What Legacy Will You Leave?

 On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations, Revelation 22:2b

 

Have you ever read Revelation? It can be a confusing book. In our Bible study this week, we were challenged to sketch out chapters four through ten to help make sense out of John’s visions. I had my markers out and grabbed one of my Dad’s old Bibles to read the Scripture. I opened it and out fell four sheets of paper scribbled in his familiar script in that blue fountain ink.

As I unfolded the papers, my heart stopped. “Revelation” was printed across the top of the paper. This week would have been his 105th birthday. He’s been gone twelve years this month. Yet here were his thoughts, his notes, his diagram wrestling with the same imagery I was trying to understand. My eye followed his unique loops, while devouring his reflections on the same passage I had just completed. Across the years beyond the division of death, he was still teaching.

 

It made me think about fall and the leaves drifting down to the ground in these October days.

We often see these falling leaves as endings. The trees first give us a blaze of beauty before they drop those colors to the ground.  But those fallen leaves have a purpose. They blanket the forest floor, protecting hidden critters as the seasons change. Over the cold winter months, they slowly break down, allowing their nutrients to feed the new growth of spring. The leaves fall and decay. But in that breakdown, they will feed new growth.

 

My father’s notes on those pages weren’t written for me. He was studying for himself, seeking God in his own way. But those notes hid like fallen leaves on the ground, waiting. Now, twelve years after he’s gone, they’re a source of encouragement for me. Not only connecting me to his faith, but reminding me that studying the Scriptures is a legacy worth leaving.

What are you planting today that will nourish roots you’ll never see?

 

The essays you write, the prayers you pray, the Scripture you underline, the kindness you show, the truth you speak, these are falling leaves. You may never know how they affect others. But God wastes nothing. Every faithful act, every moment of seeking Him, every word of truth falls to the ground with purpose. They decay into something that feeds the next generation.

The trees don’t mourn their leaves. They release them in brilliant color, in a final flourish of beauty. And the leaves don’t resist the falling. They let go, surrendering to gravity and God’s design, becoming the foundation for new growth.

 

My father’s 105th birthday has come and gone without him here to celebrate it. But little reminders of his hunger and love for the Scriptures are in those four pages I discovered. It makes me wonder what legacy I will leave my loved ones. Will my notes minister to the next generation?  What will be the response when my children or grandchildren stumble upon my journal reflections, devotions, and my fallen leaves?  Will they discover what I did, that God allows us to communicate even beyond the veil of heaven?

 

Dear Lord,

Thank you to those who have gone before me, whose fallen leaves still nurture my growth. Please help me leave nurturing notes of faith and legacy for others. Allow me to encourage and feed the next generation. Amen