“My unwillingness to believe that Thou hast called me to a small
work and my brother to a great one: O Lord, forgive.” -John Baillie
Throughout my life I have had a hidden thirst for the limelight.
Over the past year in studying the life of St. Teresa of Avila, I have had the
opportunity to understand this desire inside myself better. What follows is my
own personal account and reaction to View from the Top (book
reviewed in earlier post): this is neither normative nor prescriptive.
‘Maybe this is ambition,’ I have thought. ‘Maybe I even
deserve to be famous. I have had a hard life, you know. Oh, to be
famous and respected! What a reward at the end of the tunnel!’ As I read this
book about leadership, I could certainly identify with a few stories of those
who grew up underprivileged. I had to fight the urge to think, ‘It’s not too
late for me; I could still do it, you know.’
But in my life to pursue this path would be spiritual blindness.
Let me explain.
After graduating, I understand better why going off to college was
particularly challenging. I was stepping outside of my cultural norms—those
which see college as simply expensive, language as casual, family as central
(at the expense of culture, society, and world)—and into a world that acknowledged
globalization, the peculiarity of postmodern condition, the importance of
networking and making connections, a world that denies “fate.”
“How much must I un-identify myself with my heritage in order to
live out this class shift?” I wondered as I turned the pages of this book,
exposing the hidden underpinnings of power through elite networks.
To ignore the lessons I have learned from my family, church, and
friends—from growing up in a family that had to save to spend, that relied on
support from others—would be opportunistic. “Is it better to be famous or
faithful?” I ask. For me, I had to determine this in my own heart: It is not
always authentic to undergo the elite social conditioning necessary to raise
the ranks from poverty to privilege. Is there a motivation, which can justify
the denial of one’s family, for example, when that is exactly what it costs in
the eyes of someone who grew up with very little? “Don’t you forget your
family,” I was warned from a young age. On the ladder of success one might
first have to piggyback off of one’s family.
Then I think about my life as a disciple of Christ. The “Cost of
Discipleship,” the “seek ye first the kingdom of God,” and the “what shall it
profit a man to gain the world yet lose his soul” concepts steer my worldview.
Paul asks in Romans 9:21, “Does not the potter
have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special
purposes and some for common use?” And again, John Baillie’s poignant
prayer at the top of this post, I must beg of God. ‘Why do I want this fame and
recognition?”
My mentor rightly tells me, “You have to live with your
decisions.” We all have the capacity make our lives better.
But, the question I ask is nuanced.
Does one have the capacity to deceive himself as to where his
plain duty or inherent responsibility lies?
For me, a hidden secondary motive hides under my desire for fame
and significance that I have to deal with. It is a desire to prove to everyone
who has slighted me in the past that I was really somebody—even
extraordinary—that I might have the last laugh! That perhaps all
along I have been a victim of fate. In me--a quieted (but present) desire to become
famous—really, is something of a pipe-dream; it is actually an illusory
insecurity that I am less capable at being faithful to real people.
“I’m better off writing books or talking about concepts,” I think sometimes.
I learned a lot from the faithfulness of St. Teresa of Avila this
semester. She was a sixteenth-century mystic living in Spain during its Golden
Age.
- She wrote books, but only for the education of the younger women, her “daughters,” in her convent.
- She founded new monasteries, but only to answer the need for female equality and spiritual purity in Catholic Spain.
- She became famous, but not because she was looking for it. Her fame came because she answered a call of God.
- She is remembered and her writings are treasured today because she sought to pray intimately with God with her doors closed.
- She served the people around her well because she was faithful to her lot.
- She was a disciple of Christ.
And I realized that she knew something that I did not. Those of us
who, like me, have a capacity to see the world as our oyster have a lot to
learn from those who are faithful. I would rather be faithful to
those God has already put in my life than keep them at a distance by pretending
that I am already something important and surreptitiously networking to find my
way into a more elite power group. Should God open those doors, I hope to
respond faithfully.
Yes, I have to go back to what I learned as a kid. Growing up in a
working class family taught me something. The people in my life are not
objects, or platforms, and never a means-to-an-end. For me, it is never OK to
step on even one person if that’s what it would take to rise to the top.
However my relationship with Christ as his disciple asks something
more of me. It is an openness to God’s leading, as we find ourselves faithfully
responding to our lot in life. Is it better to be a female CEO than a stay-at-home mother? Is the
ability to wield influence the only marker of success?
Fredrick Buechner rightly says, “[t]he shrewd and ambitious man
who is strong on guts and weak on conscious, who knows very well what he wants
and directs his energies towards getting it, the Jacobs of the world, all in
all do pretty well.” Buechner is not talking about the man who breaks the law
or sins as obviously as Jacob did in stealing his brother’s blessing. He is
talking about the man who might manipulate his circumstances, who might take
advantage of someone’s generosity (or as Buechner calls it, stupidity), who
consciously uses ambition as a platform. He continues, “Power success,
happiness, as the world knows them, are his who will fight for them hard
enough; but peace, love, joy are only from God . . . [however] before giving us
everything, he demands of us everything; before giving us life, he demands our
lives—our selves, our wills, our treasure.”
Take this for an example. Do I see opportunities to serve or be
served? What is my world view? Were I to attend a charity function, would my
eyes be inclined to see what God should have me see if I were busy conspiring
to meet the bigwigs? "Where you treasure is, there will your heart be also."
---------------
That being said, I learned something important from reading this
book. Dr. Lindsay suggests that to ignore the intellect and privilege one is
blessed with is to sin against God… This helped me to change my perspective.
In many ways, I have been born of privilege. I am a college
graduate, I am studying now at seminary. I live in America. I have a loving and
supportive family. I have been blessed with friends and intellectual ability. In
my society both my race and gender afford me privileges that others do not have. Indeed, “We have little power, except
that which is given from above,” Jesus says to Pilate, the Roman prefect of the province of Judea.
I hope to respond humbly to the content of this
deep and meaningful work, View from the Top. May I respond
faithfully to the call of God on my life, while holding close the people who
have given to me in my life. This is my call.
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