I've often said that I don't have any particular talent. I mean, I never excelled at anything in particular. I was an average athlete in my youth, a decent student, and I am proficient at my job. I do my best as a father, husband, parish member and community member. I haven't done anything terrible, but I haven't done anything wonderful either.

In today's Gospel reading, Jesus tells his followers a parable about a landowner who, before going on a long journey, left his possessions in the hands of servants "each according to his ability." Each servant is given a portion of the master's wealth, referred to as "talents" in the parable.

When the master returns, he wants to know what the servants have done with the assets he entrusted to them. Two of the servants invested the master's assets and doubled them. "Come, share in your master's joy," they are told.

The third held onto his portion, burying it in the ground. He tells the master "out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground. Here it is back." "Throw this useless servant in the darkness outside," the master cries.

I'm getting to the point in my life where I spend almost as much time looking back as I do looking ahead. In other words, I'm inching towards midlife. And one of the things I notice is that I'm running out of time to do the things I've always wanted to do. I don't mean traveling to Tahiti and swimming with dolphins, though I'd love to do both. I mean that I am running out of time to be the kind of person I want to be.

I've told myself many times that I will spend more time in service to the poor, and helping to build the church community, and volunteer at our school --- "later," when I have more time. I'm beginning to wonder if I mean it at all.

"Later," is here. Like the servants in Jesus' parable, I have been given many opportunities to invest my time and energy in God's kingdom, but I rarely get around to doing it. What talents I have are safely stored away.

The servants who put the master's assets to work don't seem to be afraid of losing his wealth. They seem to understand that the master is more concerned that they do something rather than nothing. Perhaps they are not afraid of losing their talents because they are not afraid of the master. The third servant lives in fear of loss, and perhaps in fear of the master as well.

"Come share in your master's joy," the first two are told. They seem to understand the master's mentality. He likes to take risks.

Perhaps in the end, how we spend our "talents" reflects how we view God. Do we view God as a generous benefactor who is eager to see us risk, learn and grow? Or do we see God as an exacting taskmaster who is eager to punish every miscue?

G.K. Chesterton wrote that "the serious business of heaven is joy." God wants us to work for God's business. We're called to invest our talents for the sake of those who cannot fend for themselves. If you're like me and tend to avoid or postpone investing your talents in God's kingdom, it would appear that what we are gaining is merely increased attachment to our possessions, and what we are missing is far greater: joy.

Bill Peatman writes from Napa.