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“. . . you entrusted me with five talents.  See, I have gained five more.” . . . “Well done, good and faithful servant.”  – Matthew 25:20,21 

Until I read Julia Cameron’s classic book, The Artist’s Way:  A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, my long-held belief had been that creativity was limited to those we often think of as “real artists” – painters, sculptors, writers, musicians, and the like.  It never occurred to me that we are all creative.  But as Julia Cameron explains, if we are in fact created in the image of the Creator then it stands to reason that we too are creators.  In other words, we are all endowed with the gift of creativity in some form.

In the “Parable of the Talents” Jesus tells of a wealthy man who went away on a journey.  In his absence he entrusted his financial assets (talents) with three managers.  To one he entrusted five “talents”, to another two, and to the third one.  After his return he called upon his managers for an accounting.  The manager who had been entrusted with five talents as well as the manager with two had each doubled his money during his absence for which the wealthy master was extremely pleased.  But the third man had not bothered to invest the money at all with which he’d been entrusted, but instead had hidden it away.  For that the master was not only disappointed but furious.

I’ve often wondered why the master was so angry; after all he got his money back in full, which seems better than losing it.  Right?  Disappointing perhaps, but to be furious?  Then several years ago I began to study Julia Cameron’s works and that’s when the parable started to make sense to me; that is, we too have been entrusted with certain gifts, talents, or resources with which we can either choose to invest in the good work of God’s Kingdom or hide it away, the equivalent of squandering.

Sometimes we define creativity too narrowly, confining it to only that small chosen group of “real artists.”  But in reality, everything we do requires creative choices.  God has given each of us some special unique creative ability and entrusted us to invest it wisely.  As Julia Cameron says, “The Great Creator has gifted us with creativity.  Our gift back is our use of it.”  So, how are you investing what’s been entrusted to you?  It is a question I find myself wrestling with every single day.

“. . . let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”  – Hebrews 12:1 

Can you believe it?  Not a single person at the high school reunion I attended recently made mention of any of my great athletic achievements – not one!  Could it be that despite participating in sports my entire childhood and youth, and despite being a loyal teammate and always following the coaches’ instructions, I never actually did anything noteworthy?  Hmm, maybe!  I remember, for instance, being on the track team in high school, yet too slow to run the hundred-yard dash, and not agile enough or strong enough to excel in any of the various field events.  So, not knowing what else to do with me, the coaches would enter me in distance races, which even though I was slow I had enough endurance to at least be competitive.  Even at that I never won anything that I recall.

Perhaps that is why I have always felt such a kinship with the tortoise in Aesop’s famous parable about The Tortoise and the Hare.  The tortoise’s life seems to resemble my own as I look back on it, sort of plodding along, not just in my athletic endeavors, but in almost everything.  Except, there is one big difference between the tortoise and me.  The tortoise was insightful enough to know that if he persevered in putting one foot in front of the other he would succeed in reaching his desired goals.  I, on the other hand, wanted to be like the hare.  I longed to jump out ahead, to be quicker and faster than everyone else – even though I was notoriously slow.  I recall as a young man dreaming of being the first among my age group to rise to the top.  Instead, just like my track team days, I was the slow one, lagging behind many of my peers.  I struggled with that for a time, yet kept plodding along until one day I looked around and saw that I had caught up with most of them, even surpassing a few.  Only then did I begin to realize how life is not a sprint but a marathon, that “slow and steady wins the race,” as the fable so wisely points out.

There is a vast difference between a sprint like a hundred-yard dash, and a twenty-six-mile marathon (or a 5k or 10k for that matter); for it means little to a long-distance runner if he or she covers the first hundred yards in ten seconds.  While a burst of speed may be good, in the long run it is the ability to stick with it mile after mile that counts.  In life, as I have learned over a “marathon” of time, winners are determined not by fastness, rather by steadfastness.  So, “. . . let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” 

“. . . so the next generation would know them, even the children yet to be born, and they in turn would tell their children.”  – Psalm 78:6 

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders,” the late author and poet James Baldwin once observed, “but they have never failed to imitate them.”  I decided to test that recently with my ten-year-old granddaughter Corrina who, looking for a project to make some money, came over to help me re-stain the wooden fence around our backyard.  All I did was hand her a bucket of stain and a brush, then she started at one end and I at the other.  No instructions were involved, she simply imitated what I was doing.  Sooner than I expected, we met in the middle; and I must say, a professional could not have done a finer job, nor worked as fast and efficiently as she did.

Usually an elder’s influence does not produce such immediate results as the recent experience with my granddaughter.  In fact, sometimes it is generations later before an elder’s influence surfaces.  I often think of my great grandfather, Robert Boyle, who died in 1924, almost twenty-five years before I was born.  I know little about him except he and my great grandmother were Irish immigrants who came to America in 1889 when my grandmother was but an infant.  They had purchased some land in Texas where for many years they raised sheep.  In his later years he was employed in a grocery store.

That’s about all I know about him except for the fact that I had the good fortune of inheriting two heirlooms from among his earthly possessions, an old rocking chair he used to sit in, and a Bible which, based on its tattered appearance, he must have studied frequently.  For the longest time I had little emotional attachment to either item, except the chair being attractive and comfortable resides in my study.  The Bible, on the other hand, was stored away for years in a box, until one day I rediscovered it.  That is when it occurred to me that my great grandfather had once-upon-a-time sat in that rocking chair reading his Bible, perhaps praying and meditating – just as I have done every morning for many years, sitting in that same chair, imitating him without realizing it.

In his newest book Trust and Inspire, Stephen M.R. Covey reminds us that “we are who we are in large part because of the models around us.”   Or as the Psalmist says, “. . . so the next generation would know them [God’s deeds], even the children yet to be born.”

“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”  – Jeremiah 6:16 

While hiking up a heavily wooded mountainside in northern Yellowstone Park many summers ago, Tee and I were about to double back on the same trail when we noticed a steep, narrow path veering off in another direction.  Feeling adventurous we decided to see where it would lead.  As we climbed higher and the woods became denser apprehension set in, again tempting us to turn back.  Exhausted we were starting to question the wisdom of our decision when suddenly there was a clearing up ahead.  Within a few steps we emerged onto the most glorious mountain meadow one could ever imagine, with breath-taking views in all directions – as picturesque as Julie Andrew’s opening scene in The Sound of Music.  

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference,” wrote Robert Frost in that familiar poem.  But not all “less traveled” paths lead to such beautiful sights.  In fact, many do not.  Some get us lost; others are dead ends, while many turn out to be long disappointing detours.  One thing is for certain, though; if we keep driving the same busy freeways and never venture to exit onto unfamiliar roads from time to time our lives will remain mundane and routine.  Only when we try things new and different will we ever discover things new and different.

Try getting up at 3 a.m. – on purpose! – just to experience what the world is like in that wee hour.  Drive a different route to work.  Turn on a street that you’ve always wondered where it goes.  Try a new recipe for dinner.  For your next vacation plan a trip someplace you’ve never been.  Do something you’ve never done but always wanted to try.  You may be surprised what you discover – about yourself and the world around you. 

“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is and walk in it . . .”  And don’t be surprised if it is the road less traveled by.  It happened to us on that summer day in Yellowstone . . . and it made all the difference.

“. . . only one thing is needed.  Mary has chosen what is better.”  – Luke 10:42 

What I love about being a grandparent is that I get all the benefits of having children in my presence, yet with few of the responsibilities.  They come to our house where we can play and enjoy their company; then, except for the occasional sleepover, their parents whisk them home without our having to tell them to brush their teeth and go to bed.  We get to take them to Target and cater to their whims, then send the toys home to clutter up their parents’ houses rather than our own.  It is their parents’ job, not ours, to supervise homework, piano practice, shuttle them to gymnastics or soccer practice or dance rehearsals.  Our job is simply to show up at the resulting awards ceremonies, graduations, recitals, and sporting events.  It is the parents who are charged with most of the doing.  As grandparents our responsibility mostly is to simply show up.  Yet, what an awesome responsibility that can be.

In the Gospel of Luke the story is told about Jesus showing up at the home of his friends Mary and Martha, who I envision had invited some of the neighbors from around their small village of Bethany to a reception at their home in honor of their famous houseguest.  I can imagine Mary sitting in the living room with the other guests enjoying Jesus’ company.  Meanwhile, poor Martha is left toiling away in the kitchen trying to get the hors d’oeuvre trays together, until she finally complains to Jesus that her sister is not helping out.  “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.  Mary has chosen what is better.” 

Like Martha, we are such doers.  It’s embedded our culture, it’s how we were raised, what we’ve been taught all our lives.  Our identities depend on what we do, what we build and create, sell, fix, how we serve others, otherwise what value do we have?  To simply be present seems . . . well it seems like we’re not doing anything.  Nothing, though, could be further from the truth.  In my profession of executive coaching, being “present” with the client is considered one of the most critical core competencies, yet one of the most difficult to learn and practice because we are so programmed to “do”, to fix and solve problems, when in fact we serve our clients best by simply being present.  Jesus seemed to think so, too.  “Come on Martha, forget the hors d’oeuvres for now.  Come sit with us for a while.”  Hopefully, our grandchildren appreciate our presence as well.