all things great & small
by R.C. Sproul Jr.

We all have a particular calling in life. In fact we may have several, moving from one to another like golfers on the links. Some of us are called to write articles in Every Thought Captive (though such are few). Some are called to read articles in Every Thought Captive (though such are few). Some are even called to do both. It's good to recognize different callings in different people's lives. Paul had to remind the Corinthians that some were called to be mouths, and others were called to be feet. But this recognition, as it did in Corinth, can help us fall short of the call of the tenth commandment. Covetousness wasn't invented with the convertible roadster. That is, we often find ourselves coveting our neighbor's calling. I, for instance, would love to face the challenge of maintaining my integrity and focus not while keeping the wolves from the door, but while managing my multi-million dollar empire. So far, that calling hasn't called.

We all, also, however, have general callings in life. Circumstance is the proximate cause of our particular calling. The law of God gives us our general calls. No one can say, "Well, I haven't been called to work for my daily bread" or "My calling is to dishonor my father and my mother." Whatever our circumstances, we are to work for our daily bread. Whatever our circumstances, we are to honor our father and our mother. Of course wisdom might be called for to specifically apply those calls in particular settings, but the call never goes away.

In like manner, God, as this parable tells us, has given each of us talents to steward. Each of us is called to do so faithfully. Now most sermons leap at the obvious linguistic anomaly that this text presents us with. That a talent means money in first century Palestine, and an ability in our age means you too can make an application, even if you have limited talents. And the application is true enough. We are called to use what we've been given in the service of the Master, in making manifest His glory, whether it be money, or the ability to play the organ.

But it is not just abilities that He has given us. He has also put us in circumstances. We do not need to go out in search of an outlet for our "talents." We do not need to persuade others of our calling. Instead we need to understand that we are to be faithful in the small things we have been given and in the small places where they have been given. That is, to be faithful in small things doesn't just mean doing grunt work for the Grand Old Party. It doesn't just mean being a potato peeler in the army of some emperor.

I remember my father once easing my conscience as I daydreamed of writing the great American novel, and doing so in a way that would honor the King. He told me, "There is nothing wrong with wanting to do great things for the kingdom." And he was absolutely right, which is a talent of his. The trouble is that we are confused about what the great things are. God will not free me up to write the great American novel, to do the big thing, after He has tested me in raising my children. When my children graduate, I do not in turn, assuming they graduate well, graduate to "real" or "important" ministry. That I must rule my house well before being called to rule in the church does not mean that ruling in the church is a higher calling.

We don't need to construct a careful taxonomy of import. We don't need to determine what is small and what is big. Such things are, in fact, too big for us. Let us instead be faithful in this small thing, being faithful in all things, large or small. If in fact, we view our service to the king simply as a means to climbing His corporate ladder, we are in for a dramatic fall. We are not faithful in the small so that we can be faithful in the large. Rather we are faithful in the small, and in the large, because we are but stewards, because we wish to serve the Master.

Indeed if we are to have our eyes on the prize, it must be the right prize. The joy of faithful service is not the joy of more faithful service. If we keep seeking greater and greater responsibility, we have missed the point, and are spinning the hamster's wheel. No, the real joy is the first words, and the last. The real joy is to hear those most precious of words, "Well done, good and faithful servant." And then we enter into the Master's joy.

Which reminds us of what we all must remember. Not only the third servant, the first two also were but unprofitable servants. They did only what was commanded of them. The Master does not say, "Great work. Here are your paychecks. Knock yourselves out." The reward that they receive is not fair payment for services rendered. Instead it is the very joy of the Master. We are given the very keys of the palace while the faithless man despairs in the outer darkness. We are seated in the heavenly places, a promotion we did not earn. We eat at the King's table, an honor He gifted us with.

We will not be faithful in things great or small until we remember that all that we have is not ours, and that even our faithfulness is but the fruit of His faithfulness. In His grace, He crowns His own rewards. And then He crowns those crowns. And then, in our last great act of faithfulness, we practice one great act of not prudence but extravagance, as all around the glassy sea we cast His golden crowns.