On His Blindness

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."—John Milton

Former Los Angeles Dodger radio broadcaster Vin Scully gave currency to the last line of Milton’s poem by intoning it over players that were out of the game: "They also serve who only stand and wait." It's a useful idea for those of us who are getting along in years.

Milton asks, "Why This blindness, this inability to exercise my poetic talent and serve my Maker?” We ask, "Why this limitation, this inability to use the talent that God has given me." When He comes and asks for an accounting will he chide?"

Patience, that great teacher of the soul, answers, "God doth not need either man's work or his own gifts.” God has thousands of agents to do his bidding. He doesn't need my talent. 

How then can I serve him? "Who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best." Mild yoke? Indeed, his yoke is easy for it rests on his shoulders as well as mine. His burden is light.  

So this is our task in our latter years: Not to "speed And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest," but to stand and to wait: to watch and to pray, to love and to be.

Such "quietism," as some would have it, "hastens" Jesus' coming. What greater service can we render to our Master? (2Peter 3:11) 

David Roper