The Price of Aid: How the Matrix Forces Us to Wear Poverty
In this little matrix we live in, there are narratives people are expected to play into roles that are written for us before we even realize it. One of the biggest ones is poverty. When you’re receiving aid, charity, or any kind of assistance from the system, you’re not just taking the help, sometimes. You’re being asked silently but forcefully to wear an identity, to put on the costume of “the struggling one” and never take it off.
When I first arrived to Spain the second time with my two children, I experienced this firsthand. Starting from nothing, I had to rely on help from nuns, the Red Cross, and local associations. It was survival, but it also came with unspoken rules. I remember connecting with others in the same situation, and we would whisper about the small joys we allowed ourselves: maybe taking the kids on a short vacation, or buying something special just once in a while. But it was always said in hushed tones, like a confession. “Don’t tell anyone you saw us on Facebook,” someone would warn, because even something so simple as enjoying life could be used against you and put your aid in threat. It would be determined you don’t need anything.
Meanwhile, demons in this world flaunt luxury, live their best lives, and face no shame. But when the children of God dare to find joy in the midst of struggle, the Matrix almost punishes it. Depending on what kind of aid you’re getting, you often feel like you have to hide any “extras” or blessings because the moment people see them, there’s the risk of having support cut off. It’s a sick irony.
And this isn’t just Europe. In New York, it plays out in another way. Many middle-class families are forced to downplay their real situations. You can be working a full-time job, technically making “too much” to qualify for aid, and still not making enough to cover rent, food, and the basics. The system pushes you into lying, or at least performing, because if you tell the truth, if you admit that your paycheck doesn’t stretch far enough, you’re outside the bracket. Too “rich” for help, too “poor” to survive.
So what happens? People shrink themselves. They hide joy, they hide blessings, and they play into the script of poverty to keep the lifelines they depend on. It becomes less about actual need and more about performance, a theater where you must constantly prove you’re struggling, prove you’re worthy of the crumbs the Matrix offers.
But here’s where the psychological and spiritual layer kicks in. We become what we continuously repeat and think about. If you have to wear poverty, if you have to talk like you’re poor, act like you’re poor, and constantly wire your mind to stay in survival mode, then you begin to embody that vibration. Consciousness itself bends toward the role you are forced to play. The Matrix knows this. That’s why it wants you to perform poverty, because the more you perform it, the deeper it sinks into your reality.
And then something fascinating happens when you start to break out of it. When you rewire yourself and say, “No, I’m going to invest in me. I’m going to take my child on vacation. I’m going to allow myself to taste joy and abundance,” suddenly, the NPC voices appear. They’ll tell you, “Save your money, don’t waste it. That’s irresponsible. You should stay small.” These aren’t just people; they’re programmed responses, echoes of the system itself. They try to push you back into the box, back into the vibration of poverty, because as far as the Matrix is concerned, children of God are meant to drink bread and water in survival mode 24/7 and that’s it.
The devil of this world functions in stealing God’s children’s blessings and keeping us poor in material and in spirit. This is his goal, and he disguises it through systems and family cycles that look normal on the surface. The Bible says it clearly in John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
But God’s plan is different. He calls us to life, and life abundantly. The Matrix trains you to rehearse struggle, to play small, to see yourself as barely surviving. God, on the other hand, trains you to expand, to trust, and to know you are worthy of joy. The key is recognizing when you’re living by the Matrix script and when it’s time to burn the script altogether.
Poverty is not who you are. It is a season, a test, or sometimes even a weapon of oppression used by the enemy, but it is not your destiny. Aid can help for a time, and there is no shame in receiving it when needed. But you must never let it become your foundation. The goal is to grow into self-reliance, to stand in the truth that God created you to be a provider, a creator, and a steward of abundance.
This means retraining your mind to refuse to glorify struggle or normalize lack. Instead of thinking, “This is all I will ever have,” you start saying, “God is teaching me to rise above and build.” And not only that; you should aim to be as unreliant on this world’s systems as possible. That does not mean isolation, but it does mean building skills, vision, and faith so that your survival is not tied to the crumbs that the matrix or the enemy wants to hand you.
Our True Place in This Reality
Our place in this reality is not to be in struggle mode or living in poverty. We were designed to master this world and create according to our desires and vibration. This design has been completely hijacked. God intended for us to live in harmony with nature, to eat clean, to honor our bodies, and to maintain a constant connection with Him.
Abundance is our inheritance. When we align with this original design, abundance, peace, and clarity flow naturally. Struggle and lack are not our default state—they are interruptions created by the enemy and by systems that distort God’s plan for us. Understanding this is the first step in reclaiming our power and stepping fully into the life we were created to live.
The price of aid is more than paperwork and appointments, it’s an identity the system wants you to wear, and never take off. But my identity isn’t poverty. My identity is in Christ, who gives freely and abundantly, and who never requires me to hide my joy.
