“ [The Kingdom of God is] also like a man going off on an extended trip. He called his servants together and delegated responsibilities. To one he gave five thousand dollars, to another two thousand, to a third one thousand, depending on their abilities. Then he left. Right off, the first servant went to work and doubled his master's investment. The second did the same. But the man with the single thousand dug a hole and carefully buried his master's money.
After a long absence, the master of those three servants came back and settled up with them. The one given five thousand dollars showed him how he had doubled his investment. His master commended him: 'Good work! You did your job well. From now on be my partner.'
The servant with the two thousand showed how he also had doubled his master's investment. His master commended him: 'Good work! You did your job well. From now on be my partner.'
The servant given one thousand said, 'Master, I know you have high standards and hate careless ways, that you demand the best and make no allowances for error. I was afraid I might disappoint you, so I found a good hiding place and secured your money. Here it is, safe and sound down to the last cent.'
The master was furious. 'That's a terrible way to live! It's criminal to live cautiously like that! If you knew I was after the best, why did you do less than the least? The least you could have done would have been to invest the sum with the bankers, where at least I would have gotten a little interest.
Take the thousand and give it to the one who risked the most. And get rid of this "play-it-safe" who won't go out on a limb. Throw him out into utter darkness.'”
Matthew 25:14-30, The Message
Safe and Sound
I followed every rule, ever since I can remember.
Carelessness was a serious matter, so I was taught.
I learned to consider, to weigh, to sharpen
each thought, word, or deed
against the whetstone of reason and possible consequence.
Perfection was expected, no, demanded,
with no respite, no allowance for error.
And yet, I still disappointed him. Again and again.
I tried so anxiously, so fearfully
to determine what I should do, how I should change.
All my trying
was never enough.
Never enough.
So when he announced his trip, I was relieved.
The absence of his pervading presence would be a respite
I had never experienced before.
But then he called us to his counting room,
carefully laid out the piles of coins,
and gave his instructions.
I was shocked, confused.
The lone coin that he placed in front of me
made a sad, pitiful clink as it hit the wood.
I could feel his eyes on me, and for a moment I felt
as if he wanted me to look at him
full in the face. Reason told me that was preposterous
so I stared at my hands in my lap,
ashamed that I was only entrusted with one coin.
He left in a flurry and over the next few days
we talked and argued and thought
about what to do with each of our investments.
I kept my plan a secret, for the first time sure that I knew exactly what to do,
exactly how to please him.
While they went and risked complete loss,
betting all with little indication of reward,
I found a spot on the edge of the property.
It was yards away from the footpath, but by a remarkable tree
that flowers every year for weeks and weeks
longer than any other tree in our country,
the legend goes.
And I dug a hole that was just the right depth
and just the right distance from the tree.
And I buried that coin, safe and sound,
in a locked iron box.
I put up just the right signs for where it was buried,
signs only I would know how to read.
Why am I out here, then, you ask?
Why am I sitting, blind, in the darkness
my hearing worn raw by the all the wails
and the scrape of tooth against tooth?
I was wrong, yet again.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I returned his investment, safe, and sound, and secure
as the day he placed it in front of me.
I will never forget his words
or understand them.
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