Talent is a strange thing. And if you desire to steward your talent well for the service of God and his kingdom, your relationship with it may be a bit tricky.
First, it’s difficult to affirm your own talents without feeling like you’re being arrogant. Maybe that’s just me, but even the simple statement, “I have a talent for writing” feels weird to type. I immediately fear that someone will read these words and will assume I’m attempting to draw attention to myself or am trying to make a name for myself. I don’t ever want to be the guy who loves the sound of his own voice or who takes every opportunity to talk about the work he’s doing. In the attempt to avoid arrogance, I tend to swing the pendulum so far in the other direction that I end up in the opposite extreme of downplaying or downright ignoring what the Lord has given me to steward. But if the Lord has given you a talent, then I think he intends for you to use it, and that means accepting the reality that you are talented. I think part of using your gifts for the glory of God means embracing their existence, and that means having a healthy pride in the work you do.
Second, talent requires effort. While inspiration can, and does, foster times of excitement in the work, inspiration alone won’t sustain you in the work. This isn’t novel, as many others have pointed this out, but I’ve come to understand this more clearly through my own life and work. I used to write an essay and a poem just about every week. A wise man gave me some writing advice in the early days of my blog, and one of the pieces of advice that stuck with me was his encouragement to stick to a consistent schedule. As I kept a consistent writing schedule, I grew in a number of ways, and I saw the Lord use my work in the lives of others. Much good came from that discipline. But inspiration wasn’t always present. Sometimes it struck at the right place and time, and I enjoyed a period of writing under its influence. But sometimes the schedule simply called for the work to be done, and I had to write whether I felt inspired or not. And as I did, I found what others have found before me: inspiration often follows a disciplined effort. I believe the Lord used my work in that season in some neat ways. And while I’ve seen him at work in this present season, I’ve also felt led by him to do more than I’ve been doing. In this season, I don’t keep a writing schedule, so I’m not writing as much I used to. And I miss it. The act of writing is a spiritual discipline of sorts for me, so when I don’t write, I don’t just keep my talents from those I could be serving; I keep myself from a blessing as well. And effort is part of the process.
Third, your talent is more than just a hobby. I used to think of writing as a hobby: something I enjoy doing that may or may not be enjoyed by others. When I thought of it, I didn’t necessarily see it as anything more than a personal interest. But over time, I began to see that writing was a kind of ministry, perhaps one that the Lord had equipped me to do. So I started working at it, pursuing growth in the craft. And as I did, I saw how God used my work to bless others. I still struggle to accept this reality for myself (see my first point above), but I readily see it when I look at the talents of others. The songs and stories of Andrew Peterson, the music of The Arcadian Wild, the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins, the essays of C. S. Lewis, the tales of J. R. R. Tolkien — all of these have brought comfort, encouragement, joy, and wonder to my life. I have been helped by the talents of others, and I have seen the Lord use their works to minister to me. And while I don’t presume to place myself on the same level as these artists, I do recognize the opportunity to participate, in some smaller measure, in the same work, in using the talents God has given me to create things that he may then use in the lives of others. Your talent may not be only for you.
In a way, all of this boils down to one word: faithfulness. To be faithful with my talents means to see what God has enabled me to do and to affirm it as good. One podcast I listened to focused specifically on this idea, and for good reason (look up the Call It Good podcast by Matt Conner). I can’t steward well what I deny exists. But affirming one’s talent as a good thing is only step one. To be faithful with my talents means I must work at them. I must put in the time and effort required to hone my craft, to grow in my abilities, and to produce works that are good, beautiful, and true. Rather than waiting for inspiration to strike, I must strike first, in faith that God can bless my faithfulness regardless of whether I initially feel inspired in the act of creating. And finally, to be faithful with my talents means seeing them as gifts not just for me but for others. My writing is one way that I love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength and love my neighbor as myself. This means I should be careful before I ignore my talent. Again, if God has given me something, I think he wants me to use it. And if that’s true, then I should probably be slow to stop working.
What about you? What talents do you possess? What has God given you to steward in this life? And what can you do with it this week?
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
as i learn to walk 