Luke 20:38, 41-44

"Now he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for all live to him. But he said to them, “'How can they say that the Christ is David's son?' For David himself says in the Book of Psalms, 'The Lord said to my Lord, sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool.' David thus calls him Lord, so how is he, his son?"

Here, Jesus points to His divine authority, surpassing earthly lineage, and subtly reveals His identity as more than a mere descendant of David, He is the Lord Himself. He is Adonai to whom David sang his praise. And he's doing more than this, he's beautifully tying together the threads of divine authority, authentic faith, and sacrificial giving. Let's dig in deeper.

Jesus warns against the scribes who "devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers," critiquing their hypocrisy and their greed.

Almost on que Jesus illustrates his point by pointing out a widow who was making her offer at the temple collection.

Luke 21:1-4

He [Jesus] looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, and he saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. [lepta] and he said, "Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on."

The critique of the scribes in 20:45-47 flows naturally into this. Their outward piety: long prayers, prestigious robes, masks a heart that exploits the vulnerable, like the widow. What I see here is Jesus teaching his followers that faith isn’t about our performances, but integrity, our sincerity and how love is expressed by it.

The widow gives "all she had to live on."

Just as an aside: Did you know that Jesus doesn't require 10% as an offering? That in fact he requires "all", 100%. He’s not after a percentage really; He’s after the whole heart. All of it.

In Mark 12:30, He says,

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength."

That’s 100%, no leftovers. Think about what we recently learned in Luke 18:22: Jesus doesn’t ask for a tithe but tells him to "sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." It’s total surrender, not a tax.

The widow doesn’t calculate a portion; she gives her entire livelihood, trusting God for the rest. She seems to know God is relentless about wanting all of us: our trust, our priorities, our lives. The rich gave from their abundance, keeping their security intact; she gave from her poverty, letting go of her security and putting it in God's hands.

It’s less about a budget line item and more about our faith posture. So, what does "all" look like for you today? Maybe it’s not about your cash, but your time, fear, or control, something you’re holding back.

Scripture leaves the widow anonymous and her future unwritten. Jesus doesn’t step in with a miracle here, as He sometimes does elsewhere, but His attention to her suggests she wasn’t invisible to God. And I think that's the true lesson to be learned. It echos Matthew chapter six.

In Matthew 6:1-4, Jesus teaches about giving:

"Beware of practicing your righteousness before other people in order to be seen by them, for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven…But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you."

The widow’s offering fits this perfectly. No fanfare, no name recorded, just two small coins dropped quietly into the box. Unlike the rich who toss in their gifts with loud clinks that echo through the temple courts, but she slips in unnoticed, except by Jesus. God sees what’s hidden.

And so, I think that's the true point of this entire lesson, The Lord [Adonai], sees ALL that is hidden. He sees the wicked works of the scribes and he sees the humble widows silent offering. The Lord, Adonai, the One David called "my Lord" in Psalm 110, pierces through every veil. Nothing escapes Him. The scribes’ hypocrisy, their greed masked by long prayers and fine robes, is laid bare before Him in Luke 20:45-47. He sees the widows they exploit, the houses they devour, the show they make for men. And in the same piercing gaze, He sees the humble widow’s silent offering in Luke 21:1-4, two tiny coins, slipped into the treasury without a sound, unnoticed by the crowd but spotlighted by the God of the living. It’s justice and compassion intertwined. He's not just passively observing. He's going to act. He sees the wicked works and judges them. Later in Luke 21, Jesus predicts the temple’s fall, a reckoning for such corruption. In his timing Israel is delivered into punishment for its failure to protect the widows.

It’s like Proverbs 15:3

"The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good."

No deed, no heart, no hidden corner is beyond Him. Adonai’s sight is total, and His response is perfect.

Speaking of responses, Jesus goes on to explain, in Luke 21:10-24, that the temple will be destroyed in times of war, not one stone left on top of another. And in 13-15 the followers will be given the opportunity to witness to their faith. Think about that widow. We know nothing about her, we have none of her words to meditate on, just her faithfulness.

The followers of Jesus won’t need rehearsed speeches, Jesus Himself, by the Holy Spirit, will supply the words, echoing His divine authority from Luke 20:41-44. It’s as if the widow’s silent offering finds a voice here: giving all, even under pressure, testifies to the God who sees. When the temple crumbles and the world shakes, faith gets its moment to shine.

In what ways are you shining your faith?

When things are crumbling down in your life, is that when your faith rises?

When life’s steady, it’s easy to toss in a few coins of trust and call it devotion. But when the temple stones start falling down; maybe a job loss, a health scare, a fractured relationship, does your faith rise or retreat? Did you lean on God in those moments, did your prayers become less a routine and more a lifeline?

On a personal level, I've never found this kind of surrender difficult. I think my history of struggling with poverty and loneliness has hardened me against the need to secure my future. I've always struggled with insecurity and so my expectations aren't governed by that fear. Instead with me the pain and fear manifest themselves in my heart as a kind of cynicism. It's a kind of resilience, it's as if those struggles strip away the illusion of security that others cling to, like the rich with their abundant gifts. And so when I make my offering I'm not afraid of the expense but more my struggle is about the trust that the Lord will come and rescue me. The pain and fear twisting into a guarded heart. I don't guard my checkbook, but instead I'll guard my heart from true fellowship. I can easily drop the coins, but part of me braces for silence instead of a Savior.

So I take the widows story as a message of hope. Jesus didn’t just notice her gift; He saw her, the whole of her faith, and he lifted it up. Centuries, no millennia later and her story is still being lifted up. Her faith in the offering is a gospel in and of itself. And that gives me hope. So, I freely give with joy as best as this cynical heart is able.

Her faith is a living sermon that echoes across millennia. Her surrender shows the depth of her trust. She didn’t get a recorded rescue, no dramatic finale, but Jesus made her faith immortal. In our modern times Jesus retweeted her story and now she's a viral icon. And yet we don't even know her name.

Millennia later, her two coins are still trending, a testament to trust that outshines the scribes’ flash and the temple’s grandeur. No bio, no backstory, just the act: all she had, given fully. In our world of influencers, algorithms, and metrics, she’s the ultimate viral icon; zero followers, infinite impact. We chase after recognition, but she got it without even trying, because Jesus saw her.

That's the thing, isn't it?

Jesus saw her.

He saw the quiet power of her faith, the hope that outlasts empires.