Scripture (Matthew 25:13ish — save the part about the virgins and the lamps for another day) tells us that each of us is given ‘talents’, which I take to mean skills, resources, capabilities, natural tendencies. Scripture also illustrates that these talents are given in different measure.  The punchline is fairly contrarian to modern sensibilities (as is much of ancient wisdom), but as any product of traditional Sunday School will tell you, ‘to whom much is given, much is expected’.  The implications of this teaching are numerous, but one strikes me: what is the best use of the talents with which I’m entrusted?

A fundamental assumption here is that I know what my talents are.

This is often the work of childhood: exploring sense and sensibilities, qualities and the quality of each.  Our parents allow — or force in some cases — us to explore music and art, soccer and a second language, opening the aperture of our thinking, often observing the questions asked and noticing the activities to which we’re naturally drawn (compare the birthday wish list of any two kids and you’ll notice tendencies once you clear the socially hot toys).  We also start to learn how many talents we have.  I heard a man ask a group of boys which among them was the best football player (all were dressed in their team wares) and each, simultaneously pointed to the same kid.  It was clear to them, against this measure anyway, that he had the most talent.

We then hit adulthood and produce.  Some produce lesson plans and others TPS reports, but we’re now actively converting our talents into something.  College and early career help us focus our energies on learning how to use our talents. What am I supposed to do with what I am given?  What is really expected of me?  We really start to get clear on the impact of our talents, the cost of this production and the cost of not having other talents.  By way of illustration, I have an Uncle that is a prodigy with motors.  He’s like the gear whisperer.  As a result, he literally pays quite little to fix his stuff.  By contrast, I know where to put my gas and know that when that red light comes on, I should call Kevin, my guy at the shop.  (Not only does Kevin have his name patched on his shirt, he has talents I do not).  Perhaps only an illustration, but I can assure you the cost of this particular talent is material in my life.

The question then is: should I learn Kevin’s talents and learn to fix my car?  I could.  There are schools and the Internet and my Uncle, but is that the best use of my talent?  Am I making my best impact in this way?  Likely not, because I’m not my Uncle or Kevin.  I should know enough to avoid a scam, but my highest and best use is elsewhere, aligned with the skills, capabilities and measures that I do have.

Highest and best use is a real estate concept.  When evaluating (and valuing) a piece of property or a building, assessors consider that use that would produce the highest value for a property, regardless of its actual use.  Assessors consider what is:

• legally permissible (e.g., zoning laws)

• physically possible (is it in a swamp or on a cliff?)

• financially feasible (will it cost more to develop that it would produce?)

• what would be maximally productive (considering the options, would one produce greater value than another?)

This is not intended a lesson in real estate valuation, nor should it be taken as one.  Rather, I’m considering how a model like this could be helpful in discerning my personal highest and best use.  These mental tests help consider which and when of my talents to use.  For example, my children are in grade school.  How do I spend my discretionary time? Should I coach their soccer team? Should I be room Mom?  Perhaps, but I don’t know soccer and I make a terrible mother and I’ve tried both (my bride is far more qualified).  I’m fond of using the same mental model when considering a job or a volunteer opportunity or how to spend my weekend.  This rubric helps me sort out opportunities that take away focus from my highest and best use.