The parable of the Talents in Matthew 25:14-30 gives us six great truths.
The First Great Truth: Different Talents, Same Divine Intent
In Matthew 25:14-30, Jesus shares a story that speaks directly to our modern desire for fairness and our obsession with comparing ourselves to others. In the Parable of the Talents, the master distributes wealth—vast wealth—but not equally. One servant gets five talents, another two, and another just one. Scripture explains why: “He gave to each according to his ability.” There’s no apology, no explanation, no defense of fairness. The master doesn’t victimize the man with one talent or guilt the man with five because of his wealth. He entrusts each person with what suits him, then observes what each will choose to do.
This is the first great truth of the parable: God does not distribute opportunities equally, but He distributes them purposefully. Every servant received exactly what was aligned with his design. And that truth extends into your life as well. You are not an afterthought of heaven, or an accidental oversight in God’s distribution of gifts. You were shaped with intention, precision, and purpose. Your strengths and weaknesses, your joys and sorrows, your passions and wounds are part of the divine design God has crafted for your calling.
The Second Great Truth: Resources Do Not Define Your Destiny
The second truth of the parable is perhaps the most freeing: your starting point doesn’t matter spiritually, eternally, or cosmically. What matters is how you choose to use what God has entrusted to you now. The servants with five talents and two talents doubled their resources, and although their results weren’t identical, their reward was. Both heard the exact words: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” They were not praised for equal outcomes but for equal faithfulness.
Success is not about having much, but about doing a lot. They worked, invested, created, and built. The size of the gift was never the measure—faithful stewardship was. God does not compare your life to anyone else’s; He looks at whether you are obedient with the gifts, resources, and opportunities He placed in your hands.
The Third Great Truth: When Fear Buries Purpose
The servant with one talent did not fail because he had less. He failed because he refused to act. Fear drove him to bury what he had—to protect it, hide it, and ultimately waste it. He justified his fear, but fear never yields results. Fear keeps what God intended to increase. In the end, the master did not accept fear as a valid excuse for unfaithfulness.
This truth runs deep in our world today. We live in a culture that tells us our identity is shaped by what we lack—our disadvantages, hardships, or inequities. But Scripture teaches the opposite: you are not defined by your lack; your Creator defines you. God does not judge you based on what others have received. He judges you based on what you do with what you have received.
The Fourth Great Truth: You are Perfectly and Uniquely Designed for Your Assignment
Every part of your story—your personality, skills, experiences, resources, relationships, education, upbringing, trauma, victories, and even your scars—is part of the sacred toolkit God created specifically for your calling. Nothing is accidental, or wasted, or missing that God intended for you to have. You are perfectly designed—not generically, but uniquely—for the purpose He has set before you.
Adam Allred of Doughboy Nation states this clearly: “God doesn’t measure you against anyone else. He measures what you did with what He put in your hand.” That captures the core message of the Parable of the Talents. God never questions, “Why didn’t you have more?” Instead, He asks, “What did you do with what I gave you?” Your life represents your set of talents: your mission, your responsibility, your opportunity.
The Fifth Great Truth: Faithfulness, Not Fairness, Is Heaven’s Standard
At the end of the parable, the master rewards the faithful servants with the same invitation into his joy. They did not achieve equal results, but they demonstrated equal faithfulness, and that is the currency of God’s kingdom. Then, in a moment that challenges our modern ideas of fairness, the master takes the unused talent from the unfaithful servant and gives it to the one who already had ten. If the story were about fairness, that moment would seem unjust. But the parable is not about fairness—it’s about stewardship. God amplifies what is used and diminishes what is wasted.
The Final Great Truth: Your Starting Line is not Your Finish Line
This parable conveys a profound truth: your life is the talent God has entrusted to you. You did not choose your starting point; your family, circumstances, advantages, or limitations, but you are fully responsible for how you respond. The world may emphasize inequality, but God emphasizes intentional creation. Privilege is the domain of the world, but God focuses on purpose. The world may compare results, but God measures faithfulness.
One day, each of us will stand before God, and His question will not be, “How much did you have?” but “How faithful were you with what I placed in your hands?” The powerful truth—the truth that sets us free—is that the same “Well done” is available to everyone, regardless of whether they started with five talents, two, or one. You were created with a divine purpose. You were placed in this specific moment in history for a reason. And you already have everything you need to fulfill the purpose God designed for you.
Your starting line is not your finish line, your limitations are not your identity, and your past is not your verdict. You were made for multiplication, designed for impact, and given a purpose. So take what God has placed in your hands and use it with courage. Use it with faith. Keep using it until the day you hear the words that echo beyond time itself: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”
Jeremiah 32:19, “Great are your purposes and mighty are your deeds. Your eyes are open to the ways of all mankind; you reward each person according to their conduct and as their deeds deserve.”
Is your God created out of hunger? There is a quiet danger in faith that doesn’t present itself as rebellion. It feels reasonable. Even reverent. It begins when we try to understand God using only the raw materials of our own experience.
While reading recently, I encountered a term that initially sounded academic, almost theoretical: violent innocence. At first, I thought it described others—two people or organizations engaged in passive conflict, each claiming innocence while quietly undermining one another. It seemed like a more refined version of passive-aggressive behavior. But as I reflected on it further, it became more unsettling. Not because it described others so accurately, but because it revealed something inside me.
Happy New Year from the God of Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. As we step into the new year, we naturally reflect on the past and make plans for the future. Often, the past has too much influence on shaping what lies ahead. The closer we get to Christ, the more we see our future as being shaped by the sins of our past.
Christmas for the lonely is the worst of all holidays. It is the peak of all the missed chances and forgotten moments that haunt their existence. It seems to amplify their loneliness.
I see Paul as a role model for living. Not just because he’s passionate about sharing the gospel, but in how he lived his everyday life. It’s easy for me to depend on my past as a guide for my future. This way of thinking assumes there’s a fixed trait or unchanging characteristic in who I was that determines who I can become. It’s the old nature-versus-nurture debate. But look at Paul as an example.
This is a sobering truth about your existence: a few decades after you pass away, no one will remember what you did. Sure, close family members might remember your name, but the core of your achievements will fade over time.
When life turns up the heat and hardship defines our existence, do we see it as punishment or an opportunity to grow?
A Season of Gratitude
Greatness. One of the images that haunts me every day of my life is that of the relentless, voracious doer of the impossible. My mind envisions the shadow of greatness; it longs to be in the presence of the world changers. I cannot fully describe the exhilaration of knowing that God has created creatures who have the potential to not only uplift those around them but also, from that nucleus, transform the world. Warriors— that word is not significant enough to define them.