In our home, the phone rings countless times a day. Because we never know who might call, or when, or for what reason, someone always has to be available to take messages. Old friends from church calling after a long silence, news that someone has been hospitalized, news of a newborn baby, news of someone’s sudden passing, calls seeking counseling for marriage—or divorce. Calls from community organizations asking me to attend meetings, calls from people looking for an apartment, calls for spiritual counseling… not one of these calls is unimportant, and the pastor’s study rings all day long.

One day, among the many calls, there was one I will never forget. It was a young man’s voice asking for my predecessor, Pastor Fisher. I did not know who he was, but I had no choice but to tell him that Pastor Fisher had already passed away.

“…I’m sorry, but the pastor passed away three years ago… may I ask who’s calling?” I spoke slowly, hoping not to startle him. “My name is Kevin… what? He passed away? Why?” He cried out in shock and confusion. “…Right after he retired, he suffered a stroke. He struggled with it for some time and eventually passed away.”

Pastor Fisher had lived his entire life as a single man. He had long suffered from chronic illness, spent his summers backpacking across Europe, and his parsonage often served as a resting place for friends he had met during his travels. The parsonage, with its many rooms, also housed troubled young men whom he tried to guide back onto the right path. One of them was Kevin. I remembered the pastor once mentioning that Kevin still had belongings stored in the basement and that he would probably return someday to retrieve them.

Kevin seemed to hesitate, as if he had something more to say. Then, stammering, he asked, “…Did he… by any chance… leave me an inheritance?”

For a moment, I was speechless at the unexpected question. “…Inheritance? For whom?” I paused. It crossed my mind that perhaps Pastor Fisher had promised him something. But the thought quickly faded as I remembered the pastor’s humble belongings when he left for Florida after retirement—worn-out books and sermon notes, a few cooking utensils, and a huge yellow dog panting in the back of his old car. I could never forget that scene.

There was a long silence on the phone—an expectant, trembling silence. “…Kevin! You asked about an inheritance, didn’t you? An inheritance! …Yes, there is one. He definitely left something for you.” I could almost feel his ears perk up. “Really? I knew it! He loved me so much when he was alive… What is it?” His voice trembled with emotion.

Sometimes an inheritance comes from the most unexpected places. We hear stories of wealthy elderly people leaving their estates to kind janitors, or poor women suddenly inheriting fortunes from generous benefactors. In fact, at the American church I once served, a woman unexpectedly inherited a large sum and became the owner of a major taxi company.

She was in her late thirties, once a runaway teenager. Her first marriage had failed, though she had a son, and she was living in poverty with her second husband. One day, she heard through a distant relative that her father had passed away. After nearly twenty years, she returned home. The journey back felt like a dream after all the hardship she had endured.

The house she had left as a teenager looked unchanged, except for the overgrown weeds and peeling paint. The oak tree in front had grown into a great giant over the twenty years, stretching out its arms as if to welcome her home.

She could almost hear the whimpering of the dogs that used to run to her, and she could see the hem of her late mother’s green dress swaying before her eyes. She felt as though her father’s heavy footsteps might echo toward her at any moment. It was as if she had only stepped out briefly and returned home again. But when she opened the door and found everything locked and silent, the weight of the years crashed down on her, and she wept bitterly—the tears of twenty years of pain and sorrow.

After the funeral, a letter arrived from a lawyer. It was her father’s will.

“My beloved daughter, For you, I worked hard all my life, saving every penny. My dear child, the fruit of my sweat and labor is waiting for you. Look beneath the rocking chair you used as a child by the fireplace. And lift the carpet in your old room upstairs. With these, no matter what circumstances you face, you will be able to stand again and live without fear. My beloved daughter, you may have forgotten me, but I never forgot you—not for a single day. I leave all my love to you. —Your loving father.”

She followed his instructions. Under the rocking chair were stacks of crisp bills, as if freshly withdrawn from the bank. Under the carpet in her old room, more bundles of cash spilled out. Tens of thousands of dollars—perhaps more—had been waiting for her in the darkness all those years.

At her father’s cold graveside, she wept again. “Father! If you loved me so much, why didn’t you come find me sooner? Why didn’t you tell me you loved me? Why did you watch my pain from afar and never call me home? I didn’t want the money—I wanted your warm blessing of love! How will we ever recover the twenty years we lost?”

Later, she started a small taxi business with a few cars. Amazingly, it grew into a major company serving fourteen train stations across New York and Long Island. Yet she often said that nothing could ever compensate for the years lost with her father.

“Kevin, listen carefully! The pastor definitely left you an incredible inheritance!” I spoke firmly, imagining Kevin dreaming of sudden wealth. “Jesus Christ! The Lord Jesus Christ! He wants to transform your life and do amazing things in you. Kevin, you must receive Him. His gift of eternal life is worth far more than all the riches in the world!” “…” His disappointed sigh rumbled through the receiver like the earth sinking. “…I know.” “Knowing isn’t enough! If you’ve received an inheritance, you must live as a rightful heir!” The faint noise on the line sounded like his weary footsteps turning away.

I, too, have sometimes dreamed of sudden wealth during difficult financial seasons. I imagined that if only my financial problems were solved, everything else would fall into place. But I know now that such dreams are illusions.

Recently, a TV program introduced the daily life of a young man who had won the lottery. Overnight, a pizza shop worker became a millionaire. He traveled the world, dined at famous restaurants, and indulged in every pleasure he had dreamed of. But eventually, boredom consumed him, and he found no joy in life. He returned to the pizza shop and confessed that he rediscovered meaning and happiness in the dignity of labor and the fruit of honest work.

So what is our true inheritance? There are emotional, material, cultural, and spiritual inheritances. Through life, I have discovered that the greatest inheritance of all is faith.

Times change, cultures shift, values rise and fall. Material things fade. But the inheritance of faith never corrupts the soul. It keeps our lives fresh, green, and flourishing—like a tree planted by streams of water.

My conversation with Kevin made me reflect deeply on what inheritance we should seek, and what inheritance we should prepare for our children.

Pastor Spurgeon once said,

“A parent’s holy life is the richest inheritance for a child.”

What inheritance do you seek today? What inheritance do you hope to pass on? Are your body and soul weary? Is joy missing from your spirit, with only darkness lingering at the edges of your life?

Open the window. The forest of your difficult life will be filled with light, and the hidden seed of promise within you will begin to sprout.

— Wanhee Yoon, 3/2/1997