Talents

The Prison You Dug Yourself | Parables Unsealed Chapter 10 (Now in Paperback)

Parables Unsealed went live on Amazon last night.

Paperback is available now. Kindle version is free all week.

For the past two months you’ve been walking through these parables with me. Last week I released the complete PDF and the response has been overwhelming. People are finally seeing what Jesus actually encoded before the institution buried it.

Every parable in the book shows the same truth from a different angle. The kingdom operates on grace, not merit. The father runs to the son who wished him dead. The shepherd abandons ninety nine for one. The landowner pays everyone the same regardless of hours worked. Over and over, Jesus showed us what the father is actually like.

Not what he might be if you earn it. What he already is.

Here’s chapter ten. You haven’t read this one yet. It’s about the servant who kept everything safe and lost the only thing that mattered. About how we become like the God we worship. About the theology that turns trust into fear and partnership into prison.

This is what the whole book does. Twelve parables. Twelve ways of seeing the same revolutionary truth.

TALENTS

A man gave his servants his wealth before a long journey.

Five talents to one. Two to another. One to the last. Each according to his ability. Calibrated trust, not arbitrary distribution.

Then he left. No timeline. No instructions. Just the weight of his confidence in their hands.

Two servants went immediately to work. They risked. They ventured. They understood the gift was meant to breathe, not suffocate in safety.

Five became ten. Two became four.

The third servant looked at his single talent and felt its weight differently.

Not as opportunity. As obligation.

Not as trust. As test.

So he built a reliquary for it. Small. Perfect. Velvet-lined. He buried it not in dirt, but in doctrine. Where it could be kept safe, pristine, and utterly sterile.

He walked away convinced he’d been faithful.

When the master returned, the first two servants stepped forward with their gains.

“Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little. I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.”

The same words for both.

The absolute amount didn’t matter.

Only the faithful use of what had been given.

Then came the one-talent servant.

“Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow. So I was afraid, and I hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.”

He held it out, still wrapped. Unchanged. Preserved.

The master’s face went cold.

“You wicked and slothful servant. You knew I reap where I have not sown? Then you should have invested my money with the bankers. Take the talent from him. Give it to the one who has ten.”

The servant who kept it safe lost everything.

Here’s the inversion you’ve been taught to miss.

The one-talent servant wasn’t being faithful.

He was accusing his master while claiming to serve him.

“I knew you to be a hard man.”

Where was the evidence?

The master gave generously. Trusted completely. Left without surveillance. The other servants saw opportunity. This one saw threat.

Same master. Same gift. Different vision.

And that vision. God as harsh, impossible, waiting to catch you failing. Is the exact theology the institution has sold for two thousand years.

Because if God is hard, you need them to mediate His harshness. If His expectations are impossible, you need priests to interpret. If His judgment always looms, you need a system to protect you from His wrath.

The servant’s fear wasn’t about the talent. It was about his vision of the master. And his vision was a lie that killed the relationship.

We become like the God we worship.

The servant worshipped a tyrant, so he acted like a coward. The others worshipped a generous partner, so they acted like pioneers.

Look at what the faithful servants received.

“Enter into the joy of your master.”

Not just approval. Joy.

The master’s own joy extended to them. Intimacy. Partnership. Relationship deepening because they trusted him enough to let his gift grow.

The fearful servant kept everything safe and lost the only thing that mattered.

He served a master he didn’t trust. Obeyed someone he thought was dangerous. Protected himself from someone he called hard.

And in doing so, proved he never knew his master at all.

The institution has been teaching you to build reliquaries for two thousand years.

God is hard.

God is exacting.

God is waiting for you to fail.

The gift is a test, not trust. Your job is preservation, not growth.

Unchanging doctrine, not living faith.

Keep it exactly as given. Don’t venture. Don’t risk. Don’t let it breathe. Bury it in doctrine where it’s safe from loss.

This is how you stay faithful.

The master in the story says the exact opposite.

The one who kept it safe was wicked. The ones who risked were faithful. The ones who ventured into uncertainty were invited into joy.

You’ve been given something.

Maybe it feels small compared to what others received. Maybe you look at their five talents and wonder why you only got one.

But the master calibrated what he gave. He knew your capacity. He gave you exactly what you could bear.

Not to test whether you’d fail. To see whether you’d trust him enough to let it breathe.

And you buried it.

You buried it because someone taught you God is hard.

That He’s waiting to catch you. That the gift is a trap disguised as trust. That safety equals faithfulness.

You saw a harsh master where there was generosity. A test where there was trust. A threat where there was invitation.

The master wasn’t angry about profit margins. He was angry about relationship betrayed.

The servant received trust. He heard threat. The servant received freedom. He chose chains. The servant was invited into partnership. He stayed in fear.

Then blamed the master for his own cowardice.

The institution needs you to see the Father as hard. As impossible to please.

Because if He’s not hard, you don’t need them. If He’s generous, you don’t need their protection. If He trusts you, you don’t need their permission.

The talent you were given wasn’t a test. It was trust. The master isn’t hard. You were taught to see him that way.

And what you keep buried in the name of faithfulness is costing you everything.

Not because the master is harsh.

Because the hole you dug became the prison you live in.

<3EKO

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Parables Unsealed is live on Amazon in paperback right now. Kindle version is free all week, starting tomorrow.

If you’ve been following along these past two months, you’ve already read most of this. You know if it landed.

Here’s what I need:

Amazon’s algorithm runs on reviews and during Christmas season is even more ruthless than normal. If the book doesn’t get 30+ in the first twenty four to forty eight hours, it might die in obscurity.

If these stories shifted something for you, if they gave you new eyes for Jesus, if they helped you see past the institution’s version of God, if it gave you language for what you’ve been feeling, please leave a review on Amazon today.

Two sentences is enough. Just tell people what it did for you.

Christmas is just a few weeks away. This is for someone you love who left the church but still loves Jesus. Someone who’s been deconstructed but doesn’t know how to rebuild. Someone who’s tired of religion but hungry for truth. Your review helps them find it.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for making this work possible.

I love you.