The owners of our house stopped by for a visit the other day. That may not sound like a terribly momentous occasion, but for us it was. This was the first time we’ve met the people who own the place where we’ve lived for ten years — where our daughter has grown up, and where we’ve shared a decade of life experience.

Why so long? you ask. The owners of our house, an Army physician and his wife, live in Germany. This was their first trip to California in many years. (My last visit to Germany was more than 30 years ago, and we’re not planning a journey there anytime soon.) A management company oversees their properties — it’s that company with whom our family interfaces, rather than the owners themselves.

The event reminded me of Jesus’ parable of another man who traveled off to a far country, leaving his property in the care of others (Matthew 25:14-30). We often call this the parable of the talents, because the property owner’s funds were divided into talents (from the Greek word talanton), a monetary unit equal to 6,000 denarii, the common coin of the Roman Empire. A denarius represented the customary wage of a day laborer. A talent, therefore, was roughly equivalent to the amount a worker would earn in 16-1/2 years — a considerable amount indeed.

This wealthy man had three servants with whom he entrusted his possessions. One servant was given charge over five talents — the earnings of two adult lifetimes. Another servant received responsibility for two talents; the third, one. And away the householder went: “for a long time,” Jesus said, presumably many years, during which time he had no direct contact with the three men who held his legacy.

What would you do with two lifetimes’ wages, if that princely sum was dropped in your lap? Or 33 years’ salary, or even 16-1/2 years’ worth? You’ve been given a tremendous responsibility. How would you handle it?

Jesus, of course, told this parable to illustrate the possibilities. Two of the three servants faithfully discharged the task their master had assigned them, doubling the amount of money each of them had received. Think about that — being sufficiently adept in business to accomplish a 100% return on initial capital. That takes skill. It also takes risk. No investment is a sure thing, and the most profitable investments tend to be the most uncertain. But these two men assumed the risk and reaped the benefit.

The third servant was no thrillseeker. Rather than run the risk of losing his one talent — still an immense sum, more than he would otherwise possess in his lifetime of servitude — this man dug a hole and buried the money, to await the day the master returned.

That’s right, the master came home. (You knew he wouldn’t leave three servants with all that cash and not check to see what they did with it.) After all, it was his money — he’d only left it with them for safekeeping. When the accounting was done, the two servants who doubled their investments were rewarded. The man who didn’t risk the master’s funds was severely punished. He had not lost a penny, but he had failed to yield a profit.

You and I are likewise caretakers of our Master’s property (1 Peter 4:10). One day, He will demand an accounting of His investment, and an appropriate profit. Reaping that profit requires risk: risk of discomfort, of embarrassment, of relationships, of worldly glory. What are you risking to increase your Master’s investment of time, knowledge, experience and ability in you? You have one soul to return to the Lord. What are you doing to win Him another?