Good and Great

There’s a familiar line in business circles: Don’t let good be the enemy of great. The point is sound. Settling too quickly can dull imagination. Scripture itself commends excellence: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart” (Col 3:23). Paul strains forward (Phil 3:13–14). There is a holy dissatisfaction that refuses mediocrity for the sake of God’s glory.

But in a fallen world, the slogan can flip. Sometimes great becomes the enemy of good.

We do not live in Eden. We live with limits — time, energy, frailty. Press too hard for “great” in one domain and you may quietly neglect others. A church can pursue world-class preaching and lose ordinary hospitality. A parent can chase professional greatness and sacrifice presence. A ministry can burn white-hot in one strength while starving the rest of the body.

Scripture prizes wholeness more than spotlight brilliance. “A quiet life… mind your own affairs” (1 Thess 4:11) may not trend on social media, but it is profoundly Christian. The fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5:22–23) is not spectacularity; it is steady goodness across character.

There is also a spiritual risk. The chase for greatness can subtly relocate trust from God to self. It can breed anxiety, perfectionism, and a lack of contentment. Jesus speaks gently into that impulse: “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matt 6:27). The pursuit of “great” can become a refusal to receive creaturely limits.

As C.S. Lewis put it, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.” Greatness that feeds ego corrodes the soul. Goodness that flows from trust builds it.

There are seasons to push hard for excellence. But there are also seasons where being reliably good in three areas is wiser than being exceptional in one and deficient in others. Faithfulness is rarely flashy. It is cumulative, patient, cross-shaped.

In the end, the question is not: Is this great? But: Is this faithful?