In our lives, we carry many desires. Some are momentary, while others stretch across a year, five years, ten years, or even into the final season of life. To have a desire is to possess the energy that propels us toward the future. Yet depending on where each person sets the goal of that desire, the impact can be immense—on the individual, on society, on a nation, and even on the world. And unless we learn to use our time creatively and with discipline for the sake of those desires, they remain nothing more than fleeting dreams.

A farmer longs for abundant harvests and more land. An athlete may dream of winning a gold medal at the Olympics. A soldier on the battlefield desires victory and a safe return home. Those who cry out for social justice dream of building a more ideal society.

In the past, Kim Gu’s great desire was the independence of Korea. John Wesley, seeing the decaying state of English society and the church, longed for a righteous society rooted in God. Our own people have long carried the desire for reunification of North and South Korea. Parents with grown children who have passed the usual age for marriage may hold the simple desire to see their children wed.

Those who first gain a clear and vivid picture of their desire are the ones who ultimately see it fulfilled.

Whenever I visit church members, I learn so much. I have noticed that those who hold firm goals and desires for their future excel in their work in ways that set them apart.

Not long ago, I visited a new church member who runs a grocery store in Brooklyn. As the rumors said, it was an unusually large business for a Korean owner. I saw many employees working diligently and in perfect coordination. Since it was my first visit, I asked around to find the office and eventually went down to the basement storage area. There, behind a door marked “No Entry,” the owner was working.

The office was simple, with worn furniture and a TV monitor showing the movements of employees and customers. But on the wall hung a large blueprint that immediately caught my eye. It was the future image of the store—its surroundings beautifully redesigned, and a new, ultra-modern building drawn in detail. Next to it was a management philosophy that read: “Only stores with a future will survive in an age of competition.”

Below it were four principles:

1. A store must have a reason to exist.
2. Compete not only in price but in quality.
3. Make shopping an enjoyable experience.
4. Help customers save time and energy.

There was also a phrase written in Chinese characters: 日日學 日日新 日日亡 which seemed to mean, “If you do not learn something new each day, you lose a day.”

From that alone, I could see why their business was thriving.

When they first took over the store, the Jewish manager—who had successfully run it for decades and held a business degree from Yale—treated them coldly. To him, these young Asian owners, whose English he could barely understand and who lacked any professional knowledge of the business, seemed unqualified. It was understandable.

But the owners worked tirelessly to earn his respect. They remembered the birthdays of the manager and employees, cared for their spouses and children, and slowly built new bonds of trust. Over time, the manager came to recognize the sincerity, diligence, and integrity of the new owners.

From that point on, he continued to run the business with the same dedication as before—out of respect for the owners’ character.

— 윤완희, 6/3/1998