Choosing Contentment

One of the gifts of this time of confinement is learning to be content. While I have always welcomed being at home, I have never been able to sit around while others are working. But for the past several weeks, that is exactly what I have been forced to do.

My body is not yet strong enough to take on most of the daily tasks of running our small farm. I can't lift feed buckets or drag hoses. I can't catch runaway goat kids or wrangle the donkeys when they slip out of the fence. I can barely pick up my overfed spoiled indoor kitty when it's time for him to go to bed. For someone who is accustomed to working hard from sunup to sundown, this is a big adjustment.

On top of not being able to do these things myself, I have to ask others to do them for me! It is a humbling experience to need someone else.

When I was still in great pain with limited mobility, asking was relatively easy--I saw the need and was in no position to do anything for myself. With added strength and continued recovery, asking is harder. I'm like the two-year-old declaring my independence, "I do it MYSELF!" But the little voice inside my head reminds me that I can't do it myself--unless I want to end up back in the hospital.

People keep telling me that I look good--look well. This makes it even harder to refrain from doing all the things I used to do. I am afraid of looking like a slacker.

Even though I never thought of myself as someone who really cared what others think, I now know that I do care. I enjoy my reputation as a person who works hard--it is a core part of my public identity. Now it has been taken away. I can't work hard. I am discontent.

Pride is a sneaky sin. It slips past our mental guard and moves right into our hearts. It fights to hold its position and battles humility to the death.

Paul was on fire for Jesus. He traveled to spread the Gospel message and wrote to encourage young churches. He labored long and hard in spite of physical infirmity and brutal opposition. Yet he ended his life confined to a prison cell, his activity circumscribed by the reality of imprisonment. It was in this tight place, without freedom that he penned these words:

"I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through [Christ] who give me strength." (Phil. 4:12b-13)

He was in a bad spot. He could not depend on his own activity to give him a sense of importance or meaning. But he could focus on the God who saved him through His Son, Jesus. His strength to endure came from this truth.

Contentment is a choice. When I focus on what Christ has done for me--everything He has done for me--I am full of thanksgiving for His mercy and grace. Filled to overflowing with thanksgiving, there is no room for discontent. Understanding my weakness frees me to rely on His strength. My identity is hidden in Christ.

I will wait upon the LORD who is my strength and rest in His unfailing love as this mortal body continues to heal. I will bless Him for today and trust Him for tomorrow. I will be content.