What Have I Buried?

Oct 20

Written By Jacki Farley

The Way Back to Abiding …. Part 4

When doing for God begins to replace being with God

Day four.

Matthew 25.

The parable of the talents.

By now, I had stopped expecting an easy morning.

The parable begins with a master entrusts portions of his wealth to three servants before leaving on a journey.

Two put what they have been given to work.

One doesn't.

He buries it.

When the master returns, the servant explains why:

“I was afraid and went out and hid your gold in the ground.”

I was afraid.

There it was.

What Have I Done With What He Entrusted to Me?

The biblical “talent” in this story is money—a substantial amount entrusted by the master—not specifically someone's singing ability, spiritual gift or personal dream.

But the larger question of stewardship landed squarely in my lap.

What has God entrusted to me?

And what am I doing with it?

Not what did I do ten years ago – or three years ago.

Not what I accomplished in the last season.

Not whether previous investments produced fruit.

What am I doing with what has been entrusted to me now?

That question got uncomfortable quickly.

There was one thing that immediately hovered somewhere around the question.

The book.

Was that what I had buried?

Maybe.

Honestly, I didn't know.

I have carried that book for years. The original seed came in 2014, and since then it has been written, rewritten, revised, reconsidered and pulled in more directions than I can count.

I have pushed through my insecurity more than once and returned to it. But after years of mixed feedback and so much input, I had reached a place where I wasn't even sure I could clearly see the thing I had started with anymore.

Other assignments had frightened me too. Starting a nonprofit was intimidating, but with Umbwella's Stand, I felt as though God walked me through it one step at a time. One door opened, then another. Things happened faster and more clearly than I expected.

The book has been different.

Messier.

Longer.

Much more entangled with my own insecurity.

And because I believe the original idea belonged to God before it belonged to me, I don't want to grip it tightly and declare that it must happen simply because I have invested years in it.

If it is His, I want to steward it.

If it isn't, I want to be willing to lay it down.

But I don't want fear to make that decision for me.

So was the book the buried treasure?

I didn't know.

I was simply willing to ask.

What had I been entrusted with that I had buried? And more came more questions…

What passion had gone quiet?

What had I dismissed because the accuser had convinced me it wasn't worth pursuing?

What was I afraid of?

Failure?

Success?

Getting it wrong?

Wasting resources?

Wanting resources?

Looking foolish?

I repented again.

“Lord, I have buried some things. I didn't mean to. I don't want to. I'm sorry. Show me what needs to be dug up. Help me bring it back into the light and teach me how to steward it.”

Sit on the Stoop

Later, I wrote this in my journal:

“Lord,

I love You.

As I sit quietly and simply say those words, I realize I have stressed over our relationship.

Some assignments have been easy to include You. Others I need to be reminded to sit on the stoop.

You, like my grandson, have time.

You simply want me to sit with You.”

That picture stopped me.

Abram doesn't always need me to accomplish something.

Sometimes he wants Wella to sit.

Come here. He pats the stoop.

Sit here. He pats my place.

Be with me. He is very clear.

And sitting with him isn’t preparation for the real thing.

Sitting with him is the thing.

He is remarkably good at inviting me into his world.

And he has time.

Maybe I had begun approaching God as though He were another person waiting for something to be completed.

What's the assignment?

What's the deadline?

Where are we going?

What needs funding?

Who needs help?

What should I write?

And perhaps He was saying:

Come sit.

Come Be with Me.

It is the Thing.

Fear Buries Things

I continued writing:

“I have always feared my investment or talent would not be wisely utilized. I am sorry that I haven’t done that well.

Maybe life is too comfortable.

I don't have that same drive that true entrepreneurs have, and yet You have called me to a nonprofit.

Help me know where the true focus is.”

Then:

“Like our relationship, I put a lot of pressure on myself, and yet You have asked me not to do that.”

There it was again.

Pressure.

Fear.

Performance.

Even as I reread those words, I can hear how quickly stewardship turns into pressure for me.

Have I utilized it wisely?

Have I done enough?

Am I a good place for God's trust?

Those are not entirely bad questions. Scripture does teach stewardship and accountability.

But they can become unhealthy when I begin imagining that God entrusted something to me because He expected me to carry it independently and flawlessly.

Faithful stewardship still requires dependence on the One who entrusted it.

The servant in Matthew 25 didn't bury what was entrusted to him because he had nothing.

He buried something valuable because he was afraid.