when our bigs plans & unspoken dreams aren’t turning out at all

So you know someone has something really meaningful to say when your 16 year-old daughter decides to pack up that book as the only one, excepting her Bible, that she takes all the way to Africa with her. I’ve met by Eugene Cho several times, and when the man speaks, my heart is moved. Convicted. Changed. And when our Hope-girl flew to Africa, the only book she took was his latest: Overrated: Are We More in Love with the Idea of Changing the World Than Actually Changing the World? , and she read it cover to cover, came home, and has kept it right with her Bible, re-reading and re-reading it. This is a man to listen to — because he’s listening to the Father’s heart. An incredible privilege to welcome  Eugene Cho to the farm’s front porch today…

by Eugene Cho

The day after Trinity was born, Minhee was still at the hospital resting and we were eager to return home.

In between visits to the hospital and our home, I made a quick visit to a local Barnes and Noble, the large retail bookstore, in search of a photo album for our new baby.

As I was coming out of the restroom, I ran into John—a congregant from my former church. To be honest, I was a bit embarrassed because he asked me how I was doing and, in particular, how the new church plant was doing.

I smiled, awkwardly dancing around the reality.

“Are you doing okay, Pastor Eugene?” John said.

“Yeah. Yeah … Actually, it’s been a roller coaster. Minhee and I just welcomed our second child yesterday. We’re thrilled, but we’ve been having a hard time starting the church. Actually, there is no church as of yet. I’ve actually been looking for a job for the past six months.

Keep us in your prayers.”

“Wow, Pastor Eugene. Congratulations on the baby, and I’m sorry to hear that it’s been so difficult with church and job hunting.”

“Yeah,” I say as I begin to retreat. “It’s cool. Great seeing you.”

“Actually, Pastor Eugene, wait a minute. If you want it, I can give you a job right now.”

“What? Really? What job?”

“I’m here at Barnes and Noble today to sign a contract. I run a custodial services company, and I just landed a contract to provide services here. Um, do you want the job?”

“Wow. Okay. Sure. Yes.”

And just like that, I began my new job as a custodian two days later. I could not help but chuckle as I was cleaning the toilet I had been sitting on two days before (I know —  too much information).

After the first couple of days of excitement from just having a job, reality set in.

I thought, Wow. I’m a custodian. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with being a custodian.

Nothing at all.

It’s just that this was the furthest thing I had envisioned when I left my previous church job to plant Quest Church. It wasn’t part of my strategic plan.

Furthermore, I quickly learned that it was incredibly difficult work.

I had to clean a 40,000-square-foot store, by myself, in the early morning hours between six and nine. There was no time to fool around, so I had to set up a strategy: bathrooms, vacuuming, and then dusting.

That was the game plan every day. When I arrived in the mornings, it was just me and the employees preparing to open the store.

I went straight to the janitor’s closet. I gathered my supplies and started working.

I first headed to the bathrooms because they needed time to dry out. I scrubbed the toilets, cleaned the urinals and then the sinks, wiped the walls, restocked supplies, and finally mopped the floors.

After cleaning the bathrooms, I quickly vacuumed. I needed to vacuum before the store opened at nine, so as not to disturb the customers. Dusting could continue once the doors opened.

I worked as fast as I possibly could. I sweated hard every day because there was rarely a moment to pause. It was all constant movement. For those three hours each morning, I experienced one of the hardest jobs I’ve ever had.

On top of that, the job was humbling and not what I had envisioned as my post-seminary profession.

If I’m honest, I struggled with my pride.

My self-esteem.

How I looked at myself.

I had difficulties sharing with my family what was going on. I was always trying to hide how I was feeling. My responses were often, “I’m doing okay. Hanging in there.”

That time in my life, and in the life of my family, was difficult and one of the most trying seasons of our lives.

However, God surprised me by providing the Barnes and Noble janitorial job.

He surprised me with His grace and developed my character in the face of these challenges. I worked hard and was able to provide for our family. The Lord gave us enough.

This was indeed an answer to prayer.

After six months of looking for every kind of work, I could finally provide for my family. As a husband and a father, perhaps I place more emphasis on these things than I should. But it is important to me to take care of my wife, to take care of my kids. You see, during those months, Minhee and our kids were on a form of government-subsidized food stamp program—Women, Infants, and Children (WIC).

This season wasn’t just about a job or just about paying bills.

It was about us learning to surrender and to trust God.

It was about learning to be still before the Lord and seeking His voice and presence in our lives.

My janitorial job lasted almost a year, but when I look back, it wasn’t just merely God providing for our family.

It was also the process by which He resurrected the dry bones of my life amid the scarcity of faith and trust, and the clutter of so much noise and self-doubt.

It was the journey by which God reignited my joy in, and reliance on, prayer.

I prayed in the most honest way I had in a long time.

When you are a minister or a pastor, you pray because that’s what you’re supposed to do. Perhaps prayer is the challenge for you too. Perhaps it is the challenge for all of us.

At six o’clock in the morning, in a big, empty store, you’re dusting, scrubbing, and vacuuming.

When you do this kind of work for several hours, you’re essentially all alone. No one watches you. There is no microphone or sound system. No video cameras. No one’s tweeting or updating their Facebook status about how much they love your teaching or illustrations. There are no expectations (beyond clean bathrooms and floors). There is not liturgy to read or lead.

What do you do?

What can you do?

Well … you pray.

At least that’s what I was compelled to do.

I had honest and raw conversations with God—a sequel of sorts to the prayer time that began in my office several weeks before I got the job.

The prayers in these early mornings were so terrifying, refreshing, and convicting. It was just me and God talking, beyond the religious jargon, beyond the phrases, beyond the Christianese that we sometimes hide behind.

God and me. Listening. Talking. Singing. Praying. Wrestling.

There were prayers of confession about self-reliance. About bitterness. About my schedule, my timetable (aka my Excel spreadsheet plans), my agenda, my dreams, and my will. The confession of the challenge of “my will be done versus thy will be done.”

As I hustled and sweated around that store, I prayed for Minhee, Jubilee, and Trinity, who was only weeks old. I prayed about the vision to plant a church. About wanting to listen to God well. Praying that God would bless this church.

But again, being mindful about listening well and resisting my natural tendency to go before God.

One of the best things that happened in that season of my life was that God used it to break me, to help me see and surrender to His will. I was reminded of these words from Henri Nouwen: “Just as bread needs to be broken in order to be given, so, too, do our lives.”

As I sought clarity, answers, strategies, His favor, and divine appointments, God simply prompted me to ask myself: To whom should I surrender? I love the wisdom in this quote from C. S. Lewis that captures this truth:  “I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer.”

We can go through times that seem like spiritual and emotional deserts. In the barren landscape of those uncertain times, there’s often a prime opportunity to pause. There’s prime opportunity to pray and to listen for the voice of God speaking comfort and assurance through uncertainty.

We need to allow God to break us. We need to escape our self-absorbed blindness and see life illuminated in the light of God.

In other words, let’s not be so consumed by our own visions that we forget the God who gave us those visions and dreams in the first place.

We worship God, not our visions and dreams.

We worship God, not our plans and strategies.

Heed these beautiful words:

Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Heb. 12:1–2)

Indeed. May we fix our eyes on Jesus.

 

Eugene Cho is the founder and Lead Pastor of Quest Church – an urban, multi-cultural and multi-generational church in Seattle, Washington – as well as the founder and visionary of One Day’s Wages (ODW) – “a grassroots movement of people, stories, and actions to alleviate extreme global poverty.” Since its launch in October 2009, ODW has raised over $2.9 million dollars for projects to empower those living in extreme global poverty. He’s one of my favourite follows on Facebook.

Eugene recently released his first book, of which Louie Giglio said, “Real, Personal, and a Must-Read”:  Overrated: Are We More in Love with the Idea of Changing the World Than Actually Changing the World? When you’re done talking about the gospel and are ready for your walking to be the gospel: Start here. I desperately needed this book. Five star.