“Elon Musk officially became the world’s first trillionaire, reaching a net worth upwards of $1.1 trillion to $1.4 trillion. This historic wealth milestone was driven by the massive initial public offering (IPO) of his aerospace company, SpaceX, on the Nasdaq, combined with his substantial existing equity in Tesla.“
How much is one trillion dollars ?
It’s hard for me to get my head around that amount of money, that many zeros. One trillion is a number I used to throw out when I was a child to indicate infinity: more money than I could imagine, more money than I thought existed, more money than I could ever have imagined in one bank account [metaphorically speaking]. It is an absurd, an obscene amount of money, particularly in the hands of one person.
What can one trillion dollars buy [Google has plenty of suggestions, so does this article by Forbes: https://www.forbes.com/sites/mattdurot/2026/06/12/1000000000-what-can-you-buy-with-1-trillion-these-days/]?
- The GDP of 175 nations [out of roughly 195]
- 243 billion gallons of gas
- Every single residential property in the state of Hawaii
- Forgiveness of the entire aggregate American medical debt roughly 4.5 times over
- 5.9 billion grocery trips
That amount of money can both solve problems on a global scale, and cause them: one trillion dollars can eradicate diseases and drastically mitigate world hunger; or, it can overthrow governments, disrupt regional economies, and start wars.
Which do you think Elon Musk is more likely to do?
To millionaires, or certainly billionaires, I imagine that one trillion dollars feels like a dare, or a challenge–an invitation, maybe to do whatever is needed to get there next. It’s a sobering thought. I’m not convinced the world needs one trillionaire, let alone two or three or four.
But, to ordinary humans, one trillion dollars can feel deflating, hopeless, even. In the shadow of such wealth, what am I worth? What can I do, with what feels like incomparably, laughably less money, less power, and less influence?
What are my donations worth, anyway? My efforts? My convictions?
What can stand up next to one trillion dollars?
Jesus had something to say about this, of course, in what is commonly called the parable of the widow’s mite.
Jesus looked up and saw rich people putting their gifts into the treasury; he also saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. He said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them, for all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in all she had to live on.” Luke 21:1-4
Certainly, this parable has its limits: I’m not encouraging you or anyone you love to give to such an extreme where you cannot feed yourself or your family–I don’t think Jesus wants to shame us into masochistic self-destruction. But, the point of the comparison, made vivid by the extremes, holds–and I think it is true not only for money, but for time and effort, passion and dedication. Who you are matters more than what you have, because that determines how you will live, and how you will [or will not] share your gifts with the world. And to the people you touch, you help, you change, those gifts are priceless.
And “priceless” actually stands up pretty tall next to one trillion dollars.
I am reminded of the quote misattributed to John Wesley, “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” Money doesn’t even figure in here; it’s irrelevant to a meaningful life, a faithful life, a life of discipleship.
It might be fun to imagine what you would do with one trillion dollars, but don’t linger too long there, lest it make you disparage or take for granted all God has given you, and weaken your conviction that small actions, in the littlest corners of the world, can and do make a difference.
You don’t need one trillion dollars. You are enough, as you are, with what you have.
You. Priceless.
Happy Lutheran 