Why being better than others makes us worse

“When the Chapter heard that he had been made a bishop, everyone groaned.”

I’m not saying which Chapter—that is, the group of Anglican clergy serving a particular area of parishes—except that it was nowhere near here and not one I have ever attended.

Nor am I saying which bishop. I occasionally chatted with him at various conferences, but he belonged to another diocese and was someone with whom I have never worked. So there is no way you can work out whom I am talking about.

The point is that this particular clergyman (and, typically, he was a man) was known for his overwhelming personal ambition. He was eager to become a bishop, not least for the status it would bestow upon him. You could sense that simply by talking to him. Conversations often left the impression that people were valued according to how useful they might be in advancing his career in the Church of England.

It is a pity he did not read the excellent book I have just finished: The Cost of Ambition by Miroslav Volf, a Croatian theologian now resident in the United States. The subtitle says it all: How Striving to Be Better Than Others Makes Us Worse. It’s worth reading, particularly with the hardback currently being cheaper than the Kindle edition.

Certainly striving to be better than others is a powerful force in our society—and indeed in our fallen human nature, to be the top dog, the number one celebrity.  However in such a pursuit, you are courting danger. 

Drawing on Scripture, particularly Genesis, the teaching of Jesus, and the writings of the Apostle Paul, alongside thinkers such as Søren Kierkegaard and John Milton, Volf demonstrates that ambition rooted in comparison breeds anxiety, envy, pride, and dissatisfaction. Even success proves hollow because there is always someone wealthier, cleverer, more influential, or more successful.

In contrast, he points us to Paul's words:

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)

The apostle then urges, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,” before quoting the great hymn of Christ's self-emptying, culminating in the words: “...he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”

Even so, did not two of Jesus’ three closest disciples, James and John, ask him on the eve of Calvary:

“Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”

They wanted to be joint number one in his kingdom—to the alarm of the other ten disciples, who almost certainly wanted the very same. Their ambition showed that they had completely missed the point.

As Volf painfully observes, many institutions reward competition rather than faithful service, encouraging people to measure their worth by outperforming others instead of living gratefully before God. Sadly, this has sometimes been true of the Church of England.

In fact, some thirty-five years ago, when I was preparing to move from Rochdale to Aughton, I had a ringside seat in a huge disagreement between the two key figures in the national appointments process for the CofE. One was deeply wary of anyone actively seeking promotion, while the other positively encouraged personal ambition.

Regarding ambition, Volf makes an important distinction between the pursuit of excellence and the pursuit of superiority. Excellence enriches both ourselves and those around us; superiority inevitably turns other people into rivals to be overcome.

So what is the difference?

I didn’t realise that Linda was tracking me at the Ormskirk ParkRun a couple of months ago. I crossed the line in 29:17; she was just one second behind me.

The following week the same thing happened, except that this time she almost caught me. My time was 29:29; hers was 29:30.

Then, the very next Saturday, she beat me by some eleven seconds. Yet I was overjoyed because I had run 28:41, my fastest time for twelve months, an amazing 49 seconds quicker than the previous week. I can only run that sort of time when I am being stretched by competition.

In other words, my aim is not to beat Linda, but to run as well as I can. Competing with Linda is not the goal; it is simply the means to a more worthwhile end. 

And so Volf urges us to strive for excellence in its own right because it glorifies God and serves our neighbour, not because it elevates us above someone else. Humility, gratitude, contentment and love become the marks of genuine greatness, rather than status or achievement.

For, as Paul points out so clearly:

“Who made you superior to others? Didn't God give you everything you have? Well, then, how can you boast, as if what you have were not a gift?” (1 Corinthians 4:7 GNB)

The question undercuts all pride, because every talent, opportunity and success is ultimately a gift, a gift of sheer grace.

Our Christian calling is not to be better than others, but to become the people God created us to be, honouring one another and, in Paul's words, considering others better than ourselves.

Perhaps the true measure of a life well lived is not how high we climb above others, but how faithfully we use the gifts God has given us for his glory and for their good.