Imagine being told the audit is coming and you have already blown through the budget and squandered the resources. Your stomach drops. You start thinking, not about excuses, but about how to repair what has been damaged. That is the hard reckoning that forces the manager in the parable to act—and it names us. We have all wasted what the Lord placed in our hands: hours scrolled away, skills left idle, chances to love postponed for “later.” Yet the turning point is not in shame. It is in action.
The manager moves. He uses what remains to restore relationships and to make his master look generous. It may sound like a strange story, but Jesus points to its urgency and clarity. If people hustle to secure a future that fades, should not the children of light be at least as decisive for a future that does not? Not to scheme, but to serve. Not to cover tracks, but to lift burdens and mend bonds so the Master’s name is honored.
Some of us start serving out of fear—fear of judgment, fear that we have gone too far. Fear can get you moving. But it cannot keep you moving. What keeps us on our feet is mercy. In Christ, the door is already open. At the altar, at the font, in confession, the verdict has been spoken over us: forgiven, welcomed, and sent. So our work here is not an attempt to earn a place in the household; it is the grateful response of those who already belong.
And gratitude demands concrete steps. That is why, after mass, we will have the ministry fair. Walk the tables. Ask questions. Put your name down. Our community services—SACS—open their doors only two days a week, yet the needs of Cumberland County press on every single day. We may never cover all seven, but surely we can rise to at least five. The call is clear, and the responsibility is ours: to respond generously so that more of our neighbors find help when they most need it. We have no parish prayer team regularly interceding for the sick and those under heavy trials. Someone here can gather a few friends, set a weekly time, and quietly anchor this parish in prayer. Our Lawn Angels mow faithfully, but the grounds still need hands to weed, tend beds, and care for trees so that the campus itself speaks hospitality. These are not extras. They are love made visible.
Jesus gives us a compass for how to begin: “The person who is trustworthy in very small matters is also trustworthy in great ones.” Start small, start now. One morning at SACS each month. A weekly hour to pray through a list of intentions. Thirty minutes trimming a hedgerow. A simple phone call to a homebound neighbor. A smile and a steady presence at a door as an usher. If you do not see the ministry you feel burning in your heart, tell us. Let us build it with you. The Spirit often whispers new works through the people who will carry them.
There is, finally, the question of allegiance. We cannot hitch our lives to two masters; competing loves will always pull us apart. Choose the Lord by choosing his people. Choose him by choosing a concrete time slot, a real name on a real clipboard, a task that will bless someone who may never know yours. Move with the same urgency as the manager, but for a different reason: not to save yourself, but because you have already been redeemed and made part of God’s household. Let us go to work—freely, gratefully—so that the Master’s goodness is the story people tell when they speak of this parish. After mass, let mercy move you into action. Sign up, and let your service be the first expression of love that others encounter.