Activism Driven By Pride Burns Out
by Donavon L Riley

Activism is the restless child of a culture that cannot kneel. We rise with clenched fists and furrowed brows, determined to remake the world, as though its crooked lines could be straightened by our hands alone. We name problems, attach abstractions to particulars, and march forward with plans to fix what we scarcely understand. Ours is the ceaseless cry: we will save the world! But this is the hubris of a heart unmoored from the ancient wisdom of thy will be done. It is the refusal to accept that the Creator’s hands, not ours, hold the cosmos together. The frenzy of activism is the opposite of reverence. It is noise in a temple, hammers in the sanctuary.

The Western spirit of activism mistrusts surrender, mistaking it for passivity. Yet surrender is not an abdication but an alignment—a bending of the knee to the One whose will shapes the stars and the seasons. The world does not need us to fix it; it needs us to obey. To live in harmony with creation is to trust the sovereignty of God, not to wrest control from His hands. The birds do not labor to reorder the skies, and yet their nests are sheltered. The lilies do not spin solutions, yet they are clothed in glory. We are called to this same trust, not to impose our will upon the earth but to live as stewards under heaven’s rule, whispering always: thy will be done.

The modern activist imagines the world as a puzzle to solve, forgetting it is the handiwork of a Creator. We see injustice and are quick to act, but we rarely pause to consider whether our action aligns with God’s will. We rush ahead, certain that our solutions are wise, our vision clear, our methods effective. Yet what we often create is more chaos—a Babel of broken systems and fractured communities, where our good intentions lead to unintended harm. True change does not come from human ingenuity or ambition but from the Spirit, who works not in haste but in harmony with the divine will.

This surrender does not mean indifference to suffering or injustice—it means moving only as the Spirit moves, acting not from pride but from obedience. Christ Himself, who could have summoned angels to dismantle the structures of power, instead chose the path of surrender: not my will, but thine be done. It is in this submission that redemption unfolds, not through force but through faith. We are not called to seize the world and shape it as we see fit but to let the light of God work through us in humility and trust. The cross teaches us that transformation comes through yielding, not through striving.

In the prayer of surrender lies the only path to peace: thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. This is not a plea for passivity but a call to live as Christ lived—listening to the Father, moving only as He commands, trusting that His purposes are higher than ours. To pray for His will is to admit our blindness, to confess that we do not see as He sees, and to let go of the frantic need to fix what is already in His hands. Activism driven by pride burns out, but a life rooted in surrender blooms like a tree by the living water. In the stillness of obedience, the true work of God begins.