february 2024 featured Article
risk and reward
It was the first Wednesday night of the new school year in August of 1996, which meant there was just enough time to eat a quick dinner and head to church. Pulling up to the church building, which was literally surrounded by cow pastures and corn fields on all four sides in the hills of southwest Virginia, I began to get a little nervous. I walked into the basement where all five of the little church’s Sunday School rooms were housed beneath the sanctuary, taking in that church-basement smell that only a handcrafted 100-year-old building can produce. A couple dozen mostly senior adults were gathering upstairs for prayer meeting while I was anxiously waiting to start the new ministry for youth that the pastor had approved just a few weeks prior.
Youth, defined in this small, country church as anyone birth through high school seniors, had essentially been non-existent for quite some time. But not on this muggy, late-summer night. Three kids showed up, not counting me and a friend I enlisted to help lead. We sang, played some games, talked about Jesus, and begged those three kids to come back next week and bring a friend. I’m pretty sure I even made some stereotypical promise of an ambiguous surprise (likely a box of cold pizza I would pick up on the way) if they did.
And they did.
Fast forward four years later to when I graduated high school and headed off for college, and the “youth” at my little country home church had experienced a move of God like I had never seen. More than 80 kids from the community were coming every Wednesday night, lives had been changed, and families had been transformed. I was hooked. “I want to experience this for the rest of my life,” I remember thinking.
The crazy part about this story is that in August of 1996, I was the newly tabbed “youth” leader of this church at the ripe old age of 13. Why? It certainly wasn’t any savant-like ability to exegete the scriptures in a way that outpaced my age or some leadership skill that had never been seen before. It was far simpler than that.
I was all they had.
But last week while studying the parable Jesus told about a master entrusting three servants with his money before leaving on a long trip, I discovered something I had never noticed before that caused me to appreciate this story of mine as far more than a desperate pastor taking an uncalculated risk.
The parable of the talents or money bags in Matthew 25 has been one I’ve preached and taught many times before, usually focusing on the “reap what you sow” principle. But this time, when noticing how the “one talent” man responded to his master when asked why he didn’t invest what had been given to him but dug a hole and hid it in the ground instead, these words practically jumped off the page at me:
“I was afraid.”
Some translations interpret this, verse 25, with even more context that elevated the conviction I was beginning to feel.
“I was afraid to lose your money.”
This man’s fear of losing what he had completely paralyzed him to the point that he didn’t even try. He held tightly to what was in his possession as if it was his own, completely forgetting about where it came from. His fear of failure prevented any chance for investment, growth, multiplication, or future blessing.
I instantly flashed back to that little church basement. All my pastor had was a one-talent 13-year-old boy. He could have hidden me in the ground, telling me I needed to get more age and experience before I could lead. He undoubtedly had fears about what would happen if an unproven, young leader was given the reins and how that could end up reflecting negatively on him. But whether it was out of desperation or a sense of discernment, he invested all that he had. It not only changed the lives of those kids in that church and community, but it marked my life in a way that changed everything for me. It led to a church being planted in Tennessee, which led to a relationship with a family of churches called the Missionary Church, which led to this point almost 30 years later.
I wonder how many times God has given me the chance to make a one-talent investment, but I was too afraid of losing what I had or too afraid of failing. Would I take a chance to let a 13-year-old lead? Would I take a chance now to boldly talk about Jesus to my neighbors in my community? Would I take a chance now to start a new ministry, group, or launch team of a new church if it was unproven and came with unknowns? Would I be too afraid of losing what I already have to take the risk?
I hope you sense the same challenge as you reflect on your life, your ministry, and your church.
What is the one-talent investment God wants you to be willing to make this week, this month, or this year? What is the chance He wants your church to take that could result in a return on that investment and multiplication of His disciples? Living like a missionary means taking bold risks and investing whatever it is God has given you, even if it seems like it is “all that you have.”
And the same is true for us as a denomination. Our only hope to make a difference is to see the multiplication of disciples and churches in a supernatural way. It is why we are here today, and it will be why our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren have a legacy to build upon after us. Let’s not allow fear to get in the way, prioritizing what might be lost over what might be gained if we try. After all, Jesus ends this parable with an incredible promise and a sobering truth.
“‘So, take the bag of gold from him and give it to the one who has ten bags. For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth’” (Matthew 25:28-30).
What is the Spirit challenging you to do today? What are you going to do about it?