Most leaders are ambitious, or at least somewhat ambitious.
And some of that’s good and God-given.
But let’s ask an awkward, difficult, and at times piercing question:
What motivates your ambition?
Mostly I don’t like that question because I don’t like the answer to that question.
Sometimes my motivation is selfish.
Most of us secretly want to be better known, valued and appreciated than we are.
I know I’ve struggled with this over the years. When I was starting out in ministry, I wanted to be that guy who spoke at conferences and was well respected as a leader in ministry. You don’t talk about that kind of thing much, but if you were to gain access to my sinful mind, the thought spun around in my head from time to time.
It doesn’t matter what court you play on, the game’s the same: many of us long to be better known and recognized in whatever our field is: to get the promotion, to see our product sell, to finally have that album cut, book published, our blog get traction or to find thousands of new Twitter followers, Facebook fans or Instagram likes.
Almost a decade ago now, God wrestled my ambition down. Well, that’s putting it nicely.
He snapped my ambition.
He crushed it.
He took me to a place where I realized that as much as I didn’t want to admit it even to myself, much of my motivation was selfish and not God-honouring.
Through a long season of prayer, God finally brought me to a point where I could see myself serving as an effective pastor without ever anyone knowing who I was. Without seeing meteoric growth. Without being in any way “successful”.
I hated that definition of success.
And I fought God on that.
But like Jacob wrestling the angel, a single touch to my hip socket left me powerless.
So I embraced it, reluctantly. As best I could, I surrendered my ambition to God.
Years later, I’m so glad I did.
I can see much more clearly now what I couldn’t see then.
Ambition kills servants of God and turns them into servants of themselves.
I’ve come to enjoy the slow death of selfish ambition in my life.
It’s not complete, (the surrender is regular and in some seasons, daily) but it’s in progress. Here’s what I’m learning and (now) loving about the difference.
When you’re motivated by selfish ambition:
Your personal sense of worth goes up and down with the opportunities ahead of you. When your ambition is godly, your value is solidly found in Christ every day.
Failure is terrifying. When your ambition is godly, failure becomes an opportunity for grace and growth.
You think you’re the deal. When your ambition is godly, you know that He’s the deal (love Casey Graham’s post on this).
You use people to get you where you want to go. When your ambition is godly, you value people as you go.
You take the credit. When your ambition is godly, you realize how much God and the people around you deserve the credit.
You strive for the breadth of exposure. When your ambition is godly, you focus on depth in your walk and let God determine the breadth of exposure he gives you.
You are always thinking about the next thing. When your ambition is godly, you’re always thinking about what God wants to accomplish in your life today.
You’re always comparing yourself to the other guy. When your ambition is godly, you begin to celebrate what God is doing through the other guy.
It’s hard to say no to any opportunity. When your ambition is godly, it’s easier to say yes to balance and priorities.
You feel entitled to any success that comes your way. When your ambition is godly, you simply feel grateful.
The need to win is greater than the need to love. When your ambition is godly, the need to love is greater than the need to win.
You are always insecure. When your ambition is godly, your security comes from His steadfast, unconditional love.
My journey isn’t over yet, but I’m glad it’s in process.
The ironic part of this story is that a year or so after God broke me on this issue, I got a call from a major church to speak at a conference in front of thousands of people.
And since then, I’ve had more opportunities to do what I used to dream of doing than I ever did before God broke me. I can’t and don’t accept all of them – and those I do, I hold more loosely than ever before.
And, on my good days, when they’re over, I’m not ‘fulfilled’ as much as I am grateful that God would use me in that way.
