Chapter XXI: Christian Contentment.1

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.--Phil. iv. 11.

An instance of the moral sublime, which none can fail to admire, and all should endeavor to emulate. What an ornament of the gospel is such a spirit! What a commendation of Christianity is such a testimony! No human philosophy, no stoical indifference, no diligence of self-discipline, ever elevated the soul of man to so serene and pure an atmosphere--nothing but that religion which the Son of God brought with him from heaven to earth, the tendency and design of which is to raise its human subjects from earth to heaven. "I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

Contentment is satisfaction with one's lot or condition. The word conveys the idea of fulness and sufficiency. It is opposed to envy, which is displeased with the prosperity of others. It is opposed to ambition, which is not satisfied with equality, but aspires to superiority. It is opposed to avarice, which grasps all it can reach, keeps all it obtains, and "sayeth not it is enough." It is opposed to anxiety, which is always taking needless thought for the morrow, saying, "What shall we eat? what shall we drink? and wherewithal shall we be clothed?" It is opposed to murmuring and repining, which is an ungrateful distrust of God, an unjust arraignment of his providence, an impious impeachment of his wisdom and goodness, a presumptuous spirit of rebellion against his righteous government.

St. Paul's statement seems to express complete and perfect satisfaction. In the highest sense this is applicable only to Jehovah, who is El Shaddai, God All-sufficient. But in a lower sense it is true, to a greater or less degree, of all good men. They have no sufficiency in themselves, but their sufficiency is of God. Of his fulness they have all received--the unsearchable riches of Christ. With the fatness of his house they are abundantly satisfied, and he makes them drink from the river of his pleasures. This is the only satisfying portion of the soul. Without this, men may be indifferent--may be jovial and reckless; but these are not contentment--are perhaps the very opposites of contentment; indifference, the sullen obstinacy of a perverse and rebellious will, as far from contentment as it is from submission; jovial recklessness, the effort of a restless heart to throw off its burden of care and trouble--the revolt of the whole man against Providence and against conscience. But when Divine Love brings us to its banqueting-house, and God becomes our shield and exceeding great reward, then the fluctuating soul returns to its native rest, like Naphthali satisfied with favor and full with the blessing of the Lord.

When the apostle says--"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content," no one can imagine that he refers to his former state of sin; for of that he constantly speaks in terms of strong regret, and as long as he lived he never ceased to sorrow for the evil he had done. Nor are we to suppose that he means to express his full satisfaction with his present state of grace; for he is always hungering and thirsting after the fulness of God; and no Christian can be fully satisfied with his spiritual attainments till he awakes in the likeness of his Lord.

If there can be any doubt of the apostle's meaning, the verses immediately following may solve it: "I know both how to be abased and how to abound; everywhere, and in all things, I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, to abound and to suffer need; I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." These several conditions he had tested by experience; and found himself able, by the grace of God, to maintain a calm and unperturbed spirit amidst all their trying vicissitudes: thoroughly assured that all were ordered or overruled by Infinite Wisdom and Love, and must therefore work together for his good.

In another place he says: "Most gladly will I glory in mine infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me; therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then am I strong." To be content in success and prosperity, were easy enough; but to be content in trials such as these, immeasurably surpasses the power of the unsanctified human heart. The apostle, however, bore his tribulations, not merely with patient submission and quiet fortitude, but even with exultation; rejoicing evermore; in every thing giving thanks; counting the heaviest cross his greatest blessing; with all his heart glorying in the fellowship of his Saviour's suffering; willing to live or die, because in life or death God would be magnified in his body; and when the alternative presents itself in imminent prospect, perplexed only as to which he ought to prefer: "I am in a strait betwixt two; having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better; nevertheless, to abide in the flesh is more needful for you; and having this confidence, I know that I shall abide and continue with you all for your furtherance and joy of faith, that your rejoicing may be more abundant by my coming to you again." What heroic resignation is here! what disinterested charity! what transcendent sublimity of hope!

And how had the apostle attained to such experience? In what school, from what teacher, had he learned so great a lesson? Certainly not from nature, nor from any human system of morality. Ever since man went forth from the blessed garden, he has been a restless and unhappy creature, always seeking repose for his spirit in some inferior good, and ever disappointed in the end. Contentment is a lesson to be learned, and to be learned only, in the school of Christ. There St. Paul learned it, not at the feet of Gamaliel. There he learned it, under the tuition of Providence, aided by the Holy Spirit of grace, by a long and painful course of discipline--by hunger and thirst, cold and nakedness, desertion and persecution, shipwreck and dungeon, scourging and stoning, a life of perpetual conflict, and the frequent menace of death.

So others have learned it. And what a blessed lesson it is, well learned! Aaron, when his sons were smitten, "held his peace." And Eli, when informed of coming judgments, said: "It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth him good." And Job, bereft of every earthly comfort, exclaimed: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." And David, trained in every school of affliction, is ever singing of the loving-kindness of the Lord, and extolling the excellence of his mercy which endureth forever. Such contentment as these instances exemplify, nothing can produce but the grace of God in co-operation with his providence, the one purifying and the other disciplining the heart. But when we learn to draw water from the wells of salvation, we shall imbibe contentment with the draught. Believing in Christ as our Saviour, we shall confide in God as our Father. All made right within, all will be right without. An Almighty Friend in heaven--"a very present help in trouble," we have no real cause for anxious thought or disquieting fear. Faith overcomes all apprehension of evil, and enables every saint to sing with the psalmist--"The Lord is my portion, Faith my soul, therefore will I hope in him;" and to say with the apostle--"I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."

Brethren, let us aspire to this apostolic experience. In this grace, why should we not equal St. Paul? Is it not the high calling of every Christian? And what reason for discontent have we, that this noble hero had not? Our present state, like his, is God's appointment, and only for a season; and the discipline of sorrow and conflict may be no less needful for us than it was for him, and the result no less a blessing.

How much worldly good is necessary for any of us? how much wealth, honor, happiness? Most of our wants are artificial and unreal. We create them, or imagine them, and then complain that they are not supplied. Our first needs--our only absolute needs--are food and raiment; and having these, we are divinely counselled to be content. And many have been content with much less of them than we possess, and no health for their enjoyment--have been content without either sufficient food or comfortable raiment, and for years scarcely an hour of exemption from pain--content in great poverty and utter destitution, on the bed of sickness, in the gloom of the dungeon, under the foreshadow of martyrdom--consoling themselves with the assurance that God hath chosen the poor of this world, the afflicted, the persecuted, rich in faith, and heirs, of his heavenly kingdom.

And to be content--is it not, after all, the best way to be well supplied? "Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." Will not the Good Shepherd provide for his confiding sheep? Will not he who clothes the lilies and feeds the sparrows regard your necessities, O ye of little faith? Can you not trust the bounty of your King, the affection of your Father? "Cast all your care upon him, for he careth for you." Jacob asked food and raiment, and God gave him also abundant flocks and herds. Solomon prayed for a wise and understanding heart, and received in addition great riches and honor. With the divine love you are rich, whatever else you lack; without it poor, whatever else you possess.

And what avails your discontent? What can it bring you but present trouble and future regret? Why disquiet yourselves in vain? Can all your anxiety change the color of a hair, or add a moment to your little all of life? Does not God know what is best for you, and will he alter his wise and gracious economy to gratify your foolish and capricious desires? What claim have you on him? What service have you ever done him? What benefit has he ever received from your virtue? Nay, you are sharers of a thousand blessings, not one of which have you merited. Rightly estimating yourselves, instead of murmuring against God, you would be ready to say with the pilgrim patriarch: "I am not worthy of the least of all the mercy and truth which thou hast shown unto thy servant."

But discontent is ingratitude. Recently redeemed from the iron furnace, shall the children of Israel complain of their hard fare in the wilderness, spurn the manna, clamor for flesh, and talk of the fish they freely ate in Egypt, of the cucumbers and the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlics? Let them remember the toils of the brick-kiln, the voice of the oppressor, the scourge of the task-master, and all the burdens which there imbittered their lives. And you, have you not infinitely more ground for gratitude than for grumbling? God's mercies, fresh every morning and new every evening, crowd the day and crown the night. One single gift hath he bestowed--one unspeakable gift--the channel through which all others flow--worth more than a solar system to every child of Adam. Redeemed by the blood of Christ, every moment becomes an inestimable mercy; nay, every breath becomes a thousand mercies; nay, every pulse metes out incalculable mercies by the million; and while we receive them, what deserve we but reprobation and ruin infinite? Add to these the many great and exceeding precious promises with which the Bible overflows, all pointing to an incorruptible inheritance reserved for you in heaven; and tell me, have you no cause to be content?

All things ours--God with all his communicable fulness--Christ with all his riches of grace and glory--heaven with all its clustering honors and immunities--who will not say: "Return unto thy rest, O my soul! for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee"? Ye who now like Lazarus have your evil things on earth, will you not hereafter with Lazarus be comforted in Abraham's bosom? Oh! what is poverty to you who are to inherit all things--heirs of God and joint-heirs with Jesus Christ? What are toil and pain, reproach and persecution, the utter prostration of health, the loss of every living friend, and the burial of all you ever loved below, to you who look for your Lord's return from heaven, the renovation of the world, the redemption of the body, the immortal fellowship of the just, and the termination of all the sad vicissitudes of time in the blissful calm of eternal content?

And those of you who are trying to content yourselves with these fleeting vanities! know ye not that your treasures will decay, your glories wither, and all the delights of sense perish with the world? What will you do when the ground dissolves beneath you, and the atmosphere around you becomes flame? A surer trust we proffer you, and a nobler felicity. Come and feed your famishing souls with the hidden manna of God, and slake your spirit's thirst from the fountain of living waters. Here, in the love of God--here, in the blood of Christ--here, in the assurance of pardon--here, resting upon the Rock of ages--here, anchored in a sure and steadfast hope--you shall learn at last the tranquil blessedness of true content!

[1] Preached at Seneca Falls, N.Y., Aug. 12, 1883--the last actual pulpit-utterance of the author.