Imagine that you receive a word from a trustworthy prophet. It begins hopefully enough: “You will live long and die in peace, and your name will be remembered for centuries.” But then comes a turn: “A few generations after you die, devastation will visit your family and your church. Your descendants will lie in ruins.” How might you respond?

In an individualistic society like ours, whose generational vision has grown dim, many may indulge the same thought that passed through King Hezekiah’s heart when he received a similar prophecy. “Hear the word of the Lord,” the prophet Isaiah told the king. One day, the treasures of Israel will adorn the palace of Babylon — and some of your sons will serve, castrated, their captors’ king. Your throne, Hezekiah, will belong to your family no more. The prophecy placed the king on a thin threshold between a lost past and a mutilated future (2 Kings 20:16–18). For now, however, he was safe.

We might expect sackcloth and ashes, confession and earnest prayer — the same kind of desperation Hezekiah had showed before (2 Kings 19:14–19). Instead, we hear a sigh of relief: “Why not,” the king asks himself, “if there will be peace and security in my days?” (2 Kings 20:19). Dead men don’t feel pain. Why worry about an army marching over your grave?

The world today knows many such leaders, who live for their own passing lives with little care for the generations to come. Our families and churches, however, desperately need leaders who will live for the welfare of days they’ll never see.

Hezekiah Syndrome

No doubt, the individualistic air we breathe in the West reminds us of some important truths. God knit together every person uniquely (Psalm 139:13). We must respond, each one of us, to the preaching of the gospel (Romans 10:9). We will stand as individuals “before the judgment seat of Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:10).

“Our families and churches desperately need leaders who will live for the welfare of days they’ll never see.”

Yet that same individualistic air can have a way of choking precious virtues, virtues that would have been assumed in biblical societies (despite the occasional Hezekiah). Biblical saints saw themselves as branches on a tree whose roots stretched farther than memory and whose limbs would keep growing long after they were gone. They walked, self-consciously, in the land between “our fathers” (Psalm 78:3) and “the children yet unborn” (Psalm 78:6). And at their best, they lived to pass on the godly legacy of their parents to descendants they would never meet (Psalm 78:5–7).

We, however, tutored by individualistic impulses, so often act like plants whose roots begin at our birth and whose fruit will die when we will. In both family and church, we struggle to live in light of a future we won’t personally experience.

In the family, many in our generation need to be convinced that kids, especially several kids, are worth the present cost. Under our breath, we ask questions prior generations rarely would have. Why give our twenties and thirties — decades of peak energy and strength — to rocking sleepless infants and pushing tricycles? Why build a family when we could build a career — or take on dependents when we could travel the continents? Generational legacies are buried, increasingly it seems, beneath today’s priorities.

In the church, too, we may subconsciously wonder if the benefits of patient, next-generation discipleship really outweigh the costs. Yes, we could train others to teach — but then we wouldn’t teach as much. Yes, we could find our Peter, James, and John and devote our days to discipling them — but only by devoting less time to our own discipleship. Yes, we could give others leadership and a platform — but only at the expense of our own.

Sometimes, this prizing of me today over them tomorrow happens innocently, with the best of intentions. Other times, the individualism around us becomes an excuse for the selfishness within us, and we forgo a Christlike legacy for the sake of present comfort, freedom, or power. Personally, I fear I have been shaped much by this Hezekiah spirit. I need another leader to follow.

Living for a Legacy

We need not scour the Scriptures to find men and women free from Hezekiah Syndrome. The Bible is filled with fathers and mothers, prophets and pastors who aimed to build a legacy that would outlive their little lives and names. Such leaders cared greatly about whether grass or thorns grew over their graves — about whether, long after they left the land of the living, the sun shone upon a world better off because of them.

Consider Abraham, for whom one hundred years well lived was not enough. He yearned for a son — and, beyond him, the promise of offspring greater than the stars, more numerous than the sand (Genesis 15:1–6). We call him father Abraham, and rightly so, for faith-filled fatherhood was his greatest gift to the world.

Consider Moses, who on the eve of his death implored God to “appoint a man over the congregation” so that the people “may not be as sheep that have no shepherd” (Numbers 27:16–17). The thought of a leaderless nation, vulnerable and lost, tore at the dying prophet’s heart.

Consider Rebekah and Ruth, Hannah and Elizabeth, mothers who ached and prayed for children to carry on the name of Israel. They gave their best years and their very bodies to bearing sons and daughters who would, in turn, make way for the one who would crush the serpent’s head (Genesis 3:15).

Consider Paul, that childless apostle who nevertheless fathered many (1 Corinthians 4:15), and who could not separate his heavenly crown from the children God had given him (1 Thessalonians 2:11, 19–20). Under the shadow of martyrdom, he rejoiced at the thought of being poured out for their faith (Philippians 2:17).

Or consider Jesus, the God-man himself, whose soul was satisfied, even on the cross, by the prospect of “many . . . accounted righteous” (Isaiah 53:11). If ever there were a life worth saving, an influence worth protecting, or a platform worth preserving, it was his. Yet these he gladly laid down to bring “many sons to glory” (Hebrews 2:10).

Such saints lived and died for “the children yet unborn” (Psalm 78:6). They could not meet those children yet; they would never embrace them in this present age. But they built legacies as men of old built cathedrals: looking beyond the boundaries of their life, they smiled at the beauty their grandchildren would enjoy.

Leaders Lost and Found

Perhaps we see clearly all we would lose by living for such a legacy — and we would indeed lose much. Pastors who devote themselves to appointing more elders lose much time and, if successful, a degree of personal power over the church. Spiritual fathers and mothers who disciple younger Christians lose energy they could devote to their own spiritual growth — or just to relaxing more. Physical fathers and mothers who add more children lose their free time precisely when they have the most strength to enjoy it; they may also lose career opportunities that will never return.

But oh, how much they gain in the losing. In the long term, of course, they gain something that will outlive them. They bear children, spiritual and physical, to bless the world. They plant fields that will feed generations.

Even in the short term, however, such leaders gain far more than they give up. Simply consider how living for a legacy brought the best out of biblical saints. We have Paul’s brilliant epistles only because this father in Christ burned for the welfare of his spiritual children. We read of Hannah’s fervency and faith only because she longed for a son who would build up her people. And two thousand years later, men and angels still stand — and will forever stand — in awe of Jesus, who taught and healed and died and rose for the children his Father had given him (Hebrews 2:13). The most beautiful life ever lived is the one he laid down for future generations.

“‘It is more blessed to give than to receive’ — in part because we find ourselves in the giving.”

“It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35) — in part because we find ourselves in the giving. So, though modern-day Hezekiahs may have short-term comfort on a short-term timeline, they do not have themselves. They are a ghost of who they could be. For God made women to have full wombs and tired arms; he made men to carry daughters on their backs and wrestle sons on the floor. And beyond the home, he made leaders to expend their best energy, to flex their strongest muscles, to take the beauty of their youth and the vigor of their best days and stack them as so many stones that raise a staircase for others.

Futures Dearer Than Our Own

If today we have any stability in life, and any maturity in Christ, we can likely trace these blessings to mothers and fathers, pastors and others who counted our futures dearer than their own. Personally, I can’t separate who I am today from a few key people — certainly my father and mother, and then, alongside them, a college-ministry leader who gave many hours to developing a once-insecure, inconspicuous young man.

As a pastor with a young family, he wasn’t searching for ways to fill his time, much less with teenagers and twentysomethings who could offer little to him personally. But fill his time with me he did. And slowly I grew.

We live far apart today, his massive investment in me no longer a direct benefit to his ministry. But the legacy of his leadership lives on in my family, my friendships, my church. When I left Colorado for Minnesota, I left far better for having known him.

Now as a father and pastor myself, his example walks with me, reminding me that we cannot stay here long. Our names will soon be forgotten, our little lives gone with the grass. But we can live now so that we leave a Christlike legacy, one that may bear fruit far beyond us, even into eternity.

Part 12 Episode 169 Human depravity reveals itself when people sin, and when they urge others to do the same. In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper turns to Romans 1:28–32 to give us hope in the face of all the depravity around us.

If you look at the beginning of Proverbs 31, you might find a surprise. The chapter includes not simply the famous portrait of an excellent wife but also the teaching and influence of a godly mother on her son. Proverbs 31 begins with the recitation of a king. And what is he reciting? He’s reciting “an oracle that his mother taught him” (Proverbs 31:1).

What are you doing, my son? What are you doing, son of my womb?     What are you doing, son of my vows?Do not give your strength to women,     your ways to those who destroy kings.It is not for kings, O Lemuel,     it is not for kings to drink wine,     or for rulers to take strong drink,lest they drink and forget what has been decreed     and pervert the rights of all the afflicted. (Proverbs 31:2–5)

Verse 10 begins the more famous portion of Proverbs 31, but it’s worth noting that King Lemuel is continuing to recite his mother’s teaching.

An excellent wife who can find?     She is far more precious than jewels.The heart of her husband trusts in her,     and he will have no lack of gain. (Proverbs 31:10–11)

“If our sons were asked about the most common teaching of their moms, what might their answers be?”

If our sons were asked about the most common teaching of their moms, what might their answers be? What sort of teaching characterizes our commands?

What Does Mom Say Most?

Our most common commands might be mainly safety-oriented: “Always wash your hands before you eat.” “Wear sunscreen with an SPF of 30 or higher.” “Don’t forget your bike helmet or seatbelt.” Those are not necessarily bad commands. But if they are the primary teaching of a mother to a son, they will not keep a son safe, but handicap him.

Perhaps your teaching is mainly practical: “Be sure to clean your room and make your bed every day.” “Finish all the food on your plate.” “Always be on time.” “Waste not, want not.” These are not bad commands; often they’re good and helpful. Yet, if those commands are left to themselves, without a foundation of weightier instruction, they will provide only earthly help without eternal benefit.

King Lemuel’s mother taught him two very important lessons: (1) how to avoid temptation so he could rule as king, and (2) how to find and value an excellent wife. In other words, his mother taught him how to be a man. And sons today still need mothers who can help teach them how to be wise, just, loving, good men, if not quite kings.

Our sons need to learn how to be heads of a household — perhaps also leaders of businesses, churches, or governments — and men who know what to look for in a wife. That means they need moms who can instruct them in how to judge between right and wrong, true and false, good and best. And between an excellent wife and an evil woman — because evil women actually exist, and our sons need to avoid them.

“There are a lot of sons today who need mothers who can help teach them how to be wise, just, loving, good men.”

Mothers instruct their sons in the importance of being a son, a boy, a man. Mothers help sons know what clothes are fitting for a boy versus a girl. They help them know what manners and mannerisms are appropriate for a young man. While our sons are young, and especially during the teenage years, mothers should keep an eye out to help their sons become godly men — not mom’s protégé, not mimicking her femininity. Moms remind sons that their broad shoulders are not meant to slouch, but to carry heavier loads for the sake of others.

Guarding from Sexual Confusion

Mothers need to wisely, shrewdly translate the wisdom of King Lemuel’s mother to the world we live in today, where it’s not just a king-destroying woman or the dangers of drunkenness he needs to avoid — it’s all manner of perversity and addiction. We need to help our sons avoid the enticements of the LGBTQ+ madness, to learn self-control when it comes to phones and technology, to avoid the deceitful euphemisms that have found their way into some churches, like “pronoun hospitality” or “gender-affirming care” or “reproductive freedom.”

Our sons may not be solicited on the street by a prostitute, but they will likely meet with some sinister images or a person who tempts them online. Without the warnings and cautions and roadblocks, and the faith-filled prayers of their godly mothers restraining them, they will be tempted to respond to the sexual advances of perverse men and women who seek them out in the unseen places of the Internet. Or, at the very least, they will be tempted to make light of those who do indulge such perversity — they will be tempted to affirm what God calls an abomination (Romans 1:32).

Home as a Mirror of Mothers

We mothers also need to show our children, and perhaps especially our teenage sons, the respite and safe haven of a Christian home, where God’s ways are normal, and the gospel is for them, and repentance and forgiveness are quick and ongoing, and God’s friendship is for those who fear him. We need to be mothers like the excellent woman in Proverbs 31, the one King Lemuel’s mother told him about:

Strength and dignity are her clothing,     and she laughs at the time to come.She opens her mouth with wisdom,     and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.She looks well to the ways of her household     and does not eat the bread of idleness. (Proverbs 31:25–27)

God calls us mothers to look well to the ways of our household. We make and keep the home, so home is often a reflection of us, of our own godliness, maturity, submission to our husband, and conformity to Christ — or the lack of all those things. The atmosphere inside the home can be stale and tense and smothering or full of clean air and light hearts. The rhythms of our home will either indulge or discourage idleness.

We can wear the strength and confidence and dignity of a mother who fears God and entrusts herself to Christ, or we can make anxious people-pleasing or selfish strife our default setting.

From Teenage Sons to Godly Men

Remember that our homes are testifying and speaking to our children. It’s likely that our sons will not verbally give us up-to-the-minute details of all that is in their hearts, but their hearts are either being softened to God and his ways or hardened to them. Our home life either authenticates the gospel and the goodness of God’s commands, or it misrepresents those things and becomes a stumbling block through our own hypocrisy. We can speak the words and warnings of life to our sons, or we can prefer safety-oriented rules and practical instruction over the weightier goal of godly manhood.

It’s easy to think that our growing teenage sons don’t really need their mothers. And certainly they don’t need us the same way they did when they were little. They don’t need our constant physical care; they need the wise and godly oracles of their mom telling them how to avoid worldly temptations, and what true justice is, and how to find a good wife. They need to know the respect and love and friendship and counsel and prayers of their godly mother.

They don’t need to be smothered or controlled or manipulated or used. They don’t need to be pitied or babied or coddled. But they do still need their godly mothers to offer wise and repeated instructions on how to be a man while showing them the contagious joy of a woman who fears the Lord.