More Than Gold: The Balance Sheet of the Soul

More Than Gold: The Balance Sheet of the Soul

By Kateb Shunnar

They say if you want to see a man’s true wealth, don’t look at his house, his car, or his clothes look at the state of his soul. Too many of us are dressed well but empty. We shine our shoes and our watches but not our hearts. The world is busy selling us the lie that personal development is only about degrees, muscles, and money. But beloved, we are missing the point of what it truly means to be a human being not a human doing.

The Creator is not impressed with our résumés. The Creator is not scrolling through our Instagram accounts, admiring our likes. No. The Creator is looking into our spiritual bank account. And I must tell you, some of us are spiritually bankrupt. We're in overdraft. Deep in the red. And the interest is compounding. You can’t fast your way out of spiritual bankruptcy. You can’t fake deposits. The Creator checks the balance.

“What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” That question is not poetic it’s prophetic. You can win on Earth and lose eternally. And the real tragedy? It won’t be because you didn’t have the tools it’ll be because you refused to surrender.

If you want true personal development, you must ask: What part of myself am I holding back from the Creator? As long as you resist, there will be no release. As long as you grip tightly to your pride, your pain, your habits, or your false image, growth will never take root. You cannot resist the divine and expect blessings to chase you down. That’s like building a house without consulting the architect then wondering why the walls collapse.

The truth is: we cannot develop ourselves. Not fully. Not divinely. We can motivate ourselves. We can inspire ourselves. But to transform? To elevate? That takes the hand of the Creator.

Let me tell you something: It’s bigger than you. And if you try to short-circuit the process, you’ll also short-circuit the blessings.

As it is written: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.”

Let me tell you a story now. This one takes place in the heart of Haiti, up in the mountains near Jacmel, where the drums echo during Lakou ceremonies, and the scent of epis and fried plantains dances in the breeze. I went there in a dream years ago, learning from an old houngan a spiritual elder who walked with wisdom older than his wrinkles.

There was a man named Ti Zaka. Everybody in the village knew Ti Zaka. He was always dressed sharp bien propre! white linen, polished shoes, and a straw hat that never tilted. He ran a successful fishing trade and even had family in Port-au-Prince who sent him money. But despite all this, he walked like he was missing something. His eyes were tired, and when the griot was served at gatherings, he laughed with others, but it never reached his soul.

Now, one day during Fèt Gede the festival of the ancestors Ti Zaka decided to walk past the lakou, even though tradition said you should never walk past without offering at least a candle or a prayer. But Ti Zaka? He was too “developed” for that. He chuckled to himself, “Mwen pa bezwen tout sa mwen gen lajan, mwen bon.” [“I don’t need all that I got money, I’m good.”]

He passed by, but that night, something strange happened. He had a dream. A figure dressed in deep indigo part mist, part man appeared at his bedside.

“Ou gen tout bagay, men ou pa gen tèt ou.” [“You have everything, but you don’t have yourself.”]

Ti Zaka sat up, sweating.

“Ki moun ou ye?!” [“Who are you?!”]

“I’m the ledger keeper of your soul,” said the figure, “and your account is empty.”

The next day, Ti Zaka went to the village elder. “Gran Manbo, what do I do?” he asked.

She looked at him with eyes like still water. “You must give back what you never paid for.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

She handed him a small wooden bowl. “Take this to the spring at dawn. Sit. Listen. Pour out all you’ve held back.”

So he went. At first, he tried to make it fancy. He lit a candle, wore his best clothes. But nothing happened. Then a little boy barefoot and covered in dust ran by and said, “Mister Zaka, you got dirt on your face.”

And that was the moment. He dropped the act. He dropped the mask. He dropped to his knees.

“Bondye, mwen la. Pa kite mwen pèdi nan tèt mwen.” [“Creator, I’m here. Don’t let me be lost in myself.”]

The wind stirred. A mango dropped from the tree without warning. And Ti Zaka felt something shift inside.

From that day on, Ti Zaka changed. He still dressed well, still traded fish but now he laughed from the belly. He helped widows. He sat at the lakou and sang songs to the ancestors. And every Sunday, he poured a little water into the bowl and whispered, “Mèsi, Bondye.” [“Thank you, Creator.”]

See, beloved, personal development is not about becoming more it's about becoming real. It's about removing the layers that hide the divine spark in you. You don’t need more hustle. You need more surrender. You don’t need more motivation. You need more trust.

Stop resisting the invitation. Open the door. The Creator doesn’t come empty-handed He comes with healing, joy, peace, and purpose.

Make your soul your greatest investment. Because the day of reckoning is coming, and when your soul is audited, may it be overflowing.

Amen and Ayibobo! [Hallelujah!]