When walking through the U.S. and Texas capitols, the walls are lined with photographs, paintings, statues, and busts. We might recognize a couple of the names, but most are anonymous faces from the past. They might have been the most powerful people of their age and community, but today they are barely noticed.
They might not be remembered, but for better or worse, they all left an impact. What about us?
Consider the archeological site Tel Sheva. The city was at the center of much of the narrative in the Bible’s Book of Genesis.
Its name was Be’er Sheva, but most English translations of the Bible render it as Beer-sheba. It is in the Negev desert in the south of Israel. This is where Abraham and Sarah lived with Isaac, and the great patriarch swore an oath of peace with his neighbor. As adults, both Isaac and his son Jacob found themselves at various times passing through or living in Beer-sheba.
The place was so well known that its name was commonly used to describe borders and distances. An expansive area would often be described as spanning from “Dan to Beer-sheba.” (Tel Dan, of course, is in the far north of Israel.)
In modern times, a dismantled animal altar was found there during excavations, very possibly one of those that was targeted by the righteous King Hezekiah. In 2 Kings, we read how Hezekiah ordered the destruction of such pagan altars around Israel and forbade the worship of false gods in the temple in Jerusalem.
Likely, Beer-sheba was eventually destroyed when the Babylonians invaded Israel, taking the Jews into captivity. The city’s distinguished history, spanning thousands of years, couldn’t save it from the inevitability of time.
The same goes for us as men. However exalted (or self-important) we may be, we all eventually become a footnote in the great story of history.
And yet, like Beer-sheba, our legacy can go on.
The Greek statesman Pericles understood this when he wrote, “What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”
Photographs fade, statues crumble, and paintings get tossed in the attic. None of us are called to be “successful” in the eyes of the world; we’re called to be faithful.
So, let us live not for recognition but for impact. Let us not seek fame but rather focus ourselves on creating a better world for those who follow us.
