The Role Of Ambition In A Christian's Life

“Ambition is a dream with a V8 engine." Elvis Presley

Living the Christian life is not only difficult, it is impossible. And one of the main reasons it is impossible for us to live for Christ (in our power) is that we are fighting a spiritual war on two different fronts. We have our internal battle, our constant tug-of-war between our spirit being led by Christ and our flesh being led by our desires, because we were born with a sin nature. (Romans 7:17-24) We also live in a world that has been marginalized and diminished by the curse of our original sin which has resulted in the distortion of God's desire for this planet. 

Then we have to factor in the presence, power, and influence of an ex-angel, who driven by selfish ambition, pursued his own agenda and rebelled against God. His rebellion resulted in not only his banishment from Heaven, but also of one-third of the angels that had lived in paradise before this choice. Now these fallen creatures have one goal, to steal, kill, and destroy as many humans for their cause as possible before their time runs out. 

Who Do You Belong To?

[From Reflections: My Time? My Body? My Soul? C.S. Lewis Institute]

One of the subjects C.S. Lewis addressed in his book "The Screwtape Letters" was the topic of ownership. In this book, Lewis is writing from the devil’s perspective — showing us his temptation playbook. In one letter, senior devil Screwtape writes to his nephew Wormwood:

"The more claims on life… that your patient can be induced to make, the more often he will feel injured and, as a result, ill-tempered. Now you will have noticed that nothing throws him into a passion so easily as to find a tract of time which he reckoned on having at his own disposal unexpectedly taken from him…

You must… zealously guard in his mind the curious assumption “My time is my own”… You have here a delicate task. The assumption which you want him to go on making is so absurd that, if once it is questioned, even we cannot find a shred of argument in its defence. The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and moon his chattels. He is also, in theory, committed to a total service of the Enemy…

A Tireless Searcher

"Life is hunger, thirst, and passion for an ultimate object, which looms over the horizon, and yet always lies beyond it. When this is recognized, man becomes a tireless searcher." 

- Luigi Giussani, The Religious Sense

The Death of Stonewall Jackson

 

General Stonewall Jackson's last words:

"Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.”

Guiney Station, Virginia | May 10th, 1863

To walk through the door of Guiney Station is to be transformed, as if transplanted by a time machine of sorts. The door through which you have entered is one hundred and sixty years old, and the stories it could reveal would be endless. The room itself, the bed, the blanket Jackson clutched at death, and the ticking clock on the mantle, all present when Jackson died, combine to create an sensation that is similar to walking in misty fields, searching, looking for the familiar and yet being tugged into an awareness of history that is rarely found on this planet. This is the place where General Jackson died, where his soul was ushered into eternity, thus changing the history of the United States of America. 

NOTE: I have shared my feelings in past writings about this man who still casts such a shadow over the Civil War and the Confederacy. If you are interested, you can read that HERE. 

Such a poetic farewell from Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson probably astonished those who surrounded his deathbed that quiet sunny Sabbath in rural Virginia, twenty-seven miles from the bloody battlefield of Chancellorsville. More true to form had been his hallucinatory ravings the previous several hours, mostly commands, terse and to the point, that brooked no contradiction—“Push up the columns! Pendleton, you take charge of that. Where’s Pendleton? Tell him to push up the column!” Only his wife knew the gentler side of his personality, rooted as it was in loneliness and insecurity. To everyone else on the wider stage of Civil War topography—what was becoming, in point of fact, the bloodiest war ever fought on earth—“Old Jack” presented a picture of total mayhem, the hunter who, if he had his way, would never grant quarter to an enemy. “Draw your sword and throw away your scabbard,” was his battlefield credo. “Give them the bayonet! Kill them, sir! Kill every man!”