After I was fired, I walked slowly toward the parking garage.

I told my wife, Bianca, what had happened. On the drive home, I was in awe of it all—afraid and excited at the same time. I had about $9,000 in my pocket, and something I had been thinking about for a while was suddenly much closer.

A practice of my own.

That was the beginning of JAG. Understanding what I wanted to build would take much longer.

Wanting to be someone

I grew up in a small town and played football. My parents had me very young; my mom was 14. Growing up was difficult. People had ideas about me that I didn't want to accept.

I wanted to be someone.

I became a first-generation college graduate and started my career at a Big Four accounting firm in the years following the Great Recession. I had worked hard to get there. Once I was there, though, the corporate culture didn't feel right to me. I felt like a number.

Reaching that point still left me with questions about how I wanted to work and what kind of life I wanted to build. I started thinking about private practice.

About three and a half years into my career, I had an opportunity to step into management. I was in my mid-20s and wasn't sure I could do it.

Bianca believed I could.

I took on the responsibility and managed a substantial book of business. Later, after differences of opinion, I was fired without warning. That was what had brought me to that slow walk to the parking garage.

Bianca encouraged me to see this as the opportunity. I could feel it, too. We wrestled with whether there was something divine in what had happened. I wanted to move forward, and I kept coming back to whether this was God's timing.

I was afraid and excited, and I was still trying to understand what it meant.

Building JAG

Building JAG brought more questions about my own motives.

There were partnerships that didn't work out. Looking back, part of what drew me into them was my own desire for security. I thought bigger was better. I had an image of what a successful firm was supposed to look like, and I gave that image a lot of weight.

But I wasn't happy. We weren't on the same page about values, and those differences were too difficult to reconcile. I had given the size of the firm and the security I hoped it would bring more weight than whether we shared the same values.

I have to be honest about my part in that. Letting go meant giving up an image I had spent a long time believing in. That was difficult, even when I could see that the way we were working wasn't right for me.

There were also times I felt weak in relationships, times I was afraid to lose work even when a relationship was taking a toll on me. I had to get more honest with myself about what I was holding on to and why.

Understanding the purpose

I began asking whether I was doing what I was called to do. I explored that question, including through personality assessments and trying to understand myself better.

I'm curious by nature. I pay attention to what catches my attention and give myself room to explore ideas. That curiosity has been part of how I've worked through these questions.

Over time, I came to believe I was in the right work. I just hadn't fully understood what that work could mean in somebody else's life.

That took years. We were preparing tax returns, keeping books and working through financial questions. I could describe the services. Understanding what we were actually doing for people took longer.

I've seen how a mess in these areas can keep people up at night. When you don't know whether your books are right or where you stand with your taxes, that uncertainty doesn't stay at the office. It goes home with you.

I began to understand how much it matters to help someone bring order to that part of their life—to explain where things stand, work through what needs attention and give them a clearer next step.

That is how I came to understand our purpose:

Our purpose is to make people’s lives better through better management of their taxes and finances.

Truth and responsibility

Telling the truth is part of that work. And being honest with clients starts with being honest with myself.

Sometimes that means admitting what I have been avoiding. Sometimes it means hearing something that changes how I see the situation. I've learned that when you don't know what to do, honesty is a good place to start: what do we know, what don't we know, and what needs attention?

Sometimes a client needs someone to be frank with them: an approach won't work, something needs to change, or there is a responsibility they need to take. We owe them a clear explanation and support in working through the next step.

We also have to listen. We explain how we see the situation and hear how they see it. Sometimes getting to the truth is a process. We cannot get there if either of us is only trying to protect our own position.

The aim is to understand what's true and do the right thing because of it. I've come to believe that's the only way to live with peace of mind.

Nick Saban talks about the discipline required by the goals we choose. That idea makes sense to me. The kind of firm we want to build requires us to prepare, keep learning, fix our mistakes and follow through, including when the work or the conversation is difficult.

It also asks something of the people we work with.

If you want to be the best you can be, are willing to be honest with yourself and will take responsibility for your part, that's the foundation of a good fit with us. You can come with questions, mistakes or things that need sorting out. What matters is your willingness to face them and do something about them.

We're a partner, not a babysitter. We take responsibility for our work, and we need our clients to take responsibility for their decisions and commitments. A relationship built on avoiding the facts or refusing accountability won't work. We hold ourselves to that same standard.

What success means to me now

As I get older, I question how much of my early ambition came from wanting to prove something. I still care about doing excellent work. I still want to be the best I can be. But I think differently now about what that is for.

I think about Abraham as an example of being a blessing to others. I want to be a good steward of the abilities God has given me. That gives me a way to think about the effect I want my life and work to have, and a standard to keep coming back to as JAG develops.

When I was younger, I wanted to be someone.

Today, I want to use what God has given me well, bless the people around me, and leave things a little more put together than I found them.