Detroit Baptist Theological Seminary

6 Jun 2012

Two Things I Learned from John Stott

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Who was John Stott? It’s been nearly a year since Stott died and his legacy is still taking shape. I suspect that for many of us he’ll be remembered as the author of one or two books on our shelves—probably The Cross of Christ and/or Basic Christianity—or as the name we associate with the International Congress on World Evangelism (think Lausanne). One thing that he deserves to be remembered for was his life-long passion to see his native England and the world beyond won to Christ. Alister Chapman recently wrote about this in a book entitled Godly Ambition: John Stott and the Evangelical Movement. Chapman highlights Stott’s passion for evangelism and explores the tension between Stott’s desire to maximize his own gifts and influence for the sake of the gospel and the temptation he faced to do the same for self-promotion. I suspect that most of the seminarians reading this will resonate with Stott’s big dreams and this tension and, therefore, would benefit from reading Chapman’s account. I don’t want to spoil it all here with a dry, full-scale review. Rather, I simply want to pass along two things I learned from Stott thanks to Chapman’s book. The first is that Christians should be ambitious. The second is that it’s possible to tell when ambition is godly and when it’s not.

First, Stott reminded me that Christians can be ambitious because ambition can be godly. Stott, in fact, would want to say that Christians must be ambitious and that our ambitions must be extravagant. As he put it, “[a]mbitions for God…if they are to be worthy, can never be modest. There is something inherently inappropriate about cherishing small ambitions for God” (155). “They ha[ve] to be great because God [is] great” (156). What Stott meant by all this is that if God is worthy of honor and glory and if our gifts bring him these things, then we should “develop [our] gifts, widen [our] opportunities, extend [our] influence, and [seek] promotion in [our] work—not to boost [our] own ego or build [our] own empire, but rather through everything [we] do to bring glory to God” (8, also 157). Here Stott is simply echoing sentiments we find in the New Testament, not least those found in the parable of the bags of gold where Jesus tells his disciples that they must “improve their master’s assets” as they wait for his return (cf. Matt 25:14–30; for a similar reflection, see here).

Second, Stott’s life taught me that it’s possible to tell when ambition is godly and when it’s not. Two examples come immediately to mind. The first is the way Stott pursued his ambition on the parish level as Rector of All Souls Church. His church could have been much more successful than it was had Stott continued to focus on the demographic where the gospel was having the greatest success, namely in the well-heeled section of his parish. Stott, however, had a vision for All Souls that included more than filled-pews and, in fact, more than simply conversion growth. Stott wanted to see the power of the gospel displayed in every area of his parish and, as a result, gave persistent, prayerful, and creative attention to the working-class areas of his parish. As God would have it, Stott’s efforts here were constantly frustrated. But, it’s the effort and, indeed, frustration that lets us see that Stott’s ambition, his vision for success, was not simply a pious mask hiding a heart singularly-aimed at self-promotion. Had he wanted that, it seems, he would have cared more that his pews were filled and less about who filled them.

The second example is the way Stott used his post-retirement years. Stott could have eased up a bit in his latter years and enjoyed some of the fruit of his labors and influence. Instead, it was during these years that he became increasingly burdened for the plight of the evangelical cause worldwide. And, at the center of his concern was the plight of the majority-world church, particularly its need, as he saw it, for evangelical resources and for theologically-equipped clergy. Stott, therefore, started a trust that would provide for both, and funded it largely at his own expense. (In fact, several of my own international friends at TEDS sat side-by-side with me in class thanks to the vision and generosity of John Stott.) Once again, had Stott’s ambition been simply for his own advancement and the material benefits such advancement often brings, then his sacrificial commitment to the majority world makes little sense.

Who was John Stott? Well, like most of us, he was an imperfect Christian. I suspect he’d be the first to admit this. Still, Stott was a powerful example of what it means to pursue God’s glory with every last ounce of energy we have and to develop our gifts and expand our influence in the service of this worthy, world-transforming pursuit. So, in a month, when we remember Stott’s life and reflect on his legacy, let’s take a few moments to thank God for his godly ambition and let’s ask God to put something similar deep within our hearts as well.

3 Responses

  1. Thanks for this.

    So, wow; you’re saying Stott was doing well with the well-off, but deliberately turned from them to the less-well-off? And (I’m not being sarcastic, I promise) you see that as a flaw? If so, it’s a rare one, isn’t it? Most of us would have to fight the temptation to be too happy about doing well with the prosperous, I think.

    1. Jared Compton

      Yes, that’s what I’m saying, but, no, I don’t see it as a flaw. It’s a sign, I think, that his ambition was godly. He chose a path of less-visible success to do what he thought would be pleasing to God.