“And Abram fell on his face: and God talked with him, saying,”
Genesis 17:3 (KJV)
Genesis 17:3 captures a defining moment in Abram’s life—not because of what he says or does, but because of how he responds. Faced with the personal presence of God, Abram falls on his face. This posture signals a decisive shift. Before plans are clarified, before promises are expanded, before legacy is named, Abram is undone by who God is.
This encounter is markedly different from Abram’s previous interactions with God. In Genesis 12 through 15, it is consistently the word of the Lord that comes to Abram. God speaks; Abram listens, responds, questions, and at times struggles. But in Genesis 17, something changes. The Lord does not merely speak—He appears. The presence of God Himself confronts Abram, and the effect is immediate and overwhelming.
Abram’s response places him in the company of others who encounter God in this way. Isaiah, seeing the Lord high and lifted up, is instantly aware of his own sinfulness. Peter, confronted with the power and holiness of Christ, falls at Jesus’ feet, confessing that he is a sinful man. In each case, the revelation of God produces two simultaneous realizations: God is infinitely holy, and we are not.
So it is with Abram. Falling on his face reflects both an external encounter and an internal reckoning. The God who once promised to be Abram’s “exceedingly great reward” now stands before him. What Abram previously wrestled with intellectually—questions of inheritance, continuity, and future—are now reframed by the sheer weight of God’s presence. The reward is no longer abstract. It is personal, holy, and overwhelming.
In this moment, Abram encounters two realities that permanently reshape his understanding of life. First, he comes to terms with the depth of his own insufficiency. Confidence in the flesh evaporates. Whatever trust remained in human capability, strategy, or strength dissolves in the presence of God. Second, Abram beholds something far greater than anything he has pursued before. He sees the true reward—not merely what God gives, but God Himself. Dreadful and beautiful, humbling and captivating, this encounter clarifies what Abram was created for.
The apostle Paul later describes this same transformation of values. What once seemed like gain is now counted as loss. What once defined identity and purpose is eclipsed by the surpassing worth of knowing Christ. Faith does not merely justify; it reorders desire.
This movement—from encounter, to surrender, to a redefinition of value—provides a critical lens for understanding legacy stewardship planning.
Legacy stewardship does not begin with assets, structures, or strategies. It begins on our face before God. Until our confidence in the flesh is undone and our understanding of reward is recalibrated, stewardship easily becomes an exercise in control rather than faith. Like Abram, we are often tempted to define legacy in terms of continuity, security, or immediate outcomes. God, however, confronts us with Himself before He entrusts us with anything else.
Seen through this biblical framework, legacy stewardship planning is not about securing significance beyond our lifetime; it is about faithfully responding to the God who is already our exceeding great reward. Planning still matters. Responsibility is not dismissed. But both are reframed. Stewardship becomes an expression of surrender, not a substitute for trust. Planning flows from faith, not fear.
In Genesis 15, Abram is counted righteous by faith. In Genesis 17, he is fully surrendered by encounter. That progression matters. A right standing with God leads to a reordered life before God. Legacy stewardship lives in that space—not as proof of salvation, but as the fruit of having truly counted all things loss for the sake of knowing Him.
Ultimately, legacy stewardship planning is not first about what we leave behind, but about who we live before. When God Himself becomes our reward, everything else—possessions, plans, and priorities—finds its proper place. What we steward flows from what we worship. And when worship begins on our face before a holy God, stewardship becomes faithful, humble, and free.
By Christopher L. Walker at myfathersestate.com
