Matthew 25:26

This verse comes from one of Jesus's most well-known parables — the story of the talents. A master goes on a journey and entrusts three servants with large sums of money (a "talent" was worth roughly 20 years of wages). Two servants invest and double what they were given; one buries his out of fear. When the master returns and the third servant offers his excuse — "I knew you were demanding, so I hid it" — the master doesn't offer sympathy. He turns the servant's own logic against him: if you knew who I was, that should have made you act, not freeze. The servant's knowledge became the very ground of his accountability.

Lord, I confess that I sometimes hide what you've given me behind fear and call it caution. Help me see that what you've placed in my hands is meant to be used, not protected. Give me the courage to risk, to try, and to trust that you are with me even when I'm unsure. Amen.

Fear is often the thing we dress up as wisdom. The third servant in this parable didn't rebel — he played it safe. He didn't squander the money on wild risks; he just didn't. He froze. When the master returned, the servant had a perfectly reasonable-sounding excuse ready: "I was afraid of you." It almost sounds sympathetic. But the master's reply cuts straight through it: your own knowledge of who I am made you more responsible to act, not less. Here's the uncomfortable truth this verse presses on: what have you been given that you've wrapped carefully and stored away? A gift for teaching, a capacity for generosity, a calling you keep postponing because you're not sure you're good enough? Fear dressed up as humility is still fear. The question isn't whether you'll fail — it's whether you'll try. God isn't asking you to be spectacular. He's asking you to do something with what's already in your hands.