What Will Be Written of You?

By Danny Saavedra

“David son of Jesse was king over all Israel. He ruled over Israel forty years—seven in Hebron and thirty-three in Jerusalem. He died at a good old age, having enjoyed long life, wealth and honor. His son Solomon succeeded him as king. As for the events of King David’s reign, from beginning to end, they are written in the records of Samuel the seer, the records of Nathan the prophet and the records of Gad the seer, together with the details of his reign and power, and the circumstances that surrounded him and Israel and the kingdoms of all the other lands.”—1 Chronicles 29:26–30 (NIV)

It’s striking how quickly the chronicler sums up David’s entire life: “He ruled forty years . . . he died at a good old age . . . his son Solomon succeeded him.” That’s the obituary of a giant of the faith.

The shepherd boy who slew Goliath.

The warrior who led Israel into battle.

The poet who gave us the psalms.

The king who united a kingdom.

The man after God’s own heart.

His entire life... all his victories, failures, tears, and triumphs get distilled into a few lines. And that’s what will happen to us, too.

Let’s say, like my dad, I live to be 89 years old when Jesus calls me home. And let’s say I have a grand old memorial where people share stories for two hours. That’s a pretty long memorial I think, but let’s go for it... two hours. Is that truly enough to do justice to 89 years of life? Is what we have here truly enough to capture the life of King David?

Regardless, someday our lives will be summed up in a few sentences or paragraphs. That should be incredibly humbling... but it should also force us to ask: What will people say about me when I’m gone? What will my legacy be?

Because let’s be honest: David’s legacy is complicated. For months now we’ve traced his story through 1 and 2 Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles. We’ve watched the highs and the lows. We’ve seen the shepherd boy anointed in obscurity, playing his harp in Saul’s court, and standing fearless before Goliath with nothing but a sling and a stone. We’ve seen him become a mighty warrior, leading armies, writing songs of worship, gathering the broken in the caves, and refusing to lift his hand against Saul even when he had the chance. We’ve seen him finally crowned king, uniting the tribes, conquering Jerusalem, and bringing the ark of God into the city with dancing and celebration. Those were just a few of the bright moments of a heart burning for the Lord.

But we’ve also seen the shadows. We’ve seen the Bathsheba scandal and the ripple effect of Uriah’s murder. We’ve seen his passivity as Amnon abused Tamar, his silence as Absalom seethed in bitterness, and his hesitation that allowed rebellion to rise in his own house. We’ve seen the weight of his sin collapse a family and fracture a kingdom. David was no flawless hero; he was deeply flawed, often weak, sometimes selfish, and at times devastatingly passive.

And yet, we’ve also seen what set him apart. Whenever he stumbled, he came back. He tore his garments in repentance. He wept before the Lord. He wrote songs of confession like Psalm 51:10 (NIV), crying out, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.” Even in failure, David’s heart had a homing device that always turned back to God. That’s why Scripture doesn’t remember him as the adulterer, the absentee father, or the failed king. It remembers him as the man after God’s own heart. Not because he was perfect, but because he never stopped seeking.

That’s legacy. It’s not about flawless performance; it’s about a faithful posture. It’s about where our hearts ultimately rest. David’s life zigzagged between triumph and tragedy, between worship and weakness, between courage and collapse, but his obituary doesn’t end with his sin. It ends with God’s faithfulness. Because through David’s messy story, God was weaving His bigger story: the line that would lead to Jesus, the true Son of David, the King whose reign will never end.

So again I ask: What about you? What will be written about your life? When your story gets reduced to a sentence or two, will it be about a kingdom you built for yourself? Regardless of how large and successful that kingdom seems here on earth, it died with you. Or will your obituary be about how you gave your life to be used by God to build His eternal kingdom? Will it tell the story of someone who chased after their own desires or someone who stumbled, repented, and kept chasing after God’s heart?

Your legacy is being written right now. Every choice, every day, every direction you take is shaping it. And the good news is, no matter what chapter you’re in, no matter how dark and bleak and painful it may be, it’s not too late to turn the page and begin a new chapter!

Maybe you’ve made mistakes. Maybe you’ve wandered. Maybe your story feels more like David in his lowest moments. But the same God who lifted David up will lift you up if you humble yourself before Him.

At the end of the day, the question isn’t, “Did you get it all right?” The questions will be, “Did you seek Him? Did you love Him? Did you point to Him?” Because when you do, your life, like David’s, becomes part of a much bigger story—a story that doesn’t end with your obituary, but stretches into eternity with the King who conquered death.

Pause: If your life were summed up in a sentence right now, what would it say? Whose kingdom are you building?

Practice: Take some time this week to write your own obituary. Seriously! What do you want it to say? What story do you want your life to tell? What kingdom do you want your legacy to point to?

Pray: Father, thank You for the life of David... for the triumphs and the tragedies, the victories and the failures, the moments of courage and the times of collapse. Thank You for showing us that You use imperfect people for Your perfect purposes. Lord, I confess my own weakness and sin and, like David, I ask You to create in me a clean heart and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Teach me to build not my own fragile kingdom, but to give my days to the building of Yours. Let my legacy be not of wealth, power, or accomplishment, but of faith—a faith that turned back to You again and again, a faith that pointed others to Christ, a faith that looked forward to Your eternal kingdom. Lord Jesus, may my life echo what was said of David: that I served the purpose of God in my generation. And when my obituary is written, may it be a footnote in Your greater story, one that ends not in death, but in resurrection; not in loss, but in glory; not in me, but in You. In Your holy and perfect name, I pray. Amen.