, but make emotional, occupational, spiritual, or relational sense. I’ve started calling it “the art of losing money temporarily.” It’s the idea that sometimes you have to be okay with a little financial stress for the sake of something greater—an experience that fills you, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, or time spent with people you love. Because money, as I’ve learned over the past few years, comes back. Time does not.

For instance, this summer I had the incredible opportunity to work at one of the greatest sporting events in the world: the U.S. Open. When I look back on my time in New York, the truth is this: financially, it was a net loss. Nearly a month in a hotel, daily Ubers to work (parent-approved for safety), and all the little expenses that pile up in a city like New York added up quickly. Thankfully, it was a paid position, but the paycheck didn’t come close to covering the costs.

And yet—I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. In those three weeks I made new friends, expanded my professional network, got to watch some of my favorite athletes compete, saw my first Broadway show ("The Outsiders" -- I could write an entire post about this experience alone; I walked out of that theatre a different person than I walked in I swear), and grew my sense of independence. For someone who wants to build a career in sports, this was an experience I wouldn't dream of passing up, despite the little bruise it put on my bank account.

Wisdom from Jay Shetty’s On Purpose Podcast

One evening, during a drive where every song that played was the wrong one, I decided to put on Jay Shetty’s On Purpose podcast—one of my go-to listens when I need to feel grounded or inspired. The episode,This is EXACTLY How to Make Your First MILLION (Follow THIS 4-Step Framework to Turn Your Ideas into REAL Money FAST!), featured entrepreneur and author Alex Hormozi, who is recognized as an acquisition and monetization expert. He’s known for managing businesses that generate over $100 million annually. The entire podcast was chalked-full of valuable insight, but what struck me the most is how he frames success—not as something that happens instantly, but as something that compounds quietly over time.

Hormozi emphasized the need to make short-term sacrifices that don’t “make sense on paper” in order to create long-term opportunities. For instance, he advises people to intentionally trade their time in exchange for feedback, wisdom, and experience (things that don't carry monetary value in and of themselves, but will help people achieve financial gain down the road). He and Shetty talked about how our culture is wired to expect immediate payoff—to want to see the return right away—but the reality is that the best investments, whether in business, relationships, or experiences, often take time to show their value.

That conversation gave me language for what I was living. At 23 years old, I may not have six zeros in my bank account right now, but I am putting myself in positions that will set me up for future success.

Jay Shetty's Podcast with Alex Hormozi

A Different Kind of Wealth

So, this is all fine and dandy. We've established it's okay to endure short-term sacrifice for long-term gain and that wealth is not instantaneous.

But as I touched on earlier, is monetary wealth really the point? What does it really mean to be successful? And I ask this as someone who finds herself yearning to live comfortably, yearning for that coveted disposable income, yearning to be yet another consumer in a world full of them. Less selfishly, I ask this as someone who wants to be able to give my future children every opportunity and experience they could possibly want -- a goal which hinges on financial freedom.

As a Christ follower, how do I hold these desires in contention with Matthew 19:24, which reminds us that “it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” ? Here's how: I don't believe this verse is necessarily condemning wealth itself, but rather, the pursuit of money as the ultimate goal; condemning those who lose sight of the Lord while chasing a profit.

Wealth, in the truest sense, isn’t something that can be measured in dollars or digits. It’s the richness of life itself—the laughter shared over coffee, the places you go that shift your perspective, the people you meet who expand your heart.

When I start to feel that familiar wave of financial anxiety—the what-ifs, the spreadsheet math that's not quite adding up—I often return to Matthew 6:26-27: “Gaze upon the birds in the sky. They do not sow or reap or store in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of far greater value than they? Can any of you through worrying add a single moment to your span of life?"

That verse never fails to recenter me. It reminds me that the Lord provides, that worry solves nothing, and that I can trust Him to fill the gaps I can’t. It’s a truth that steadies me when my bank account looks thin but my calendar is full of purpose. Because ultimately, my security doesn’t come from savings—it comes from the One who has always sustained me.

That's why, when my brother recently floated the idea of a trip to Japan, my first thought was, this doesn’t make financial sense for me right now. But then I thought about how he’ll soon be knee-deep in medical school rotations for the next two years, and how rare it is for our schedules to align. And just like that, I know—I’ll somehow make it work.

Because the art of losing money temporarily isn’t about being careless. It’s about trusting that God will restore what you give up in pursuit of something meaningful. It’s about saying yes to life, to connection, to serving others, and to faith over fear.

Money comes back. Experiences don’t. And the peace that comes from trusting God through both—the abundance and the scarcity—that’s a kind of wealth no paycheck could ever buy.