We all know about Charles Lindbergh and his famous solo, nonstop flight from New York City to Paris in his single-engine plane, “Spirit of St. Louis.” A great deal of thought and planning went into the flight, of course, and Winston Groom’s The Aviators: Eddie Rickenbacker, Jimmy Doolittle, Charles Lindbergh, and the Epic Age of Flight offers lots of interesting details. Apparently, Lindbergh became obsessed with reducing the weight of his plane. He thought weight was the biggest challenge to a successful flight—even more important than additional instrumentation and even a parachute.
Before he took flight, Lindbergh was approached by a stamp collector who offered him $1,000 ($14,500 in today’s dollars) if he would take one pound of mail with him. (The bundle would be the first international mail, and the stamp collector stood to make a lot of money off that.) The offer was almost too much for Lindbergh to resist. Money mattered. Aviation history wasn’t the only thing at stake here; there was the $25,000 Orteig Prize up for grabs, too.
Yet, Lindbergh did resist. The man known as “The Lone Eagle” decided not to compromise his mission—even by one pound. He stood by his principles. He knew that if he said yes to this ask, there would be others. Lindbergh knew if he started compromising, he might not know when to stop.
That’s the trouble with compromising—especially compromising principles. Where does it end?
We’ve all heard stories of long-time employees—seemingly the most loyal of them all—stealing from their employers. Sometimes they do this for years. Often, and ironically, this is usually the most unlikely perpetrator. The one who is “like family” to the company owners. The one who has been with them for generations.
Maybe it started as a small, one-time lapse of conscience. Maybe this person took a small amount of money from the cash drawer or set up one dummy vendor account to occasionally pay a little to themselves.
Then they notice that no one else notices. Nothing happens. So they do it again. And again. And soon they are so deep into the financial charade that there is no way out. They cannot go on a vacation and risk anyone else doing their job. They must keep others away from the cooked books. They become a prisoner to their crimes.
And in the end, they get caught. They always get caught. And they are left with shame and humiliation and maybe even prosecution. This is all because they compromised. As Gordon MacDonald said, “One breakdown in self-mastery leads to others.”
I participated in a retreat given by Father Charles Alar who, in one of his talks, told us about the three tools of the devil: 1. Pride. 2. Fear. 3. Confusion.
Looking at what happens when someone compromises their values, we see those three things at work. Consider the bookkeeper. Perhaps initially, she might pridefully think: “The owners are making so much money. They will never miss a hundred dollars. I deserve this.” Next comes fear: “I need the additional money each month to keep up this lifestyle for my family. What would people think if we had to move back to a small house in our old neighborhood?” And finally, there’s confusion: “I know what I’m doing is wrong, but I don’t know how to make it right. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.”
When faced with a difficult decision, do not compromise your values—and possibly your livelihood and personal life. As Lindbergh knew: The cost is too high. One small lapse in judgement often leads to another, and then it’s hard to know when to stop.
Your beliefs and principles matter. They are there to guide you. Let them.
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