Catch For Us The Foxes

The thing that I’ve learning about forming habits, about trying to break them, about anything, is that many failures are what lead to success. I can’t give up. I can’t lay down just because I feel like I should or it seems futile or whatever I’m trying doesn’t appear to be working.
A saint once said that the scriptures on the heart are like drops of water on a stone. It is the constant and continual application of them over time that will begin to soften the human heart. It is the small little ten seconds of prayer in the morning and the evening. Because the lie is foolish and unbeneficial, to think that there is something so small as to be utterly insignificant in keeping it. It is what is small that will break or build us. Song of songs, the lover cries, “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes. For they ruin the vineyard.” The chaplain of my alma mater used to say that people think the devil will swing them rapidly in another direction. But then he would hold up his arm and move it ever so slightly to the left or right. And he would say this is what the devil actually does. He moves you ever so slightly that you barely notice what has happened until so much time has passed and so much damage done that you wonder where you are and who you are and the position you’re in.
But I must catch the little foxes, those minor annoyances, that secret bitterness, the little laziness, the quiet neglect. They are the greatest downfall. They are what we should be wary of.

a song that fits