When God Says Go: Jack's Journey from Reluctant Accountant to Mission-Driven Leader

Jack Ciak started his career on what he calls "a foundation of two lies." He was good at math in high school, so everyone told him to become an accountant — he'd make lots of money and have job security. Neither promise held up the way he expected.

"For a number of years I just felt unsatisfied," Jack says. "There just seemed to be this hollow thing there."

He worked in public accounting, then pivoted to commercial mortgage servicing, then landed at software companies serving the mortgage industry. He was successful by every conventional measure. His job was to bridge the gap between customers and developers, translating complex needs into workable solutions. He was so good at it that clients would fly him in early to prep for meetings with his own management team. From the outside, it was hard to tell which side he worked for.

But success didn't fill the void.

The Mission Trip That Changed Everything

When the president of his software company mentioned serving on the board of a children's home in Guatemala, Jack said he'd like to tag along on the next trip. He hadn't been on a mission trip in a while, and it sounded like a good reset.

What he found in Guatemala surprised him — not just the work, but the posture of some teams who showed up. One group's shipping container didn't arrive, leaving them without their planned construction project. When Jack and his team offered to help, the response was jarring: "We really don't have anything for you to help with because we don't have anything to do. And we've got to go back to our church and tell them all the things we accomplished. So we can't have you taken away from our work."

The irony wasn't lost on Jack. Everyone was supposedly there for the cause of Christ, yet territoriality and optics trumped actual service.

Still, Jack left that week with two convictions. First, he wasn't called to be there long term. Second, it was a safe, comfortable environment to introduce his wife and two kids to missions. After a couple years of persistence, he finally convinced them to give up a spring break and spend a week at the children's home in Guatemala.

They all fell in love with it.

The Call He Didn't Want

On the flight home, Jack did what any spiritually grounded dad would do: he called for 30 days of prayer before the family made any decisions about their future.

What he didn't tell them was that while they were praying for direction about going to Guatemala, he was praying God wouldn't call them. "Don't send me there," he pleaded.

Then came Good Friday.

You want to have your ministry, but if it's not my ministry, it's going to fail. I've laid this thing in front of you where there's hundreds of kids at this home in Guatemala that need somebody to go down and love on them and be the hands and feet of Jesus. And if you don't think that's a worthy calling for you, then we need to talk a little more.

Jack heard it as clearly as if it were audible. "I was like, no, no, God, I'm good. I get it. We don't need to talk anymore."

He told his wife what happened. She agreed they should go — eventually. After the kids graduated high school. After they tied up some loose ends. The timing wasn't quite right yet.

Two weeks later, Jack came back from a Father's Day camping trip with his son and suggested they get more involved at their local church if they weren't heading to Guatemala. His wife stopped him. "Let's hold off on that," she said. "While you were gone, God gave me the timing. He says we need to go ASAP."

They had the calling. They had the timing. Less than six months later, they'd raised the funds and moved to Guatemala as full-time dorm parents to 32 to 36 teenage girls.

Jack's mother had once told him she hoped he'd have six girls just like him as a sort of cosmic comeuppance for his teenage years. She lived to see him with 36 girls who were very much like him — except they spoke a different language.

What Five Years in Guatemala Taught Him

Jack's accounting background didn't come in handy much during those five years. He was out of his element. But he was obedient, and that was enough.

What he gained was something far more valuable than technical skills: a deep understanding of ministry, nonprofit operations, and what it looks like to serve without a safety net. He also came home with a daughter they adopted from Guatemala.

When the family returned to the States, Jack decided to put his accounting experience to use in a new way. He started a small bookkeeping business focused on ministries. One client eventually hired him full time as director of finance. He later tried his hand at development work, hoping to raise funds for a foundation, but discovered that while he had strong administrative skills, fundraising wasn't his gift. "I just lacked the networking, connecting ability," he admits.

Then a friend told him about an opening at EAST — Environmental and Spatial Technology, a 30-year-old educational nonprofit in Arkansas. Jack interviewed, loved the team, and apparently they loved him back. Four years later, he's still there as director of finance.

What EAST Does (and Why It Matters)

EAST has been around for nearly 30 years, which is rare for an educational nonprofit. The name sounds like an aerospace company, but what they actually do is equip K-12 students to solve real problems in their communities using technology.

Here's how it works: students meet with people in their community — school administrators, city officials, local nonprofits — and ask what needs solving. Then they come back to the classroom and figure out how to use technology to meet those needs. They're not just learning CAD software, GIS mapping, 3D printing, or video production. They're learning to listen, communicate, problem-solve, and work in teams.

Kids have redesigned drainage systems in flood-prone areas. They've created self-guided tours using GPS-triggered audio. They've designed bleachers for local sports fields that were actually built to their specifications. One group launched high-altitude balloons that traveled thousands of miles, gathered data, and eventually landed with a message that someone found and returned.

It's not just technical training. It's life skills wrapped in real-world impact. And Jack gets to help steward the finances that make it possible.

How Faith Shows Up at Work

EAST isn't a Christian organization, but Jack works alongside both believers and people who are, at times, openly hostile to Christianity. So how does his faith show up in that environment?

"I think for me it's just really important to know who I am in God and what he calls me to do and then try to live that out," Jack says. "You kind of hope that somebody notices and says, 'You're different — why?'"

He doesn't stand on a soapbox in the office. He's not gifted in evangelism, he'll freely admit. But he's learned to ask questions and listen — especially when someone pushes back hard against faith.

My goodness, who wounded you so badly? Because it certainly wasn't Jesus. It might have been some people using his name to do stuff.

Jack's approach is to ask, not argue. To point people away from the institution of the church and toward the founder of the church. To be fair, to steward well, and to show concern for people in a way that makes them wonder where it comes from.

"There's so much argument and taking sides and fighting," he says. "I don't think there is enough listening and enough questioning — not harshly, but genuinely."

He once had a conversation with a friend he calls his "new age Jewish friend" — someone who'd explored every spiritual path imaginable. When the conversation turned to eternity and the way forward, Jack asked a simple question: "If we were to follow the rules or guidelines for life that the Bible lays out as a society, as a world, would we be better off or worse off?"

His friend had to admit: "Yeah, we'd be better off."

"It's not about us," Jack says. "It's about Him. And how do we draw people into a closer relationship with that?"

The Pride Problem

Jack is candid about the lesson God drilled into him that Good Friday service: "Jack, you've got an issue with pride, and you need to get over it."

It's a battle he's still fighting. "I'd like to think I've gotten a lot better," he says, "but that's still an area I need to be constantly aware of. When is it more about Jack and less about God?"

It's the slippery slope every leader faces. When things go wrong, we're tempted to blame God for not showing up. When things go right, we're tempted to take the credit. The enemy works both angles.

Jack's learned to hold his seat on the bus — two rows back from the steering wheel, where he can see everything coming but can't grab the wheel and try to control the ride.

What Jack's Story Teaches Us

Jack didn't become an accountant because of a divine calling. He became one because he was good at math and people told him it was a safe bet. For years, he chased satisfaction in success, only to find the hollowness growing.

It wasn't until he stopped trying to design his own ministry and started listening to God's call that everything changed. And even then, he resisted. He didn't want to go to Guatemala. He wanted a ministry that fit his preferences, his skills, his comfort zone.

But God had something better in mind — not easier, not more comfortable, but infinitely more meaningful. Jack learned that obedience doesn't require perfection or even competence. It just requires showing up and letting God work through you.

Now, back in the corporate world, Jack carries that same posture. He leads with questions, not answers. He listens more than he preaches. He points people toward Jesus, not the institution. And he knows that the best witness isn't a polished presentation — it's a life that makes people wonder why you're different.

If you're feeling the hollow ache of success without meaning, Jack's story is a reminder: God's calling for you might not look like what you had in mind. It might not fit your skill set or your timeline. But if you'll stop designing your own ministry and start listening for His, you might just find what you've been missing all along.

When God says go — even if it's the last place you want to go — the only response that leads to peace is saying yes. Not because you have it all figured out. Not because you're finally ready. But because you've learned what Jack learned on that Good Friday: God's ministry is always better than the one you'd design for yourself. And the hollow places you've been trying to fill with success? They were never meant to be filled with comfort or control. They were meant to be filled with obedience, and the peace that comes from knowing you're exactly where you're supposed to be — even when it's the last place you ever expected to go.