Ambitious (Genesis 11.1-12.3)

We’re taking a break in our series on 1 Corinthians, which we’ll pick up after the summer holidays. For the next four weeks, before we head into the Psalms, we’re going to be doing a series of messages that get to the heart of what we do as a church, and why we do it. 

We asked everyone in our home groups this week how they’d define the word “ambition”. The definition in itself isn’t that difficult—it’s an ardent desire to have or to achieve something. The trickier thing is to decide whether or not ambition is a good or a bad thing. Most of us agreed that it can be good, but there’s often a negative connotation attached to the word. We’re suspicious of people who are “ambitious.”

As you know, we planted Église Connexion in 2014. Église Oberkampf is in the process of being planted right now. We belong to a church planting network called Acts 29, a network of churches that want to plant other churches in other areas to be able to share the gospel more effectively.

When a church is planted, there’s always a pastor who takes on the responsibility of planting the church, usually with a team of people working with him. Every church planter faces a struggle. On the one hand, a church planter has to be ambitious, in the sense that he sees a need, he sees an opportunity, he wants to do it, and he is crazy enough to think that he actually can do it—actually go and meet that need.

That is an ambitious desire, and it’s a good thing. 

On the other hand, a church planter is never less than a pastor—and ambition (in the ordinary sense of the word) is not one of the biblical criteria for being a pastor. In fact, more often than not the opposite is true.

A pastor is called to be above reproach, gentle—a servant of his people. He is not to be self-serving. But the ambition of a pastor (or any kind of leader in authority) can become self-serving very, very quickly. A pastor, by definition, has at least some spiritual authority over the people in his church, and it’s very easy to start using that authority to serve yourself, to serve your own ego, to serve your own needs for validation. And if the project, and your role in it, becomes more important than the people, then people get hurt. 

So here’s the struggle: how do you take on a project that is inherently ambitious, while at the same time, refusing the wrong kind of ambition in your own place in the project? How do you guard against that?

Sooner or later, all churches will be faced with this problem. We want to dream big, and we want to see the church grow. We want to set goals for ourselves that aim high, and we want to see those goals achieved. At our church weekend last week, we made a big timeline of the church, where people could write all the different things that have happened in our church over the last few years, all the reasons why we’re encouraged.

It would be really easy to look at that timeline and think, We’re doing great. 

But the ambition of the church is not meant to be the same kind of ambition as what we find in the world.

So how do we thread that needle? How can we be truly ambitious for the kingdom of God, while at the same time growing in humility and Christlikeness?

That’s the question we’ll be asking for the next few weeks.

We’re calling this series “Ambitious”, because the Bible really does direct God’s people to great ambition. Few endeavors could be considered more ambition than the creation of a world—and yet, that is how the Bible begins. God creates the world and everything in it, then he creates man in his image. This means that he created man to reflect something of who he is—which is where our ambition comes from. We have desires and plans for ourselves because we were created in the image of a God who has desires and plans for us. 

But then we come to Genesis chapter 3. The serpent comes to the man and the woman in the garden and tempts them. This first temptation is, essentially, a call to ambition. The serpent tells the man and the woman, “If you disobey God, you will be like him.” 

Hard to get more ambitious than that.

So man rebels in his desire to be like God, the world is plunged into sin, and we see its marks ever since.

Man’s Ambition (Gen. 11.1-9)

We’re going to look at one of those marks first, in Genesis chapter 11. If you remember, human beings multiplied, and they dove into such terrible debauchery that God actually destroyed the earth in judgment, in a flood, saving only one family and the animals. Now that family has again multiplied, and they find themselves in one particular place. Let’s start reading at Genesis 11, verse 1.

Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. 2 And as people migrated from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there.

Noah’s family has multiplied—there are, at the very least, several hundred thousand people—and they’ve all congregated together in one place. And naturally, they all speak the same language.

In itself, this isn’t a problem. This is a city; cities are where people congregate. Their assembly isn’t the issue.

V. 3: 

3 And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. 4 Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.”

Growing up I always heard this story taught as an example of the horrors of hubris. But if we look at this objectively, we have to admit that there’s nothing wrong with building a tower—even a really big one. There’s nothing wrong with building a city. 

If all the text told us was that these people decided to build a really big tower, it would be difficult to identify the problem. But that’s not all the text says—we see it in why they want to build the tower. We see it in v. 4.

1. “Let us make a name for ourselves.” 

Obviously, our minds immediately go to someone like Donald Trump, with his Trump Tower: he built the biggest skyscraper in Chicago and literally put his name on it, so that everyone who looks at it will think of him.

But in the Bible, names are more than just markers of identity; they’re markers of significance. “I want to make a name for myself” is another way of saying, “I want to be remembered; I want to be known; I want to be admired.”

Their desire to build this tower to make a name for themselves is, at its core, an inward-focused desire. And it’s one we understand. Everyone wants to be known; no one wants to be forgotten. So even in this respect, we understand this desire. 

But that’s not the only goal that’s driving them. These people don’t just desire recognition; they also desire something that goes against what God intended for humanity. 

2. “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.”

When God first created man and woman he gave them the mission to multiply and fill the earth. God created this massive earth, and he wants people everywhere, so that they can care for it. Instead, all of these people are centered in one city.

It’s hard to know exactly what notions of God these people had at this time; Noah definitely knew God, and so there must have been knowledge passed down through generations, but this is now several hundred years later. God hasn’t given his law to Moses yet, he hasn’t made the people of Israel. So maybe they’ve forgotten a few things.

Maybe they’ve forgotten what God told man to do. 

Regardless, this notion of being dispersed is clearly on their minds—as we see in v. 4, they’re afraid to be dispersed, because there’s power in numbers, and there’s safety in numbers. 

You see the problem? These people are motivated by a desire for personal glory, and by a feeling that they need to be self-reliant. We need to take care of ourselves, because no one else is going to do it for us. We want to be great, and we want everyone to know it.

Then we come to v. 5, which is honestly pretty funny. 

5 And the LORD came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of man had built.

These people are building a tower with its top in the heavens…and God has to come down to see it. If you go to the foot of the Eiffel Tower and look up, it’s impressive. If you see a satellite image of the Eiffel Tower, you can tell it’s big, but it’s a little less striking. Human glory always looks bigger from the ground than it does from heaven.

So God decides to act. V. 6: 

6 And the LORD said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language, and this is only the beginning of what they will do. And nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. 7 Come, let us go down and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.” 8 So the LORD dispersed them from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. 9 Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the LORD confused the language of all the earth. And from there the LORD dispersed them over the face of all the earth.

There are two mistakes people typically make when they read this passage. The first is to imagine that God scrambles these people’s language because he is somehow intimidated by them, as if God is afraid of having a competitor. 

When your kid is learning to ride a bike, you wait for a while to remove the training wheels—but you don’t wait because you’re afraid that if you take off the wheels, the kid will be faster than you. You keep the wheels on so that the kid can learn, so he won’t fall. 

Just a few verses earlier, God literally made a flood that covered the entire planet. God’s not intimidated by anyone. These people are no competition for him.

The second mistake we make is to imagine that what God does here is a statement about the gravity of these people’s sin. I’m not convinced that’s the case. Just a couple of chapters earlier, God destroyed nearly all life on earth with a flood; that is a judgment against grievous sin. And later on, in chapter 18, God destroys the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, in judgment for the horrors of their sin. 

But that’s not what he does here. God destroys nothing; no one dies. It is a judgment, but a judgment of a different sort. God recognizes that these people will achieve much of what they set their minds to, because they were made in his image. But he also recognizes something in their ambition that will push them in a direction that isn’t good for them. 

It isn’t good for them, firstly, because it’s not what God had planned for them. God knows what he’s doing. When he told man to fill the earth, he had a reason for it. 

And second, it isn’t good for them to pursue this particular ambition because it is inward-focused, and unified rebellion is dangerous. 

To put it simply, when God confuses their language, it is a judgment against them, yes; but it is also a protection for them.

Sometimes one of God’s mercies is that he lets our towers collapse.

Failure isn’t always judgment; but if we belong to God, failure is a tool in his hand to protect us from ambitions that would harm us. Ambition itself isn’t a bad thing; but it takes great wisdom to wield it properly. 

Human ambition is incredibly fragile, able to be shattered in an instant—and the shattering of our ambition leaves us hollowed out and scarred, because we almost inevitably wrap our identities up in our own ideas of what we want for ourselves. 

But the only being properly equipped to wield unfettered ambition is God himself. And that’s what we see just a few verses later.

God’s Ambition (Genesis 12.1-3)

Genesis 11 ends with scattering, confusion, and frustrated ambition. People scatter, separated by language. 

Then we arrive at Genesis 12, which begins with these words: 

Now the LORD said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. 2 And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. 3 I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

Abram does not appear in Genesis 12 as a spiritual hero who has earned God’s attention. At this point, Abram is a new character in the story. He’s done nothing remarkable that we know of. And yet God comes to him, gives him a command, and makes him a promise.

God’s answer to Babel is not the abolition of ambition. God promises Abram the very things Babel wanted. The difference is that with Abram, everything comes as a gift, not as a personal goal.

That’s the first difference between sinful ambition and godly ambition. Sinful ambition tries to obtain what only God can give. Godly ambition receives from God and becomes a blessing to others.

So first Abram receives a command that flies in the face of the ambition of Babel. At Babel, humanity said, “Let us stay together, lest we be scattered.”

To Abram, God says, “Go.”

The people of Babel were afraid to be dispersed, because there’s safety in numbers. God commands Abram to walk into the unknown, away from the safety of his people, and entirely depend on God’s faithfulness to fulfill his promise.

God’s ambition for Abram begins by dismantling Abram’s natural securities—not because God is cruel, but because Abram can’t be the bearer of God’s promise while clinging to the same self-made securities as the people of Babel. 

So it’s not an easy call to receive. But with the call comes a promise.

V. 2: 

And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great…

Here, the contrast couldn’t be clearer. (We’re going to see a lot of these, and it may seem like it’s a bit too convenient—but the Bible is extraordinarily clear. God often directs history to give future generations examples and contrasts for the present. The contrast is purposeful.)

Babel wanted a name. God gives Abram a name.

Babel wanted greatness. God promises greatness.

Babel wanted security. God promises blessing.

Babel feared scattering. God promises a family that will touch every other scattered nation of the world.

God promises Abram something far more grand, far more ambitious, that what the people of Babel were going for. The issue was never that greatness is evil. The issue is who defines greatness, who gives it, and what it is for.

At Babel, greatness is self-made and self-serving. With Abram, greatness is received from God, and on mission for God.

And at every step in the fulfillment of this ambition, the chief actor is God himself. The phrase repeated several times in chapter 11 is “Let us”—let us build a tower, let us make a name for ourselves… The repeated phrase in these verses is “I WILL.” I will make you a great nation. I will bless those who bless you. I will make your name great. Abram isn’t the architect of this ambition; he’s the recipient of it.

And there is one final contrast we see here. For the people of Babel, their ambition had a self-centered goal: it was the goal of self-worth and self-preservation. God’s ambition for Abram has a different goal. God promises to make Abram’s name great, so that Abram’s family will be a blessing to others.

V. 3: 

…in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.”

God blesses Abram so that Abram will be a blessing.

God’s ambition is not mainly for Abram himself. God’s ambition is global. All families. All peoples. All nations. It’s outward focused, not inward.

Genesis 12 is the beginning of the answer to the fracture of Genesis 11.

Babel scatters the nations in judgment. Abram is called so that the scattered nations may one day be blessed.

And we see that promise fulfilled in Jesus Christ, descendant of Abraham, through whom this blessing comes to the nations. 

At Babel, God comes down to judge human pride. In Christ, God comes down to suffer judgment for proud sinners.

At Babel, languages are confused and nations are scattered. At Pentecost, the Spirit enables the nations to hear the mighty works of God in their own languages.

At Babel, man tries to make his own name great. In the gospel, God gives us the name of Christ. (As we see in Revelation 22.4.)

Christian ambition is not the attempt to become impressive. It is the call to spend our lives under the name of Jesus, for the blessing of others, to the glory of God.

Conclusion

Over the next couple weeks we’re going to be talking about specific ways a God-focused ambition can play out in our lives and in the lives of our church. But before we can even start to think in that direction, we need to fully understand the basics. 

I don’t consider myself to be a particularly ambitious person. I worked for ten years as an English teacher, and I liked it. I’d be pretty happy working a normal job, living with my wife and raising our kids.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not ambitious. 

We can see this really easily, especially in our era of social media. Whether we’re on social media or not, we’ve been trained to market ourselves for others, to show them how good and happy and successful we are. And we’ve been trained to market ourselves to ourselves. We’re being trained to look at our life, to think about what we want, and to determine whether or not we’re “successful”. 

How many of you know what it’s like to be dissatisfied with the life you’re living? To feel like you’re not doing enough, haven’t found your place, not following your passion, not living up to your potential?

None of those things are bad, but why do they matter so much to us?

They matter to us because we’re ambitious. We were created to be ambitious. The question isn’t, “Are you ambitious or not?” You are.

The question is, “What shapes your ambition? Is your ambition the ambition of Babel, or the ambition of God?”

Are you trying to make a name for yourself? Or are you willing to let God direct your name, your future, your work, and your significance—however he decides to do that?

I’d be lying if I said I don’t want people to remember me; of course I do. And sometimes that desire can turn inward. Sometimes it can become selfish. 

But I’ll tell you what I want—or rather, what I want to want. I want people to remember me, but when they think of me, I want them to remember Jesus. When people remember my name, I don’t want them to think of Église Connexion; I want them to think of Jesus. When my kids remember me after I’m gone, I don’t mainly want them to remember me; I want their memories of me to make them think about Jesus.

It’s really hard for me to keep that desire in check, because there are always self-serving desires that compete with it. But that is my deepest desire: when people think of me, I want them to think of Jesus. I want them to remember how God blessed them (I can say “through me,” but that’s an afterthought). The best think anyone could possibly say about me is, When I looked at him, I saw Jesus.

The best thing anyone could say about us is, When I look at this church, I see Jesus. 

When we’re in heaven, I don’t care a bit if anyone ever mentions the name of Église Connexion. But I would love for people to look back and remember our church and say, “God was so good to me. God blessed me through them, during that time.”

That is ambitious. And what a waste it would be to try for anything less. How silly is it to waste our lives building towers God will have to tear down?

Let him define greatness. Let him give you his name. Let him direct the mission. And let your life become what Abram’s life was called to become: blessed by God, and therefore a blessing to others.