Equip: What are you going to give away?

My grandfather Gunnar was a collector. He collected matchbooks, toy cars, pocketknives, tools, tiny hotel soaps, and aluminum cans. These things weren’t valuable to anyone but him. But that was the point.

To Grandpa, these collections represented something. They were linked to memories. They were conversation starters. They represented the world he carved out for himself.

As he grew older, though, something changed. He started giving his things away. He gave his collections and keepsakes to his grandchildren, usually with a crooked smile and a story. Suddenly, those objects weren’t just stuff anymore. They were pieces of Grandpa.

I was given his wallet and his cowboy boots. The heels were worn in the shape of his bowlegged walk. I still have them. I even officiated a wedding in a barn wearing those boots.

Here’s what I understand now that I didn’t understand then: Grandpa wasn’t really giving away all of his possessions. He was giving away his story. I think there’s something important here for all of us who are getting older.

We spend the first half of life accumulating money, possessions, and stuff—sometimes, too much stuff. Then, somewhere along the way, we discover the most valuable things we have can’t be put in a box, a garage, an attic, or a storage unit. Wisdom can’t. Perspective can’t. Faith can’t.

Neither can the lessons learned from a 40-year marriage, a business failure, a child’s rebellion, a financial mistake, or the death of somebody you loved. Those things become part of you. They shape the way you see the world, the way you respond to life’s challenges, and the way you relate to your heavenly Father. Eventually, somebody else needs to hear those lessons.

Who needs what you’ve already been given?

We live in a culture that celebrates achievement. We admire people who build successful businesses, accomplish great things, and reach impressive milestones. There’s nothing wrong with those things. But as we grow older, perhaps we should spend less time thinking about what we can accomplish and more time considering what we can contribute to the lives of others.

Maybe it’s a young man struggling in his marriage. Or a new pastor discovering ministry is harder than he expected. Or a teenager who needs an adult who will listen without immediately launching into a lecture.

People don’t need you to have all the answers. They need somebody who can say: “I’ve made some mistakes. Let me tell you what I learned from them.”

That’s an invaluable gift. And it doesn’t require a title. You don’t have to become a mentor with a business card or a professional life coach. You just have to be willing to share what you’ve learned.

Often, the most important lessons come from circumstances we never would have chosen. The wisdom we have to share isn’t always about our successes. Sometimes, it’s about the failures, disappointments, and struggles that taught us something about life and faith. Don’t underestimate the value of those stories.

People don’t need your polished, perfect life. They need your honesty. Tell them about the decision you wish you could make again. Tell them how you survived the season you thought you wouldn’t survive. Tell them where God was when you couldn’t see him and how you found his strength when your own strength wasn’t enough.

Something we can give younger generations

Our younger generations already have access to more information than they can ever use. They lack human examples. They need to see what faith looks like after decades of testing. They need to know following Jesus doesn’t guarantee an easy life, but it does give us a reason to keep going.

Sometimes, the most meaningful conversations happen when we stop trying to impress people and start being honest about our lives. I get a text once a week from a retired minister with a Bible verse and a personal thought. Once a quarter, he invites me to coffee or lunch. I have come to depend on his encouragement.

What seems ordinary to you is wisdom to someone else. What you’ve learned through years of marriage, parenting, working, serving, grieving, and believing is exactly what somebody else needs to hear. Our willingness to be available can become one of the greatest gifts we offer another generation.

What will your legacy be?

Wisdom travels from one generation to another in all sorts of places. In the garage. On the front porch. Sometimes, beside a hospital bed. Often in the ordinary moments when we just make ourselves available to another person.

Learn from my grandfather, and don’t wait until you’re gone to leave something behind.

Give away your stories. Give away your wisdom, your faith, your time, and maybe even your stuff. Use what God has given you to serve the people he has placed around you. Legacy isn’t just what you leave behind; it’s what you give away while you’re still here.

If you’re wondering what you have left to offer, you might be asking the wrong question. Don’t ask, “What do I have left?” Ask, “Who needs what I’ve already been given?” You might be surprised by the answer. And so will the people around you.

Schuyler Peterson is a native Texan and the senior pastor of Southside Baptist Church in Spartanburg, S.C. He has been a professor and writer and speaks to senior adult groups and civic clubs. His latest book, Growing Bolder and Wiser, is available on Amazon. The views expressed in this resource article are those of the author.