Word of Wisdom: Aspire
“Though ambition in itself is a vice…it is often the parent of virtue.” Quintilian
It’s said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder; an encouraging notion, given its implication that anything (and anyone) can be beautiful if only placed before the right “beholder”.
But even that breadth can’t match the scope of subjectivity of another human attribute, one that each of us has, in some form or fashion, bumped up against in life: ambition.
For while one might esteem as beautiful a person, place, or thing that another could sincerely deem not lovely in the least, there is in that differing assessment an agreement that beauty is a good thing; like Keats, all can affirm that a thing of beauty—if it is indeed thus—is “a joy forever”.
Ambition, in contrast, is subjective not only in its presence, but also its nature; in its existence as well as its essence. It is, to a large degree, why many of us have such a conflicted connection to the concept.
To wit, many of us have been identified as “ambitious” by someone, while being told by someone else—who interacts with our life from a different angle—that we “lack ambition”. That is the “existence” aspect: people can disagree whether ambition is actually present or not.
What is unique about ambition is the “essence” aspect: one person could call us “ambitious” and mean it as the highest compliment, while another could wield the term at us as the most cutting description of character deficiency—a three-syllable substitute for “self-centered, egomaniacal sociopath”.
The very nature of ambition is ambiguous: to one, it’s a virtue of the highest order; to another, a vice deserving its own circle in Danté’s Inferno.
How then to engage with it? For if there is a word, there is a thing behind it—amorphous though it may be. Let us, then, turn to the word itself to discern what contours might be discovered.
Fittingly, given its ambiguity, ambition has several definitions, largely mirroring its shapeshifting between virtue and vice. The dictionaries identify it as a mostly righteous “intent to achieve a particular end”, a rather run-of-the-mill “desire for activity or exertion”, or a mildly repellant “ardent desire for rank, fame, or power”. Its mid-fourteenth century forebear in Old French was slightly stricter in its chastisement, viewing it as “an inordinate desire for honor or preferment”.
Which leads us, as with many of our English words, to its Latin roots. The literal origin is fairly innocuous: ambition comes to us from amb- (“around”, as in ambulance and ambient) and ire (“to go”). Hence, ambition was “a going around”—specifically, in an effort to solicit votes. In other words: campaigning.
An ancient Roman Senator would thus have thought of ambition in two senses. First, in a political context, it was simply a part of the practical process of governing: the value-neutral act of securing votes to pass laws. Second, however, was the non-political context, in which we can see the development of the word’s slightly cynical connotation: the “going around” of ambition’s day-to-day was driven by “a thirst for popularity”, “a striving for favor”, “a pursuit of flattery”.
This gives us something to go on. It might just be that if we’re not currently serving in the noble profession of politics (hold guffaws, please), we would be well-served to scrutinize any sense of ambition we recognize in ourselves, a process of evaluating whether “a thirst for popularity” or “inordinate desire for fame and power” is animating our endeavors.
The discovery that indeed it is can sting, but it can also stimulate self-awareness, which we so desperately need in this season of life and leadership. If I am, deep down, thirsting for popularity and approval, why? Whose approval was I deprived of that led to the emptiness? If I am, in all honesty, really making choices based on a desire for recognition, control, or power, why? Where does a sense of powerlessness lie concealed in the recesses of my heart?
And if we wish to let go of a self-focused striving but retain the enriching energy of achieving worthy goals, what then? Are we left throwing the baby out with the bathwater in an effort to avoid ambition’s avaricious dark side?
To the contrary—as we enter more fully into the freedom of sonship, we find that the hubris of our human-oriented ambitions is replaced by the holiness of spirit-filled aspirations.
When we aspire, we are not “going around” for people’s approval, we are “going up”, we are “reaching” or “climbing up”, for spiritual approval, quite literally: aspire comes to us from the Latin ad- (“toward”) and spirare (“to breathe”), from which we get our word spirit.
To aspire, we find, is to transcend the bounds of horizontal flattery and experience the peace of vertical favor.
That is our blessing as sons. To release the pursuit of popularity and receive the presence of a Father who breathes into us life. To forego currying favor with those whose breath is in their nostrils, and instead treasure relationship with the Creator whose spirit fills the heavens and the earth. To cease striving for fame and flattery from mere mortals, so that we can enjoy a full inheritance of provision, protection, and profound promises from the Immortal One who draws near to us when we rest.
Then, in that rest and receiving, our hearts can inhale, our bodies can exhale, our minds can breathe the free air again that we have desperately desired for so long.
That is a worthy aspiration, indeed.
“…aspire to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business, to work with your own hands…”
1 Thessalonians 4:11