Saying “Yes” to the latent, Lenten power of “No”

During the past couple of weeks, I’ve been offering “Lenten Lessons for Sales Professionals.” My goal is to get business-to-business salespeople, particularly those who are Catholic, to consider the ways Lent might invite them to make good changes to their professional and personal lives.

My first lesson invited them to retreat “to the desert” and prudentially conduct a self-audit. In other words, to take a good, long, perhaps uncomfortable look at their imperfections and own them. Not to wallow in them, but to encourage them to consider how much better things might be if they chose to live differently.

I asked them about their vices. Were they honest? Were they quick to anger? Did they rumor mill? Were they prideful and power hungry? Did they look for shortcuts at the expense of customers or colleagues, or conversely, their loved ones? Did they cast blame or point fingers when things went wrong at work? Did they apologize when necessary? Were they generous with forgiveness? Did they long to be loved by the masses despite that still, small voice inside calling them to live differently? Did they lack fortitude?

Over the years, I’ve found that exercises like this resonate with some–even, on occasion, a non-Catholic or two. Sometimes, I’ll receive a personal note or message afterward, suggesting that the effect was considerably more powerful than I had realized. But, on average, I think most people find this sort of reflection uncomfortable.

And why wouldn’t they? No one knows better than this professor how challenging–and humbling–Lenten lessons can be.

Consider this most recent one. It was about wrestling with the latent power of “No.”

Anyone in a professional sales role knows that success comes from figuring out how to get to “Yes.” But the most seasoned, successful salespeople discover very early that hearing “No” from a potential customer is a great gift. A “no” from a prospect enables the salesperson to ask, “Why?” And, of course, “Why” is the gateway for uncovering the reason behind the opposition, which enables salespeople to determine how they can remove the obstacle standing between them and “yes.”

In sales, good things start with “No.”

So, the question I ask salespeople is: If we accept that good things can come from the customer saying “No”, are we willing to consider that good things might also come from telling ourselves “No”?

We all realize that telling oneself “No” is incredibly difficult. And it’s tremendously counter-cultural. From the moment we wake to the moment we rest our head on the pillow, we are bombarded with messages insisting we tell ourselves “Yes!” Folks in my corner of the world convince people they deserve “Yes.” Marketers tell us we work hard and affirm our right to “Yes.” The media guilt us into “Yes”; we’re told that anything but a self-directed “Yes” is a dysfunctional form of self-loathing. Refusing oneself a “Yes” probably stems from some type of mental disorder. Giving in to “Yes” is healthy. It’s our self-realization that we’re worth it.

But, of course, Lent offers us a different perspective. It provides a chance to see things differently and to change the script. The opportunity to see the constant self-directed “Yes” as destructive and the “No” as liberating. And to understand that acts of voluntary self-restraint and sacrifice restore much-needed balance in our lives.

In contrast to what culture tells us, Lent encourages us to view saying “No” to ourselves as an important assertion of self-worth. While the dominant culture likes us to live on its terms, we deserve to live on better terms—to live the way God intended us to live, as demonstrated and exemplified in the perfect sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Saying “No” is clarifying. Saying “No” to ourselves enables us to isolate the worldly demand put on us, frame it, and better see it for what it actually is rather than what it seems to be. And whether the earthly thing beckoning us is something as trivial as a seemingly delicious dessert, or something perhaps bigger, like the approval of a colleague or superior whose values don’t align with ours. By saying “No” to our impulse to eat that dessert or please that other person, we put that thing in its proper temporal place and remind ourselves of the power we possess, rooted in God’s grace and strength, over it. It properly re-orients and restores order to our lives.

Lent is a good time to ask ourselves: Do the problems we observe in our world stem from too much permissiveness or too much restraint? Is it possible that we have been allowing too much and forgiving too little when we should be allowing less and forgiving more? As we think about the day and the week ahead, could things improve if we told ourselves “No” a bit more and “Yes” a bit less?

As we approach Holy Week, perhaps we can refamiliarize ourselves with the gifts we have been given to reclaim our power of self-control. We can pray for the virtue of temperance. We can practice abstinence–both from meat on Fridays and, more generally, from other tempting things which have a hold on us. We can fast–on Good Friday, of course–but perhaps also at other times with intermittent fasting.

When we commit to these relatively small “No’s,” we strengthen our self-restraint muscles. And engaging these muscles in small things gets us in shape to do greater things.

After all, a good, God-directed “Yes” may start with a firm, self-directed “No.” Let’s rediscover the latent power of “No.”