“And I was afraid, and went and hid your talent in the ground. Look, there you have what is yours'” (Matthew 25:25).
To read today’s portion of scripture, you can purchase The One Year Bible or find the following in your Bible:
In his commentary on this passage, Matthew Henry (who never pulls any punches) said this: “Christ keeps no servants to be idle: they have received their all from him, and have nothing they can call their own but sin.” Scripture puts it this way: “What do you have that you did not receive?” (I Corinthians 4:7). The first thing we must pause and meditate on is the fact that there is no strength in us, no talent, no gift, no endowment or ability, that was not given us by God. Nothing. If you can sing, write, teach, paint, draw, encourage, tend, administrate, organize, manage, compose, sculpt, or strum, you can be sure that both the desire to do that thing and the ability to do it was given by God.
The second thing to reflect on is the sobering truth that you are the steward of whatever God has given you. That means you can steward it well, or you can steward it poorly. A quote I found long ago keeps me busy doing what God has created me to do. Printed and pinned above my desk, it reads, “Most of us go to our graves with our music still inside us.”
That will mean different things to different people. Maybe your “music” really is music. Or maybe you’ve got a special way with children, but you’ve shrunk back from teaching them because you’re afraid of the commitment. Only you know what it is that God is nudging you toward. And only you know if you’ve let that gift shine, or if you’ve buried it in the ground.
Ephesians 2:10 tells us that, “We are His workmanship (masterpiece, creation, handiwork), created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” You could translate that verse as “We are His work of art,” or “We are His poem.” Should a work of art hang forever beneath a shroud? Should a poem remain unspoken?
I couldn’t bear the thought that I could do that to the Lord — that I could deny Him the poem He wanted to make of my life. Instead, I want to wring every ounce of music from my soul before the chance is gone. I hope you want to do the same.