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Psalm 115:3–8 “Our God is in heaven; he does whatever pleases him. But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see. They have ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell. They have hands, but cannot feel, feet, but cannot walk, nor can they utter a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.”

Think

If you had to list the top false gods in the modern world, what would make your list?

Most people might picture wealth, sex, power, or fame. And they wouldn’t be wrong. We often view idols like outdated job titles—something we’ve “moved past.” Ancient people bowed down to weird statues. Not us. We’re more advanced. More educated. More evolved. Right?

Not really. The idols are still here. They’ve just had a rebrand.

In ancient Canaan, the people worshiped Baal—the god of fertility and prosperity. If you wanted to succeed—if you wanted crops to grow or your business to thrive—you bowed to Baal. It was simple: give Baal attention and he’ll give you results. Sound familiar?

Today, Baal goes by different names: clout, influence, success, hustle, achievement. We may not carve a statue, but we do craft an identity. We shape an image. We position ourselves to be seen, praised, and promoted. And deep down, we believe that if we just sacrifice enough time, energy, or relationships, the gods of status will reward us.

Then there was Asherah—the goddess of pleasure and sensuality. Her worship involved sex rituals and fertility rites. As shocking as that may sound, it’s not that far from a culture that commodifies bodies, glorifies sexual expression, and trains us to chase instant gratification. If it feels good, post it. If it entertains you, stream it. If it excites you, indulge it. Asherah hasn’t left. She just got better Wi-Fi.

Then there was Moloch. He was one of the darkest idols—associated with child sacrifice. In exchange for national success or personal advancement, parents would offer their children on his altar. It’s horrific to imagine. And yet, how many families today sacrifice their children’s hearts, time, or security in the name of career, busyness, or ambition? We overwork. We over-schedule. We overextend. Not because we hate our kids—but because we’ve bowed to the pressure to do more, earn more, and climb higher.

Pharaoh, meanwhile, was more than a leader—he claimed to be a god. He represented power, control, political strength, and dominance. When you bowed to Pharaoh, you were trusting in the systems of the world to keep you safe. Sound familiar? Power still whispers today. It offers protection, influence, and a seat at the table—if you’ll just do what it says.

And then there’s the golden calf. Perhaps the clearest example of what “other gods before me” looks like. It was a god the people made. A god they could control. A god that didn’t talk back, confront sin, or require waiting. It was fast, visible, and convenient. And isn’t that the god we’re most tempted to worship today? One who always agrees with us. One who makes us feel spiritual but never uncomfortable. A god of self-expression. A god that looks more like a mirror than a Savior.

Here’s what all these false gods have in common: they promise what only God can give—and then fail to deliver. They demand sacrifices but give no grace. They leave you empty, anxious, and always needing more.

And here’s the worst part: we become what we worship.

That’s what Psalm 115 warns us. “Those who make them will be like them.” When you worship power, you become domineering. When you worship success, you become performance-driven. When you worship comfort, you become numb. When you worship pleasure, you become enslaved to impulse. You start to resemble what rules you. That’s not just poetry—it’s spiritual reality.

But there’s another side to that coin: when you worship the living God, you come alive. You grow in joy, patience, peace, faithfulness, and love. You reflect the One who made you. Because you were created in his image—and worship is what brings that image into focus.

So today, don’t be fooled by the new packaging. The gods of old never really left. They just changed names. Career. Romance. Image. Politics. Comfort. Control. These aren’t just “things we struggle with.” They’re altars. And every day, you’re bringing something to them—your attention, your affection, your time, your trust.

But here’s the good news: you don’t have to keep bowing. The First Commandment isn’t just a warning—it’s an invitation. “You shall have no other gods before me.” Not because God is nervous about the competition. But because he knows how destructive these gods really are.

And more than that—because he knows he’s the only one who can actually come through. The only one who gives grace instead of guilt. Freedom instead of fear. Purpose instead of pressure. He’s not an idol to be crafted. He’s a Father to be known.

Apply

Take some time today to ask yourself, “Which god has been quietly pulling me away?” Maybe it’s success dressed up as drive. Maybe it’s pleasure disguised as self-care. Maybe it’s influence masked as ministry. Whatever it is, name it. Bring it to God. Remember—he doesn’t shame you for your idols. He saves you from them. Let the First Commandment be your reset. Not just to reject false gods—but to remember the real One who already rescued you.

Pray

God, I confess that I’ve worshiped other things—things I’ve tried to justify or ignore. Thank you for opening my eyes. Thank you for being patient, even when I’ve chased what can’t satisfy. Help me see clearly. Help me want you most. You’re not just a better option—you’re the only One worthy of my worship. In Jesus’ name. Amen.