The Content of Contentment

“The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.”

President Teddy Roosevelt once made the observation that, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” For the most part, I tend to agree with him—though, I wouldn’t have used the word comparison, but we’ll get around to all that.

For the time being, let us simply consider that there are many thieves of the heart which threaten to rob us of joy and that comparison is somewhere on the list among them. Live, love, lose, and labor long enough, and you’ll soon find yourself looking over your shoulder at how your neighbor is making out, regardless of how richly or poorly you are presently fairing yourself.

Of course, there are no shortage of other things that have a mind to steal our joy if they’re given a foothold in our hearts, homes, and lives. Nonetheless, while I don’t believe that comparison can claim the title as the primary thief of joy, no person can argue against the fact that it is a significant thief of joy when entertained with a warped perspective—in even the slightest dosage.

People will often say that comparison in this world is simply inevitable. That one can’t help but take notice of the many differences, whether good or ill, that exist between themselves and others. To merely observe such differences surely isn’t wrong, much less sinful, they say. If that is where comparison begins and ends for an individual, then I say fine and well, “Go in peace.”

And there is, of course, a sort of healthy comparison that is not without its usefulness if undertaken properly and proportionately. For example, when the Lord says to the sluggard in Proverbs 6:6 that he should “Go to the ant... consider her ways, and be wise,” He means for a comparison to be made between the lazy man and the diligent ant. Consider your ways, sluggard, then consider the ways of the ant and put into practice those things which you have learned from her.

Furthermore, when Paul encourages his readers to “Be imitators of [him], as [he is] of Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1), this will inevitably involve some degree of comparison—it simply must. Such a command to imitate Paul as he imitates Christ necessitates a few things, all of which constitute a form of comparison from one degree of glory to another. To imitate Paul as he imitates Christ, there must first be i) a sober evaluation of oneself, ii) contrasted with a look at the example of Paul, iii) finally concluding with a consideration of the holiness of Christ Himself. And then, once everything has been weighed in the scales, action must be taken to rectify any disparities between your own holiness and that of Christ’s.

This is the sort of comparison that is not only healthy, but indeed necessary. Without the ultimate standard of Christ by which to evaluate ourselves,—and the long line of godly men walking behind Him—how would we know what it means to be a Christian? Without a perfect Christ to compare ourselves to, how would we ever imitate Him?

However, if we are truly being honest with ourselves and evaluating the conditions of our heart soberly, many of us will readily admit that there is often much, much more to the story when it comes to the kind of comparing we so regularly engage in.

I know this to be the case because I am painfully aware of this very sin—that is, sinful comparison—in my very own heart. How often do I compare my work, my home, my marriage, my salary, or even my reach as a writer to those around me, altogether forgetting that all of it, every iota, is an unearned, undeserved, and gracious gift from the Lord. By ignoring the greater reality of God’s steadfast love,—choosing rather to fixate on closing the gap between myself and another person in any realm of life—I am choosing to instead indulge self, slaughter joy, set aside love for my neighbor, and worst of all, elevate grumbling above glorifying God.

My wife is a Biblical counselor. In her conversations with the women she counsels—and oftentimes with her husband also!—she will encourage her counselees to adopt Biblical language when they are talking about the sins and struggles in their lives. For example, she might counsel that, “The Bible doesn’t use the word trauma, but it does speak a great deal of suffering.” And, “You said that you wrestle with worry, but might it be more accurate to say that you have a heart of persistent unbelief?” Or, perhaps most famously, “You know, simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ is not the same as saying ‘Please forgive me for ____.’ Biblical repentance and ‘I am sorry’ are not the same thing.”

The use of Biblical language as opposed to secular vernacular is a supremely useful tool in exposing the sin in our hearts that we so desperately try to avoid on a daily basis. In like fashion, let’s set aside the term comparison and focus on the Biblical language provided for the kind of comparing that is not merely observational, but indeed sinful: discontentment, covetousness, and envy.

Now, what do these words mean and what do they have to do with comparison? To be discontent means to be dissatisfied with one’s present circumstances, whether these circumstances are financial, marital, familial, professional, physical, or otherwise. It is to express a heart of pride that often swaths itself as self-pity, altogether lacking thankfulness and gratitude towards God who is the gracious Giver of all good gifts. God does not owe us anything—a discontent heart completely forgets that reality. A discontent heart is a proud heart. It betrays a disposition of supreme selfishness; a thinly-veiled belief that you really do deserve better than you currently have it.

At the root of discontentment often lies another sin. The tenth and final of the Ten Commandments prohibits the sin of covetousness: “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or his male servant, or his female servant, or his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor’s” (Exodus 20:17). To covet is to exhibit a strong and sinful desire for what another person has—it is not merely a desire for good things, but a desire for the things someone else possesses. To engage in healthy comparison is to say, “I admire such and such a person: I want to follow after their example in my own life and, perhaps, the Lord will bless me in similar ways in His own timing.” Covetousness, by contrast, is wicked and selfish: “I like such and such that a person has: I want their stuff for myself.” Covetousness goes beyond merely wanting things. To covet is to want the things of another—their things, specifically. The Lord says, “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the LORD” (Proverbs 18:22). Covetousness says, “I want my neighbor’s wife.” It is theft committed not with hands, but with the heart.

Lastly, let us consider what the Bible calls envy. Speaking on the sin of envy, Tim Challies writes,

“Envy is begrudging another person their joy or success. It is being resentful and frustrated at what another person has received, has earned, or has been blessed with. It is not merely wanting what another person has, but wanting that other person not to have it. It is feeling low, diminished, and hard done by when another person receives some good. And it always expresses itself in other forms of sin—hatred, gossip, ingratitude, and even murder.”

There is a sort of black, sinister ribbon binding together discontentment, covetousness, and envy. All three are interconnected, and all three sins go far beyond the kind of healthy comparison aforementioned. Indeed, as with all sin, there is a dreadful progression to be found among them. Discontentment isn’t satisfied with what it has; covetousness is only partially satisfied after it has what belongs to another; and envy, the most vile of the three, isn’t satisfied at all until another person is entirely bereft from that which they once had. Each sin begets the other; each offspring growing to be more evil than it’s parent.

We prefer a word like comparison over covetousness or envy because the former is far less prickly. Everyone is guilty of comparison now and again, right? However, would you so quickly admit to being an individual that regularly commits the sin of envy? Perhaps not. And yet, if we are to be sons and daughters of the Most High who make it a habit of putting sin to death, we must then engage with the enemy in plain terms and simple speech.

To obfuscate the enemy is to obfuscate the battle’s primary objective. To bandy about with soft words when it comes to sin is to harm our own souls and rob us of the sweetness offered by repentance. True and lasting freedom comes about only after sin is correctly identified in Biblical language, confessed, and put to death with the help of the Spirit. As John Owen once said, “Be killing sin or it will be killing you.” This process of killing sin begins by naming and defining sin with Biblical terms rather than applying secular euphemisms to our transgressions against God and neighbor. Sin thrives in the dark corners and dimly lit rooms of the heart, cloaking itself in inoffensive language that neither pricks the conscience nor moves the soul to repentance.

So, what are we to do? How are we to remain steadfast and content in a world that seeks to pull our affections to ribbons at every turn? What is, in a manner of speaking, the content of contentment—that solid foundation upon which true and lasting contentment can be built? In 1 Corinthians 11:1 and Philippians 3:17, the Apostle Paul encourages his readers to imitate him even as he is striving to imitate Christ. Only a few verses later in Philippians, Paul unfolds his recipe for happy, joyful living that rests content in even the most severe of life’s many upheavals and disappointments:

“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” (Philippians 4:11-13).

What is the secret to being content in all circumstances? According to Paul, the secrets rests not in himself, his abilities, his resources, or his present situation. Nor is the secret to being content found in outperforming those around you. Rather, Paul says true contentment rests in the strength of Christ who sustains him.

Self, ability, and circumstance are all subject to change, like the waves of a frothing sea during a great storm that, only a moment before, were once still and quiet. The Lord Jesus Christ, on the other hand, never changes—“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). On this side of eternity, everything else in life must be held with an open hand. If we can lose it, then we would be fools to place our hope, joy, and contentment in it—that, my friends, is idolatry. Philip Henry, the father of Matthew Henry, puts the reality in simple terms:

“He is no fool who gives away what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose.”

The hands and hearts that are happiest are those which firmly grasp the unalterable and immutable promises of God, realizing everything else might very well come and go.

The content of contentment is fellowship with God Himself. In a world full of change and heartache, one thing is needful: delight in Him who is the soul’s supreme delight, “the good portion, which will not be taken away” (Luke 10:42). As George MacDonald put it, “He who has God and everything else has no more than he who has God only.” Thus, no matter where we might find ourselves, we can rest at ease knowing it is precisely where God means for us to be, relying on His divine strength moment by moment to see us through every circumstance for His glory.

When I ponder on what it means to be truly content, my mind often wanders to the Shire. I recently went through Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy and, as you may have gauged by my last few posts, I remain astonished by the abundance of Biblical wisdom packed into this story.

In The Lord of the Rings, the hobbits of the Shire are depicted as the very standard of contentment. They care not for treasure, fame, great riches, or the power that might adorn him who wears the One Ring—no, they care most for peace and quiet, for good-tilled earth, and for the warmth of home and hearth above all. For hobbits, the small and simple comforts of the Shire are more than their fair share in life. Of no hobbit is this more true than Samwise, Frodo’s faithful companion throughout the quest to destroy the One Ring. In The Return of the King, after a fierce bout of back-and-forth temptation, Samwise concludes that he already has everything he should ever need or want, and more—he just needs to survive long enough to get back home in one piece to enjoy it. Lands and servants and the power to control them both are best left to others. For Samwise,

“The one small garden of a free gardener was all his need and due, not a garden swollen to a realm; his own hands to use, not the hands of others to command.”

Such contentment is wonderfully freeing to the soul in Christ. That Christ is strong and we are weak opens up the soul to a wide plain free from the suffocating thorns and brambles of never-ending comparison, covetousness, discontent, and envy, allowing deep roots to penetrate the ground wherein we have been set by His hands. To be truly content in Christ frees our stiff necks from having always to gaze around at what others may be doing, instead finding joy in the labor that lies at our own two feet, in our own garden, for His glory.

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Photo by Ginevra Austine, Unsplash

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