I know it’s been a minute. Life’s been… life-ing. So the other day I was listening to a sermon about the Parable of the Talents, and it didn’t hit me like a sermon, it hit me like a mirror. It made me pause a little longer than I planned to. Originally I was about to turn it off because the delivery and person was coming off abrasive in my perspective. At first listen, I felt insulted but it honestly raised a question I couldn’t shake, Have I been burying what I’ve been given? Not losing it or misusing it. Just… burying it.
Hiding it under fear. Delaying it with distractions. Convincing myself “it’s not time yet.” And if I’m honest, some of it wasn’t even scary, it was comfort. It was the ease of knowing I could do something, but choosing not to. If you've ever read any of my posts, you know that I've dealt with fear. Fear was a huge part of my life. So what really stuck with me, or what honestly messed me up a little, wasn’t the part most people focus on or what I've heard preachers talk about. It wasn’t the reward for the ones who multiplied what they were given. It was the language used for the one who didn’t. “Wicked and slothful." Or even better “evil and lazy.” That feels… intense, right?
Especially if you’ve ever stepped away from church spaces or have complicated feelings about how Scripture gets used. Because sometimes words like that in my experience have been manipulated instead of wrestled with. But sitting with it personally as a reflection, it kind of hit me differently. It made me ask: How many opportunities have quietly passed me by…
not because I wasn’t capable, but because I hesitated? How many ideas stayed ideas?
How many nudges did I ignore? How many doors never opened because I never knocked? And yeah, it gets even deeper. There are consequences. Words about “outer darkness” that can feel heavy, even uncomfortable.
But instead of reading it as a threat, I saw it as something else:
A picture of what happens when we disconnect from purpose. When we shrink back long enough, we can start to feel that sense of being on the outside of our own life. Watching instead of participating or just existing instead of building, creating, offering. That’s a different kind of darkness. And strangely enough, that realization didn’t discourage me.
It freakin' woke me up.
One thing I’ve come to appreciate about Scripture, when it’s approached with honesty instead of checking a box, is that it doesn’t always comfort you first. Sometimes it confronts you. And if you let it, that confrontation can actually be an invitation. Not to prove anything or to chase more for the sake of more. But to be responsible with what’s already in your hands. Because somewhere along the way, this story has been turned into motivation for accumulation, do more so you can have more. But what if the real heartbeat of it is simpler than that?
Do something… because something was entrusted to you. Not for the applause or to go viral.
Just… don’t bury it.
If you’ve been in a funk, if you’ve been second-guessing yourself, if fear has been louder than your "talent" lately, consider this a gentle nudge.
I'm not even guilt tripping either. Just a reminder:
You don’t have to have it all figured out. And you definitely don’t have to become “great” by anyone else’s standards.
But maybe… just maybe, you’re not meant to keep it hidden either.
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