Desert Road | Redeeming the Authentic Dream
Over the past 20 years I have been really priviledged to have worked in a variety of different industries and reaching the top in almost every organization that I have started out with.
Straight after school I went into missions in Southern Africa. After this
I worked as a site manager in construction. I studied theology, marketing and tourism (never finished any degree). Managed a backpackers lodge, managed and later owned a restaurant. Worked as a tour guide in Northern Namibia. Served as a Youth Pastor and tried to be a teacher.
I became CEO of one of the biggest Non Profit youth organizations in South Africa. I’ve been a salesman and Life Coach and I pastored a church. I have also manufactured and sold swimming pools.
Sounds hectic hey?
I WON’T LIE TO YOU, IT WAS. My wife can testify to that.
Before you leave the page, you might be glad to know that for the past 5 years I have been a manager and owner in the Hardware Retail industry.
There have been times in my life where I was hugely discouraged and things seemed to have never worked out. It took me 15 years to find my niche and I must tell you that those 15 years have prepared me so well for where I am today.
I really love God with all my heart and about 80% of the time I made a move to a new job, I was sure that I was led by His Spirit. I never understood what was happening, but the one thing I held on to, was prophecies over my life and a strong belief that everything works together for the good for those who loves the Lord.
There has always been an enormous battle in my heart between secular work and ministry. And this was one of the main reasons that I have ventured in and out of jobs so many times. When I was working in a secular job I always missed ministry and felt that I am letting God down. When I was in ministry I always new that I could be an entrepreneur and felt as if I was letting my family down.
I have realized that with God there is not an either/or. He first loved me, just as I am. He named me before I was in my mother’s womb and loved me before the foundations of this world was formed. I have learned to rest. I have learned that nothing I could do for God can make him love me more. He loved me to death, even before I walked this planet.
After this realization something amazing happened. I took a couple of weeks off for prayer and interviewed family and old friends. I asked them what they though my strengths, gifts and passions were. I asked them where in life they have experienced me the happiest.
These answers, previous prophecies over my life and secret desires in my heart, led me to a better understanding of what I had to offer the world. This made it possible for me to understand “God’s Calling” for the first time. His calling over my life is summarized in one phrase “TURNING HEARTS INTO NEW CREATIONS”…THINC
Now I work in an industry where we are helping customers to restore there homes daily. We are also buying and restoring businesses that failed in the past. And we just love ministring to ministries that needs organizational restoration and getting back to the original dream God had for them.
You see, it is not either business or ministry. But it is about finding that one thing, that one word, that makes you come alive. Take that one thing and apply it to all areas of your life. The Kingdom is not found in ministry. It is found in God’s Heart. Rest in Him and serve His people with that one thing that triggers you. May it be in ministry or secular, to Him it doesn’t matter. As long as He can stay your first love.
Posted by Jaco Hyman on June 27, 2016 in Uncategorized
Tags: #calling, #ministry
CALLING…. what a wonderful word.
My parents are CALLING me every sunday.
My wife is CALLING the kids for lunch.
My friends are CALLING me Jakes, my kids call me Dad.
This wonderful word can be used in different sentences and contexts, but I think it has mainly two functions.
One, to draw closer
Two, to identify
I believe that Father God is CALLING each and every living thing. Especially us, humans, the crown of His creation.
He is CALLING us to draw closer. To feel Him, hear Him, know Him.
As we answer this call, we start to understand our CALLING. Our identity unfolds in our minds. Our purpose gets rooted in our hearts.
I believe that I was CALLED for the Restoration of His original plan in the hearts and minds of people and organizations.
Please feel free to follow this new blog as I try my hand at writing and hopefully inspire you to live His authentic dream for your life.
Posted by Jaco Hyman on June 26, 2016 in Uncategorized
Tags: #calling, #missions
Gister was Sondag en ‘n fantastiese Sondag daarby. My vrou se tante, ‘n geweldige interressante mens in haar eie reg, het ons genooi vir middag ete. Nou as ‘n tante wat vir jou alles van jou stamboom tot by Van Riebeeck kan uitlê jou nooi vir Sondag middag ete, dan kanselleer jy alle afsprake en jy trek jou beste velskoene aan.
Oppad stop ons by Woolies vir ‘n bossie rose en ‘n bottel wyn en daar trek ons. Met die Fiesta in 1ste rat teen Swavelpoort se berg uit, kry ek hierdie opgewondenheid in my hart. Amper soos die Voortrekkers moes gevoel het oor nuwe grond.
Net toe ek die voordeur van die groot kliphuis ingaan sien ek in die voorhuis ‘n figuur voor ‘n rekenaar onder ‘n dik leer baadjie en ‘n bofbal pet. Omdat daar altyd swerwers van een of ander aard by ons tante se huis inwaai, kon ek nie help om te wonder wie die karakter is nie. ‘Middag’ sê ek in sy rigting, en hier kom hy, effens krom na die sit, maar baie flink. ‘n Sterk hand druk myne en onder die pet steek ‘n neus se punt en ‘n groot glimlag uit. ‘Andries’, stel hy homself voor. Met ‘n kop knik groet hy ook my vrou en keer terug na sy rekenaar. Ek kon nie help om te wonder wat hy mee besig was nie.
Ons stap die kombuis binne. ‘n Reuk soos uit my moeder se plaas kombuis oorval my spoeg kliere. Nou wonder ek oor Andries en ek wonder oor die pot in die oond. DIe kombinasie oorweldig my in ‘n stil swye. Ons tante vertel vir ons allerhande nuus en luister hoe my dogtertjie vir haar ‘n ‘Sus en Daan’ of iets soortgelyks lees. My oë sien alles, my ore hoor niks, maar in my binneste wonder ek of Andries saam met ons gaan kom eet. Waar kom hy vandaan, hoe lyk die res van sy gesig, wat doen hy op daai rekenaar?
Kort voor lank word die tafel gedek, ek tel die borde…..sewe, agt, nege….. yesss!!!! Hy moet kom eet. Die man was nog skaars in die kombuis toe stop ek ‘n glas Nederburg Grenache in sy hand en vra ‘Drink jy wyn Andries?’ Hy haal sy pet af, en ek sien die oë van ‘n ouer man, die jare lê op sy voorkop. My boere opvoeding skop in en ek besef dis ‘Oom’ Andries. Om nie te lyk asof ek omkant betrap was nie, skiet ek met die volgende vraag, ‘Wat doen oom daar binne, skryf oom?’ ‘Nee’, antwoord hy, ‘Dis sommer ‘n bewysstuk vir ‘n hofsaak’. Hy sit aan tafel en sê niks verder nie. Die leer baadjie wat hy aan het vang weer my oog. Dis baie mooi en dit lyk baie warm. Hy sien ek oog sy baadjie en vertel dat hy dit in Kanada gekoop het toe hy vir ‘n jaar daar gebly het. Net daar toe weet ek, hier kom ‘n interressante middag en ek maak sy glasie vol.
Net soos ek weer wonder oor die pot in die oond bring ons tante die pot en nog een en nog een en nog een. Swaar yster potte met deksels op. ‘My spoeg loop sommer uit’, sê oom Andries. Die gedagte van die woorde sit nie so lekker op my tante se gesig nie, maar ek weet wat hy bedoel. Die deksels kom af, eerste rys, toe ‘n blomkool en kaas gereg, en toe…. skaapboud waarvan die sous in die braai aartappels ingetrek het. My tong raak droog soos ander dag se biltong toe my spoeg kliere alle vog uit die atmosfeer uit trek. En toe, die laaste pot, bees stert met wortels en nog aartappels in ‘n sjerrie sous. Ek vang oom Andries se oog en ek besef, hy sing nou in die selfde engele koor as ek. Ek maak mos maar altyd net boere kos sê my tante nederig met ‘n stoutigheid in die hoek van haar mond.
‘So waar bly oom nou’, vra ek. Die Nederburg begin nou die spoed van sy gesels aanhelp en ek skink vir hom nog. ‘Ek bly in Craig, soos die van, Craig. Craig, Colorado in die Noord Weste van Amerika. Dis die dat ek die warm baadjie het. Dit raak in die winter -40′, sê hy en le weg aan die aartappels.
Oom Andries van Craig vertel vir my die heel middag die mees interressante feite van sy dorp. In my verbeelding roep hy weer die prentjies wat ek as skoolseun gevorm het oor Amerika na vore. Hy vertel van ‘n boere gemeenskap waar die 16 jarige seuns met groot Ford bakkies skool toe ry, ‘Tot vyf gewere agter die sitplek’, sê hy. Volgens oom Andries het almal in Craig vuurwapens. Tom, die vriend by wie hy bly, het blykbaar nie minder nie as twee-en-dertig gewere. In my agterkop is daar ‘n frons wat ek te bang is om op my gesig te wys. ‘Craig het geen misdaad nie, want almal het vuurwapens’ vertel hy, en net daar besef ek ek moet nou hierdie gesels eers in ‘n ander rigting stuur. Miskien omdat ons die hele week hoor van doodslag in Marikana, miskien omdat die storie vir my so bietjie dikker raak as die tante se kaas sous.
‘En die mense?’, vra ek. ‘Og, die meisies…’ en hy sluk aan sy Nederburg. ‘Jy weet, daar werk die jong meisies in die veld met rooi check hempies, stetsons, boots en blou denims. Net soos jy op tv sien. Hulle werk met grawe met sulke lang stele en groet as jy by die draad verby stap. Hulle is net soos ons mense’. My skoolseun prentjies raak nou glads te lewendig.
Allerhande Cowboy flieks speel in my gedagtes af en ek mis ewe skielik ‘n perd, ‘n 303 en ‘n foksterriër. ‘Waarmee boer hulle oom?’ ‘Mielies, baie mielies. Daar eet ons die hele jaar groen mielies, elke dag.’ Hy vertel weer vir my van vriendinne in die dorp en herinner my dat die mense van Craig net soos ons boerevolk is. ‘Nou hoe het oom daar uigekom?’ vra ek nuuskierig. ‘Craig is the Hunting capital of America’ sê hy met ‘n glimlag wat ek al iewers gesien het. Hy vertel dat hy mal is oor jag en gewere. Hy vertel van verskillende bokke en wolwe en ‘n jas wat hy wil maak van beer vel.
Die storie maak my lus vir pyp rook en ewe skielik onthou ek waar ek daai glimlag vandaan ken. Dis die glimlag van satisfaksie. Dieselfde satisfaksie glimlag wat die Peter Stuyvesant cowboy agter op die Huisgenoot altyd gehad het. Die selfde satisfaksie wat in die hoek van my tante se mond weg gekruip het toe sy haar boerekos voorsit.Die boerekos het my laat huis toe verlang en oom Andries het nog baie dinge gesels, van stap in die Rocky Mountains tot koffie in Kenia, maar al wat by my kom stil staan het was ‘n gevoel.
Oom Andries van Craig (nie sy van nie), het weer ou drome en prentjies kom oproep en hulle ‘n hupstoot gegee die toekoms in. Of sy feite almal reg was, die weet ek nie, maar die Sondag middag stories daar in Swavelpoort, was ’n werklikheid vir my. Hoe weet ek dit? Die glimlag in die hoek van my mond.
Posted by Jaco Hyman on August 20, 2012 in Swerwers op my pad
‘n Baie lekker Blog Post vir almal wat al ‘n entjie gestap het.
Terwyl ek op my boude sit en ‘n uit-die-vuis-uit stap stok aan mekaar slaan, besef ek weereens op ‘n amper Sokratiese wyse dat daar in alle dinge maar prototipes is. As jy lank genoeg kyk, dan sien jy hulle raak. Ek dink nie mense val opsetlik in hierdie patrone nie, ek dink net dat daar partykeer maar net soveel verskille kan wees.
Stappers het ook sekere prototipes. Maar in hierdie geval is dit meer asof elkeen van ons hulle partykeer betree.
Die heel eerste tipe is natuurlik die klakouse. Hierdie tipe bevat twee sub-tipes: Die prontuit en die subtiele. Beide is maar irriterend siende dat hulle die res van die span se gemoed kan beïnvloed. Die oomblik wat ‘n stapper kerm dan is die eerste gedagte deur my kop “agge nee, ek hoop nie hierdie gaan heelpad aanhou nie.” Darem wanneer jy die patroon van ‘n prontuit neuler opmerk kan ‘n…
Posted by Jaco Hyman on August 16, 2012 in Ander se spore