What Being a Failed Writer Has Taught Me About Leaving a Legacy

We’ll all leave a story behind after we’re gone.

I’ve never been a particularly talented writer, but I’ve always loved stories. I love the way they move me, motivate me, pull me outside my own perspective. Years ago, I decided to inspire those same feelings in others. I wanted to build my own legacy.

To write my own story.

I worked for years, pouring countless hours into developing characters, plots, entire worlds. And yet, I never published anything. Not a single book. If my time spent writing were to be judged by books sold or cultural impact, then I’ve obviously missed the mark. So what was the point?

It can be easy, sometimes, to feel like the writer of Ecclesiastes.

“So my heart began to despair over all my toilsome labor under the sun. For a person may labor with wisdom, knowledge and skill, and then they must leave all they own to another who has not toiled for it. This too is meaningless and a great misfortune.” (Ecclesiastes 2:20-21)

When we talk about “legacy,” we often think of it in terms of specific outcomes. What will last after I’m gone? What impact will I leave? And so we build, we strive, we pour our energy into crafting something we hope will endure.

That’s not inherently bad. In fact, at first glance, it feels like the lesson intended by the writer of Ecclesiastes. There’s a maturity in recognizing that our time on earth doesn’t last. There’s wisdom in choosing to build something meaningful with our lives.

But Ecclesiastes warns us that even the wisest, most skilled toil can slip through our fingers.

Even a legacy built with the best of intentions, when pursued on our terms, can crumble.

The Lesson of Phil Vischer

Phil Vischer, the creator of VeggieTales, is one of my all-time favorite storytellers.

His dream was to become the “Christian Walt Disney.” He wanted to touch thousands of lives, and he eventually did – mine included. I loved VeggieTales when I was a kid, which mixed familiar bible stories with a distinct Monty Python-esque humor.

Vischer was a visionary who started with legacy in mind. He knew where he wanted to go and, most importantly, he knew why he was going there. He had an incredible vision of what he was going to do for God.

And yet, in the end, he lost everything he’d worked for. Big Idea Productions went bankrupt. His company, his legacy, was sold to the highest bidder.

How much must he have related to the writer of Ecclesiastes in that moment?

“I hated all the things I had toiled for under the sun, because I must leave them to the one who comes after me. And who knows whether that person will be wise or foolish? Yet they will have control over all the fruit of my toil into which I have poured my effort and skill under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 2:18-19)

Losing his company forced Phil to slow down and reassess his priorities. He realized, only after losing it all, that he’d been pursuing a legacy of his own design. He shifted from asking, “How can I build this?” to “Am I being faithful in the little things today?”

What God really wanted wasn’t his grand vision.

It was his obedience.

A Legacy We Can’t Measure

By worldly standards, Phil Vischer was a failed storyteller. I can relate to that. I’ve got a pile of drafts just sitting on my hard drive. But the act of writing itself has shaped me. It’s given me new ways of seeing. It’s given me the confidence to write devotionals like this one.

I don’t know what God will do with my words. But if I’m focused on the outcome, I’m missing the point.

Legacy isn’t measured in numbers. It isn’t something to be calculated or fully planned for. The kind of legacy that God cares about is often one we can’t see.

We toil for what we cannot know. We’ll never have the full view of God – not in our time on earth. And yet, we’re called to serve Him anyway. To show up, use the gifts God gave us, and trust him with the rest.

Building a godly legacy takes faith: faith that our obedience matters, even when we can’t measure its impact. Faith that God sees the unseen.

Faith that His story is bigger than ours.

Because what we leave behind matters far more than what we accumulate. And in the end, the only legacy worth leaving is the one God is writing through us.