When I was little my dad had a toolbox. It was old and red and heavy – exactly what every toolbox should be. Inside was a collage of manliness made up of various wrenches, screwdrivers, nuts, bolts, screws, hammers, levels, socket sets, and drill bits of all shapes and sizes. I loved this toolbox, not so much for what it was, but for what it stood for. To me, this was the kind of toolbox every man should have. A rusty symbol of preparedness and (often over-confident) know-how, with this tool box you're ready for whatever suburbia throws at you.
I do not like yard work. ever. under any circumstances. I do, however, enjoy a good project. And, whenever said projects required, I always loved heading out to the workbench and rummaging through that tool box searching for just the right sized socket or the perfect drill bit or the ever-elusive allen wrench.
As time went on, the red toolbox took a bit of a backseat to fancier power tools with nicer cases. While I liked the new stuff, the classic toolbox just had a significance that was unmistakeable. It's the kind of thing nobody would throw away. It just has too much purpose, too much character – too much meaning.
About a year and a half ago, I officially moved out of my parents house and back down to Georgia. As I was packing up my car and checking the last few things off my to-do list, my dad went back into the garage and pulled the old red tool box off the work bench. He carried it out from the garage, brought it to me, put it in my hands and said, "I've been saving this for you."
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God is all about inheritances. The evidence is scattered throughout the history of his people. He's been that way since he gave Adam the garden – and for the most part, we're still struggling to figure it out.
See, an inheritance must be passed from a father to a son. The father builds the inheritance, but he can't keep it for himself – he must give it away. In the same way, a son cannot create his own inheritance – it must be received. This transaction requires sacrifice. Specifically, death. Usually we think of this in the physical sense: In the father's death, the reward of his life is passed down to his son. The only problem is, he has to die first.
Spiritually, it's similar. Season after season God kept trying to find men who would pass down his inheritance – claim their place as his chosen people and transfer this life to their families and their children. And yet, we have always spurned him. Choosing our own personal inheritance over his – generation, after generation, after generation – all the way to now. Just like so many before us, instead of his inheritance, we pass down selfishness and lies and insecurities and addictions and disease and rejection and failure. We inherit a spiritually orphaned nature and without our Father, we have no inheritance.
But God has always desire so much more for us. So Jesus came along and blew the walls off the whole thing. He re-wrote the genealogy. As a sinless man, and a Jew, he was entitled as a member of God's chosen tribe to inherit his place in God's kingdom. But as the Son of the Father, he became a sacrifice for something far greater. The end of Jesus' season on earth gave us a new inheritance – so that like him, we could be called sons (and daughters) of our true Father. In his resurrection we are no longer orphans, but co-heirs who share His inheritance, and life, in the Kingdom today.
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Sometimes the end of a season is really exciting. Most of the time it's really hard (and scary). But I've come to realize that it's always good. Because in the midst of the transition or the hurt or the grieving, as people following Jesus, there's always the promise of new inheritance.
That day in my driveway, a season of life had come to an end. I have no idea what was going through my dad's mind when he handed me that old red toolbox. I don't know how much he had thought about that moment, or if it has had any significance to him until now. That day, whether he knew it or not, he passed down something much more important than a beat up hammer or a rusty pair of pliers. Have me freedom. He game me my own authority. He gave me confidence and permission to be my own man. He gave me a piece of my spiritual inheritance.
God does the same thing. At the death of our seasons, he's got a new piece of our inheritance waiting around the next corner. Each new season holds the promise of new lessons to learn, gifts to walk into, revelation to uncover, and deeper intimacy with Him.
You are no longer an orphan. You are a son or a daughter of the Father – and he's standing there holding your inheritance saying, "I've been saving this for you."
