When we die our money, fame, and honors will be meaningless. We

The words of Michael Huffington, “When we die our money, fame, and honors will be meaningless. We own nothing in this world. Everything we think we own is in reality only being loaned to us until we die. And on our deathbed at the moment of death, no one but God can save our souls,” are a meditation on the fleeting nature of life and the eternal weight of the soul. They strike the heart like the tolling of a solemn bell, reminding us that all the treasures and triumphs of this world are but shadows that vanish at sunset. In this reflection, Huffington—himself a man who knew the heights of wealth and success—speaks not as one boasting of achievement, but as one awakened to truth. His words echo the wisdom of prophets and sages throughout the ages: that possessions perish, glory fades, but the soul endures.

The origin of this quote lies not in religious doctrine alone, but in the lived experience of a man who had tasted the sweetness of worldly honor and found it hollow before the vastness of eternity. Michael Huffington, a businessman, politician, and philanthropist, once walked among the powerful, yet came to see that earthly success, however dazzling, cannot purchase peace for the heart or redemption for the spirit. His words recall the timeless teaching that nothing belongs to us, not even our own breath. Everything—our wealth, our body, our influence—is a loan from God, given for a season and reclaimed in its appointed time. The wise do not cling to these things; they use them well, knowing they must one day return them.

When he says, “We own nothing in this world,” Huffington invites us to see the illusion that binds humanity—the illusion of possession. The ancients knew this truth well. King Solomon, the richest man of his age, wrote in Ecclesiastes, “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.” Though he built palaces and ruled a kingdom, he too saw that everything under the sun passes away. Gold tarnishes, monuments crumble, names are forgotten. Even emperors, wrapped in splendor, go to the same dust as beggars. To recognize this is not despair—it is liberation. For when the soul ceases to clutch the transient, it becomes free to grasp the eternal.

The line, “Everything we think we own is in reality only being loaned to us until we die,” carries the weight of divine stewardship. Life itself is a sacred trust, and we are not its masters, but its caretakers. The earth, our bodies, our families—all are given to us for a time, to cultivate, to cherish, to use for good. But they are not ours to keep. The great St. Francis of Assisi lived this truth with radiant simplicity. Born to wealth, he cast away his riches to embrace a life of poverty and service. He called himself “the little poor one,” and yet he was rich in spirit, for he understood that true wealth lies not in what we hold, but in what we give. When death came for him, he lay upon the bare ground, singing praises to the Creator, owning nothing—and yet possessing everything.

And when Huffington writes, “On our deathbed at the moment of death, no one but God can save our souls,” he touches the most profound of truths—the solitude of the soul before eternity. In that final hour, titles, possessions, and praise fall away like autumn leaves. No spouse, no friend, no treasure can follow us beyond the veil. The soul stands naked before its Maker, carrying nothing but the weight of its deeds and the purity of its love. The pharaohs of Egypt filled their tombs with gold, believing they could carry wealth into the next life—but time devoured their treasures, and only their bones remained. Yet the humble man who carries faith in his heart crosses the threshold of death richer than any king.

These words, though solemn, are not words of despair—they are a call to wisdom and humility. They teach us to hold lightly to the things of earth and to pour our hearts into what endures: virtue, compassion, faith, and love. For the true measure of life is not in what we acquire, but in what we become. To live well is to prepare for death not with fear, but with readiness—to shape a soul that, when it departs, will rise toward the light and not sink into darkness. The wise cultivate their inner life as one tends a garden, knowing that when the body fades, only the soul’s blossoms will remain.

The lesson, then, is eternal and unchanging: seek treasures that death cannot take. Give more than you receive. Love more than you demand. Live as a steward, not an owner. Let gratitude replace greed, service replace pride, and faith replace fear. For the day will come when the last breath leaves your body, and all that remains will be the story your soul has written upon the heart of eternity. In that moment, may your spirit, like a flame returning to the sun, rise unafraid, knowing it has fulfilled its purpose.

So remember the wisdom of Michael Huffington: “We own nothing in this world… no one but God can save our souls.” Let these words be your compass. Walk through this world with open hands and a humble heart. Build not for possession, but for remembrance. For though the world may measure success by what is seen, heaven measures it by what is given—and in that measure, the soul that loves deeply and serves faithfully shall never die.