Not long ago, I visited an inner-city church in Washington, D.C. The facility was old, showing years of use, but it was clean and bustling with people on that Tuesday morning.
As the pastor described their various ministries-legal aid, health clinic, tenants association, tutoring program, as well as worship and traditional Christian education-I realized none of this would have happened without the godly ambition of key people.
What causes someone to recognize a need or an injustice and respond with compassion, courage, and wisdom?
Often it’s holy ambition, a divinely implanted drive.
This urge to achieve something significant for God is displayed at most of the pastors’ gatherings I’ve attended. Even when the stated agenda is rest and renewal, as we hear about one another’s successes, ambition is piqued. Other conversations center on “what I’d hoped to do but was unable to accomplish,” and we all walk away feeling, There’s more I should be doing.
I appreciate the encouragement to greater effort I’ve received from such events. For instance, one pastor testified: “A veteran pastor once warned me not to expect too much of people, because most of them live by God’s minimum requirements. I know what he meant: we give stars for people simply showing up!
“In preaching, he said, ‘Aim low; they’re riding Shetlands.’ But that approach frustrates me. The leader’s job is to challenge people to greater things, to raise the expectations.”
Another said: “For years this church struggled with indecisive leadership. When I arrived, they made it clear they wanted a ‘faster pastor,’ who was willing to initiate ministries and make decisions. I’ve tried to do what needed to be done.”
Yet another said: “The church has often been compared to a ship, but is it the Kon Tiki or the Love Boat? On the Kon Tiki, everyone has to work-you row or you’re thrown overboard! On the Love Boat, the majority of people lounge in their deck chairs and enjoy the ride or complain about the service-their choice.” His goal was more Kon Tiki in his congregation.
These pastors clearly had ambitions for their congregation, and they set demanding standards for themselves, too. May the tribe of those with holy ambitions increase.
And yet, ambition has a flip side.
A couple of years ago, I spent a day with my father-in-law, a Kansas farmer, hoisting hay bales from baler to flatbed truck. Afterward, we philosophized about city life and farm life.
“The biggest difference I see,” he said, “is that city people tend to expect each year to be better than the last. If they haven’t gotten a raise, acquired something new, or found themselves somehow better off, they’re dissatisfied.
“On the farm, you don’t expect the fields to yield more each year. You expect good years and bad. You can’t control the weather, and you pray that you avoid disaster. You work hard and accept what comes.”
This mentality does not translate into passivity, however. Dad Janzen works hard; he derives great pleasure from a field well-planted or a combine well-maintained. But his fulfillment doesn’t come from measuring this year against the last.
I’ve also met pastors who find their ambitions tempered with this godly contentment. Said one: “Ambition says, ‘You could be doing great things for Christ.’ The balancing voice says, ‘Christ is doing great things for you.’ That’s contentment.”
Another pastor, Mike Braun, with tongue firmly in cheek, recently sent us his goals for the year:
“1. To avoid being crucified or assassinated;
“2. To minister without attending a workshop, conference, campaign, or cruise that will help me and my church (1) win the world by l999, (2) improve either my serve, stride, grip, grasp, or gait, (3) sharpen my focus, faculties, finances, or finesse, or (4) deepen my sensitivity, heighten my wit, or fine-tune my feelings;
“3. To avoid merchandized manuals that promise to help me develop a broader budget, bigger evening service, or more bountiful auto allowance.”
Braun concludes, “Though Socrates said the unexamined life isn’t worth living, I suspect the over-examined life is only a half step better.”
His observation points to a significant truth: within a leader’s soul, ambition and contentment must coexist in peace.
Godly contentment is not a warm glass of milk that makes us drowsy, unable to be roused to outreach, compassion, or correcting injustice. Godly contentment means faithful effort.
And godly ambition avoids the sin of those tower builders on the Babylonian plain who decided to “make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth.” God stepped in to frustrate those plans and fragment those trying to elevate themselves, and he continues to set himself against pride and presumption.
His pleasure is in those who do their work wisely, faithfully, and “heartily, as unto the Lord.” And in those who trust him for the results.
Such is the ambition that brings lasting contentment.
Marshall Shelley is editor of LEADERSHIP.
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