discontent, partaking of the divine.

Contentment. It is still an elusive concept to me at times. One I have always had a hard time embracing… because so often I felt a discontent in my life that was not about food or clothing and yet Paul’s words were the oft-quoted solution, but my soul was never salved. I came to believe that there could be a permissible discontent in my life, but defining it or explaining why I felt it was okay at times to be discontent to others proved to be difficult. I often felt alone in my discontent, feeling like a failure for letting feelings and desires for change in my life “drive away” a “Godly contentment,” feeling like maybe I was in the end wrong and discontent could never have a healthy output. I felt like contentment equaled resignation. No one ever disabused me of this notion, never seemed to make an intelligible distinction between the two. I thought of Kierkegaard, and his Knight of Infinite Resignation, contrasted with his Knight of Faith… I didn’t want to be resigned. I wanted to have unfathomable, crazy faith. The faith that saw the impossibility of a thing, but went on believing unquestionably, unhesitatingly, in its definite fulfillment. So it was in an apropos moment that I continued my previous reading on contentment and came across this:

I wish I could end our discussion of contentment on this high note. But as you have probably already realized, contentment has certain difficulties. The great problem with a principle of contentment is its tendency to baptize the status quo, to give religious sanction to present conditions. It is the kind of counsel that the powerful enjoy giving to the poor and defenseless. Often it is the very spirit of discontent that has prompted wonderful changes for good. There is a kind of holy restlessness that inspires important social advances. And so we are faced with the practical issue of knowing when our disquiet stems from a God-given concern to improve conditions, and when it is the result of self-serving greed. There are, of course, no foolproof answers, but I share the following guidelines in the hope that they may at least turn us in the right direction.
First, we can share the concern with other brothers and sisters whose discernment we respect. Second, if our restlessness has its root in anguish over the plight of those whose condition is clearly desperate most likely it is of the Lord. Third, if the concern involves the well-being of our children, it is often right. Fourth, if we are wanting to improve our own state, we should not automatically assume that it is wrong. Fifth, let us consider if our discontent has its source in a lack of inward peace with Christ. Sixth, we need to learn to distinguish a genuine psychological need, such as cheerful surroundings, from an obsession. Seventh, we must grow in our discernment between desires that spring from Heavenly Love and those arising from the love of money. Eighth, by an act of the will we must still every motion that is centered in greed.

When I read Foster’s words, I felt understood, and even better, that someone had put my fledgling feelings to proper words and fuller, richer explanation. He showed me why it was I felt discontent, and how it could be not merely okay, but a good thing. What resulted was a feeling immense relief and thankfulness. I hope that my discontent may help to motivate me and bring about the changes that are for good. May we also ask for this divine discontent, a deep restlessness, so that we may find ourselves fighting the good fight in fullness of faith, reckless though it may even be or seem!

This concludes my posts on Foster’s book. I’ll check back in the comments, so feel free to continue discussion there, or shoot me an email… because I certainly enjoy the conversations.

on contentment.

One of the most profound effects of inward simplicity is the rise of an amazing spirit of contentment… To live in contentment means we can opt out of the status race and the maddening pace that is its necessary partner. We can shout "No!" to the insanity which chants, "More, more, more!" We can rest contented in the gracious provision of God… Think of the misery that comes into our lives by our restless gnawing greed. We plunge ourselves into enormous debt and then take two and three jobs to stay afloat. We uproot our families with unnecessary moves just so we can have a more prestigious house. We grasp and grab and never have enough. And most destructive of all, our flashy cars and sports spectaculars and backyard pools have a way of crowding out much interest in civil rights or inner city poverty or the starved masses of India. Greed has a way of severing the cords of compassion… But we do not need to be imprisoned to avarice. We can be ushered into a life of peace and serenity. With Paul we can say, "If we have food and clothing, with these we shall be content." (1 Tim 6:8)

Contentment. An elusive concept for me. An elusive concept for the mentality of most Americans. Everyone wants to climb the ladder. Move into a better home, a better job, with a better income. But me? I’m not climbing. I reckon when I return to the States, I still may never start that ascent to the Elysian fields of coveted careers and professional prosperity. I suspect such bliss would elude just as it deludes. Yet what strikes me about this piece on contentment is the connection Foster makes between it and compassion. If we are never content in our own status and standard of living, how can we genuinely think of others? Doesn’t our own discontent, resulting in reaching and grasping in greed, numb us to the harsh realities that others face outside of our “Lexus cages”? Having our thoughts consumed with consumerism, our hearts grow cold to the heat others are facing. If consumerism eats us alive, it does so by only making us our own enemy through self-absorption and never-ending selfishness.
Contentment as an expression of inward simplicity, ushering in a beautiful serenity, is what I’d like to reach and grasp for. I would even be greedy for simplicity in my heart if I could be so, if only to increase the distance between me and the possible collapse and numbing of all compassion and tenderheartedness… without which, how can I be human?