Preaching text: Matthew 25:14-30
Fear. We’ve been talking a lot about fear these last few weeks since I was discharged from the hospital. Two weeks ago, in light of said hospitalization and all that happened therein, we were talking about the fear of death and how it is a fake fear in light of God’s grace and love. Last week, it was the fear of everything the world throws at us, from bad politicians to terrorism to climate change to how prejudices often exaggerate the threat of our fellow human beings. These too are fake fears in the light of God’s grace and love. For what can they do to us but kill us (worst case scenario and that’s often a very slim possibility) and if we die, are we not in the Lord still?
But despite my gigantic laundry list of things we fear that I had in last week’s sermon, I did miss one. A big one. One that is just a potent and powerful in our society and often in our own hearts as any of these others. And that is the fear of God himself.
And no, I don’t mean “fear” in the old fashioned way it was often used in church in the past generations, whereby it meant to respect and honor God. No, I mean genuinely being afraid of God and what he’ll do. Scared to death of what the Almighty intends for you and for us. Fear of his wrath. Fear of his power. Fear of our own insignificance compared to the one who fashioned the whole universe on a whim. That fear I’ve not addressed yet.
It’s a fear that’s been around for a long time, longer even than we’ve known the God of the Scriptures. Religions of all sorts, from ancient pagan mythologies to modern day, have had an element of fear within them, an element certain people have often used to their own ends. Fear the gods, because they will smite you. Thor and his hammer. Zeus and his thunderbolts. Moloch and his demand for your sacrifice on his altar. Better shape up and fly right or the gods will single you out next.
Christianity, of course, has had its fair share of this sort of thing too. Sinners at the hands of an angry God and all that. Be afraid, be so afraid that you do what God tells you to do. Or, more accurately, you do what God’s human representatives here on Earth want you to do.
Of course, you see the problem. This is ripe for abuse, and it has been abused throughout all of human history. The evil priest is a trope in more stories than we can count, one who takes advantage of people’s fear of the divine to enact whatever nefarious plan he’s concocted. From Pope Alexander VI to Thulsa Doom to the Bishop of Nottingham in Robin Hood to the sexually abusing Catholic priest to Franklin Graham, representatives of the divine, fictional or real, have been exploiting our fears for their own ends for generations.
It’s the reason Karl Marx once famously wrote that “religion is the opiate of the peoples;” it’s a means of control. Straighten up, fly right, do as I say, or God is going to get you. We balk at those words because we know that’s not what faith is supposed to be about, but human history has revealed it’s been exactly that for far too long.
And yet the truth is different. Jesus did not come to control us; he came to set us free. This fear is a prison of our own making. It’s not God’s nature to be fearsome, but kind and loving. But so often we don’t see it. We don’t see it because we don’t want to.
The parable of the talents in our Gospel lesson is another of Jesus’ parables about fear. This one is more obviously so than the bridesmaids from last week, the third slave admits his actions are due to fear outright. But to understand fully why he does what he does, we must look at the lord of the story and why he does what he does. Consider, you are wealthy landowner, a person of great means. To whom do you entrust your property that will be taken care of? People of worth, people who are trustworthy, honest, hard-working. People you believe in. That’s what this lord does. He gives to one ten, another five, and another one, trusting them to do right by his wishes. The landowner has complete confidence in his servants.
And the servants should know that. The lord trusts them. The lord respects them. The lord has honored them with this task because he believes in them. But one of them is so afraid of the lord that he squanders this opportunity and blows it. The others have magnificent success, but the third fails. The third fails because he did not believe in the lord’s trust in him and was instead afraid.
Think about that in terms of our own lives. Each one of us has talents and gifts and skills and resources, things we have been given from the divine. God has entrusted those things to us because he believes in us, that he knows we can and will bear fruit for his kingdom with them. He trusts us. He believes in us. And he does that both because of and in spite of knowing everything about us. He knows our flaws...and also our strengths. He knows them better than we do and he trusts us nonetheless.
Why are we afraid of him when he has shown us such confidence?
God believes in you. God loves you. He sent his son to this earth to live, die, and rise again for you. He’s given you all that you have out of his blessing. He trusts you to go and bear fruit for him. Trust in that. If we are as the first two servants, who did trust in that, failure is not an option. Success may not always look like we think it should, but it will be success. It will be the kingdom. It will be good fruit. We cannot fail.
Don’t listen to the charlatans who want to frighten you into their own agendas and schemes. Their god is one of their own making, one that reflects their baser desires and ambitions. Trust instead in the God of Jesus Christ, who gave all for your sake, who entrusts you with talents uncounted, and knows with complete confidence what you are capable of in life. Think about that for a moment. The one who created all things believes in you. Trusts in you. Loves you enough to die for you. That’s not a god to fear. That’s a god to love and believe in. Amen.
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