Why Robinhood Will Stay Profitable — and Why We Keep Betting on Ourselves

Robinhood Markets Inc. doesn’t just sell access to stocks; it sells participation in a story — the story of possibility. As traditional investing blends with the psychology of sports betting, the company stands to remain profitable for one simple reason: people will never stop wanting to play the game.

Over the last decade, Robinhood has become the sleek on-ramp to markets that feel more like arenas. Push notifications mimic score updates. Options contracts look like parlays. And when earnings calls are treated like pregame shows, investing feels less like stewardship and more like sport. It’s no coincidence that Robinhood’s user base overlaps heavily with the same demographic driving growth in online sports betting — young, digital-native men craving risk, identity, and control in a world that increasingly feels out of reach. And the company knows it.

The psychology isn’t complicated, but it is powerful. When we gamble — whether on a stock, a spread, or a crypto token — our brains release dopamine in anticipation of reward. Studies from the National Institutes of Health have shown that this chemical hit peaks not at the win, but at the possibility of winning. That means the allure of “maybe” is more intoxicating than the satisfaction of “yes.” Every flashing green candle, every double-down bet, every “just one more trade” is the mind chasing its own shadow.

And the market loves that. Because the market, as ever, mirrors us. “Money doesn’t move on its own — people move it. And people are driven by their hearts.” Beneath the earnings reports and revenue forecasts is a very old human impulse — to turn chance into meaning, to feel mastery over uncertainty, to make risk itself a form of prayer.

But that impulse can easily become idolatry. We start to look to the market to tell us who we are. And the problem with worshiping volatility is that it always asks for more. The heart that bets on every swing of fortune soon finds itself enslaved not by the love of money, but by the love of maybe.

The way out isn’t detachment — it’s reorientation. Scripture doesn’t tell us to stop caring about gain and loss; it tells us to guard our hearts (Proverbs 4:23). To remember that the deepest form of wealth isn’t the rush of risk, but the peace of contentment. The trader who learns to rest, the gambler who learns to trust, the investor who learns to give — these are not anti-market virtues. They are antidotes to illusion.

Robinhood will stay profitable because human desire is bottomless. But the gospel invites us to be something the market never can — satisfied.