A Biblical View of Ambition
I built this shop out of busted knuckles, sunrise and a second chance,
Dust on my boots, grit in my lungs, calluses like callin’ cards.
Now a black truck rolls up all shiny, with a handshake and a smile,
Says, “Boy, we love what you’re doin’… we just want it our way now.”
Numbers on a paper look like freedom, but the fine print bites like wire,
And he says it soft like a blessing, “Don’t make us your enemy, son—”
I drove off feelin’ two kinds of cold, prayin’ I could hear God clear,
‘Cause money talks, but so does fear.
And I ain’t been to church in a minute, just enough to remember the songs,
But that weight on my chest kept whisperin’, “This road can’t be the one.”
I found that little white-steeple place off a county line and grace,
Old preacher met me at the doorway like he’d been expectin’ my face.
He said, “Sit down, let me tell you ‘bout two goodbyes I prayed through this week—
One was a humble pine-box mama, with a hymn on every cheek.
Kids and grandbabies fillin’ the pews, tellin’ stories through the cry,
Faith like a quilt on everybody, love held up to testify.
She built one thing that didn’t rust—she built a family in the Lord.”
Then his eyes got sad as winter, and his voice got low and hard:
“Saw another one, finest casket money can buy,
But the room felt empty-loud… like a lie dressed up in a tie.
Folks shook hands and traded business, measured profit, checked their phones,
Wife sat stiff like she was waitin’ on the hearse to roll the stone.
He climbed so high he lost the ground, gained the world and lost his home,
Son, Babel still builds towers—‘saying ‘make us a name’—that’s how it goes.
And the devil still sells kingdoms for one bent knee, one quiet “yes,”
A shortcut ‘round the cross and thorns… but it’ll leave you hollow like the rest.”
He said, “Paul called it ambition too but hear what he meant:
Work with your hands, walk clean and steady, let your life be your argument.”
Then he opened up his worn-down Bible like a lantern in the dark:
“Worship the Lord your God… and serve Him only.” I felt it hit my heart.
Yeah, I’ve been standin’ between two caskets,
One’s full of love, one’s full of ash.
One’s got tears and laughter mingled,
One’s got suits just doin’ math.
One’s got a name carved out in mercy,
One’s got a title bought too fast.
And I hear that old preacher sayin’,
“Son, you don’t get to dodge the last.”
Yeah, you’re choosin’ with every yes and no—
You’re standin’ between two caskets.
He said, “Don’t kill the fire—just consecrate it.
Don’t stop buildin’—just watch who you’re bowin’ to.
There’s a kind of climb that’s holy,
And there’s a kind that’s built on ambition in a nice suit.
So ask God to weigh your motives,
Let humility steer your hands.
Build your business like a steward,
Build your home like the promised land.”
And he leaned in close like thunder that don’t need to raise its tone:
“Son, the world will offer power… but it can’t offer peace to take you home.”
So today I’m a standin’ by that church door, same wooden pews, same hymns,
Old preacher’s in a humble casket… and love is overflowin’ again.
There’s tears and laughter mingled,
Stories like saints tht still live.
No networkin’, no cold business,
Just a room full of “thank You” and “amen.”
And I whisper, “You were right, old man… I see it clear at last—
Every mile I ever traveled, I was choosin’ what would last.”
Yeah, I thank God I learned it early,
By the mercy of your simple ask:
“Son, you’re standin’ between two caskets…
So choose the one that’s full of love—
And let the rest turn into dust.”