Where we are
If the previous chapter raised righteousness from the outward act to the inward heart, this chapter goes deeper still — into the secret life, the place where no one is watching, and asks: when no one sees, for whom do you live? The whole chapter is about the undivided heart — the heart that does its devotion for God's eyes rather than men's, that sets its treasure in heaven rather than on earth, that serves one master rather than trying to serve two. And it builds to the great either/or that no one can escape: No man can serve two masters... ye cannot serve God and Mammon (v. 24). The chapter is a sustained meditation on where the heart is set, and its central claim is that the heart cannot be divided — it will serve God or it will serve money, it will treasure heaven or it will treasure earth, but it cannot do both, and whichever it treasures is where it truly lives.
Begin with the secret devotion, because it exposes a temptation that runs through all of religious life. Three times Christ takes a religious practice — alms, prayer, fasting — and warns against doing it to be seen of men. The hypocrites sound a trumpet when they give alms (v. 2), love to pray standing in the synagogues and corners of the streets (v. 5), disfigure their faces when they fast (v. 16) — all that they may be seen of men. And Christ's verdict on each is the same and devastating: they have their reward (vv. 2, 5, 16). They wanted to be admired, and they were admired, and that is the whole of their reward — there is nothing left for heaven to give, because they already collected their wage in the applause of men. Against this, Christ commands secret devotion: give in secret, pray in your closet with the door shut, fast so that you appear not unto men to fast — and thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly (vv. 4, 6, 18). The principle is profound and searching: religion done for an audience of men is paid by men and leaves nothing for God; religion done in secret, for God's eyes alone, is paid by God. And the test of whether your devotion is real is what you do when no one is watching — for the secret act, performed for God alone, reveals the true direction of the heart, while the public act may reveal only the love of applause.
At the center of the chapter sits the model prayer — Our Father who art in heaven (vv. 9–13) — and it is worth noticing where Christ places it. He has just warned against vain repetitions and praying to be seen, and against the heathen idea that one is heard for much speaking (v. 7), because your Father knoweth what things ye have need of before ye ask him (v. 8). And then he gives a prayer that is short, simple, God-centered, and unadorned — the opposite of the long, showy, performative prayers he just condemned. The Lord's Prayer begins not with our wants but with God's name, kingdom, and will (hallowed be thy name... thy will be done), and only then turns to our needs (daily bread, forgiveness, deliverance). And Christ singles out one petition for special emphasis: forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors (v. 11), and immediately drives it home — if ye forgive men their trespasses your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses neither will your Father forgive your trespasses (vv. 14–15). Of all the petitions, this is the one with a condition attached, and the condition is sobering: our forgiveness from God is bound to our forgiveness of others. A heart that will not forgive cannot be forgiven, because it has closed the very channel through which forgiveness flows.
And then the chapter's great theme crystallizes in the teaching on treasure. Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven (vv. 19–20) — and the reason, the unforgettable verse: for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (v. 21). This is one of the most penetrating sentences Christ ever spoke. The heart follows the treasure. Whatever you most value, that is where your heart goes to live — not the other way around. You do not first love something and then treasure it; you treasure it and your heart follows. So the location of your treasure determines the location of your heart: treasure on earth, and your heart lives on earth, anxious, grasping, vulnerable to moth and rust and thieves; treasure in heaven, and your heart lives in heaven, secure in what cannot corrupt or be stolen. And this leads to the great either/or: the single eye that fills the body with light versus the evil eye that fills it with darkness (vv. 22–23), and finally no man can serve two masters... ye cannot serve God and Mammon (v. 24). The word study below opens up Mammon — wealth personified as a rival god; but the whole chapter has been driving here. The heart is one; it cannot be divided between two masters; and the great choice of every life is which master it will serve — the God who sees in secret, or the Mammon that promises security and delivers anxiety.
The chapter has three movements.
- Secret devotion (vv. 1–18). Alms, prayer, and fasting are to be done in secret, for God's eyes, not before men — the hypocrites who perform for men have their reward; the Father who sees in secret rewards openly; and the model prayer, with forgiveness as its condition.
- Treasure and the single eye (vv. 19–24). Lay up treasure in heaven, not on earth, for the heart follows the treasure; the single eye fills the body with light; no man can serve two masters — God and Mammon.
- Take no thought (vv. 25–34). To the twelve: trust the Father who feeds the fowls and clothes the lilies; take no anxious thought for food or raiment; seek first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added.
The verses to carry are these. Verse 6 names the secret devotion — pray to thy Father who is in secret; and thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly. Verse 21 names the heart's logic — where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. And verse 24 names the great choice — ye cannot serve God and Mammon. The chapter exists to teach the undivided heart — devotion done in secret for God alone, treasure laid up in heaven where the heart will follow, and the single, undivided service of the one Master who cannot be shared with Mammon.
Secret devotion: religion for God's eyes (verses 1–18)
But when thou doest alms let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth; that thine alms may be in secret; and thy Father who seeth in secret, himself shall reward thee openly. — 3 Nephi 13:3–4
Christ turns now to the secret life of devotion, and he does it by exposing a temptation that haunts all religious practice: the temptation to do good to be seen doing it. Three times he names a sacred practice — almsgiving, prayer, fasting — and three times he warns against performing it for an audience. The hypocrites sound a trumpet when they give, love to pray in public places, disfigure their faces when they fast, all that they may have glory of men (vv. 2, 5, 16). And three times the verdict falls with the same terrible finality: they have their reward. This phrase is one of the most sobering in the sermon. The hypocrites are not denied a reward; they get exactly what they sought — the admiration of men — and that is all they get, the account closed, paid in full, nothing remaining. They wanted to be seen, and they were seen, and the wage is collected. Heaven owes them nothing, because they did not do it for heaven.
Against this, Christ commands secrecy — and the secrecy is the test of the heart's true direction. When thou doest alms let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth (v. 3); when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father who is in secret (v. 6); when thou fastest, anoint thy head, and wash thy face; that thou appear not unto men to fast (vv. 17–18). And the promise attached to each is the same: thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward thee openly. The principle is profound. Devotion done for men is paid by men — and the payment is cheap and quickly spent. Devotion done in secret, for God's eyes alone, is paid by God — and the payment is openly given, at the last, by the One who saw what no one else saw. And the deepest point is diagnostic: what you do when no one is watching reveals who you truly serve. A public act may reveal only the love of applause; but the secret act — the gift no one knows you gave, the prayer no one heard, the fast no one saw — reveals the heart's true God, because there is no human audience to perform for. The secret life is the real life. The God who seeth in secret sees the true self, and rewards what is done for him alone.
And at the center Christ gives the model prayer (vv. 9–13), and its placement is deliberate — right after the warning against vain repetitions and much speaking (v. 7). The Lord's Prayer is the antidote to performative prayer: short, simple, God-centered. It begins not with our wants but with God's — hallowed be thy name... thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven — putting God's glory and will first, before a single petition for ourselves. Only then does it turn to our needs, and even those are simple and dependent: forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil (vv. 11–12). And Christ singles out the petition about forgiveness for special, sobering emphasis: if ye forgive men their trespasses your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if ye forgive not men their trespasses neither will your Father forgive your trespasses (vv. 14–15). This is the one petition with a condition, and the condition is unbreakable: God's forgiveness flows to us through the same channel by which we forgive others, and a heart clenched shut against forgiving cannot itself be forgiven — not because God is unwilling, but because an unforgiving heart has closed the door through which mercy must pass both ways. The prayer that begins with God's name ends with the most practical and searching of conditions: you will be forgiven as you forgive.
Treasure and the single eye: the heart follows what it loves (verses 19–24)
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. — 3 Nephi 13:21
Now the chapter's great theme crystallizes. Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and thieves break through and steal; but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven (vv. 19–20). The contrast is between two kinds of treasure: earthly treasure, which is perishable (moth and rust corrupt it) and insecure (thieves steal it); and heavenly treasure, which is imperishable and secure, beyond the reach of decay and theft. To lay up earthly treasure is to invest your life in things that will inevitably be lost — to clutch what cannot be kept. To lay up heavenly treasure — through the secret alms, the love of God and neighbor, the deeds done for God's eyes — is to invest in what cannot be lost. And then comes the verse that explains why it matters so much where you store your treasure: for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (v. 21).
This is one of the most penetrating sentences in all of scripture, and its logic is the reverse of what we assume. We think the heart comes first — that we love a thing and therefore treasure it. Christ says the treasure comes first, and the heart follows. Wherever you put your treasure, there your heart goes to live. Invest your life in earthly wealth, and your heart will take up residence there — anxious about the markets, grieved by every loss, perpetually insecure because earthly treasure is perpetually threatened. Invest in heavenly treasure, and your heart will live in heaven — secure, unanxious, fixed on what cannot be taken. This means the location of your treasure is not a financial decision but a spiritual one: it determines where your heart will dwell, and therefore what kind of person you will be. And it means the way to change your heart is to change your treasure — for the heart is not commanded directly; it follows what is valued. Put your treasure in heaven, and your heart will follow it there. This is the deep mechanism of discipleship: we become what we treasure, and our hearts go to live wherever we store our wealth.
And so the chapter rises to the great either/or. The eye is the lamp of the body: if thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness (vv. 22–23). The single eye — the undivided gaze, the heart fixed on one thing, on God — fills the whole person with light; the evil eye (which in the Hebrew idiom means the grudging, greedy eye, fixed on wealth) fills the whole person with darkness. And then the conclusion the whole chapter has been driving toward: No man can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon (v. 24). The word study below opens up Mammon — wealth personified as a rival god. But grasp the finality of the teaching. The heart is one. It cannot be divided between two ultimate loyalties. It will serve God or it will serve money — it cannot serve both, because the two pull in opposite directions, and to hold to one is to despise the other. This is the great choice underneath every life, and there is no neutral ground, no both-and, no serving God while keeping money as a backup god. Ye cannot serve God and Mammon. The undivided heart must choose its one Master.
Take no thought: the trust that frees the heart (verses 25–34)
But seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you. — 3 Nephi 13:33
Turning to the twelve — ye are they whom I have chosen to minister unto this people (v. 25) — Christ draws out the practical fruit of the undivided heart: freedom from anxiety. If God is your one Master, and your treasure is in heaven, then you need take no thought — no anxious, fearful thought — for the necessities of earthly life. Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on (v. 25). And he gives two of the most beautiful images in scripture to ground the trust. Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? (v. 26). And consider the lilies of the field how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet... even Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these (vv. 28–29). The birds are fed without farming; the flowers are clothed without weaving — by the Father who tends them — and the human soul, much better than birds and flowers, is tended by the same Father. If God so clothe the grass of the field... even so will he clothe you, if ye are not of little faith (v. 30).
This is not a command to be lazy or improvident; it is a command to be free from anxiety, and the freedom flows directly from the undivided heart. The person who serves Mammon — whose treasure is on earth, whose master is money — must be anxious, because earthly treasure is always threatened and never enough; the anxious, grasping heart is the natural condition of the servant of Mammon. But the person who serves God — whose treasure is in heaven, whose Father feeds the birds and clothes the lilies — is freed from that anxiety, because his security does not rest on what he can accumulate but on the Father who tends him. The anxiety of the divided heart is the symptom; the undivided heart, trusting the one Master, is the cure. And the chapter ends with the verse that gathers the whole teaching into a single command and a single promise: seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you (v. 33). There is the right ordering of the heart: first the kingdom, first God's righteousness — and the necessities of life, which the anxious heart frantically seeks first, are added to those who seek God first. The chapter that began by warning against living for men's eyes ends by promising that those who live for God's kingdom will lack nothing they need. The undivided heart — secret in its devotion, heavenly in its treasure, single in its service, free from anxious thought, seeking first the kingdom — is the heart at rest, the heart that has chosen its one Master and found, in that choosing, that the Master provides. Take therefore no thought for the morrow (v. 34): the heart that treasures heaven and serves God alone has laid down its anxieties along with its idols, and lives, like the birds and the lilies, in the keeping of the Father.
How the chapter is built
3 Nephi 13 is built around a single theme — the undivided heart — and Mormon (recording the Lord's own arrangement) develops it through three angles that converge on one conclusion. First, the heart's audience: for whom do you perform your devotion — men or God? (the secret alms, prayer, fasting, vv. 1–18). Second, the heart's treasure: where do you store your wealth, and therefore where does your heart live — earth or heaven? (vv. 19–21). Third, the heart's master: whom do you serve — God or Mammon? (vv. 22–24). All three angles ask the same question in different words: is your heart divided or whole? And all three give the same answer: the heart cannot be divided — it must perform for one audience, treasure one place, serve one master. The architecture builds relentlessly toward verse 24, ye cannot serve God and Mammon, which is the chapter's thesis stated as an absolute: the heart is one, and it will have one God. And then the closing movement (the birds and lilies, vv. 25–34) shows the fruit of the undivided heart — freedom from anxiety, the peace of the soul that trusts its one Master to provide. The structure moves from the problem of the divided heart (performing for men, treasuring earth, tempted by two masters) to the resolution of the undivided heart (living for God, treasuring heaven, serving one Master) to the reward of the undivided heart (freedom from anxious thought, all things added). The chapter is a meditation on the oneness the heart must achieve to be whole.
And the chapter is built as the inward continuation of the sermon's movement toward the transformed heart, and as the precise antidote to the sin that destroyed the Nephites. The society of 3 Nephi 6 fell through the love of riches — pride built on wealth, ranks built on money, hearts set on treasure. And this chapter is the direct cure: lay not up treasures upon earth... ye cannot serve God and Mammon. The Nephites had served Mammon, set their hearts on earthly treasure, and their hearts had followed their treasure into pride and murder and destruction. Christ's sermon reverses it at the root — not by forbidding wealth but by redirecting the heart, teaching that the heart follows its treasure and so must treasure heaven, that the heart serves one master and so must choose God over Mammon. Mormon places this teaching here, in the constitution of the new kingdom, because the kingdom that 4 Nephi will briefly realize — the Zion of no rich and poor, all things common — is precisely a society of undivided hearts, people who have laid up their treasure in heaven and serve God rather than Mammon, and so hold their earthly goods loosely, in common, without the ranks and the grasping that destroyed the old world. The single eye, the one master, the treasure in heaven — these are the spiritual foundations of Zion, the inward conditions that make the outward equality possible. The chapter is built as the heart-transformation that the whole sermon aims at and that the coming golden age will, for two centuries, embody: a people whose hearts are whole, set on one treasure, serving one Master, free from the anxiety and the avarice that had destroyed them — living, at last, like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, in the keeping of the Father who provides.