I always feel sorry for the man in Jesus’ story
who buried his money and returned it intact to the master,
only to be scorned for his trouble.
He is remembered forever as the man who didn’t get it,
the man who missed the stewardship boat,
the man who was profoundly untalented.
What brought him to that inearthly choice?
What circumstances put a shovel in his hand,
and only preservation in his heart?
“I was afraid,” he said.
Maybe it was a deathly fear of change,