Audacity
God
doesn't want us to be shy with his gifts, but bold and loving and sensible.
(2 Timothy 1:7)
What’s your perception of how God treats you? Do you think God treats you
with the sensitivity of a prison guard, let’s say? If so, that assumption
guarantees daily deliveries of dread. On the other hand, do you believe that God
cherishes you like Stradivarius would his violin? Believe that, and then you’ll
extract your strengths with great joy. Jesus made this very point in his
dramatic parable of the talents: “For the kingdom of heaven is like a man
traveling to a far country, who called his own servants and delivered his goods
to them. And to one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one,
to each according to his own ability; and immediately he went on a journey.”
(Matt. 25:14-15)
Before
"talent" meant skill, it meant money. It represented the largest unit
of accounting in Greek currency – 10,000 denarii. According to the parable of
the workers, a denarius represented a day's fair wages. (Matt. 20:2) Multiply
your daily wage by 10,000, and you discover the value of a talent. If you earn
$30,000 a year and you annually work 260 days, you make about $115 a day. A
talent in your case is valued at 10,000 times $115, or $1,150,000. So place
this in perspective. Suppose a person earns $30,000 a year for forty years. Her
lifetime earnings are $1,200,000, only $50,000 more than a talent. One talent,
then, equals a lifetime of earnings. That’s a lot of money and a key point in the
parable.
Your God-given
design and uniqueness have high market value in heaven. God didn't entrust you
with a $2 talent, or a $5 skill. Consider yourself a million-dollar investment,
or a multimillion-dollar enterprise. God gives gifts, not miserly, but abundantly.
And not randomly, but carefully – “to each according to each one's unique
ability." (v. 15) Remember, no one else has your talents. No one. God
elevates you from common-hood by matching your unique abilities to custom-made
assignments.
In the parable,
the first two servants rewarded their master's trust. "Immediately the one
who had received the five talents went and traded with them, and gained five
more talents. In the same manner the one who had received the two talents
gained two more." (Matt. 25:16-17) The five-talent servant jumped to the
task. He "went and traded" the money. He bought investment magazines
and watched the business channel. A reliable tip led him to examine some
property. He heard about a franchise looking for capital. He pondered his
options, crunched the numbers, took a gulp, and took the plunge. He invested
the money. The second servant showed equal eagerness. He may have had only two
talents, but he put them to work, too. Like the first servant, he negotiated,
traded and invested.
Both took risks.
Both dared to fail. Who was to say their investments wouldn't NASDAQ into
pennies? But they took the chance nonetheless. And their master commended them.
When he returned from his journey, he applauded the five-talent man: "Well
done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will
make you ruler over many things." (v. 21) With these words Jesus permits
us a glimpse into the end of history, the unannounced day in which the
"earth and all its works [will be] exposed to the scrutiny of Judgment."
(2 Pet. 3:10) "Well done," Jesus will say to some.
Don’t you want to
be numbered among them? To have your Maker look you in the eyes, with all
humanity watching and listening, and tell you, "You did a good job"?
Maybe your dad never praised you, or your teachers always criticized you, but
God will applaud you. And he’ll call you "good." And when God says
you’re good, it counts. Only he can make bad sinners good. And only he makes
the frail, faithful. "Well done, good and faithful." Not "good
and flashy," or "good and famous." Not even "good and
fruitful" – just faithful.
Having addressed
the five-talent servant, the master turned to the two-talent worker. The master
had heaped praise on the $5 million manager. What would he say to the $2
million man? Exactly the same words. "Well done, good and faithful
servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over
many things. Enter into the joy of your lord." (Matt. 25:23) He altered no
phrase and omitted no honor. The two-talent servant who faithfully fills soda
cups for the homeless receives the same applause as the five-talent evangelist
who fills stadiums with people. Different fruit, but equal praise. The point?
Use your uniqueness to take great risks for God. If you're great with kids,
volunteer at the orphanage. If you have a head for business, start a soup
kitchen. If God bent you toward medicine, dedicate a day or a decade to AIDS
patients. The only mistake is not to risk making one.
Such was the
error of the one-talent servant. Did the master notice him? Yes, he did. And
from the third servant we learn a sobering lesson. "Then he who had
received the one talent came and said, 'Lord, I knew you to be a hard man,
reaping where you have not sown, and gathering where you have not scattered
seed. And I was afraid, and went and hid your talent in the ground.'" (vv.
24-25) Contrast the reaction of the third servant with that of the first two.
The faithful servants "went and traded." (v. 16) The fearful one
"went and dug." (v. 18) The first two invested. The last one buried.
The first two went out on a limb. The third one hugged the trunk. He made the
most tragic and common mistake of giftedness – he failed to benefit the master
with his talent.
All people have
talents, and this parable, indeed Scripture, assures us as much. But how many
people invest their gifts to profit the Master? Many discover their
"what." They may luck into "where" to use their
"what." But "why"? Why did God pack your bag as he did? If
you’re an accountant, how do you explain your number sense? And if you’re an investor,
you read the stock market like Bobby Fischer reads a chess-board. Have you ever
wondered why you have such a skill? Or, if you’re a linguist, foreign languages
paralyze most tongues, but they liberate yours. Why? And if you’re a homemaker,
you make your household purr like a Bentley. But why? So people will love you?
Pay you? Admire you? Hire you? If your answer involves only you, you've missed
the big reason for your gift, and you're making a big mistake. Sin, at its ugly
essence, confiscates heaven's gifts for selfish gain.
Which one of us
hasn’t given a needy person some cash, only to see them staggering later in the
day from the effects of too much alcohol? If you’re like me, you’re just a
little perturbed. "I gave him that money to buy food. How dare he use it
to get drunk?" Is it wrong to be upset? No. He misused the gift. So, is
the Master wrong to be angry when we do the same? No. And according to the parable,
God will be. Some invest their talents and give the God credit. Others misuse
their talents and give God grief. Some honor him with fruit. Others insult him
with excuses. The one-talent servant did. "I knew you to be a hard
man," he said. The master wouldn't stand for it. So, brace yourself for
the force of his response.
"You wicked
and lazy servant, you knew that I reap where I have not sown, and gather where
I have not scattered seed. So you ought to have deposited my money with the
bankers, and at my coming I would have received back my own with interest."
(Matt. 25:26-27) Whoa. What just happened? Why the blowtorch? You’ll find the
answer in the missing phrase. The master repeated the assessment of the
servant, word for word, with one exclusion. Did you note it? "I knew you
to be a hard man." (v. 24) The master didn't repeat a description that he
wouldn't accept. The servant levied a cruel judgment by calling the master a “hard
man.” The servant used the exact word for "hard" that Christ used to
describe stiff-necked and stubborn Pharisees. (See, Matt. 19:8; Acts 7:51) The writer of Hebrews employed the term
to beg readers not to harden their hearts. (Heb. 3:8) In other words, the
one-talent servant called his master stiff-necked, stubborn and hard.
His sin was not
mismanagement, but misunderstanding. Was his master hard? He gave
multimillion-dollar gifts to undeserving servants; he honored the two-talent
worker as much as the five; he stood face to face with both at homecoming and
announced before the audiences of heaven and hell, "Well done, good and
faithful servant." Is that a hard master? Infinitely good, graciously
abundant, yes. But hard? Not a chance. The problem is that the one-talent
servant never knew his master. He should have. He lived under his roof and
shared his address. He knew his face, his name, but he never knew his master's
heart. And, as a result, he broke it. He could have known his master. The other
servants did. He could have at least asked them. But he didn't. In the end the
master instructed: "Get rid of this 'play-it-safe' who won't go out on a
limb. Throw him out into utter darkness." (Matt. 25:29-30)
False servants
populate the Master's house. They enjoy his universe, benefit from his earth;
they know his name, his habits; they even frequent his presence. But they never
know his passion, and as a result they misuse their talents. So, who’s this
unprofitable servant? Well, if you never use your gifts for God, you are. If
you think God is a hard God, then you are. And you’ll live a life of buried talents.
You'll stick your million-dollar skill in a coffee can, hide it in a drawer,
and earn nothing for God. You may use your uniqueness to build a reputation, a
retirement, an investment account, or an empire, but you won't build God's
kingdom. You may know your story, but you won't share his. Your heart will grow
cold. For fear of doing the wrong thing for God, you'll do nothing for God. For
fear of making the wrong kingdom decision, you'll make no kingdom decision at
all. For fear of messing up, you'll miss out. You’ll give what this servant
gave and hear what this servant heard: "You wicked and lazy servant."
(v. 26)
But you don't
have to. It's not too late to seek your Father's heart. Your God is a good God.
He lavished you with strengths in this life, and a promise of the next. So, go
out on a limb. Be audacious; he won't let you fall. Take a big risk; he won't
let you fail. He invites you to dream of the day you feel his hand on your
shoulder and his eyes on your face. "Well done," he’ll say,
"good and faithful servant."
Grace,
Randy
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