Good

“Old habits die hard,” the saying goes. The longer we do something, the more difficult it becomes to change. One of my teachers told me, “We can never really break a habit. We can only replace it with a better habit.” Even if we play a passage correctly 990 out of 1000 times, there is still a one percent chance of making a mistake. If all our repetitions were flawless, there would be no chance of error. So, it’s important to do the right things the right way. That way our “old habits” will be good habits.

Nevertheless, we all make mistakes. We all have our share of failures. But we can choose to pick ourselves up and begin again. This idea is at the heart of what it takes to become successful. We can’t change our habits if we don’t keep trying.

It’s easy to berate ourselves over past failures. The trick is to acknowledge our shortcomings without becoming obsessed by them. The more we allow our inner voices to shout, “Don’t screw up!” or “Don’t forget!” or “Don’t do that again!” the more we condition ourselves to fail. According to some psychologists, phrases beginning with the word, “don’t,” are generally interpreted without that word. We might as well tell ourselves to screw up, forget, or do the thing we know will sabotage us. As a trumpet player, I’ve often written the word, “Breathe!” before an important passage. A single positive word is far more powerful than a warning.

I recall Paul’s words, “Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:21) If we focus on the negative, often all we get is more negative. This principle applies to all aspects of life. If we want to improve ourselves or our community, more accusations, condemnations, or dire predictions are not the answer. To achieve positive results, we need to “Hold fast to that which is good.” and “Abstain from all appearance of evil.” (1 Thessalonians 5:21-22, KJV)

William Watkinson put it this way in his sermon, “The Invincible Strategy,” from 1907. “We shall not master our personal defects by dwelling upon them, tormenting ourselves on account of them, dealing directly with them, or by attempting singly to uproot them. To overcome this or that failing, think of it as little as possible, and as much as you can about the corresponding virtue; weaken the bad side by strengthening the good.”

I’m reminded of this exchange from “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” by C.S. Lewis.

“Who is Aslan?” asked Susan.

“Aslan?” said Mr. Beaver, “Why don’t you know? He’s the King. It is he, not you, that will save Mr. Tumnus.”

“Is—is he a man?” asked Lucy.

“Aslan a man!” said Mr. Beaver sternly. “Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea. Don’t you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.”

“Ooh!” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver, “if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”

Of course, good is not safe, because good has the power to change the world. Often it doesn’t seem so. Voices all around us urge us to be suspicious and find fault with everyone and everything, implying that we might somehow conquer evil by force. Yet, whether we are trying to improve our lives, or help others improve their lives, we must focus on John Wesley’s prescription: “Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.”