“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

Some gifts arrive in an envelope. Others arrive years later, when someone who has been part of a community for decades is no longer there to see what their generosity makes possible.

At St. Jude's in London, we recently celebrated the extraordinary generosity of Myfanwy Matthews who left her entire estate to the parish. Her gift will make a tangible difference to the life of this congregation and its capacity to serve others. But it also invites a deeper question: what does it mean to leave a legacy?

We tend to think of a legacy as something that comes at the end of a life. We prepare a will, decide what will happen to our possessions, and make arrangements for the people we love. These are important acts of responsibility and care. But a Christian understanding of legacy begins much earlier than the writing of a will.

It begins with the recognition that our lives are gifts.

Our time, our abilities, our relationships and our resources have come to us through a complex web of circumstances, opportunities, and sacrifice. We have not created what we possess from nothing and we cannot take it with us. We are stewards rather than ultimate owners.

This doesn't make our possessions unimportant. Quite the opposite. It invites us to consider what they can accomplish beyond our immediate needs and desires. What would it mean to think about our resources not only in terms of what they can do for us, but also in terms of the good they might accomplish through us?

For some people, the answer will include a gift in their will to a church, a charity or another organization whose work has mattered deeply to them. For others, it may mean supporting a ministry during their lifetime, sharing a skill with someone younger, mentoring a new leader or helping a community become stronger and more resilient.

These are different expressions of the same impulse: to let what we have received become a gift to others.

There is something particularly moving about a legacy gift because it expresses confidence in a future we will not personally experience. The quote at the beginning of this article, falsely attributed to Martin Luther, says, “Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.” We will not necessarily be present to see the new ministry that becomes possible, the building that continues to welcome people, the young person whose life is changed or the stranger who discovers a community of belonging.

Legacy giving asks us to trust that the work of love can continue beyond our own participation in it. This is a profoundly Christian hope. The church exists not merely to preserve what previous generations have built, but to pass on a living faith and to make God's love tangible in a changing world. Each generation receives something precious, tends it for a time, and hands it on, hopefully enriched by its own faithfulness and generosity.

Of course, leaving a legacy is not a competition. It is not measured by the size of an estate or the amount of a bequest. A substantial gift may accomplish something remarkable, but the value of a person's life cannot be calculated in dollars. Nor should anyone feel pressured to give away resources needed for their own care or for the people who depend on them.

The invitation is simply to reflect, prayerfully and honestly, on what matters most to us and how our resources might express those commitments.

A conversation with family, a meeting with a financial or legal adviser, or a discussion with a church leader can be a helpful beginning. Making a will is an act of care for those we love. Including a charitable gift, if that is right for us, can be an expression of the hope we want to pass on.

Perhaps the deepest question is not, “How much will I leave behind?” It is, “What do I hope my life will make possible for others?”

We may never know the full consequences of our generosity. A kindness can ripple outward for generations. A gift can sustain a ministry long after its giver is gone. A community can continue to offer welcome, healing and hope because someone believed that its work mattered.

Myfanwy Matthews has given St. Jude's more than financial resources. Her legacy invites us to imagine the future with gratitude and hope. In the end, what we leave behind is not simply what remains of our possessions. It is also what remains possible because we have loved.