The Consolation of Champorado and the Legacy We May Never See

There are moments in life when we just need a little taste of sweetness to remind us we’re still in the right direction. For us, it came in the form of champorado last Sunday.

It was a simple gesture — a comeback Brev named Yusoff,  invited us for a treat, and being the lovers of food (and fellowship) that we are, we said yes with grateful hearts. We sat there, sharing a bowl of hot champorado, unaware that the Lord was preparing a surprise course far sweeter than the sticky rice before us.

While we were eating, a man stood beside the champorado stall, looking intently at our Bro. A and softly saying the word, "Brevstock."

Now, if you’ve been in Brevs long enough, you’d know that Brevstock is one of our legacy events. It’s where music meets mission. Where talents are offered as incense to God. So naturally, Bro. Alex, the founder of Brevstock, approached the man, thrilled to be hearing the word, and — in true Brev hospitality — offered him a bowl of champorado.

The man smiled warmly and declined... and then casually mentioned, mid-conversation, that he was actually the owner of the champorado stall. 😅

But what followed made us forget about everything else.

The man began to share his story — how his son once joined Brevstock years ago, and how that single encounter transformed his life. He said his son found a fire in him that day, a missionary zeal that has never faded. And now, his son is a missionary, traveling to other countries, sharing Christ.

What struck us deeply wasn’t just the testimony — it was the gratitude. The father was beaming with pride, overflowing with thanksgiving. You could feel how deeply moved and grateful he was that his son had that experience.

And here’s something even more humbling: they’re not even Catholics.

That’s the beauty of Brevstock. We’re not here to convert people to a religion. We’re here to invite hearts to encounter the living God. To create spaces where unity, worship, gratitude, and purpose converge — regardless of background. That’s the common ground we walk on: thanksgiving and praise to the Lord.

We were floored not just by the story, but by the timing.

Because sometimes, let’s be real — ministry gets heavy. We get persecuted, misunderstood, dismissed. We do things with the purest intentions and still get questioned. It can crush the soul.

But then God sends reminders. Through a bowl of champorado. Through a father’s heartfelt gratitude. Through a seed we once forgot we planted.

We don’t always get to see the fruits of our labor. In fact, many saints didn’t.

St. John of the Cross was imprisoned by his own brothers in the religious order he sought to reform. He died misunderstood and isolated. But his writings now inspire thousands to union with God.

St. Jeanne Jugan founded the Little Sisters of the Poor but was pushed aside and erased from her own community’s leadership. She died hidden, but her legacy lives on through the thousands of elderly poor people lovingly cared for today.

St. Charles de Foucauld dreamed of evangelizing the Muslims of North Africa, but saw no visible success. He died alone. Yet his spirituality gave birth to entire communities after his death.

St. Theresa of Calcutta said it perfectly:  "We are not called to be successful; we are called to be faithful."

These saints remind us of a painful and beautiful truth: the measure of success is not in the outcome. It is in the offering.

1 Corinthians 3:6-7 says it best: “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow.”

We may plant seeds in tears. We may not always be the ones to see the flowers. But God sees. And He is faithful.

So to every Brev out there — to every servant who feels unseen, every youth leader who wonders if it’s all worth it, every missionary discouraged by dry ground — know this:

You may not always witness the impact of your yes, but Heaven records it.

As for us? We’ll keep planting. Keep praying. Keep showing up — even if the only fruit we taste today is champorado.

Because our reward isn’t in the results. It’s the reason.