The Sin of Thinking Too Small

Ambition—what a suspicious word. To some, it’s synonymous with pride, self-promotion, and vaulting oneself above the humble estate of the faithful. Lofty aspirations? Surely those are incompatible with piety, right? Wrong. The real enemy of faith isn’t too much ambition; it’s far too little. Far from inspiring great aspirations, sin has a nasty habit of shrinking the imagination, locking humanity in a prison of paltry expectations.

The cultural mandate—subdue the earth, exercise dominion, be fruitful, multiply—requires nothing less than sanctified ambition. The Great Commission demands an even grander vision: discipling the nations until the knowledge of God fills the earth as the waters cover the sea. Neither mandate will succeed at the hands of the timid. Victory belongs to those who think in terms of crowns and realms, who understand their place in God’s unfolding story and strive toward it with both conviction and creativity.

Consider the Jewish leaders of Christ’s time—stumbling over the fact that Jesus didn’t show up with a sword to drive out the Romans. Their sin wasn’t in wanting too much but in expecting far too little. They craved the restoration of Israel’s earthly kingdom, but Christ came offering something infinitely larger: a kingdom that transcends Jerusalem, outlasts Rome, and crushes even death. They could not grasp that He was promising them an inheritance, co-heirship with the Son of God Himself, and freedom that went beyond temporal politics. Their shortcoming wasn’t ambition—it was their utter lack of it.

Some Christians think that if they starve desire, they’ll fend off vanity, as though a pious lack of ambition pleases God more than the grand endeavors He Himself commands.

When we worship an eternal, omnipotent, and sovereign God, our response should be nothing less than visionary. The kind of vision that topples evil kingdoms and builds civilizations. In contrast, idolatry always seems to shrink humanity, reducing their aspirations to a feeble craving for the momentary and trivial. It turns men into slaves of the present, unable to think beyond their appetites. Its reward? Bitter fruit, and the promise of divinity that vanishes like mist.

And what about ambition cloaked in modern sophistication? Take the average woman today who, enchanted by feminism’s hollow promises, trades her glory—the capacity to influence generations—for the rat race of careerism. Oh sure, she might receive her fleeting moment of triumph, a brief congratulatory nod from the world for having "stuck it to the patriarchy," but her crowning moment fades into the loneliness of realizing that she’s traded multi-generational and eternal influence for temporary applause.

John Piper was right when he referred to the idea that sin has us trading a beach for a muddy sandbox. Humanity never really dreams too big; it just dreams poorly. And in the end, the trade-offs are never worth it.

Even within the church, a peculiar fear of ambition lingers. Some Christians think that if they starve desire, they’ll fend off vanity, as though a pious lack of ambition pleases God more than the grand endeavors He Himself commands. Humility, for them, looks like minimalism—never daring to dream big or to build great things for the kingdom. They starve want and baptize lack as pious contentment, equating simplicity with righteousness and complexity with worldliness. They shrink from glory, terrified to grasp what Christ died to give them: the privilege not just to behold glory but to build it.

But in truth, this lack of ambition risks pulling Christians into a consumer mindset, where they can produce little of worth and only sit in judgment of those who do.

We ought to dare, dream, and risk for the sake of the kingdom. Christians should be at the forefront of creating the future, praying prayers that ask not only for daily bread and minor mercies but also for strength and wisdom to build Christ's kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. The great sin of unbelief and lack of ambition go hand in hand, lifelong friends who never quarrel.

Consider this: What if Christians dared to build spaceships? What if they led media empires, dominating the narrative landscape? What if they pioneered a new healthcare system, reforming hospitality, human care, and compassion? Imagine cities built on the Christian model, where political and economic structures protect human dignity and freedom. What if Christians took on tyrants with the strategic, confident resolve of seasoned warriors? Why not Christians building the best schools and universities? Why not the most awe-inspiring architecture, the kind that endures and thrives for centuries? Why shouldn’t Christians produce world-class athletes, authors, filmmakers, musicians, and artists who set the highest standards?

And yet, we are often content with proclaiming a Gospel that changes hearts but never dares to shape culture. The world mocks this lack of ambition by filling the gaps of our apathy.

The great sin of unbelief and lack of ambition go hand in hand, lifelong friends who never quarrel.

In Christ, victory is inevitable, not because of our power but because He is the King of Kings. He commands us to move forward with confidence, knowing that all authority in heaven and on earth is His alone. Christianity has built the greatest civilizations in history, not because Christians shy away from greatness but because they dare to aim for it.

Our faith has always had the power to build new worlds and transform old ones, to turn back tyranny and produce flourishing in even the most desolate places. Christianity has the power to create beauty, order, and peace, to be the seedbed of great art and human flourishing. And it is for precisely these reasons that Christianity is under such relentless attack. The world hates it because it is the single greatest threat to vice and to the lie that man can thrive apart from God.

It’s long overdue for more Christians to harness the boundless power of their faith and stop treating it like a well-meaning hobby. We ought to think grand thoughts and attempt great things, not for self-glory, but for the highest of ends—the advancement of Christ’s kingdom. After all, we serve a great God who gave us a great mandate, gifted us a great redemption, secured us a great hope, granted us great promises, offered us a great inheritance, and guarantees the greatest of victories. To Him be the glory, now and forever.