CONTENTMENT
"I have learned to be content in whatever state I
am in." —Phil. 4:11
How few among us have made this advancement in knowledge!
How ready are we, when anything thwarts our inclinations, disarranges our
plans, or hinders our interests, to fret and murmur—to sit down in gloomy
despondency, and say with the patriarch, "All these things are against me!"
The reason is, because we have not, like the apostle, been "learning."
Contentment is not acquired all at once. It is only by a gradual process
that this spirit is fostered in us—only by striving to bear patiently the
lesser ills of life—the daily crosses and vexations which come upon us—that
we can acquire the power of bearing up, without complaint, under the more
trying and oppressive sorrows which, in the providence of God, fall to our
share.
Nor is it by trusting to our own strength that we can
attain this happy frame of mind. God gives grace to those who improve what
they have already received. The oftener He sees His child putting forth the
strength already imparted, the more willing is He to renew that strength. It
was so with the apostle. How varied had been his experience! and how
strenuously did he seek, under every change of circumstance, to improve and
manifest the grace of God which had been given him! Think of what he had to
undergo while "learning" the lesson of contentment! In his
journeyings and perils—his imprisonments and shipwrecks—his weariness and
painfulness—his watchings, hunger, thirst, fastings, cold, and nakedness—he
must have endured many severe and painful privations. But all the while he
was "learning," and all the while realizing more fully that the grace of God
was sufficient to enable him to undergo the countless trials which had been
allotted. By degrees he had been instructed not to murmur at the allotments
of Divine Providence—not to be envious at the prosperity of others—and not
to repine when his comforts were removed.
And this, Christian, was no easy lesson. To be able to
use the language of Paul marks a great advancement in the divine life. It
is often a trying thing to see the wicked prospering—free from trouble
and anxiety, unvisited by misfortune or calamity—and yet, amid suffering,
and sickness, and distress, to cherish a contented spirit—to continue
patient and trustful and uncomplaining. Not infrequently, alas, the language
of the heart is similar to that of David, "Behold, these are the ungodly who
prosper in the world—they increase in riches. Verily, I have cleansed my
heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency. For all the day long have I
been plagued, and chastened every morning."
Reader, it is the triumph of true religion that it
can stand such a shock—that it can so fill the heart with peace, so animate
it with hope, and so establish its faith and trust in God—that trials,
reverses, sicknesses, and sorrows only attract the believer nearer to the
bosom of his God. And, in truth, it is not strange that they should do
so. If I find that my God has comforted me under a small trial, shall I not
repair to Him under a heavier one?—if He has spoken to me in accents of
intenser love while suffering was pressing upon me than at other times,
shall I not instantly flee to Him when my troubles return?—and if His grace
has brought me forth out of one affliction, wiser, better, more earnest,
self-denying, humble, and resigned, oh, to whom should I rush with greater
eagerness and urgency, when the flood of sorrow is overwhelming me, than to
Him who, having "given His own dear Son for me, shall with Him also freely
give me all things" needful for my present emergency?
Besides, dear reader, never forget the necessity
of trial. Assuredly God does not send trouble or sickness or poverty merely
to fret and annoy His children—to render them unhappy and discontented. No!
but forasmuch as our natures are sinful, and must be sanctified—forasmuch as
we are willful, and must be brought to obedience—forasmuch as every remnant
of the evil principle must be removed before we can enter the kingdom of
heaven—God tries His children, not by a steady course of prosperity, nor by
a long-continued and uniform adversity, but by transition from the one to
the other. He knows that the grace which might be sufficient for the day of
sunshine will not bear us up amid darkness and tempest—that the virtues
which appear in the Christian when all is serene and tranquil, might be
crushed and deadened amid reverses and disappointments.
And as it is His purpose to strengthen the Christian
character—to develop it more and more, until it is fitted for His own
immediate presence—He makes the believer's path one of varied experiences of
joy and sorrow—of health and sickness—of prosperity and adversity. But then,
new grace is imparted for every new form of trial, and new traits of
character come into view in these rapid transitions of life. For as the gold
or the diamond, unsubjected to the crucible and to other agencies, might
have continued to shine with steady beauty and brilliancy, but not with the
peculiar beauty effected by the refiner; so, in Christian life, many a
beautiful trait of character would have remained undiscovered throughout
unbroken prosperity or long-continued adversity. There might have been
always the reality of religion, but not that peculiar manifestation
which is produced in the transition from the one to the other. If never
tried by sickness and suffering, never would the Christian learn to say with
the apostle, "I have learned, in whatever state I am, therewith to be
content;" and he would therefore fail to produce one of the most precious
fruits of religion in the soul—the conviction that God is right in
all His ways.
Consider, too, that many of the external evils are of our
own choice. We have brought them on ourselves. They are the fruit of our own
doings, it may be of our pride and selfishness, our worldliness, and
waywardness, and folly. Why, then, be impatient and discontented under those
evils which we ourselves have chosen? Why murmur and repine because these
trees have borne their natural fruit?
Or, it may be, these apparent evils are beyond our
control. We have no power to prevent them. Some, indeed, arise out of the
very condition of our nature. And can we reasonably expect that the very
nature of things should be altered so as to secure our ease and comfort?
Reflect, too, that the worst we have to suffer is far
less than we deserve, and the least we enjoy far more than in justice we
could expect. Christian, when you remember for how many years you lived in
forgetfulness of God, and yet during the whole of that period were nurtured
by His parental care!—when you consider for how long a time you continued in
carelessness and indifference, and yet even then were sought and found by
the influence of His good Spirit, and brought to the knowledge and love of
Christ—when you reflect how God has watched over you since you have received
the Savior into your heart—how He has preserved you from dangers, secured
you in seasons of temptation, supported you in times of trial, cherished you
in the days of sickness, comforted you in the hours of despondency—oh,
surely you have reason to be content and thankful
for the least mercy, and to be patient and submissive
under the sorest trial!
Besides, who is it that measures out the changes in your
earthly lot? No cross or trial comes to you but from a Father's hand—to whom
you owe submission and obedience. He has appointed your present lot, and
every ingredient in your cup is mingled by His own hand. In whatever state
you now are, it is by His guidance that you have been led into it. And did
you not promise to trust Him? Go back to the first Ebenezer you erected,
when He helped you—when by His Holy Spirit you were enabled to say, "My Lord
and my God." See the inscription—"Lord, I am Yours, to do with me as You
desire. Lord, keep me, for I trust in You."
And now, because He has led you for a while in a
thorny path—because some of your hopes have been blasted—because everything
is not ordered according to your wishes—are you to give way to murmuring and
discontent? Are you wiser than your heavenly Guide? Would He lay upon you an
unnecessary burden? It may be a heavy one—long and painful sickness—days and
nights of weariness and anguish. What then? All was "needed." You are
pained, yes—but look not at what you are suffering, but at what you have
deserved to suffer. "Why should a living man complain?" Have you
received no proofs of God's tender mercy? God always, to His own children,
sends His staff with His rod, His grace with His
affliction; and if you have not realized that support in the time of
greatest extremity, it is not because it is lacking to you, but because you
have not laid hold upon it, and utilized it.
And yet again, Christian, has not God given the greatest
pledge of His love and goodness that the most doubting and craving heart
could desire—even His beloved Son, to be our sacrifice? and "how shall He
not with Him also freely give us all things?" His own dear Son was given to
the death for us. Can we then for a moment doubt that He will order all
things for our real good? And when we think of the Savior's sufferings for
our sakes—how patiently, how uncomplainingly, He bore His unparalleled
sorrows—oh, surely we ought to strive to imitate His example!—surely we have
reason to be contented to be conformed and subject to the will of the
Captain of our salvation! As He was made perfect through suffering, so must
we, that if we suffer with Him, we may be glorified with Him. If, then, a
murmuring word or repining thought should arise in our minds, let us look by
faith upon our dying Savior, and ask our own hearts, "Was not His cup more
painful than mine?" and let the remembrance of His sufferings cause us to
"count it all joy" to have an opportunity of honoring God by our patience
and contentment with whatever is meted out for us.
Let us also strive to be contented with our
earthly condition, when we consider that, if changes and vicissitudes do
come upon us, if they are as necessary as the most valued of our
blessings, God has also furnished daily helps—that we may bear them
patiently and contentedly. He has given us divine and heavenly consolations
in His blessed Word. He has promised the assurance of His love and goodness,
and the light of His countenance, to carry us with comfort and dependence
upon Him, amid them all. He has set before us bright examples of patience in
various trying conditions of life—where we can trace the design and meaning
of the visitation—its blessed results in drawing the believer closer to his
God—and its final outcome in filling the soul with a perfect and unbroken
peace.
And, above all, contentment ought to mark the
Christian when he looks to the future. He is told that this world is not his
home, but his place of trial and preparation for a better state. This world
is but his pilgrimage state—his passage, and such a passage as must
be accompanied with many vicissitudes—a place of warfare—a stormy sea,
through which he must pass before he can reach the haven of rest. His
country, his home, his place of rest and happiness, lies beyond death's
rising flood, where there shall be no trouble, nor fears, nor dangers, but
eternal and unchangeable comfort—fullness of pure and uninterrupted
pleasures—and that for evermore.
What, then, though troubles rise around on every side,
child of God, pray for grace to be able to say, "In whatever state I here
am, may I be content." You have heaven and everlasting joy in reserve
for you—and these light afflictions are only for a season. Then all shall be
well—no more disappointments and sorrows—no more dark and stormy days—but
the unclouded vision—the enjoyment of the presence of your God—a joy
unspeakable and full of glory.
Leave God to deal with you; and though He causes grief,
yet will He have compassion according to the multitude of His mercies. For
He does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men. Submit
yourself willingly to the hand of your heavenly Father—to assign you
prosperity or to visit with adversity—to bestow health or to send
sickness—and then, although sudden passions of impatience and discontent
may sometimes, like clouds, arise and trouble you for a while—yet this
faith in God, and this hope of future blessedness, rooted in the heart,
will, like the sun in yonder heavens, scatter and dispel them all,
and cause the mild light of patience and contentment to shine
through.
"Trust in the Lord, forever trust,
And banish all your fears."
Trust Him for the future, as you have proved His
faithfulness in the past. Be assured, in regard to everything that
may yet happen you—all is wisely ordered. You know not, indeed, what the
future may bring for you; but be assured that, though the furnace of trial
is needed, it cannot sever you from Christ your Savior; it cannot change
your Father's love; it cannot weary out His care. Believe that, in the
unknown and uncertain future, there shall not be one storm without His
bidding—one pang without His presence; and stay your mind on the assurance
that "all things shall work together for good to those who love God."
Heavenly Father, God of consolation, who knows our frame,
and how little we can endure, even though we deserve so much—be pleased to
remember me in mercy! O, either lighten my sufferings, or increase my
spiritual strength; and if You do not see fit entirely to remove my burden,
oh, enable me to bear what You are pleased to lay upon me. Preserve me from
all murmuring. Give me, O Lord, the grace of contentment—and let no repining
thoughts take possession of my soul.
Although You have made me acquainted with grief, and my
sickness has become my inseparable companion, yet, O blessed Lord, grant
that I may not think it long to wait Your time, when You are pleased to wait
so long for the return of sinners, and are ever piteous and of tender mercy!
Oh, make me so sensible of Your kindness and love, that I may be not only
contented, but thankful under Your hand!
Teach me, O gracious Father, to see love, as well as
justice, in all Your dealings, that I may humble myself under Your mighty
hand, and confess that it is good for me to be afflicted.
Give me grace, O Lord, patiently to wait for You—in an
assured expectation that I shall one day see cause to number my afflictions
among my richest mercies. Teach and help me to glorify You in the time of my
visitation—to honor You by a humble submission to Your will—a patient
bearing of Your rod—and a faithful reformation of my heart and life—that so
You may return to me with the visitations of Your love, and show me the joy
of Your salvation, for Your mercy's sake in Christ Jesus. Amen.
"I was silent; I would not open my mouth,
for You are the one who has done this." Psalm 39:9
It is Your hand, my God!
My sorrow comes from Thee;
I bow beneath the chastening rod—
'Tis love that bruises me.
I would not murmur, Lord—
Before You I am dumb!
Lest I should breathe one murmuring word,
To You for help I come.
My God! Your name is Love—
A Father's hand is Thine;
With tearful eye I look above,
And cry, "Your will be mine."
I know Your will is right,
Though it may seem severe;
Your path is like unsullied light,
Though dark it oft' appear.
Jesus for me has died;
Your Son You did not spare;
His pierced hands, His bleeding side,
Your love for me declare.
Here my poor heart can rest;
My God, it cleaves to Thee;
Your will is love, Your end is blessed—
All work for good to me.