Dangerous Desire

I want something, and it's killing me.

Not literally killing me, of course. It's more like a slow decay. But the intermittent drip-drip of this potential poison that my desire invites demands that I wake up, take notice, and tread carefully.

And what I want isn't bad. Professionally, there's a position I seek. It's good and right and true to want to use God-given abilities in a way that impacts more people. My work should do that. I want to do that.

But when you want something, especially regarding your career, you end up doing a lot of self-talk in your head trying convince yourself and the future people you imagine listening to your earnest pleas that you are in fact the most worthy person for the position. You tell yourself all you've done to earn it, all your qualifications, all the reasons that there's no one on the earth more suited to have what you want than you. You become convincing and all the more convinced of your own worthiness, detail by minute detail. You think about this while lying in bed at night, or while on a walk, or while driving, or while daydreaming at lunch. You don't mean to, but it just keeps coming up: you are awesome, you deserve this thing that you've decided that you want, and you can't wait to convince decision-makers of the blessing that is you. At least that's how I do it.

Confidence is key. I should be confident. If I wasn't, I shouldn't want what I'm chasing. But I've got to be careful. Too much self-praise, self-focus, and self-assurance will rot my soul. I'll drive myself crazy building myself up. And a focus on my own worthiness will slide slowly into reasons why my competitors are not. Pride will turn competitive, and competition will build pride. Suddenly confidence becomes arrogance. Wanting this position for joy turns into wanting to win out of spite.

It's a delicate balance.

I also have to be okay with not getting what I want. Disappointed perhaps, but certainly not crushed. In a solid article that I came upon today, Jared Wilson challenges his readers to clearly see their place in the world:

You know, it's possible that God's plan for us is littleness. His plan for us may be personal failure. It's possible that when another door closes, it's not because he plans to open a window but because he plans to have the building fall down on you. The question we must ask ourselves is this: Will Christ be enough?

Will He? Or will a prolonged focus on self and a consistent desire for a position in this world make me less than willing to be satisfied in all situations? Am I still okay with believing in the sovereignty of God if his sovereign will for me isn't climbing personal mountaintops? I shudder to hear the answers, as long as I maintain this internal dialogue of my own brilliance.

Desire is good. I will not quit chasing this position. But I will recognize the potential pitfalls of this desire, work hard to stay grounded, and put myself in a position daily to be reminded that I am not God. If you see me in the next few weeks and I appear deep in thought, feel free to remind me of that yourself.