When we think about serving God, we often think about using our gifts and talents.
God has given each of us gifts and it is a wonderful form of worship to use them, and use them well.
But our gifts do not define us. Sometimes the circumstances of life get in the way of us using them how we would like.
The great English author John Milton (1608-1674) was a dedicated Puritan. He was a successful diplomat and linguist, but he longed to write great works of literature.
Tragically, while still only in 40s he began to go blind. This was devastating and he could no longer read or write independently.
He composed a poem about his struggles, which begins: “When I consider how my light is spent …”
Before half his life was over, he felt as though his one talent, his ability to write, was gone. Recalling Jesus’ parable of the talents, asks the question “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” Will God still ask for an account of my life, even when I cannot see?
The poem doesn’t end with a simple resolution, but he does not give in to despair. The murmur of disappointment is replaced with the realisation that God has no need of our work or gifts.
We worship a God who is always at work, even when we cannot. Our job is not to impress God with our efforts, but to trust Him and be faithful in whatever season we are in. Sometimes that means doing great things. Sometimes it means waiting quietly.
Milton comes to realise that through faith in God, “they also serve who only stand and wait.”
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44750/sonnet-19-when-i-consider-how-my-light-is-spent
– Thomas Scrimgeour