Learning Contentment

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content” (Phil. 4:11).

My husband has been unemployed the past few weeks, a situation we’ve not experienced together during our entire twenty-six years of marriage. But I remember well the times my father was unemployed. In fact, it wasn’t until mid-life that I realized how much those years impacted me—such as the way I hate to see an empty refrigerator or the way I make certain to never run out of things in the pantry. And while my son and his friends enjoy browsing and shopping at the local thrift store, the thought of doing so produces almost a physical response in me, which I’ve realized is rooted in feelings of shame I felt from times when I had no other choice but to wear pre-owned clothes.

So, when my husband informed me of his change in job status, I felt my stomach tighten. My heart pounded. My eyes burned. And I felt panicked. I was instantly transported back to my childhood where memories of not having enough swirled in my mind, along with all the feelings of worry, uncertainty, and shame. Memory after memory played on a reel, many I hadn’t revisited in decades.

I took a breath and whispered, “this is not the same thing.”

And the Lord gently reminded me of the words of Paul in Philippians 4:

“Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (11-13).

The Apostle Paul experienced both times of abundance and times of lack. He knew what it was like to be full and to be empty. Elsewhere in the New Testament, we read of other areas in which Paul experienced hardship and suffering. In 2 Corinthians 11, he listed a number of trials he experienced: “Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches” (vv. 24-28). Talk about suffering!

And yet, regardless of his circumstances, Paul felt contentment. The Puritan minister, Jeremiah Burroughs, defined contentment as: “that sweet, inward, quiet, gracious frame of spirit, which freely submits to and delights in God’s wise and fatherly disposal in every situation.” It is an inner satisfaction in Christ and who he is for us. It is confidence and trust in his faithful provision of grace. It is resting in his character, knowing he only provides that which is good for his beloved children.

Interestingly, the Greek word for contentment in Philippians 4 is only used here in this verse. It means self-sufficient, independent. It was a word used by Greek philosophers to describe self-reliance, of not needing anyone or anything, of being sufficient for everything within oneself. Paul took this secular word from his day and used it to mean Christ-sufficiency. Through the power of the Spirit at work within him, he was sufficient. His strength was found in Christ’s strength. He could face and endure everything, because of Jesus Christ.

As I wrestle with contentment in my own life, I’m encouraged by Paul’s testimony. Specifically that contentment was a lesson Paul learned. It was something he grew in. Not in a sense of learning facts; rather, he learned through experience. He saw God’s goodness to him in times of plenty and in times of want. He experienced God’s strength in the midst of suffering. And through that, he learned the joy of the Lord.

Regardless of his circumstances.

In my own uncertainties these days, I find myself rehearsing the character and goodness of God to my heart. “For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations” (Ps. 100:5).

How about you? Have you learned the secret of contentment?

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

When You Don't Have the Answers

When my kids were little, they were curious about everything. How does the car engine work? Why is thunder so loud? How tall will I get? Why…? I often didn’t know the answer to their questions and had to do some research in order to respond. Sometimes, my answer was, “Let’s look at a book on that topic” or one time, I gave my son a model car engine for him to build.

We live in a day when answers are just a click away. We merely have to ask our phone a question and we receive a ready response. In some ways, this makes us think there is an answer to every question. That we can know everything.

But the Bible teaches otherwise.

In Ecclesiastes 3, the Preacher makes observations about the world. He notes that there are seasons in life, including a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to harvest what is planted, a time to weep and a time to laugh. Then he writes:

“I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man. I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away” (Ecc. 3:10-15).

God has given us tasks to do in life and they happen in seasons and times that he determines. Whatever the season we are in, there is beauty found there. He then tells that God has placed eternity into man’s heart. We know deep down of God’s existence and his work in this world. We know deep down that we are created beings, dependent upon our Creator. But, we don’t know everything. “…he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end” (v.11). We are finite beings. We do not know the end from the beginning. We don’t know the answer to all the questions. We don’t know how to do all the things. We don’t know why things happen as they do. We are not God.

What do we do with that? As people who want all the answers—who want to ask Siri why we continue to struggle or when our trial will end or how to navigate a difficult decision—the Preacher is telling us to be okay with the fact that we don’t know. To trust that God knows. To rest in the sovereignty of God. There are things he has revealed to us and the rest only he alone knows: “The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law” (Deut. 29:29). He is the Alpha and the Omega (Rev. 1:8). He is before all things and he holds all things together (Col. 1:17). While we cannot know all things, we were created by an infinite God who does. He not only knows, he determines what is to come and ensures it comes to pass. As his creatures, we are called to fear him, delight in him, and keep our gaze fixed on him (vv.14-15). As we do, we find joy and contentment in what God provides, in the season he provides it (vv.12-13).

Matthew Henry commented on this passage: “Though we see not the complete beauty of Providence, yet we shall see it, and a glorious sight it will be, when the mystery of God shall be finished. Then every thing shall appear to have been done in the most proper time and it will be the wonder of eternity…We must wait with patience for the full discovery of that which to us seems intricate and perplexed, acknowledging that we cannot find out the work that God makes from the beginning to the end, and therefore must judge nothing before the time. We are to believe that God has made all beautiful. Every thing is done well, as in creation, so in providence, and we shall see it when the end comes, but till then we are incompetent judges of it. While the picture is in drawing, and the house in building, we see not the beauty of either; but when the artist has put his last hand to them, and given them their finishing strokes, then all appears very good. We see but the middle of God’s works, not from the beginning of them (then we should see how admirably the plan was laid in the divine counsels), nor to the end of them, which crowns the action (then we should see the product to be glorious), but we must wait till the veil be rent, and not arraign God’s proceedings nor pretend to pass judgment on them. Secret things belong not to us.”

I am just like my children in that I long to know all the answers. I don’t like to wait or live in the unknown. I want to know everything that is going to happen before it does. But God is a good Father and I know him. I know that he makes all things beautiful—even the messy, frayed fabric of my life. I can’t judge it as I see it now. I must wait for its completion when I will stand in wonder and awe at all God has done.

I don’t have the all the answers. But I trust the One who does.

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

When You Worry About All the Things

I often tell my sons I am a better Scout than they are. After all, I live by the motto: Be Prepared. I anticipate all the things that could go wrong and plan accordingly. Rain in the forecast? I have my umbrella at the ready. Cold and flu season around the corner? My medicine cabinet is stocked. Busy day ahead? We leave early in case there’s traffic.

While being prepared is often wise and prudent, for those who are prone to worry, it can sometimes facilitate and increase that worry all the more. Being prepared involves thinking about the future. It involves anticipating trouble that may lie ahead—both of which go hand in hand with worry. I found this to be true with my own heart this summer as I helped one of my sons plan for a backpacking trip out west. I looked at the weather forecast and encouraged him to pack accordingly. I reminded him to pack extra batteries for his headlamp. We prepared for injuries by packing a first aid kit. These were all good things to do.

But then I started thinking about other things that could go wrong: getting separated from the group, encountering bears on the trail, running out of supplies, etc. Add to that the fact that he and his group would be out of cell phone range for most of the trip and I found myself worried even more about those potential troubles. Especially the bears! Those worries festered and woke me up at night. I found my mind focused on future trouble.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus speaks to weary hearts that are prone to worry about the future. He says to not worry about the daily needs of life—to not look ahead and worry about what we will eat and drink or what we will wear. He reminds us of how our Father in heaven looks after and cares for his creation, from the birds in the air to the flowers in the field and how much more important are we than they? “Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (see Matt. 6:25-34).

This is such a familiar passage, one I’ve read countless times. Yet its one that continues to teach me about my heart and about my Father in heaven. Jesus here sets limits for our worries. He tells us there are things we need to focus on and things we don’t need to focus on. He’s not telling us to lay back and do nothing to prepare for tomorrow. After all, the Bible exhorts us elsewhere to labor for our food. To plant seeds and harvest them. To work hard and not be slothful. There is a certain amount of care and concern we should have. What Jesus is speaking about here is excessive worry—worry that is future focused. Worry that lives in tomorrow and not in today. Worry that pushes us to focus on ourselves and doesn’t rest in who our Heavenly Father is for us.

As John Calvin noted:

“…Christ reproves that excessive anxiety, with which men torment themselves, about food and clothing, and, at the same time, applies a remedy for curing this disease. When he forbids them to be anxious, this is not to be taken literally, as if he intended to take away from his people all care. We know that men are born on the condition of having some care…But immoderate care is condemned for two reasons: either because in so doing men tease and vex themselves to no purpose, by carrying their anxiety farther than is proper or than their calling demands; or because they claim more for themselves than they have a right to do, and place such a reliance on their own industry, that they neglect to call upon God…Each of us ought to labor, as far as his calling requires and the Lord commands; and each of us ought to be led by his own wants to call upon God. Such anxiety holds an intermediate place between indolent carelessness and the unnecessary torments by which unbelievers kill themselves. But if we give proper attention to the words of Christ, we shall find, that he does not forbid every kind of care, but only what arises from distrust.”

For those of us who worry about all the things, it can be helpful to make a list of the things God calls us to do and what he does not call us to do and then see where our worries fit. For example, we might create a two-column chart with our responsibilities on one side and those that are God’s on the other. And then we can ask our heart: Are we worried about something that is our responsibility? Or God’s responsibility? Are we focused on the task we’ve been given for today? Or focused on a future that hasn’t yet happened? Are we trusting in ourselves and our own strength? Or have we submitted our cares to God and trusted him to provide what we need?

There are some worries and concerns that deserve our attention because God has entrusted us with specific tasks and responsibilities. We ought to take our child to the doctor when she is ill. We should work hard at our jobs to provide for our family. We need to fix the leaky sink before it gets worse. These are all in our realm of responsibility. But there are other worries that are not under our rule and responsibility. These concerns are the things we bring to our Father in Heaven and seek his wisdom, help, and care. That’s what Jesus pointed out in his sermon: We can trust that God provides for all our needs. The future lies in his hands.

In the situation with my son’s trip to the mountains, there were things I had the responsibility to do: help him pack what was needed for the trip, remind him of safe hiking practices, and pray for him and his troop. The rest I entrusted to God and rested in his sovereign care. No amount of worrying on my part could impact the outcome of his trip. Corrie ten Boom said it well: “Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”

And for those who are wondering, my son returned home safe and sound from his backpacking trip. And best of all, he encountered no bears!

Photo by Aubree Herrick on Unsplash

A Present Help

The area of motherhood that always seems to stretch me the most is anything related to my kid’s health. From the moment my oldest was born and required extra testing and care, I felt helpless. It then persisted throughout both my son’s childhood with chronic asthma and infections. Perhaps I feel this way because I don’t have medical training so I am clueless when it comes to understanding their medical concerns. When there is a health scare, there is nothing I can do to fix the problem; I am dependent upon health experts to tell me what to do.

I felt that way recently when my oldest fell and split open his elbow while out on a caving trip with his friends. They were two hours away, in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service. By the time I found out and got him to the urgent care, twelve hours had passed. He then got an infection which the doctor fought with an intense array of antibiotics. There was nothing I could do but follow the doctor’s orders.

Except.

Except for prayer. Except for trusting in the Lord. Except for seeking his help and asking him to deliver and provide and heal.

In helpless moments, Psalm 18 reminds me: “The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold” (v.2). And as the psalmist wrote elsewhere, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” 46:1). God is a very present help in times of trouble. Sometimes I forget that. I forget that his help is here and now. I forget that in this moment, right now, he is my rock and fortress and deliverer. Not that he was, but that he is.

He is my place of safety. He rescues me from trouble. He is my salvation.

All in the present. Right here. Right now.

So often I consider the Lord’s salvation as past tense, as something he did at Calvary over 2,000 years ago. Or even future tense, in that he has saved me for eternity and one day in the future I will meet him in glory. But in the present, in the here and now, the Bible reminds me that he is with me. He is my salvation in moments when I don’t know what to do or where to turn.

The Puritan, Richard Sibbes, wrote: “A Christian must look at the trouble with one eye, and to God with the other. See God to be your salvation. Let the trouble be what it will, if God is your deliverer. It is no matter what the disease might be, if God is your physician…God is our God. He chose us, in due time he called us, and made a covenant with us to be our God. He loves us, and preserves us…”

Life is filled with trouble. But we have a great and mighty God. He is present with us, ready to take us in as our fortress. He is our salvation—in the past, in the future, and right here, right now.

Dear friend, turn to the Lord with all your troubles and find him to be your present help.

Photo by Dušan veverkolog on Unsplash

Enough for Today

I’ve always been a planner. I set goals and work toward them. I look ahead to potential obstacles and prepare for them. My friends know to come to me for a Band-aid or an Advil or a pen to write with because my purse is fully stocked. I’m quick to remind my sons of their own Boy Scout motto, “a Scout is always prepared.”

If there’s one thing I’ve learned these past couple of years, it is the importance of holding all my plans loosely. To live open handed, yielding to the Lord’s plan and not my own. To trust in his timely provision of grace. As James exhorts us, “you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that” (James 4:15). I learned this during the pandemic, when one plan after another was cancelled—a humble reminder that I have no control over the details of my life. I learned it too when I was in a car accident—over a year ago now—one whose residual trauma made it difficult to drive for a while. My life then seemed to shrink down to moment by moment as I was forced to slow down, to rest, and to wait for healing.

These lessons are hard, but necessary, for they push me to trust in the Lord to meet my needs for today, not trusting in my well thought out plans, lists, or stocked emergency kit. Now don’t get me wrong, being prepared is a good thing. The trouble is when those preparations make us think we are in control—that we are the gods and goddesses of our own kingdoms. When we put our trust in our plans, lists, and preparations rather than in God. When we cease to be dependent upon him and trust in our strength and provision instead.

I am reminded of the Lord’s faithful provision for his people in Exodus. When God brought the Israelites out of Egypt and into the wilderness, he fed them each day with manna. It was a bread-like substance that appeared on the ground each day. The Bible compares it to coriander seed which they had to gather each morning. Imagine picking up tiny seeds each day, enough for your family to eat! Based on how much my teenage boys eat, I would have spent the entire day gathering enough for just one meal!

They had to consume the manna the same day for by the next day it would go bad and be inedible. Before the Sabbath, they gathered enough to last throughout their day of rest. In this way, God taught them to rely on him each day to provide for their needs. Jesus spoke about the manna in John 6, revealing that manna pointed to something greater than daily bread; it pointed to Someone greater. "Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (John 6:32-33).

God gives us the grace we need for this day. And then the next day, he’ll provide what’s needed for that day. This doesn’t mean we don’t have tasks to do. It doesn’t mean we simply sit back and wait for life to happen. After all, Israel had to go out and pick up the manna God provided. In a similar way, we have to utilize the means of grace God provides. We have to read and study God’s word to know his will for our lives. We have to pray and ask him to meet our needs. We have to fellowship with other believers who can direct us to his grace when we’ve lost our way. We go out and pick up the manna for this day, knowing that tomorrow’s manna will arrive right on time.

Ultimately, it’s a heart posture. It’s living out the truth that we submit all our goals and plans to the One who rules over them. It’s a submissive, humble heart that trusts the Lord to meet us where we are with exactly what we need, when we need it. It’s a heart that doesn’t fear the future. It’s a heart that doesn’t trust in our own way, but in God’s way. It’s a heart that desires God’s will, not our own. As Tim Keller once tweeted, “If we knew what God knows, we would ask exactly for what he gives.”[1]

How freeing this is! I continue to make my plans. I still prepare for the day, for the week, for even the year. My purse still has an extra pen and Band-Aid for anyone who needs it. But all those plans and preparations must be entrusted to the Lord and his perfect will. My plans may go as expected or they might not. But one thing I do expect is great things from God—for his plans are far far greater than my own.

[1] https://twitter.com/timkellernyc/status/425310026203680768?lang=en

*Photo by Lina Trochez on Unsplash

The Sound of God's Silence

Do you know the sound of silence?

Once upon a time, I played the flute in the school orchestra. I especially enjoyed playing those musical pieces where a portion of the score built up to a crescendo, followed by a moment of silence where all the instruments paused at once. It only lasted a beat or two and then the strings would quietly start again. It was a powerful moment. That silence wasn’t a random absence of sound; it was placed there by the composer as a key part of the music. It was essential to the movement and feel of the piece. The lack of sound was almost a sound in itself.

Sometimes, we hear the sound of silence in our spiritual life. Perhaps we’ve prayed and prayed and still no answer comes. Maybe we’ve been in a long season of waiting and the silence grows increasingly loud as the days wear on. Or maybe we find ourselves in a spiritual wilderness where the fog of doubt and uncertainty is thick. We feel all alone. Abandoned. Forgotten. And the silence makes us think God has turned and simply walked away. We start to think he’s given up on us and begin to wonder if we should too.

Yet, I wonder if we might have the wrong assumption about God’s silence. Perhaps, God’s silence isn’t silence at all. Perhaps what seems like silence is actually an important pause in the score of our life. Because it’s often in the quiet where the real work takes place. We see this truth lived out in the stillness of winter. When there’s no rustling leaves on the trees or acorns dropping to the ground or squirrels scurrying in the brush, life continues on in the quiet of the earth underground. We also know that in the darkness of the womb, a child is knit together. Even before her mother feels the first stirring of life, her heart beats strong. And in the quiet of each night, while all the world sleeps, our bodies and minds continue their labors, drawing breath and circulating blood and firing synapses.

God too is at work, even in the silence. God is at work especially in the silence.

Often, the silence is the work.

I’ve been thinking about this over these many months of our present crisis. Individually and corporately, we’ve faced loss and heartache and uncertainty. We’ve cried out in prayer for God to step in fix the brokenness. Many of us wait for his response. In that waiting, all we hear is the sound of God’s silence.

I can’t help but think of the prophet’s words in Lamentations 3, “The LORD is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD” (vv. 25-26). It is good to wait for God. God is good to us who wait. There is good in quietly waiting on the Lord.

There is good in the silence.

Silence forces us to hear things we can’t hear in the usual cacophony of life. It makes us sit alone and notice those things we often avoid or drown out with busyness and other distractions. Our thoughts, feelings, desires, and motivations become our only companions. The silence gives us an opportunity to take an honest look at ourselves. To see what we truly love and trust and hope in. To perhaps realize how fickle our hearts are and how far we’ve wandered from God. To see lies we’ve long believed and lived by. And ultimately, to grasp just how much we need God’s grace poured out in our lives. That we need him and can’t live without him. That he alone is our life.

Then, like the flash of light in the darkest night, God breaks the silence. The Spirit prompts our hearts and reminds us of what is true. And we realize God has been there all along. The fog lifts and we see the trail of his grace that both led us into the silence and remained there beside us.

We all have seasons of waiting in the Christian life. In those seasons, God may be silent. The prophet encourages: “Let him sit alone in silence when it is laid on him; let him put his mouth in the dust—there may yet be hope…For the Lord will not cast off forever, but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love” (Lam. 3:28-29,30-31). The sound of God’s silence will not last forever. It is but a pause used for his good purposes in our lives. When all is quiet, we must remember and rest in his steadfast love. We must wait with expectation, knowing his timing is perfect. He will execute the next note in perfect time with his will and plan.

One day, all the silences of life will find their place in the score of our lives and we’ll hear it played out in its completion. We’ll hear the most beautiful composition ever played, the song God wrote before time began, the song of redemption.