Lessons in contentment

This afternoon the cap on my gas tank was stuck. Try as I might, it would not come off. I had a half a tank, but decided to drive over to the dealership service department and see if they could help me. A service person came out, gave it a couple of twists and of course it came off.

I noted my own response. There was a time when I would have been embarrassed that I could not do this simple thing myself. I would have felt foolish that the service person had so little difficulty when I’d tried many times with no results. However, today I was glad and noticed that I was content to be helped, period. No blushing, just joy.

Earlier, I was helping someone at a local business with a computer program. I was supposedly the expert. Two times she performed a task that I didn’t know how to do. Once we discovered a problem that I didn’t know how to solve and had to say so.

Again, I noticed my response. There was a time when I would have felt a failure for my lack of knowledge, maybe even made excuses for it or tried to cover it up. Today, I chuckled, gave her a high five for what she did. I also told her I’d go home and work on that other problem. I was content to be ignorant, in error, and without the expertise I thought I had.

My response to both this and that gas cap situation made me feel very happy. Tonight’s devotional reading describes something about these two incidents. It begins with this verse . . .  

Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. (Philippians 4:11)

When Paul wrote this, he was an old man locked up in Nero’s dungeon at Rome. Did it take him a long time to learn to be content? I think so because contentment is not a natural characteristic. As Spurgeon says, “covetousness, discontent, and murmuring are as natural to man as thorns are to the soil.”

When we brought in soil for our back yard, we didn’t need to plant weeds. They came up naturally because they are part of the earth. In the same way, I didn’t have to teach my children to whimper when they were hungry. Complaining about an empty stomach, even though necessary, is the first evidence that discontentment will be felt and expressed.

Many times I have said that no one needs to teach their children how to sin. I know that my mother didn’t teach me to sin. Sin is like weeds. Complaining is like  weeds. Without education or much effort, I know how to do it.

On the other hand, roses or wheat or other desirable plants must be cultivated, just as do the virtues given by the Holy Spirit to God’s children. He lives in me and puts contentment into me, but with weeds springing up all over the place, the good stuff barely pushes through the mess. Complaining so easily takes up space where contentment should be growing.

God is teaching me to confess the discontent. Each time I am unhappy with my lot in life, or unhappy with my performance, or with another person, He shows me that He is in charge of all those things. Who am I actually unhappy with and complaining about? Of course, it is God. This sobers my heart to repentance.

Confession and repentance are all I can do. I might be able to hack away at the weeds in the garden, but only God can get rid of the ugly stuff that grows in my heart. When I confess my discontent, I am handing Him the hoe. As 1 John 1:9 says, He then forgives and cleanses my unrighteousness.

Obviously, God is the Master Gardener. He cultivates the soil, removes the weeds, and produces the blossom of contentment.  I am delighted and even surprised when it appears.