Rescuing Ambition

by Dave Harvey

True humility doesn’t kill our dreams; it provides a guardrail for them, ensuring that they remain on God’s road and move in the direction of his glory.

Ultimately, it’s we ourselves who hold ambition hostage. We’re sinners, we love ourselves, we aspire to bring glory to ourselves, and we’ll drop godly dreams if something more attractive shows up—and in the process, the right kind of dreams die.

we will always pursue glory. The only question is, Where will we find it? Will we love the glory that comes from God, or will we love other glories?

Ambitions rise to what we prize. If you perceive exercise as good, you’ll admire people who do it. If you prize exercise, you’ll rise to do it yourself.

Ambition is prizing something so much that we go after it; we’re willing to sacrifice to get it. The value I personally assign to it creates motivation and moves me to take action to obtain it.

consider that your pursuits—whatever they may be—reveal what you prize.

consider that what we pursue will ultimately define us. It will claim our time, absorb our resources, and shape our future. We perceive, we prize, we pursue. We have ambition.

But the good news of the gospel is that we aren’t trapped by the tragedy of misplaced glory. While our ambitious impulses led us to vain pursuits, the Lord of glory has come to rescue our ambition. He has come to redeem us and recapture us for his glory. Where we haven’t perceived the difference between true and false glory, he opens our eyes to behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. Where we haven’t prized that which has real value, he recalibrates our desires to fit his direction. And where we’ve pursued false glory, he turns us and sets our feet on the path of righteousness for his name’s sake—for his glory.

Jerry Bridges has said: For the most part Jesus’ life of perfect obedience has been seen only as a necessary precondition to His death. The truth is, however, Jesus not only died for us, He also lived for us. That is, all that Christ did in both His life and death, He did in our place as our substitute.5

All Jesus did in both His life & death, He did as a substitute for us. Amazing grace!

The clearing of our debt was a job half done. We needed something more than the removal of guilt. We also needed a Savior who could give us the perfection we did not possess. The righteousness necessary for God’s approval had to meet specific criteria. Nothing less would suffice than a life of perfect obedience, fully satisfying all the demands of the law.

His record of obedience in life and death formed the account of righteousness transferred to us at the cross. The death of Christ removed our debt and returned us to a zero balance. And the obedience of Christ put unimaginable wealth into our bank account.

R. C. Sproul says: The only way anyone can ever be saved is by works. God requires that His law be fulfilled. And unless you possess perfect righteousness, you will never be justified. Now the issue is this: By whose works will you be justified? Justification by faith alone means that we’re justified by the works of Christ alone.9

God didn’t ignore our sin. He judged it by pouring out his wrath on his Son. Christ took our punishment and gave us his righteousness. So what does God see? He looks past our sin to Christ’s sinlessness. He literally sees thirty-three years of Christ’s perfect works dripping off of us. Since Christ lived a perfect life and died a perfect death so that his perfect record of righteousness could be credited to imperfect sinners, this perfect record is what God sees when he looks at us.

The gospel brings me explosive news: my search for approval is over. In Christ I already have all the approval I need. Because Christ’s righteousness has been transferred to me, all the time and energy I once squandered trying to be liked or praised or to achieve something to validate my existence can now be redirected toward doing things for God’s glory. I no longer live for approval; I live from approval.

The riches of Christ’s obedience in life and death are what God sees when he looks at us. He no longer sees us wallowing in our naked grabs for glory, in our lies, lusts, or fears. Christ’s record of perfect obedience now frames God’s vision of our existence.

Does this mean God doesn’t care about a believer’s sin? Absolutely not. That would be unbiblical, as well as wrongheaded. As Christians, sin doesn’t touch our standing before God, but it can definitely affect our experience of God. When I lied to my dad as a kid, he didn’t stop being my father. But it sure did affect our relationship. My experience of his affection changed. His love was expressed in another way, a more painful way. The hand that often blessed me converted to a hand of discipline.10 I felt his displeasure, though I never stopped being his son. Make no mistake. Sin is real, and we can sin away a lot of good stuff. Sin robs our joy in God. It’s a delight-smasher. But sin never alters or reverses what Christ did upon the cross. It never causes God to withdraw his name or his acceptance from us.

He understands our struggles. Christ “in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15). We’re intentionally snubbed? Christ knows what it’s like. People ignore our contribution? Christ understands. We have to deal with someone who must have been absent when God dispensed the courtesy and respect gene? Christ experienced the same temptations that boil up within us. Rejection, people who disappoint, forgotten efforts—he was tempted in every way we are, “yet without sin.” Christ also empowers us to do what he calls us to do. We’ll be rejected, misunderstood, mistreated simply because of our association with him. Being ambitious for the glory of God isn’t an easy thing. We’ll face opposition from the fallen world around us and, certainly, from the remaining sin in our hearts. But Christ has come to live in and through us by the Holy Spirit. We pursue the glory of One who understands our weaknesses and has made provision for them.

approval should inspire ambition. And here’s the marvelous mercy that Christ’s obedience secures: it clears the way for us to experience true joy in ambition. Formerly our aspirations were the soul-shrinking agents of self-exaltation. But because of Jesus, everything has changed. Having God’s approval changes why we obey, aspire, and apply. Now aspiration fuels delight. We can pursue great things for God, and it will enhance our joy in God. We no longer live ambitious for approval, but we act ambitious because we have approval. Here’s the difference: One disillusions us, the other inspires us. One is temporary, the other permanent. One drives us, the other delights us.

The story of what became Operation Halyard builds toward a daring mission, a secret landing strip, and a clandestine evacuation plan involving C-47 cargo planes. Amazingly, more than five hundred airmen were rescued—every single man who had been confiscated by a peasant. Drama, suspense, daring. This has Hollywood blockbuster written all over it. But there’s a fascinating subplot to the rescue. To travel to the evacuation site, the airmen were entrusted to Serbian freedom fighters, who alone knew the way to the evacuation site. Despite a language barrier that prevented clear communication, the airmen spent weeks following their guides through unfamiliar terrain—waking and walking on command. The direction, the pace, and the destination were in the hands of their rescuers. The men had been saved from their enemy, but the journey wasn’t over. They still had to walk to freedom.

If God sees Christ’s wonderful works when he looks at me, isn’t that all that matters? Why should I do anything else? Why should I be ambitious for anything if the ultimate thing has already been given to me? Saved to Walk The story of Operation Halyard sheds light on an important spiritual reality. To be rescued from something sets us on the path toward something.

For the airmen it was a journey of survival. For us it’s a journey of faith. The One who saved us is now calling us to walk. It’s nonnegotiable. Though snatched from spiritual death, we soon discover that the Christian life isn’t an arrival—it’s an adventure. We experience a rescue, then we’re pointed to a path. The apostle Paul describes this active view of the Christian life in his letter to the Ephesians, urging them to “walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called” (4:1).

In Ephesians 4:1, Paul is building the bridge between doctrine and duty, principle and practice, creed and command. That stunning salvation we’ve received? We’re to live in a way that’s appropriate to it. “Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called.” Bridges aren’t for standing; they’re for getting somewhere. And here, on the bridge between the first and second half of Ephesians, we’re called to stoke up our ambitions and put on our walking shoes. Paul is saying, “Synchronize your walk with what Christ has accomplished. Since you’re declared righteous, now walk righteous. Since you’re declared holy, purify your ambitions and actions.”

Like Sarita, we’re called to become what God has declared us to be. Like the stranded airmen in Yugoslavia, we’re rescued to start walking. God saved us, adopted us, forgave us, declared us righteous in his sight, and altered our desires so they bend toward him. Then he says to us, “Now become what I have declared you to be.”

We’re now called by God to walk consistent with the mindboggling privileges we enjoy in Christ. Like seasoning in a delicious meal, the knowledge of our redemption permeates our soul and seasons our life with the character of Christ. This is the one thing most worth perceiving, prizing, and pursuing—an ambition essential to our joy, fruitfulness, and endurance in this life. If God has given us so much, then called us to walk worthy of it, there must be something glorious out there for us. He must have some agenda at work.

But here’s a truth we don’t always think about: God’s glorious agenda for our ambition, like his glorious gospel, begins not with what we achieve but with who we are. Walking in a manner worthy of the calling to which we’ve been called means I have a new ambition. Instead of gunning for my own glory or comfort, I’m ambitious for a changed life. This can be hard to wrap our brains around because we tend to evaluate who we are by what we achieve.

Ambition begins with knowing who we are in Christ and what we’re given because of that fact. But it trains itself for the game of life according to the agenda God sets for us. He shapes our ambition for the role he wants us to play in his plan.

God makes our forward momentum his business. That’s why so much of Scripture is dedicated to getting us walking, keeping us moving, and ensuring that we finish our course. But if God truly desires our forward momentum, why does it sometimes feel like I’m banging my glass head against a stone wall? My longings for impact are confusing and fragile; I just don’t know what I should do. Or maybe I’m not the ambitious type. I hunger for nothing more than a good magazine and a peaceful place to read it. God has an agenda: it’s to change us into the image of his Son. And one way he brings about this change is through our dreams and ambitions. God works in us through that to which we aspire. Sometimes God brings our dreams to life; sometimes he doesn’t. But how we respond to his work becomes an important intersection for change in our lives. As we cooperate with him, we discover that it’s not ultimately about nailing the promotion, or raising well-behaved kids, or winning the Daytona 500—as good as all those things may be. It’s about something much bigger: how I become like Christ while I pursue those dreams.

To be alive is to have delayed ambitions. Times when God’s to-do list says, “Postpone Dave’s dream . . . indefinitely!” Maybe it’s graduation, a job, a better job, health, marriage, a promotion, ministry opportunities—a delay in one or more of those areas is an experience common to all. And it’s nothing new. Take a number and stand behind a long list of biblical characters waiting while walking. Abram and Sarai are promised a child of their own but must wait twenty-five years for Isaac’s arrival. David is anointed the next king, but he must wait more than a decade while he runs for his life and lives in a cave. Paul is called to evangelize the Gentiles, but not before he punches the clock for fourteen years in the wilderness. It’s God’s way of doing things. Delaying the fulfillment of our dreams seems to be part of refining and rescuing ambition. How we live when ambitions are delayed significantly shapes who we become. How we live when ambitions are delayed significantly shapes who we become. God uses the wait to teach us to walk in a manner worthy of our calling.

Yet waiting is a strange thing. God’s purposes are not a bus stop where we just sit, waiting for the right option to come by. No, we keep walking while we wait, and we wait while we walk. This may sound ironic, but it serves many purposes.

God purifies our ambitions by delaying their fulfillment. An ambition with a waiting sign is an ambition being smoothed in a riverbed of God’s activity. The rough edges—the selfishness in our ambitions—become smooth. The ambition is purified. The dull exterior starts to shine.

God defines productivity differently. For God, productivity is wrapped up in transformation, in who we’re becoming, not in what we’re accomplishing. Waiting is often God’s reorientation program aimed at our definition of success. He lovingly empties our misguided preoccupation with accomplishment and fills it with ambitions to know him and be like him.

Waiting takes our definition of productivity to school. It tutors us to connect our agenda not to personal achievement but to God’s glory. Then we can bear God’s fruit, satisfied that his list is accomplished during our day, even when ours is not. “By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples” (John 15:8).

But sometimes God’s agenda for change involves losing our dreams. For many it goes beyond vocation. The fifty-something single woman concludes she’ll probably never marry. The man approaching retirement realizes he doesn’t have enough money to retire. Our spouse doesn’t change; the marriage is stalled and aimless. We’re drifting like a car with no brakes or steering wheel. The kids seem stuck and require too much work. The house or neighborhood or church or social network or—you fill in the blank—no longer satisfies. “We don’t realize how influential our dreams are until mid-life,” Paul Tripp says. “All of a sudden, we feel cheated, conned, and stuck. What satisfied us before doesn’t do it anymore.”6 But it’s more than just dissatisfaction. It’s the death of certain ambitions. It’s the burial of our dream.

It’s also a fact of the gospel that denied ambitions are part of God’s sovereign plan to direct our lives toward his appointed ends. God uses lost dreams to achieve his ambition for us—that we walk in a manner worthy of our calling.

The denial of ambitions isn’t ultimately a penalty or punishment. It’s the gracious work of a loving God defining the path for our walk. He installs fences along the way to keep us moving in his direction.

We find no peace in life until we’re convinced our path is his way and our place is his choice. That’s so important it’s worth repeating: your place is his choice. Fences and all. When God is fencing our ambition, it can sure seem to constrain our freedom. But fences don’t simply contain, they protect. A good fence keeps us on the right path and prevents us from hurtling over cliffs, even if it seems we’re chasing something good. Remember, God’s agenda for our ambition is about shaping us to use us. God isn’t beyond denying certain ambitions to achieve a greater good in us and through us.

Faith starts with God and fixes on God. That’s why Hebrews 6:1 calls it “faith toward God.” Faith comes from God and is quickened in us because of Christ’s death for us. I know, there’s plenty of “faith” teaching going around that instructs people to believe that faith generates its own creative power. But that leads us inward and selfward, not upward and Godward. Our faith doesn’t create prosperity, healings, and breakthroughs. Our faith focuses fervently on God. Biblical faith confidently—even ambitiously—asks God to act according to his promises. True faith then accepts the answer. Our faith stands on the unchanging character of God.

"Faith starts with God and fixes on God." Rescuing Ambition

If our understanding of doctrine creates passivity toward God’s empowering presence or cools the hot embers of our ambition, we’ve misunderstood God’s sovereignty. When we rightly understand God’s caring control over all things, that knowledge should ignite robust faith toward him and bold desire to act in our hearts. We see God more clearly so our ambition can reach further.

Drawing near to God, then, is not like climbing an endless spiral of steps toward some unknown destination. Drawing near to God is a life of intimate fellowship with a Person, a life of overwhelming wonder that puts everything else into perspective.

Paradoxically, when faith focuses on its main objective—drawing near to God—we don’t become religiously obsessed or “too heavenly minded to be any earthly good.” We actually get perspective, and we can deal with the complexities and curveballs of life in a balanced way.

drawing near to God by faith is not the way we fulfill our ambitions; it’s the only focus worthy of true ambition.

Unbelief is a decided distrust in the promises and character of God. Spurgeon describes unbelief as a “mistrust [of] the promises and faithfulness of God.”2

Unbelief is effectively calling God, if not an outright liar, at least a bait-and-switch artist.

That’s why it’s so important to see faith as a gift from God. If faith were from us, when it’s vanquished by unbelief, we would have lost it forever. But because faith is a gift coming to me as a benefit of the cross, we can access it by turning to Christ. I think we can all identify with the man who cried out to Jesus, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24).

Siva decided to trust God’s Word more than his feelings or his failings.

Do you find yourself caught in the trap of unbelief? Does God seem distant, preoccupied, unavailable? Have you followed what you thought was God’s leading only to find yourself on a difficult road? Like Siva, refuse to see yourself as a victim of your circumstances. This will free you to take your eyes off your circumstances and fix them on God. Then seek help. But don’t ask others for sympathy; ask them for the truth of Scripture. Ask them to remind you who this God is and why he’s worthy of your faith. This will help align your thinking with objective truth, not subjective interpretations or emotional thinking. Then confess the sin of unbelief and receive mercy in time of need. This will help you receive the cleansing of forgiveness and fresh faith for a new walk.

A significant part of faith is the confidence that God responds to faith. How crazy is this? God gives us faith as a gift, arranges our circumstances to call it forth, gives us grace to act boldly in faith—then rewards us for it! Faith is a work of God for which we are rewarded.

Selfish ambition would insist, “I have a right to do this. I need it. This fulfills me.” Ambition rooted in God says, “I don’t need it; instead I’ll serve wherever and however I can. This glorifies God.”

Hebrews 11 makes it clear that not every story of faith has a happy ending—at least not the earthly chapter of the story. Even though Lalani believed, her husband died at the hands of persecutors, her son grew up without a father, and her church was set on fire. But her faith was set to see the Savior, and she looked back at God’s faithfulness and found joy because she believed that God is real and that he’s a rewarder of those who seek him. There’s no way we’ll receive in this life all the reward for our faith. The truth is, our life on this side of heaven can’t hold all the reward. It’s stored up for us not because we need to be patient, but because it’s so magnificent we couldn’t handle it here. That’s why you’ll find folks like Lalani in the part of the Hall of Faith with this plaque over the door: These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. (Heb. 11:13–16)

It’s not that rights don’t matter. They do. When one person violates the rights of another, that’s injustice and oppression. But while we want to be known as defenders of the legitimate rights of others, we aren’t supposed to be known by our ambition to protect our personal rights.