While Thoreau’s Walden is seen as a central text of that most American of virtues—self-reliance—quiet ambition as envisioned by Tinetti is exactly the opposite: dependence on God.
The Quiet Ambition: Scripture’s Surprising Antidote to Our Restless Lives. By Ryan P. Tinetti. IVP Formatio. Hardcover. 213 pages. List price: $24.99
In July 1845, Henry David Thoreau left his home in Concord, Massachusetts to lodge on the banks of Walden Pond, surrounded by the beauties of nature. He was not the first city dweller to flee to the country in the heat of summer, nor the last to find contentment in peace and quiet. But Thoreau’s journey was more intentional than most, as he would write in his famous book Walden.
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived,” he wrote. Most people, Thoreau felt, were not conscientious enough to engage in such a philosophical exercise—to drive down to life’s foundational purpose. “For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to ‘glorify God and enjoy him forever.’”
The need to do something with one’s life, to have a purpose, to leave a legacy: this is the heart of human ambition.
In his new book, The Quiet Ambition, Ryan P. Tinetti uses Thoreau’s observations as his framing device and argues that human beings are locked in a constant struggle against the desperation that saps their souls, often quiet but immensely powerful. The need to do something with one’s life, to have a purpose, to leave a legacy: this is the heart of human ambition.
Tinetti differentiates between restless ambition and resigned ambition, the former about personal advancement and the latter a form of despair or apathy. Restless ambition attempts “to stave off existential anguish with frenzied activity—to generate meaning by means of plugging away.” (13) Whereas resigned ambition is marked by checking out, quiet quitting, and hopelessness, sometimes culminating in addiction and suicide. “It’s the quicksand of quiet desperation at its most lethal.” (15)
Tinetti points us instead to quiet or unambitious ambition, a daily exercise of hope in God. “This unambitious ambition is a way of being in the world that weds together conviction with contentment, drive with depth. And it can be an antidote to the threat that Thoreau identified, a way to escape the quicksand of quiet desperation by leading quiet lives of hope.” (23)
Tinetti centers the book on Paul’s words in 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12, where the apostle urges his readers “to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one.” Tinetti sees this not merely as an aside or personal admonition tacked on to a doctrinal treatise, but a doctrinal matter in and of itself: a summation of the vision Scripture casts for the Christian life based on a quiet confidence in the finished work of Jesus Christ.
The real danger, Tinetti argues, is not ambition itself, but misdirected ambition. “If this ambition is the selfish love of one’s own honor (as we see at Babel), then it is plainly negative. If it is for the love of another’s honor (especially that of the Lord), however, then it can and should be regarded as a good and God-pleasing thing.” (28) He writes “for those who think they have not done great things for God, who want their lives to mean something, who want to use their talents well but who fear that their efforts can never amount to much.” (4) The basis of our work as Christians and as creatures is not to make a name for ourselves, but to take refuge in the name of Christ. “Because Christ has given us his name, our daily labor, carried out in faith, has lasting worth. That’s the upshot of the resurrection. Our lives are not for nothing.” (38)
The quiet part of quiet ambition means avoiding the “noisemakers” in life that distract us from the call of the one true Shepherd. “It’s the static that keeps us from detecting the divine signal and reflecting the divine Savior. It’s what distracts us from the truth of God. Modern life provides no shortage of such noise.” (47) But contrary to what religious sages have argued over the millennia, living quietly is not synonymous with living in isolation or harsh asceticism.
To be sure, simplicity is essential; it is not only a virtue but also a spiritual discipline that accords well with leading quiet lives of hope. But that’s different from joyless abstention …. To live quietly, then, is to live eucharistically: filled with thanksgiving, from the Lord’s Table to the supper table.” (66)
This is in line with Martin Luther’s understanding of the Christian life: unsurprising given that the author is a Lutheran pastor now teaching at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis. Tinetti builds on Luther’s teaching that our good works are not for the benefit of God, but instead for our neighbors. He describes this as tending one’s own business and letting God tend his. “Furthermore, there is both a passive and an active side to tending your own business: receiving God’s labor on your behalf, on the one hand, and on the other responding with your own labor on behalf of your neighbors. This distinction makes all the difference.” (100)
The default posture of the Christian is one of receptivity, accepting the gifts of God’s grace. “God is God, I am not—and that’s a good thing. He has not called you and me to change the world.” (155) Of course, we all hope to make the world better for the sake of our neighbors, but the triumph of good is achieved by God alone, who works all things according to the counsel of his will. “The witness of Christians consists not in Herculean feats of world-changing but in the humble feet of grace-filled steps.” (157)
The default posture of the Christian is one of receptivity, accepting the gifts of God’s grace.
While Thoreau’s Walden is seen as a central text of that most American of virtues—self-reliance—quiet ambition as envisioned by Tinetti is exactly the opposite: dependence on God. “The quiet ambition, far from being a program of self-reliance, is a counsel of Christ-reliance. As we live quietly, we lean on Christ in the little things of everyday life.” (197) If we rely on ourselves, we will quickly run into the limitations of our creaturely existence and the temptations of our flesh. But in our Almighty God, we have a Savior on whom we can truly rely, not only for ultimate salvation, but for daily hope and meaning. “We can find hope in the midst of the overlooked and undervalued stuff of everyday life because of the confidence that, in the sight of God now and in view of all creation on the last day, what might seem small is in truth gloriously, splendidly grand.” (194)
The Quiet Ambition is divided into five sections, each containing two related chapters and a few additional pages of suggestions for prayer, contemplation, and action. It has an engaging style that is easily accessible for the lay reader—especially this lay reader, who, as a Michigan native was able to correctly identify the “beloved cherry-themed specialty shop in northern Michigan” mentioned on page 81 as The Cherry Republic. Therefore, consider this a recommendation of both The Quiet Ambition and The Cherry Republic, each of which provides pleasing variations on a central theme of great sweetness. But if forced to choose, I would say the glories of our salvation in Christ exceed those of the fruits of nature, with apologies to Thoreau.
