“…anyone who builds on that foundation may use a variety of materials—gold, silver, jewels, wood, hay, or straw. But on the judgment day, fire will reveal what kind of work each builder has done…” 1 Cor. 3:12–14 (NLT)
Inheritance and legacy are two sides of the same Kingdom coin. One is received. The other is left. Both are sacred.
Once upon a time, I bought a 1971 AMC Hornet with “three on the tree.” My dad helped me pick it out, and I paid $1,000 in cash—a serious dent in my teenage savings. It had no air conditioning, carpet, or power—just hand-cranked windows, vinyl bench seats, and brakes that required a full-body press. My high school buddies called her Mellow Yellow, after the old Donovan song. She wasn’t fancy, but she was mine. I didn’t know it then, but that little yellow Hornet was more than a car; it was the on-ramp to a legacy of self-reliance, resilience, and reward.
My parents couldn’t help me or my brothers financially, not with cars or college. Looking back, that felt hard. But now? It feels like a gift.
Years later, our mom admitted something profound. Because they never had the resources to bail us out, they never had the temptation to. They didn’t hover, intervene, or try to protect us from every challenge. That limitation became their unintentional wisdom. It kept them from harmful help. And it gave us the one thing that can’t be inherited through a checkbook: the chance to grow and flourish.
That was our inheritance.
We are their legacy.
What are we leaving behind as an inheritance? And what are we unintentionally stealing from those we love by trying to give them everything? There’s a reason so many young adults today feel stuck when it comes to “adulting.” Too many parents—with the best intentions—are stepping in too soon and too often. It’s like cutting open a butterfly’s cocoon to “help” it out. What looks like kindness steals its strength. Real love knows when not to rescue.
It takes discipline and discernment to let those we love struggle in the right ways so that they can realize their full potential.
The things I’m leaving behind aren’t found in a will: stories of faith, dusty shadow boxes filled with service and citizenship mementos of our ancestors, photo albums stuffed with memories that mattered. These aren’t things I’ll leave behind because I have to. They’re treasures I’m giving because I get to. But our greatest legacy will be the people we poured our lives into.
Paul reminded the church in Corinth that Jesus is the only proper foundation, and we’re invited to build on that foundation with materials that last. Not all inheritances are created equal. Only what’s built on Christ will withstand eternity.
And in a beautiful twist, Jesus tells us we can send treasure ahead (Matthew 6:20). We can’t take anything with us, but we can invest in heaven now—by giving, serving, and loving.
May we receive what Christ has secured and leave behind what only love can build. Because in the end, the only inheritance that lasts is the one forged with faith, fire, and an open hand.
Run the play. Play the long-game. Who is your legacy?
“My parents couldn’t help me or my brothers financially, not with cars or college. Looking back, that felt hard. But now? It feels like a gift.”
Mellow Yellow
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