The Crucifixion of Ambition

“It’s Friday, but Sunday’s a-comin’!”

Many of us have heard this old adage around the Easter season: Friday was a day of grief, pain, guilt, and intense suffering. It was the day the lamb of God, a true innocent, willingly gave His life for us at Calvary. However, on Sunday, Jesus rose from the dead and the power of His resurrection forever serves to assure us that in Him we have hope.  

Humbled by the miracle of these events, I have often wondered something…

What if Jesus had just bent a little more toward the will of the flesh and a little less toward the will of God? Surely the Son of Man could have afforded to be a little prideful and ambitious, right? I mean, this is the Messiah we’re talking about here.

Or not.

Although, Jesus was flesh and perfectly susceptible to sin, He was still perfectly spotless. He never lost sight of the path God had made clear before Him. He never gave up. He never succumbed to ambition, pride, or power. Even when the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor and told Jesus it would all be his if he would only bow down and worship him (Matthew 4:8-9), Jesus did not give in to temptation.

The ramifications of a selfish Christ are too tragic to comprehend.

But unlike Jesus, our flesh often fails us as we succumb to all the things Jesus overcame. Time and time again we fall to selfishness, to ambition, to pride because we are building for ourselves and not for God. And much too often we don’t realize it until we’re already boiling in the pot.

From the moment I set my heart on a career in education, I had my sights set on teaching high school English. However, as the job offers rolled in, I turned down two high school position and started in 8^th grade.

Divine providence or craziness, call it what you will, but I was hooked. Those awkward 8^th graders were a force of nature, my light. For six years I carved out a special niche, full of memories, learning, and fun, but even so, the high school itch became impossible to scratch. I had it all, it seemed. I was right where God wanted me. But still, I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted more.

So I stepped out of the comfort of my middle school boat and into the choppy waters of high school. I knew God had given me permission to go – He made it very clear – but for some reason I thought it would be smooth-sailing. When it wasn’t, I was beside myself.

In the education profession, being “promoted” typically means a change of job title – from teacher to department chair to counselor to principal, so when I became a 12^th grade English teacher, I thought I reached the pinnacle of my career. I had made it; I was at the top.

At some point though, despite a deep love for my students, my passion seemed to fade. I felt blocked out, stressed out, worn out, and tapped out. One night I confided in my friend, Brooke, that I didn’t know if teaching was my calling anymore. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. I lived to testify about my calling to education. It was such a deep-rooted part of my identity because it was God-ordained.

Until I felt like it wasn’t.

Theologian John Piper said, “Man was made to rely on God and give Him glory. Instead, man chose to rely on himself and seek his own glory – to make a name for himself,” and that’s exactly what I had done.

The moment I began staking the relevancy of my God-given calling on my position as a high school teacher was the moment I relegated Christ to the sidelines of my life. This was about control, and when you are trying to control your life the last thing you want is Jesus as a backseat driver.

In short, my selfish ambition made me feel as though I was brave for risking a move to high school, but I would have been braver if I had been risking in faith for God. While I sought to bring Him glory as a teacher, my offering came up a little short after my prideful deductions.

Regardless, Christ didn’t die so we could suffer under the weight of our own selfishness; He died so we could be overcomers. We’re all imperfect, but we're under His grace. In our imperfection, we can learn to lean further into Him, and that’s just what I did.

Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you want to be my followers, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it.” (Matthew 16:24-25)

I was holding on so tightly to my plan, my goals, my ambitions, that I stopped looking to Christ for guidance. The weight of my own selfishness was more than I could carry, and I fell into the temptation of pride, power, and the splendor of a job title I thought carried more prestige.

The moment I fixed my eyes on Him and His plans for my life, God accepted my obedience and opened my eyes to see the wonderful truths in His instructions (Psalm 119:18) which requires that I die to myself so that in Him I may live, and in this way I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20).

I can no longer build for myself, not when there is a Kingdom to build for. Through Christ’s sacrifice and ultimate resurrection, we have more power than we ever dare dream. God is working in us, giving us the desire and the power to do what pleases him (Philippians 2:13), and even if His plans do not fit ours, we can rest assured that His ways are better.

Just as the ramifications of a selfish Christ are too tragic to comprehend, so are the ramifications of a selfish life.

Lord, let us not fear your will, but let your will be done. You are our helper and our shield, you give and you take away, so I pray that you would help deliver us from ourselves – our selfish tendencies and prideful ambitions. Shield us from walking down paths we were never meant to travel, and give us holy guidance as we align our lives with your light. Just as Christ died for us, let us die to ourselves and be raised to new life with you. In Jesus’ name, Amen.