Learning From the Parable of the Rich Fool

Ever had a good problem?

Jesus once told a story of a guy who did. “The ground of a certain rich man yielded plentifully. And he thought within himself, saying, ‘What shall I do, since I have no room to store my crops?’” (Luke 12:16-17).

Imagine that—a harvest season so successful that your only concern is where to store it all. Heaping piles of produce everywhere, more than you know what to do with. Of course, that’s not exactly the kind of problem you would lose sleep over, but still, it’s one that calls for some serious logistical maneuvering.

So the rich man got to work planning.

“He said, ‘I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build greater, and there I will store all my crops and my goods.”

At first, that sounds like practical preparation—just a man solving a storage issue. But something deeper—and darker—was happening, as the very next verse shows.

“And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years; take your ease; eat, drink, and be merry’” (verses 18-19).

He was counting on his wealth to take care of him for years to come. But what he was trusting in was the wrong thing.

Misplaced priorities and mistaken success

To be clear, planning ahead isn’t sinful—it’s sensible. There’s nothing unbiblical about equipping yourself to navigate the shifting circumstances of life, avoiding headaches when you can. We have the freedom, the responsibility even, to plan for and think about our physical future.

The problem—the real tragedy—is when that’s the only future we care about.

That’s exactly where the rich man went wrong. When life handed him a windfall, all he saw was an opportunity to indulge himself—eat, drink and have a good time. He figured he was set, free to kick back and enjoy life without giving a second thought to what might come next.

But just when he thought he would finally cash in on his extraordinary success, reality hit him hard and fast.

“God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul will be required of you; then whose will those things be which you have provided?’” (verse 20).

The whole illusion collapsed in a split second. All his plans—what he was going to do, the way he was going to feel, how his physical life was going to look—none of it would matter anymore. Everything he had worked for, everything he was preparing for, was suddenly meaningless. He wouldn’t even live to see the next morning.

It’s a sobering conclusion to the parable. And while we’re still taking it in, Jesus brings it home with a pointed warning:

“This is how it will be with whoever stores up things for themselves but is not rich toward God” (verse 21, New International Version).

The wrong kind of investment

As followers of Jesus Christ, we should find it worthwhile to deeply contemplate the question God posed to the rich man: “Whose will those things be?”

It’s easy to brush it off as a simple warning against greed, but that misses the point. The question aims at something deeper—it challenges us to reflect on where our lives are headed and what we’re truly living for.

For some, it’s the dream house. For others, it’s the retirement account. For others, it’s influence and fame. We all have ambitions that are vying for our time and energy.

What is your main project, and in the end, will the investment pay off?

One vivid picture of how empty it is to focus on material things comes courtesy of the ancient pharaohs. They were entombed with all kinds of treasures and precious things they were convinced would follow them into the afterlife—but every glittering thing remained in this realm with their lifeless embalmed bodies.

Their once grand monuments eroded. And their legacies, as impressive as they were, have zero bearing on their eternal future.

Solomon eventually came to this realization—though it hit him much later than it should have.

Meditating on his own accomplishments as the wisest and richest king of Israel, he wrote, “I hated all the things I had toiled for under the sun, because I must leave them to the one who comes after me. And who knows whether that person will be wise or foolish? Yet they will have control over all the fruit of my toil into which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun. This too is meaningless” (Ecclesiastes 2:18-19, NIV).

The message from the parable is clear: Don’t let your main goal be building bigger barns—instead, focus on building a deeper relationship with God. But obviously the problem wasn’t unique to Solomon, the pharaohs or the character in Jesus’ parable. It’s a trap that’s been springing over and over, across centuries and across cultures. People devote their entire lives to things that are temporary and material, only to discover—often too late—that it was all insubstantial.

The result is always the same—a return that doesn’t truly satisfy.

Thankfully, there’s an alternative.

Eternal investments

King David had the right approach to life. In Psalm 39:6, he wisely pointed out, “Surely every man walks about like a shadow; surely they busy themselves in vain; he heaps up riches, and does not know who will gather them.”

David’s headspace couldn’t have been more different than the rich man’s. He saw that life was fleeting. He knew that chasing after more stuff wouldn’t lead to anywhere that mattered. And he didn’t just settle for understanding reality—he translated his awareness into a change in focus. Consider the next verse:

“What, then, can I count on, O Lord? In You my hope lies” (Tanakh 1985, emphasis added).

That’s the critical difference. Physical life eventually expires, and wealth ultimately disappoints us—but the psalmist recognized the one investment that truly matters: a relationship with God. That’s what counts in the end.

Instead of dedicating himself entirely to physical pursuits, like the foolish rich man, David chose to put his hope in something much weightier.

It’s almost as if he had already heard what Jesus would later say: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19-20; see The Sermon on the Mount).

We’re all familiar with how things in life naturally decay, fade and lose their value over time. But the reality is, not everything fades. Some things are eternally valuable.

Jesus didn’t spell them all out in the Sermon on the Mount, but He spoke about them often—“inheriting eternal life” (Matthew 19:27-29), entering His “joy” (Matthew 25:21), and “inheriting the kingdom” prepared “from the foundation of the world” (verse 34). These are the goals worth giving our life to.

Are there still some physical responsibilities we need to handle? Yes—the real world doesn’t just pause. But those priorities should never come before the deeper pursuit of being rich toward God.

He wants a converted heart and mind, a faithful and obedient disciple who will always choose a future with Him over anything this physical world has to offer.

A spiritually rich man does what the physically rich man failed to do—he seeks first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness (Matthew 6:33).

Focus on what endures

The message from the parable is clear: Don’t let your main goal be building bigger barns—instead, focus on building a deeper relationship with God. Don’t stress about growing possessions—choose to grow the qualities God wants to see in His children.

It’s not that God has it out for rich people. It’s not that having a lot of money automatically corrupts you. And Jesus wasn’t calling His followers to a life of extreme poverty and self-denial. That was not His point.

What He was warning about was letting physical goals take center stage—living like they’re the ultimate source of security or the true measure of success.

This parable is a reminder of why that’s not a good idea. Yes, it’s wise to plan for our physical future—but not at the expense of forgetting the One who holds eternity in His hands.

God wants His followers to invest in the things that will truly last.

“The world is passing away, and the lust of it; but he who does the will of God abides forever” (1 John 2:17).