Unprofitable Servanthood

Matthew 25:14 gives us a natural picture of what is supernatural: our responsibilities before God. In the passage, Jesus describes a Master who has gone away and left His three servants behind to care for His wealth. Each of them were given, according to their ability, a measure of the Master's money. When the Master comes to "settle accounts with them" (25:17), two of the servants return double the money given.

Jesus calls these men just. Yet there was a third servant not so highly favored. All he did was keep watch over his Master's money until He returned. He didn't make more wealth, but he didn't lose what he had. In this economy, some might call that smart. The servant kept the money in a safe place--hidden, obscure, and unnoticed. In a word, he kept it useless.

To modernize the story, what if Donald Trump were to ask you to look after $1000--would you spend it or save it? It's not your money, right? You can't just use it like it were your own. He might have plans for it. He might want it back someday! But what if the plans he has for it include handing it over to you?

Donald Trump is a man of great wealth, but he is also a businessman: He knows that if he doesn't invest anything, his great idea will go nowhere. What if, in asking you to look after his money, what he is really asking is for you to spend that $1000 so that you could make 1000-fold return on your investment?

If Trump selects you to spend his money, he knows you are fully capable of using his wealth wisely. If he had given you $1000 and all you did was keep it warm in your pocket, he might call your choice under-utilizing your resources. And he might also say just what the Master said to His servant in Jesus' parable: "Jennifer, you're fired!" If the assumption of an earthly-minded man is that resources are designed to be invested, how much more so would it be the assumption in our walk with Jesus?

Trump expects his money to be spent, especially on a worth-while endeavor. Likewise, God excepts us to spend the resources He has given us. Taking the analogy a step further, would this thought be a valid assumption in the way we romance? What if that kiss I've been saving, for example, wasn't meant for me to hold onto? What if, instead, it were meant to be an investment?

Investing is different than merely spending. I don't mean to go out and kiss the first guy you find. I'm sure Donald Trump would say to find a worthwhile investment before you spend your money. Women today spend an awful lot of their value on men who won't ever turn a profit. By the end of it, the woman has nothing left to give, with nothing else to show for it. Surely Jesus didn't advocate for that. Just giving your resources away for free is not what I mean.

I'm talking, instead, to the woman reluctant to give up her resources because she hasn't yet found a worthwhile venue to spend them on. He's out there: And when God brings him to you, don't be afraid to use all you've been given to invest in him. I guarantee you, you will reap one-thousand-fold rewards.

"...unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies,

it remains alone; but if it dies,

it produces much grain."

--John 12:24

Identification

The air was damp from the previous night's rainfall, puddles still dotting the concrete slab. Likely a basketball court by day, with its plastic front-row seating and portable sound equipment the surface had been transformed into a gospel crusade stadium by night. Streetlights baptized the space in a faintly supernatural glow.

Standing center stage, the praise band strummed the first haltering notes of "You are God Alone" in Spanish. The youth group girls and I huddled several meters downwind, awaiting the arrival of the Yucatan's locals.

Thoughts quickly turned to absent members of the group and their romantic interests. One girl commented, "I can't believe so many people are hooking up in the youth group. You've got Jim and--"

I interrupted her. "I'm not dating."

The year was 2007: I had been out of high school for just over five years, and two months earlier had graduated college with a brand-new Bachelor's Degree. My father had publicly declared me a full-grown adult that May, though privately I had known since I was twelve. Not an ounce of my flesh wanted to relive my teenage years--and yet there I stood, clearly identifying myself as still part of the youth.

Rosie, one of the chaperones, looked pointedly at me. "And what about Jacob?"

I stared at my shifting feet a moment, a hot blush stinging my cheeks despite the tropical weather. My face turned to look past my left shoulder at the lead guitarist practicing with the band. His voice rose clear and free of accent across the distance.

"I know about Jacob," I quietly whispered into my collar bone, casting my eyes downward once more.

I stood paralyzed. At twenty-three, I was no longer under the restraints of adolescence and yet neither was I free enough to rid myself of them. How many of you are the same?

We've grown up. Many of us have grown up in church. We know all the right answers, the do's and don'ts of dating for Christian girls. We may still be daughters, but we're not little girls anymore. And we can't afford to act like them in our relationships. We know that the cornerstone of our lives is Jesus and that He desires us not to compromise ourselves or our convictions. But if this our foundation, what does the building look like?

God may be in the process of bringing a righteous, godly man your way--and what will you do when he comes? This blog is an attempt to help you answer that question.