The wonder of legacy

Estimated Reading time: 6 minutes · Written by Tim chilvers

We live in a world that often feels relentless—demands piling up, the pace never letting up, and our souls, at times, weighed down by it all. Whether you're a long-time follower of Jesus or someone still exploring matters of faith, you may know this feeling well. That inner weariness, a quiet longing for something more—something that stirs wonder again.

At Riverside, we've been walking through a series aptly titled From Weary to Wonder, seeking to rediscover that awe—at who God is and what He can do. And amidst this reflection, there’s a story from the Old Testament that couldn’t be more fitting for such a time as this. It's a story of risk, reward, and the kind of faith that dares to believe God can do the impossible. It’s the story of Caleb.

Who’s Caleb?

Caleb is the biblical hero found in Numbers 13 and 14. His story is one of quiet courage and unshakable confidence in God’s promises.

The context: the people of Israel were on the verge of entering the Promised Land—a place flowing with "milk and honey," symbolic of abundance and divine blessing. Twelve spies were sent to scout the land, and they all agreed: it was incredible. But there was a catch. The land was also filled with fortified cities and towering inhabitants—giants, if you will. Suddenly, the dream felt too daunting. Ten of the spies shrank back in fear. Only two, Joshua and Caleb, stood firm in faith.

Their response? "We should go up and take possession of the land, for we certainly can do it" (Numbers 13:30). That’s the kind of faith that stops you in your tracks.

A question of perspective

All twelve spies saw the same thing. The difference wasn't the facts—it was the lens through which they viewed them.

But the men who had gone up with him said, “We can’t attack those people; they are stronger than we are.” And they spread along the Israelites a bad report about the land they had explored. (Numbers 13:31-32)

The ten fixated on the giants and forgot about God. Their report was riddled with fear. In fact, the original Hebrew word for their "bad report" translates to something closer to "evil whispering" or "slander." They weren’t just cautious, they were actively undermining faith.

Caleb and Joshua, however, remembered. They remembered the God who parted the Red Sea, who rescued them from Egypt, who provided when there seemed to be no way. For them, the giants were nothing compared to the God of the universe.

And this, friends, is the crux of it: Taking risks for God reveals the hand of God.

Are we playing it too safe?

There’s a modern parable in the story of Kodak, the photography giant that dominated the market for decades. At its peak in 1996, Kodak owned over half of the global photography market. But within 16 years, they filed for bankruptcy. Why? Despite inventing the first digital camera, they chose to stick with film. They thought “why risk what’s working?”

It’s a story of missed opportunity rooted in the fear of change.

Similarly, the Israelites were more concerned with their comfort than God’s promises. They’d grown weary of the wilderness, yet too afraid to move forward. But Caleb—he had what Scripture calls a "different spirit." He was ready to take the leap, trusting not in his own strength but in God’s faithfulness.

Confidence in God can lead to provision

God’s response to the people's lack of trust is sobering. Not one of the doubters would see the land, He said. Only Caleb and Joshua, and their descendants, would enter, because they believed.

It’s a powerful reminder: Confidence in God opens the door to His provision.

And this isn’t just about big, dramatic moments. It’s about our everyday lives and choosing to trust when everything in us wants to retreat. That might look like praying boldly for healing. Or inviting a friend to church. Or giving generously even when it feels tight. Now, we are not saying that if you say the right magic prayer that God will grant you “health and wealth.” But, each risk taken in faith is a step closer to seeing God move.

Living boldly

Something is shifting in our culture right now. Across churches, communities, and nations, there’s a stirring—God is on the move. The question is, will we be part of it?

We’ve all got people in our lives who exude that boldness, who are unafraid to ask the awkward question or push for what matters. We admire them. But maybe it's time we all stepped into that courage. The world is aching for hope. What if we dared to believe that God wants to use us, yes, us, to bring it?

Building for the future

And this brings us to a vital truth: The greatest impact of your life will be the legacy you build beyond your life.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of "Project Me"—focusing on our own achievements, our own fulfilment. But Caleb’s reward wasn’t just personal. The land he helped claim became an inheritance for generations. His faith shaped a future he wouldn’t fully see.

In a world obsessed with the now, this is profoundly countercultural. It’s not about just having a nice life and a comfortable end. It’s about sowing seeds that will bloom long after we're gone.

At Riverside, this heart for legacy runs deep, from our generational ministries to our vision for a future building. We’re not just investing in bricks and mortar. We’re investing in stories yet to be written, lives yet to be changed.

We all face giants, whether they’re challenges in our careers, relationships, finances, or health. But the choice remains the same as it did for the Israelites: fear or faith, retreat or risk, comfort or calling.

Let’s be like Caleb. Let’s have a different spirit. Let’s be people who see the same problems as everyone else but respond with boldness because we know the One who’s with us.

Let’s take risks for God—not reckless ones, but calculated steps of faith, informed by His past faithfulness and fuelled by our hope in His future provision.

And above all, let’s remember: when we lift our eyes from the weariness and fix them on the wonder, on the God who splits seas and raises the dead, we’ll start to see that the impossible might just be possible after all.

The original teaching has been edited for clarity and brevity; This is not a transcript.