talents in a napkin

Everyone to whom much was given, of him much will be required, and from him to whom they entrusted much, they will demand much more. (Luke 12:48b, ESV)

I realize that I may be pulling this verse out of context—that is, its context within Luke chapter 12 and the story sometimes referred to as the Parable of the Faithful Servant. But for purposes of this post, I’m not too worried about it, because the sentence conveys the heart of the thing is weighing so heavily on my mind at present.

I suppose there are two strains to it, actually. The first is that people who are blessed with talents—and all of us are blessed in one way or another—are expected to find ways of putting those talents to good use. The second is something along the lines of: if you have been given talents or strengths of a particular sort, expect to find yourself in situations where you will be expected to make use of what you have been given; that is, you will be put to the test, but you will be able to pass the test because you do, in fact, have what you need to endure it, even if it doesn’t seem so at the time.

Both of these ideas frighten me, at a deep level. (I was going to go for the hyperbole and say ‘terrify’, except that I’m not actually sure whether it is hyperbole, or something closer to the truth.) Let me see if I can explain.

For much of my life, I have struggled with feelings of worthlessness and the tendency to self-deprecate. Don’t ask me why; I don’t know. Actually, now that I have begun to break the pattern, I think maybe I do know why, at least at a certain level. I have been blessed with many talents, more blessed than many. Believe me, I don’t say that to be arrogant or prideful. In fact, that’s probably part of why I didn’t say it for so long, because I was afraid that admitting that I have been blessed would lead me to pride or arrogance or pretention: things that I saw in others and detested, possibly because I recognized and was fearful of by my own innate tendencies toward them. (Didn’t someone famous make a similar observation, that often the things we hate most about others are in fact the things we hate most about ourselves?)

But when I am perfectly honest with myself, I know good and well that I am not worthless. In perfect honesty, not only do I know that I am not worthless, but I like who I am. I don’t like everything about myself, and I am not satisfied to remain where I am right now, forever. But there is something in my essence that I can find contentment in, that I am who I am because God created me that way, because I have been created in His image and, by His infinite grace and love, I am being formed into the person who He wants me to become: that is, the image of Christ. That in itself is a huge blessing. I mean, when asked the question, ‘Do you like you who you are?’, how many people can truthfully answer ‘Yes’? There is much work yet to be done in me, and yet it is being done, little by little, day by day. And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion [A few versions say ‘will perfect it’, which I also like] at the day of Jesus Christ. (Philippians 1:6, ESV)

And you know, at some level I think I have always known this: that I am okay with being who I am. Now that I think about it, maybe the self-deprecation was me trying to take the easy way out. What I mean is, if I refuse to acknowledge what is good about me and the many ways in which I have been blessed, then I am excused from having to do anything about it. Perhaps it was a way of saying, ‘If I refuse to admit that I have certain strengths or talents, then I will be excused from not making good or proper use of them.’ Which, of course, is nonsense.

But now that, at last, I am beginning to be willing to recognize the strengths and talents I have been given, I am faced with that very issue: what am I to do about it? No longer do I look at myself and think, ‘I have nothing to offer’; but, ‘I have so much to offer, and no idea what or how.’ The truth is, I feel very, very strongly that I am called to do something, and for the life of me I cannot figure out what it is. And here my perfectionism comes into play. Whatever it is that I am supposed to do, I want to do it to my utmost. I want to pour my very heart and soul into life as God has called me to live it. There is such a passion here, I hardly know how to describe it—and that frightens me, because I have always taken such great care to be cautious and restrained, to emphasize all that is according to logic and reason. And now, not only am I forced to recognize that such a passion exists, but I am entertaining the idea that perhaps this passion is (or should be) the very force that drives my life?

I’m not entirely sure what I mean by this. It’s all so unformed (maybe uninformed?)—and yet, I believe, also formative. To what end, precisely, I cannot say. It is so frustrating, to feel so keenly that one is on the brink of something important, but to be able to go no further. At the same time, part of me is glad that I have not gotten further, because what I have already is more than enough to deal with.

This is where the second strain that I mentioned comes in. Every time I think that I have reached the limit of what I think I can carry, another weight is added. I guess must be stronger than I think, for I do bear it. But while I do believe that God does not give us anything that is more than we can bear, I also find it hard to find much comfort in that belief. Sometimes I cannot tell the difference between what is weakness and what is strength. That is when I feel most tired. More than tired: weary. That is when I say, ‘If this is what is expected of me, if this is what my strengths and talents are for, to be able to endure this, then I don’t want them any more.’ But, of course, it is not my choice. What I wonder is, if I find frustration and resignation in knowing that it is not my choice, does that mean that my strength has given way to weakness. Is my faith too little?

Even youths grow tired and weary, young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:31, NIV)

And still the question is: how am I to do it? Where do I go from here?

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