On Wants, Needs and the Endless Struggle

But godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.  And having food and raiment let us be therewith content.

1 Timothy 6: 6-8

     But godliness with contentment is great gain...this phrase has been dancing around in my mind for the last week.  It is deceptively simple.  The mathematician in me sees it as a simple equation.  You behave in a godly manner, you be happy with life and you will gain great things. Easy Peasy...if you are not a normal human being with wants and needs who struggles to submit your will to The Lord.  If you should find it easy to be godly and content...congrats, you're probably pretty close to being done with this whole probationary period.  Hopefully I'll get to shake your hand on the other side and you can tell me all of your secrets you super christian ninja!  (As you can tell from the sarcasm oozing out of me...I'm certainly not there.)

     Do you ever stop and consider how we are never content?  Never.  There is never one moment in our human state when we are not striving, hoping, yearning or agonizing over the next 'thing' that will somehow bring us to this perfect indescribable state of completion.  Babies work nonstop to become verbal, mobile and independently functioning human beings.  Children are aching to be older and do more.  Adolescents can't wait until they drive, go to college, get a job etc.  When we become young adults we ache to have 'someone', to find our perfect career.  When we settle into that career we work harder and harder to promote within it.  When 'someone' comes into our lives and we are finally married we seek to create our 'family' through children.  When we have promoted as far as possible in our job we long for the day when we can retire.  The list goes on and on until the day we are lowered into the grave. 

     I don't believe any of those things I mentioned are evil desires.  To the contrary, I believe they are good and necessary.  If there were nothing to strive for in this life we would quickly loose all desire to do anything.  That is human nature.  And yet that verse repeats in my mind...but godliness with contentment is great gain.  If our drive comes from an internal need to improve our state in life, wouldn't contentment be the enemy of any reasonably active person?  Wouldn't contentment be the enemy of diligence and determination?  At a minimum it's lazy cousin?  And yet we are cautioned that combined with godliness it is great gain.  What does it mean to be godly and to be content?

     In my pursuit of this answer I looked up the definition of content which directed me to the definition of satisfied, which directed me to the word appease.  Mildly frustrated with definitions that only reference other words, I was expecting even more ambiguity when I looked down below the word appease to see: to bring to a state of peace or quiet.  I couldn't help but smile.  What a perfect definition and a perfect description of what The Lord does for my ever yearning heart.


     I love my life.  I have amazing friends and family that span multiple continents.  I have a job that is more fun and fulfilling than I ever could have imagined.  I have a nice roof over my head, a reliable car to drive and plenty of food to eat.  If I made a list of my blessings day to day you would quickly be overwhelmed at its size, I know that I often am.  And yet....and yet...there are things that I hope for but have no evidence will ever come my way.  I realize this is not a unique experience and am convinced we all have our secret (or maybe not so secret) hopes for our future or the future of our loved ones.  Those hopes are not bad things, they do not imply that we are desperate or weak or unable to accept the blessings we have been given.  It is good to hope for good things, and we should hope for them.  So, how do we keep that hope alive without allowing it to overshadow the place in which we currently reside on our individual time lines?

 

     I believe that contentment is tied to faith and that it is indeed a gift that comes from exercising faith.  In Hebrews 11:1 it says that faith is the substance of the things we hope for and the evidence of things we cannot see. (my paraphrasing)  Throughout my life I have struggled with various things that have the power to make me discontent.  I could use a new car, I don't make as much money as I would like, I'm still single, I would like to travel more....all of these things fight to take away my sense of peace.  Our culture in general and sometimes even well meaning family/friends emphasize these 'needs' that we have or aspects of our lives that are somehow 'lacking'.  If we are being honest with ourselves we have all fallen prey to forgetting the blessings we are surrounded with and focusing only on that one thing we hope for that has not yet made it's appearance.  And if we are being honest with ourselves we have all fallen prey to accidentally being that family member/friend who points out where another person's hope is yet to come to fruition.  Being the 'salt in the wound' instead of the 'healing balm' that reminds them that you have faith in their hopes.

 

     When I find myself trapped in the battle (And when I say battle, I mean battle in all of its implications.  I mean straight up arguing with God because I don't understand or like the answer I'm getting.) between what I want, what I have and what I truly need, it is faith that guides me back into a place of inner quiet.  It is faith that reassures me I have not been forgotten and I will not go without anything that is needed.  I choose to believe in a God of miracles who has power over the whole of heaven and earth.  I choose to believe His promises to me will not be forgotten or unfulfilled.  I have seen His righteous hand move in my life and bless me in the past, and I choose to believe He will bless me in the future.  I choose faith, and when I make that choice it becomes the substance that sustains my hopes for the future.  It becomes to my heart all of the evidence that I need to believe in what I cannot see.  And in that moment, choosing to believe in the God of Abraham, Issac and Joseph, He responds with a gift of reassurance.  I find that my heart, which moments before was in complete turmoil wondering what and how and why, has become quiet and full of peace.

 

     This does not mean that I no longer hold out hope for that thing in my life, it simply means I have peace with and accept that it will come how, and when God chooses.  It means that I have, in that one point, given my will up to the will of God because I trust in Him to direct my life as He sees fit.  It is in this process of exercising faith and giving up my will that I am able to be content while I wait on His promises for my life.  Contentment is great gain because it is through the process of obtaining it that we are able to strengthen our faith and sacrifice our will to the will of our creator.  The sacrifice of our will to God is the only true offering we can ever make to Him, for it is the only thing of our own that we have to give.  In that sacrifice we show Him our love and in response He shows His love for us by giving our hearts true contentment.  A peace that passes all human understanding.  

 

       

 

                

On Kodak Memories

      It always begins with the warmth of the sun.  Whenever I think of my grandfather, regardless of the memory or when it was made, I immediately feel the penetrating warmth of sunlight.  It's followed by the sight of a twinkling eye an open toothed grin and the sound of laughter, both light and full.

     I once had the privilege of sitting inside the towering walls of a bamboo forest.  When the wind moved in the tips of the bamboo the stalks would sway and hit one another causing a full and deep, yet somehow gentle, sound to play on the breeze all around me.  That's how I remember grandpa's laugh.  Like the wind through a great bamboo forest.

     I can see him perfectly in my mind's eye.  His left hand (palm out and thumb down) balanced perfectly on top of his right hand (palm in and thumb up).  He would hold his hands out in front of his face, forming a perfect rectangle that framed his eyes.  He would say, :You don't need a camera to make memories that will last forever.  Any time you want to remember something special you just stop and think 'I want to remember this moment forever' that's how you make Kodak Memories."  All of these years later and that's how I remember him best.  The man who taught me the pledge of allegiance, how to properly use my singing voice and how to give the softest of Eskimo kisses.  In flashes of memories like still frames frozen in my heart.

     There is heat emanating from the smooth hard surface of the metal wagon that is spinning me in tight loops around the yard.  It is pulled by a loud and angry riding lawn mower.  My fingers ache as they grip the sharp angles of the wagon's side.  I cannot tear my hands free but I refuse to let grandpa know how scared I truly am.  I feel at once exhilarated and terrified as the engine belches out it's syncopated rhythm with its raucous motor swallowing the sound of grandpa's cheery cry, "Hang on kids, it's about to get bumpy!."

     It is late spring or early summer and we are having a picnic of some kind.  I am surrounded by family, friends and laughter.  I can smell the odors of freshly turned earth, newly mowed grass and a mix of blooming lilacs and peonies.  Odors that I will come to forever associate with home.  I climb up the side of the table and into grandpa's open arms.  As I lean in to give him a hug my cheek rubs against his, stirring up the spicy musk of his aftershave.  His cheek is warm from the sun and scratches mine with the stubble of his beard.  A giggle bubbles to my lips and is echoed in his responding laughter.  His whole chest heaves as he laughs and cuddles me into the safety of his arms.

     I wake up feeling perfectly comfortable and still.  My face is pressed deep into the cushions of the 'medicine couch' in grandpa's office.  I breathe in deeply the scent of the couch mixed with old papers, books, fresh ink and grandpa's spicy aftershave.  I lie still and try to keep my breathing regular and calm.  I don't want anything to break the delicate web of this perfect moment.  Eyes fully open now I take in the golden hue of afternoon sun streaming through the window and bouncing off the cream colored walls.  Behind me I hear the steady rhythm of typing and the reassuring squeak of metal as grandpa shifts in his chair.  Mentally I trace lines on the thick off white paper I know is secured in that great brick of a typewriter which makes its home in the center of his desk.  Thunk, tic, tak, toc, chink, tak, tic, tak....ping!  Whirr....next line.  I slowly and quietly rotate my body around on the couch, careful not to alert him to the fact that I am awake.  I study the shape of his head under thinning grey hair, the line of his neck disappearing into his sharply ironed collar.  "I want to remember this moment", I think, "I have to remember every detail!".  Grandpa spins to grab a sheet of paper at his side.  As he swivels in the chair his eye catches mine.  The fragile web is broken, the moment suspended forever in my heart.