There is a particular kind of house you see across the Caribbean countryside. Solidly built, often large, with a grand front gate and grilles on every window. The paint has faded. Weeds are pushing up through the driveway. The grille on the veranda has rusted and stained the tiles. Nobody lives there. The owners are in London or New York or Toronto, and they come for two weeks every few years, if that.
Many of these houses were built with extraordinary sacrifice: decades of overtime, night shifts and careful saving, money sent home one transfer at a time. They were meant to be retirement homes, family homes, proof of success. And many of them now stand locked and empty, slowly deteriorating while their owners wonder what to do.
The servant who buried it
In Matthew 25, Jesus tells of a man who, before going on a journey, entrusts his property to three servants. Two put what they have been given to work and return with more. The third digs a hole and buries his share. When the master returns, the third servant explains himself: “I was afraid, and went and hid your talent in the ground” (Matthew 25:25, NKJV).
The parable is about far more than money or property. It is about how we use everything God entrusts to us, from our gifts to our time to the gospel itself. But its central picture, of something valuable left idle out of fear, is uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has a house back home that nobody is using.
Notice the motive. The third servant was not lazy exactly. He was afraid. Afraid of losing what he had, afraid of the master’s judgement, afraid of making a mistake. So he did the thing that felt safest, and it turned out to be the most costly choice of all.
Why houses end up buried
Families leave houses empty for understandable reasons, and most of them are some form of fear:
- Fear of tenants. Stories of renters who stopped paying, damaged the property or were hard to remove.
- Fear of relatives. Letting one family member live there might upset another, or lead to arguments about who has rights to the house.
- Fear of letting go. Selling would feel like admitting the dream of returning is over.
- Fear of complication. Managing a property from thousands of miles away feels overwhelming, so nothing is done.
Every one of these fears has some basis. But an empty house is not really “safe”. Roofs leak without anyone to notice. Termites move in. Pipes corrode. Squatters or thieves may take advantage. Property taxes still fall due. Year by year, the value that so much sacrifice created quietly drains away.
What diligence might look like
The first two servants were not reckless. They were diligent. They took sensible risks and worked with what they had. Proverbs says the soul of the diligent shall be made rich (Proverbs 13:4). For a family with a house back home, diligence might take several forms, depending on circumstances:
- Having a caretaker. A trusted person who lives nearby, checks the property regularly, cuts the grass, reports problems and keeps it looking occupied.
- Renting it properly. With a written agreement, careful tenant checks and, ideally, a reputable local agent. A well-chosen tenant can look after a house better than an empty lock can.
- Letting family live there, clearly. If a relative lives in the house, put the arrangement in writing: who pays what, who is responsible for repairs, and that it does not transfer ownership.
- Keeping the paperwork current. Pay property taxes, keep the title in order, and make sure insurance is appropriate for a property that is empty or let.
- Making an honest decision about the future. Sometimes the most faithful thing is to sell, and use the proceeds for something that serves the family better now.
The conversation to have
Consider a couple in their sixties living in Leeds, who built a house in St Mary twenty years ago. They always said they would retire there. Now their grandchildren are in England, and one of them has health needs that make moving harder. The house has been empty for six years. They have never talked openly about it, because both are afraid of what the other might say.
Perhaps the most diligent thing they could do is simply sit down together and ask the questions they have been avoiding. Are we really going back? If not, who could use this house well? What would it take to rent it, lend it or sell it? Who could advise us, locally and here? That conversation, uncomfortable as it may be, is where the digging stops and the stewardship starts.
Faithful with what is in your hand
The master in the parable did not praise his servants for how much they made. He praised them for being faithful: “Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things” (Matthew 25:21, NKJV). Faithfulness with a house far away may not look dramatic. It might be a caretaker’s phone number, a tax payment, a repaired roof, a family meeting. But these small acts keep a gift from being buried, and that is its own kind of well done.
This article is general information only and is not financial, legal, tax or other professional advice. Please speak to a qualified professional about your own circumstances.
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