The American dream is idealized potential. Everyone (so it is said), if he or she works hard enough, can grow up to be President. This mythical idealism has morphed nowadays to suggest that, for example, any American has been deprived of 'entitlement' if he or she does not live in the White House. It never seems to occur to the liberal body politic that this dream is suspended upon the responsible lives of the 'common man'. Millions of them.

There is no doubt that this 'dream' has infiltrated the mentality of religion, producing the notion that every Christian may become 'the chief of the apostles' were he (or she) to realize his full potential. On a somewhat less frenetic level, I grew up within a church which led me to feel that, in fact, to become President would be a dereliction of a higher calling. I was trundled off to Bible college, while others settled for so-called lower, more worldly pursuits. 'Shame on them', was the unspoken opinion of many, for their opting to lead a quiet and peace­able life.

F. W. Krummacher's remarks on the call of Elisha are helpful:

Here we have a pleasing picture of a man, who, notwithstanding the gifts with which he was endowed, continued lowly in his own eyes, and led a humble and unassuming life. How many, gifted like him, would have thought themselves too good for the plough, and born to a sphere of life above that of a simple farmer, that they must not withhold their talents from mankind, that they must go forth into the field of public labour, to enlighten and guide the world.

The value of a humble and unassuming life seems to have been eclipsed by this upwardly mobile 'dare to be a Daniel' brand of Christianity which elevates ambition above maturity and has seated the stable but unremarkable believer in coach class. Something is wrong here.

The passion for success constantly becomes a spiritual problem ­really, a lapse into idolatry – in the lives of God's servants today. To want to succeed in things that matter is of course natural, and not wrong in itself, but to feel that one must at all costs be able to project oneself to others as a success is an almost demonized state of mind, from which deliverance is needed ... This success syndrome is an infection that has spread right through the whole Western world, so that its prevalence among Christian people, though distressing, is hardly surprising. The world's idea is that everyone, from childhood up, should be able to succeed at all times in measurable ways, and that it is a great disgrace not to.J. I. Packer

On one level a Christian is a remarkable being. He is not what he once was, and what he is now cannot be explained by referring to what he was before. He is exotic, not belonging to the country in which he resides (But that is another subject).

On another level, however, that which makes one a Christian also makes him unremarkable. His aspirations, his thirst for notoriety, his estimate of greatness have all been changed. His horizon has come closer to home. He finds in the Bible no call to be outstanding. He is not without ambition, but his dreams have nothing to do with rising above his fellows. Unless pressed, he prefers anonymity to attention. He is steady. Steadied by grace. And one of the most amazing things about grace is how it works this even disposition.

Some would view this as an excuse for mediocrity. Not so. But this frenetic drive for visibility has apparently eclipsed the Bible's demand for contentment. An important tension has been dropped. Solomon warned us of the emptiness this brings three thousand years ago:

Then I saw that all toil and all skill in work come from a man's envy of his neighbour. This also is vanity and a striving after wind. The fool folds his hands and eats his own flesh. Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind. Ecclesiastes 4:4-6

He saw the benefit of 'a tranquil heart':

A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot.Proverbs 14:30

Nor is this a congratulation of the average. I can still remember my son returning home with his university diploma in hand with the quip: 'Well, Dad, "C"s get degrees.' Perhaps so, but there is a resonance of the Reformed faith with productivity. Godliness does not quench ambit­ion, but it certainly does temper it.

Prudence, industry, and economy, with the divine blessing (and the Divine blessing travels this road) ... the calm and self-possessed bearing which has nothing to do with the meanness and vulgar­ity of the devotee of wealth and fashion. Some one remarks that 'equality, in the cant of politics, means the wish to be equal to one's superiors, and to be superior to one's equals'. This is not the spirit of a true gentleman, or a true Christian.W.G.T. Shedd

Whatever happened to the eligibility of that middle condition applauded in Proverbs 30:8-9?

Remove far from me falsehood and lying; give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me, lest I be full and deny you and say, 'Who is the LORD?' or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God.

Where is to be found that 'middle path of the "enough" which is perhaps the most pleasant, and certainly the most safe'?¹

Much greatness doth but make a fairer mark for evil. There is true firmness and safety in mediocrity ... Eminency is joined with peril, obscurity with peace.Joseph Hall

The word 'hero' is much overworked these days. The soldier who serves his country, although he never rises above the rank of private, is called a hero. Perhaps he is. But does this translate into the life of faith? Can the stable but unremarkable Christian be heroic? I think so. In fact, these believers comprise the backbone of the church. A church full of would-be apostles is an evident disaster. The adage about 'too many chiefs and not enough Indians' applies. John MacArthur is correct:

The highest expression of God's power in the world today is not some spectacular and unusual sign or wonder, but the tranquil godliness of a Spirit-controlled life.

It is high time to stand up for the godly working-man: those less heroic who 'tarry by the baggage' (1 Sam. 30:24), the Christian who appears year after year at the church door, takes his seat – not the same man he was, but recognizable as the man he always has been – and, in doing so, is living proof of the reliability of grace and the evident bless­ing of living a quiet and peaceable life (1 Tim. 2:2).