Where Did I Put My Talent?

Go Ye Therefore and Teach All Nations, LDS.org.

In the New Testament, the Savior Jesus Christ taught his disciples a parable about “talents,” which in this case meant a unit of weight as well as a large sum of money. The Savior had spent the bulk of the previous chapter (Matt. 24) explaining some of the alarming signs and calamities preceding his Second Coming—alarming for us living in the 21^st Century because of how relevant to our society the warnings are.

After spelling out what must have sounded more like the emphasis was on the “dreadful” than “great” in the “coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord” (as described by Malachi), the Savior then gave his disciples some hope. He taught them parables about the weeding-out process—the five wise virgins from the five foolish, the sheep from the goats, and the wise servants and their talents from the foolish servant.

In the parable, a man about to travel abroad hands out talents to three of his servants—five to one servant (let’s name him Joseph), two to another (let’s name him Nathanael) and one to another (let’s name him Judas). While the master is gone, Joseph and Nathanael take those talents and, by trading with others, double them. Judas, meanwhile, buries his one talent. Literally.

“After a long time” the master returns and “reckoneth” with the servants. After all, the money didn't belong to the servants; the talents belonged to him. Since he was out of the country on business and couldn't increase his earnings, he gave his servants stewardship over some of his talents—trusting them with a lot of money—to do something with on his behalf.

Photo from PersonalFinanceJourney.com.

No surprise, Joseph is rewarded for doubling five talents into ten—after all, he earned as much money as Nathanael and Judas had on them combined! The master then piles on the praise by saying, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord” (Matt. 25:21).

Then it’s Nathanael’s turn. He received two—only one more than Judas—but he also chose to double what he had received. While Nathanael’s final sum is only 40 percent of Joseph’s, he receives the same reward—the master says the same thing to him verbatim (except for one word) as he had to Joseph.

Finally it’s Judas’ turn, his talent still buried. No doubt the reason he hadn't retrieved it once he heard his master had returned—since this is a parable about being prepared for the Second Coming—was because he was caught completely off guard and didn't have time. Instead, he was left to do the only thing many procrastinators choose to do when time is officially up—make excuses. Judas even goes so far as to blame his master as being the reason it was buried—no introspection, no humility, no “Lord, is it I?” attitude. As a result, what he had been given was taken away from him, leaving Judas with the inevitable “weeping and gnashing of teeth” of regret at having squandered an opportunity.

Was it fair that Judas only received one talent? According to Matt. 25, the master didn't distribute the talents randomly. In verse 15, it states the master handed them out “to every man according to his several ability.” In other words, he gave five talents to Joseph knowing he’d double them. It’s possible that Nathanael wasn't as “talented” as Joseph, but the master knew the potential was there. So he tested him with an extra talent—and Nathanael came through. Judas’s bar was apparently set pretty low. Much like with Cain in Gen. 4:7, all the Lord required was, “If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted?” That was it—just do something with it. And yet that was apparently asking too much.

I work from home, and so I take the occasional break from my basement office by going upstairs and letting the rays of the sun re-energize me Superman-style. This morning, while at the kitchen table, I glanced out our sliding back door and saw the sixth-graders at Ucon Elementary running the mile around the track. It was apparent they had just started since all of them were close together in single file. It didn't take long for everyone to start spreading out—each kid “according to his [or her] several ability.”

While I admired the kids in front for their speed, I noticed the kids straggling behind. One boy appeared to have a limp, but he was still jogging. The boy in the back was walking, albeit you could tell he was putting forth some effort to be quicker. Ignoring the kids in front—because I knew the teachers would shower plenty of praise on them—all I could think of watching some of the straggling boys was, “Don’t give up, kid.”

Photo from MapMyRun.com.

From personal experience—as the kid who always finished third-from-the-last in running the mile in school—I wanted to run out to the fence next to the track and shout encouragement to the stragglers. I wanted to tell them not to compare themselves to the kids in the front (and I wanted to tell the kids in the front to do the same thing to the kids behind them). I hated running while growing up, but it’s now growing on me as a thirty-six-year-old. This last year, I reached a milestone of running six miles without stopping, and I participated in two 5K's—making it into the top ten both times. I don't care that that may sound slow to many people. It's something to me.

We live in a world where others are quick to judge and compare and condemn. It’s frustratingly easy to get caught up in comparing ourselves to others, when what you need to do is compare Present Self with Past Self. Regularly. If you find yourself lacking, you step up your game. You push a little harder today and focus on keeping up that level until you find you have strength to push yourself a little harder. Then the next time you compare Present Self to Past Self, you’ll find your talents have increased.

You may even find they've doubled.