Contentment. Can any of us hope to find that at this troubled time? With so many people dying of or battling with COVID-19, with social distancing for all and total lockdown for many, and with potentially devastating economic consequences for years to come, are we not inevitably going to be anxious about both the present and the future? Of course we are; we’d be less than human not to. Yet, in some curious sense – not naively pretending all is well or retreating into a spiritual ivory tower, but acknowledging the very real problems we face – we can still know what it means to be truly content, even in life’s darkest moments, for we believe that God is there with us, sharing our pain. No one testified to that more eloquently than the Apostle Paul, as you’ll see from the following meditation, taken from No Ordinary Man 2, yet he, it seems, had indeed learned the secret of true contentment.
Reading
I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. Philippians 4:11, 12
The meditation of Paul
Was I happy with my lot?
Well, as a matter of fact, I wasn’t,
not at first, anyway.
Oh, I gave thanks, don’t get me wrong –
I marvelled each day at the love of Christ
and rejoiced constantly at the awesome grace he’d shown to me,
but for all that there was much I found difficult,
far more than I’d ever bargained for.
It wasn’t the weariness,
the endless travel,
the days, weeks, even months without a rest –
I could cope with those, despite my infirmities.
But when the hostility began,
the beatings,
the stone-throwing,
the interminable hours rotting in a prison cell,
that’s when it became hard to bear,
when I began to wonder just what I’d got myself into.
You wouldn’t believe the things I endured,
the hunger,
the pain,
the privations –
enough to break anyone,
crush the strongest of spirits.
And yet, somehow, they weren’t able to do that,
for in my darkest moments I always found the strength I needed –
a word of encouragement,
a sign of hope,
a light dawning –
and I knew that Christ was with me even there,
especially there,
in my time of need.
I may have been hungry,
but I had food in plenty for my soul.
I may have been broken in body,
but my spirit had been made whole.
I may have been poor in the things of this world,
but I was rich in the things of God.
It didn’t take away the pain, I can’t claim that –
the hardship, the fear and the suffering were just as real,
just as terrible –
but it changed the way I saw them,
my perspective on life, on death, on everything
transformed for ever.
I had joy in my heart,
peace which passed all understanding,
and the promise of treasure in heaven –
whatever else might be taken from me,
nothing could take away those.
It was enough, and more than enough!
Prayer
Loving God,
you do not promise those who follow you
a life in which everything will go smoothly.
You do not guarantee success or prosperity,
nor do you offer immunity from the trials
and tribulations of this world.
Indeed, true service may involve us in sacrifice and self-denial,
more demands rather than fewer,
greater and more testing challenges
than we may ever have faced without you.
But what you do promise us is fulfilment in Christ.
Through him you are able to satisfy our spiritual hunger and thirst,
to meet our deepest needs,
to give us inner peace and an enduring contentment
in each and every circumstance.
Such peace does not come overnight –
it matures gradually as day by day we learn to let go
and put our trust in you.
Reach out then, and draw us ever closer to your side,
so that we may learn the secret
of being content with whatever we have;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.