Thursday, August 14, 2025

Contingent Contentment

 

Contingent Contentment

Contingent Contentment - Audio/Visual 

I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength. (Phil. 4:11-13)

The widest river in the world is not the Mississippi, the Amazon or even the Nile. The widest river on earth is a body of water called If Only. Crowds of people stand on its banks and cast longing eyes over its waters. They want to cross but can't seem to find the ferry; they’re convinced that the If Only river separates them from the good life. If only I were thinner, I'd have the good life. If only I were richer, I'd have the good life. If only the kids would come. If only the kids were gone. If only I could leave home, move home, get married, get divorced. If only my skin were clear of pimples, my calendar free of people, my profession free from layoffs then I would have the good life. The If Only cry me a river.

Does it seem like the good life is always one if only away? One purchase away? One promotion away? One election or one romance away? If so, then you’ve traced your anxiety to one of its sources. You're in a hurry to cross the river, but worried that you never will. As a result, you work long hours, borrow more money, take on new projects and pile on more responsibilities. Stress. Debt. Short nights. Long days. All part of the cost of the ticket to the land of the good life, right? Not exactly, says the apostle Paul. The good life begins, not when circumstances change, but when our attitude toward them does. Look again at his antidote for anxiety: "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." (Phil. 4:6-7)

Paul embedded in these two verses two essential words that deserve special attention: with thanksgiving. Sprinkled among your phrases of "Help me . . . ," or "Please give me . . . ," or maybe "Won't you show me . . . ," should be two wonderful words: Thank you. Gratitude is a mindful awareness of the benefits of life. It is the greatest of virtues. Studies have linked the emotion to a variety of positive effects. Grateful people tend to be more empathetic and forgiving towards others. People who keep a gratitude journal are more likely to have a positive outlook on life. Grateful individuals demonstrate less envy, materialism and self-centeredness. Gratitude improves self-esteem, enhances relationships, quality of sleep and longevity. If it came in a pill form, gratitude would be called the miracle drug. It's no wonder, then, that God's anxiety therapy includes a heavy dose of gratitude.

Gratitude leads us off the riverbank of If Only, and escorts us to the fertile delta of Already. The anxious heart says, “Lord, if only I had this, that or the other thing, I’d be okay.” The grateful heart says, “Oh, look! You’ve already given me this, that or the other thing. Thank you, God.” My late friend, John, taught me the value of gratitude. He was eighty-three years old and regularly shot his age on the golf course. I’d have to live to be one hundred to do as well. His dear wife, Marilyn, battled a number of diseases. What should have been a wonderful season of retirement had been marred by hospital stays, medication and struggles. Many days Marilyn couldn’t keep her balance, and John had to be at her side. Yet he never complained. He always had a smile, a joke and then relentlessly beat me at golf. He was a Marine Corp helicopter pilot during the Vietnam war and took Semper Fidelis seriously – always faithful.

I asked John his secret. He said, “Every morning Marilyn and I sit together and sing a hymn. I ask her what she wants to sing. She always says, ‘Count Your Blessings.’ So, we sing it. And we count our blessings.” Take a moment and follow John’s example. Look at your blessings. Do you see any friends? Family? Do you see any grace from God? The love of God? Do you see any gifts? Abilities? Talents? Skills? And as you look at your blessings, take note of what happens. Anxiety grabs its bags and slips out the back door. Worry refuses to share a heart filled with gratitude. One heartfelt thank-you will suck the oxygen out of worry’s world. So, say it often. Focus more on what you have and less on what you don’t.

The apostle Paul modeled this outlook. “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. 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 all things through Christ who gives me strength.” (Phil 4:11-13) The circumstances of Paul’s life in jail were miserable. Under constant surveillance. No reason to hope for release. Yet with shackles dangling from his wrists, the apostle announced, “I have learned the secret to being content.”

Paul’s use of the term secret is curious, I think. He doesn’t say, “I have learned the principle.” Or “I have learned the concept.” Instead, “I have learned the secret of being content.” A secret, by definition, is a bit of knowledge not commonly known. It’s as if the apostle asks us to lean forward to hear him whisper, “Can I share a secret with you about happiness?” “I have learned the secret of being content – whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need.” (v. 12)

Does happiness depend on what you drive? Wear? Deposit? Even spray on? If so, you’ve entered the rat race called materialism and you won’t win that race. There will always be a newer car to buy, or a nicer dress to purchase. And since the rat race is unwinnable, you’re setting yourself up for certain failure which then leads to more anxiety. Define yourself by your stuff and you’ll feel good when you have a lot, but you’ll feel bad when you don’t. If I get the new job . . . If I can retire . . . . In each case joy comes then fades, and by the time you reach old age you’ve ridden a thousand roller coasters of hope and disappointment, hope and disappointment. Life has repeatedly lifted you up and then let you down and you’re pretty certain that, given your past experiences, it’s likely to let you down again.

Contingent contentment turns us into wounded, worried people. Paul advances a healthier strategy. He learned to be content with what he had, which is pretty remarkable since he had so little. He had a jail cell instead of a house. He had four walls instead of a mission field. He had chains instead of jewelry, a guard instead of a wife. How could he be content? Simple. He focused on a different list. He had eternal life. He had the love of God. He had forgiveness of sins. He had the certainty of salvation. He had Christ and, for Paul, Christ was enough. What he had in Christ was significantly greater than what he didn't have in life.

Here’s a little detail about Paul’s letter to the Philippians that actually says quite a lot about the author. Within its 104 verses Paul mentions Jesus forty times. In other words, Paul talked about Christ, on average, every 2½ verses. "To me the only important thing about living is Christ, and dying would be profit for me." (Phil. 1:21) His only aim was to know Jesus. Riches didn’t attract him. Applause didn’t matter to him. The grave didn’t intimidate him. All he wanted was more Jesus. As a result, he was content. In Jesus, Paul found all the satisfaction his heart desired, and you and I can learn the same.

Christ-based contentment turns us into strong people. Since no one can take our Jesus, no one can take our joy. Can death take our joy? No, Jesus is greater than death. Can failure take our joy? No, Jesus is greater than our sin. Can betrayal take our joy? No, Jesus will never leave us. Can sickness take our joy? No, God has promised, whether on this side of the grave or the other, to heal us. Can disappointment take our joy? No, because even though our plans may not work out we know God's plan will. Death, failure, betrayal, sickness, disappointment – they cannot take our joy, because they cannot take our Jesus.

What you have in Christ is greater than anything you don't have in life. You have God, who is crazy about you, and the forces of heaven to monitor and protect you. You have the living presence of Jesus within you. In Christ you have everything. He can give you a happiness that can never be taken, a grace that will never expire and a wisdom that will ever increase. He’s a fountain of living hope that will never be exhausted. I have a friend who lives next to a river into which his boat dock extends from the edge of his property. The level of the river may rise and fall with the seasons or circumstances. His boat may even rock back and forth with the river traffic. But though the level may change and his boat may rock, it has never drifted away. Why? Because his boat is tied to the dock. What about you?

Tie your heart to the character of God. Your boat will rock; moods will come and go; situations will fluctuate. But you won’t be left adrift on the river of despair because you’ve found a contentment that endures the circumstances. So, no more "if only" because it’s the Petri dish for anxiety. Focus on a different list – not a list of things to do, or a list of things you want, but a list of the things you already have. Replace your "if only" with "already." Exchange each anxious thought with a grateful one, and then the peace of God will replace your anxiety with contentment. That’s the secret to a thankful life. And now that you know, it’s not a secret any more.

Grace,

Randy

Thursday, August 7, 2025

Choose Prayer Over Despair

 

Choose Prayer Over Despair

Choose Prayer Over Despair - Audio/Visual  

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. (Phil. 4:6)

The judge owned a gated mansion in Beverly Hills. He smoked Cuban cigars, wore Armani suits and drove a Bentley with a personalized license plate that read, Res Ipsa, which is Latin shorthand for “the thing speaks for itself.” He was on the payroll of every cartel and drug dealer on the west coast. They kept him in office; he kept them out of jail. They gave him votes; he gave them a pass. He was a crook. His mother knew it. His priest knew it. His kids knew it. God knew it. The judge couldn't care less. He never gave God a second thought, or an honest person a second chance. According to Jesus the judge was a scoundrel.

He certainly didn't care about the widow. "A widow of that city came to him repeatedly, saying, ‘Give me justice in this legal dispute with the plaintiff.'" (Luke 18:3) Let’s call her Ethel. She had a simple look to her: hair tied in a bun, plaid dress and old jogging shoes that appeared to have been rescued from a yard sale. If the judge were his Bentley, then Ethel was a clunker, but for an old clunker she had a lot of horsepower. She was determined to escape a certain civil litigant. A bill collector? An angry landlord? An oppressive neighbor? We don’t know, but someone had turned against her and was suing her. Someone had resolved to take her to the cleaners. She pleaded her case and begged for justice. No luck. She exhausted every possible solution. Finally, in a burst of chutzpah, she sought the assistance of the judge.

Every morning when he stepped out of his limo, there Ethel stood on the courthouse sidewalk. "Can I have a minute, your Honor?" When he exited his chambers, Ethel was waiting in the hallway. "Judge, I need your help." At Giovanni's, where the judge ate lunch, she approached his table. "Just a few minutes of your time, please?" How she got past the maître d' the judge didn’t know, but there she was. Ethel even sat in the front row of the courtroom during trials holding up a cardboard sign that read, "Can you help me?" During his Saturday-morning golf game, she walked out of the bushes lining the fourth fairway. Ethel also annoyed the judge's wife. She even hounded the judge's secretary. "Do something about Ethel," they demanded. "She's a pest!" "For a while the judge refused to help her." (v. 4)

One day, when the coast was clear, the judge dashed from his office to his limo and jumped in the backseat, only this time to be confronted by you-know-who. Ethel was in the car, and he was stuck. He took one look at her and sighed, "Lady, you don't get it, do you? I don't like people. I don't believe in God. There’s nothing good in me. Yet you keep asking me to help you." "Just a small favor," Ethel asked, holding her thumb a quarter inch from her forefinger. He growled through clenched teeth, "Anything to be rid of you. What do you want?" She spilled her story that included the words widow, broke and the phrase eviction notice. The judge stared out the car window as she pleaded for his intervention. "He thought to himself, 'Even though I don't respect God or care about people, I will see that she gets her rights. Otherwise, she will continue to bother me until I am worn out.'" (vv. 4-5)

When she finally paused to take a breath, he waved her silent. "Okay, okay. I'll give you a break." "You will?" "Yes, but on one condition." "Anything." "That you get out of my life!" "Yes, I promise," Ethel beamed. "Can I give you a hug?" He told her “No,” but she hugged the judge anyway. She jumped out of the car and danced a jig on the sidewalk. The dishonest judge rode away, grumbling. And we, the readers, look up from Luke's gospel and wonder, What’s this story doing in the Bible?

A corrupt official. A persistent gadfly. Reluctant benevolence. No compassion or concern. Is there a message in this account? Is God a reluctant judge? Are we the marginalized widow? Is prayer a matter of pestering God until he breaks down and gives us what we want? No, this is a parable of contrast not comparison. The judge groused, complained and murmured. Yet "even he rendered a just decision in the end. So, don't you think God will surely give justice to his chosen people who cry out to him day and night? … I tell you; he will grant justice to them quickly!" (Luke 18:7-8)

God is not the reluctant judge in this story, and we are not the widow. The widow in the story was at the bottom of the pecking order. She had nowhere to turn. But as a child of the King, you’re at the front of the line. You, at any moment, can turn to God and God doesn't delay. He never places you on hold or tells you to call back again later. God loves the sound of your voice. He doesn't hide when you call. He hears your prayers. And for that reason, we can "be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let (our) requests be made known to God." (Phil. 4:6) With this verse the apostle calls us to take action against anxiety. Until this point he has been assuring us of God's character: his sovereignty, mercy and presence. Now it’s our turn to act on this belief. We choose prayer over despair. Peace happens when people pray, and God calls us to pray about everything.

The terms prayer, supplication and requests used in Philippians 4:6 are similar, but not identical. Prayer is a general devotion; the word includes worship and adoration. Supplication suggests humility. We are the supplicants in the sense that we make no demands; we simply offer humble requests. A request is exactly that – a specific petition. We tell God exactly what we want. We pray the particulars of our problem. What Jesus said to the blind man, he says to us: "What do you want me to do for you?" (Luke 18:41) Now, one would think that the answer would have been obvious; self-evident. When a sightless man requests Jesus' help, isn't it apparent what he needs? Yet Jesus wanted to hear the man articulate his specific requests. He wants the same from us. "Let your requests be made known to God."

When the wedding ran low on wine, Mary wasn't content to say, "Help us, Jesus." She was specific: "They have no more wine." (John 2:3) The needy man in another of Jesus' parables said, "Friend, lend me three loaves" (Luke 11:5) not, "Hey, can you help a brother out?" He made a specific request. Even Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane prayed specifically: "Take this cup from me." (Luke 22:42) Why does it matter? Well first, a specific prayer is a serious prayer. If I say to you, "Do you mind if I come by your house sometime?" you may not take me very seriously. But suppose I say, "Can I come over this Friday night? I have a problem at work, and I really need your advice. I can be there at seven, and I promise I’ll leave in an hour." Then you know my petition is sincere. When we offer specific requests, God knows the same.

Second, specific prayer is an opportunity for us to see God at work. When we see him respond in specific ways to specific requests, our faith grows. The book of Genesis relates the wonderful prayer of Abraham's servant. He was sent to Mesopotamia, Abraham's homeland, to find a wife for Abraham's son. Now, just how does a servant find a wife for someone else in a foreign country of all things? Well, this servant prayed about it. "Please give me success today, and show unfailing love to my master, Abraham. See, I am standing here beside this spring, and the young women of the town are coming out to draw water. This is my request. I will ask one of them, 'Please give me a drink from your jug.' If she says, 'Yes, have a drink, and I will water your camels, too!' – let her be the one you have selected as Isaac's wife. This is how I will know that you have shown unfailing love to my master." (Gen. 24:12-14)

 Could the servant have been any more detailed? He asked for success in his endeavor. He envisioned an exact dialogue, and then he stepped forth in faith. Scripture says, "Before he had finished speaking, Rebekah appeared." (Gen. 24:15) She said the words, and the servant had an answered prayer. He saw God at work.

Third, specific prayer creates a lighter load. Many of our anxieties are threatening because they are ill-defined and vague. If we can distill the challenge into a phrase, we bring it down to size. It’s one thing to pray, Lord, please bless my meeting tomorrow. It’s another thing altogether to pray, Lord, I have a conference with my supervisor at 2:00 p.m., tomorrow. She intimidates me. Would you please grant me a spirit of peace so I can sleep well tonight? Grant me wisdom so I can enter the meeting prepared. And would you soften her heart toward me and give her a generous spirit? Help us have a gracious conversation in which both of us benefit and your name is honored. There. You have reduced the problem into a prayer-sized challenge. This isn’t an endorsement of a demanding, conditional prayer that presumes to tell God what to do and when. Nor am I suggesting that the power of prayer resides in chanting the right formula or quoting some secret code. Don’t think for a moment that the power of prayer resides in the way we present it. God isn’t manipulated or impressed by our formulas or eloquence.

But he is moved by a sincere request. After all, isn’t he our Father? As his children we honor him when we tell him exactly what we need. "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7) Casting is an intentional act for purposes of relocating an object, like your anxiety. When the disciples prepared Jesus to ride into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, they "cast their garments upon the colt." (Luke 19:35) The crowd removed the garments off their backs and spread them in the path of Christ. Let this kind of "throwing," or casting action be your first response to bad news. As you sense anxiety welling up inside you, cast it in the direction of Jesus. Do so specifically and immediately. Take your problem to Christ and tell him, "You said you would help me. Would you?"

The Old Testament prophet Isaiah said, "Put the Lord in remembrance [of his promises], keep not silence." (Isa. 62:6) God told Isaiah, "Put me in remembrance; let us contend together." (Isa. 43:26) God invites you, no, actually commands you to remind him of his promises. Populate your prayer with, "God, you said …." "You said you would walk me through the waters." (Isa. 43:2) "You said you would lead me through the valley." (Ps. 23:4) "You said that you would never leave or forsake me." (Heb. 13:5) Find a promise that fits your problem and build your prayer around it. These prayers of faith touch the heart of God and activate the angels of heaven. Miracles are set into motion. Your answer may not come overnight, but it will come, and you will overcome. "Prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters." (Eph. 6:18) The path to peace is paved with prayer. Less consternation, more supplication; fewer anxious thoughts, more prayer-filled thoughts. And as you pray, the peace of God will guard your heart and mind.

So go ahead, call out victory in despair and see the mighty things that God will do. “The Lord replied, “Look around at the nations; look and be amazed! For I am doing something in your own day, something you wouldn’t believe even if someone told you about it.” (Habakkuk 1:5)

Grace,

Randy