The "Art" of Contentment

Today marks my fifty-second post, a year's worth of these little weekly "thoughts." If you have stuck with me for any length of time, you know that these posts almost always arise from the simple, ordinary, everyday happenings in my life. Today's entry is no exception. This post had its inception last Wednesday as a burst of energy got me thinking it was time to get in gear for a bit of spring cleaning.

I started in the living room. I pulled the couch away from the wall to go to town on the baseboards behind.

Dangerous.

It wasn't dangerous because of what lurked in the shadows of said couch all these shadowy months. No. It was dangerous because of what pulling furniture away from the wall ignites in me. It sparks a desire to once again... rearrange. Now, mind you, I refer to this house as the casita for good reason. It really is a petite domicile. There is only ONE way the furniture we have is going to fit in here, but do you think that ever stops me?! Ha!! I'm always up for a challenge!

I rolled up my sleeves and began in earnest schlepping furniture here, shoving furniture there. I didn't even stop at the living room. I shuffled chests of drawers and dressers, lamps and chairs, and do you know what? Nothing looked as good as it did in its original place.

Ugh.

I had sown a tiny seed of discontent in how my house "worked." At this point my contentment was still salvageable. I could put it all back with the complete and satisfying knowledge that my furniture was perfect the way it was.

I could.

Or, I could take things a step further, feed that sense of dissatisfaction, and start thinking that in order to really be happy with my space, I should stop trying so hard to make my old stuff work in my new space, chunk it all, and go on a major shopping spree, especially to replace my old couch!

To be fair, my couch IS old. It belonged to my parents before it was ours. My mom bought it second hand like thirty years ago from the downtown Salvation Army on South Flores. I was with her when she bought it! All I know is that it was from Dillards, per the tag on the underside, and that it belonged to someone else for who-knows-how-long before it came to live at my folks'. The uphoslery is outdated, it's faded, and has curious little rust spots on the fabric everywhere moisture evaporated and left its mineral remnants behind.

Yeah, I felt some discontent. Thing is, seeds are just that... until we nuture and feed them. They don't sprout on their own without some care. Discontent can only thrive when we water and fertilize it. So it follows, my couch is only sub-par if I allow myself to "go there." I admit it's a pretty simplistic example, but I hope it makes the point.

I don't think contentment comes easily, at least not for us as flawed, sinful beings. I think contentment is really an art form, like so many other art forms. It is a talent that must be cultivated, nurtured, and... practiced. Obviously I'm still working on it, because proficiency eludes me.

It's not hard to understand why we often feel compelled to seek out the bigger, better, newer, more fashionable. We are bombarded on a daily basis with television and social media flashing sparkly images our way, flaunting the latest and greatest. I have to admit I'm quite taken with the advertisement for a six-way tailgate, and I don't even drive a truck!!

When I buy into the hype, it makes me look at the things of my world, my space, with different eyes... and it's not always a pretty picture. My li'l fifteen year-old van looks quite shabby in comparison to that fancy, tail-gated truck. My vacation to Port Aransas can't compete with a cruise to the Bahamas. My couch ain't Pottery Barn!

It's not just in the tangibles, however, that we find those seeds of discontent. We can just as easily become dissatisfied with our lives in general. Our job; our life phase as a single, parent of toddlers or teens, empty nester; our financial portfolio; to name a few.

Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying it's wrong to want to better yourself, to desire more financial security, to look forward to the next phase of life, or to want to move into a bigger house, buy a newer car, or even trade in that old sofa. Not at all. I guess I'm simply thinking how important it is to be able to experience contentment in the place we're at, the here and the now, until those hopes, dreams, or desires come to fruition.

Sometimes those hopes, those desires never quite pan out, and we have to alter our vision of the future. Reality turns the temporary into the permanent. In those circumstances, though hard-pressed, contentment can still be a solace, a salve for broken hearts or broken dreams. We look to the Lord for comfort and peace in the situation, and we trust that our good and gracious Heavenly Father will work it all for good. Even the rough stretches teach valuable lessons and serve to chip off the hard edges of our image, making us more and more into His.

I suppose this post could have just as easily been titled: "A Tale of Two Gardens."

The first is... well, the first. Eden. Adam and Eve's home. The place of perfect beauty and peace. The place where man walked and communed with God daily. If there were ever a place to experience contentment to the fullest, it was there, among the lush, the abundant, the exquisite. All. All was at their fingertips to enjoy, even the tree at the center of the Garden. They could look at it, admire its beauty, walk past it, sit under its shade. The only thing they could not do... was eat of its fruit. Even with the abundance of blessings they had, their desire was the thing just out of their reach.

How many times am I just like them?

The second garden? Gethsemane. The place of Jesus' anguish on the night of His betrayal. The place He sweat great drops of blood. The place He pleaded with His Father to let the cup of suffering pass from Him... and the place where Jesus resigned Himself to accept His Father's will, to be content with His Father's plan of salvation for you and for me. Two very different pictures. Two very different outcomes.

One led to downfall and death. The other led to salvation and life.

Keeping the second scenario in mind, I believe that "contentment" can be a beautiful form of worship. Laying our lives, our purpose, at the feet of Jesus... turning over control of our hopes, dreams, and desires to the One who loves us more than anyone else..., the One who desires the very BEST things for us... is a purposeful decision to be grateful for the blessings so lavishly and lovingly bestowed.

Saint Paul says in Philippians 4:11, "...I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content." We are human. Much as we try, we will fall short of Paul's example and admonition. There are times we will "want," and times we will be "in-want." God knows. He knows it all. What happened in Eden led to Gethsemane and to the day that followed. Jesus bore our discontent, our dissatisfaction and our unthankfulness in His body on the tree. He put it to death once and for all.

I'll never forget a quote I heard years ago from Max Lucado, Christian pastor and author. I don't recall if he was talking about the subject of "contentment" or not, but he certainly could have been, for his words speaks wonderfully to the subject. He said, and I'm paraphrasing here, "Even if all God ever did for you was to secure for you -through the death and resurrection of His Son- forgiveness, salvation, and eternal life. Wouldn't that be enough?"

Wow. That totally puts things in perspective. How can I be anything but content when I have everything that really matters?!

As I sit here typing I can see my couch in its place in the living room. I have it draped in freshly laundered, creamy-white layers of slipcovers and coverlets. t's not such a bad little couch. It's sweet. It's comfortable. It's more than adequate.

"Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?" (Matt. 6:25)

Yes, Lord, it is. So. Much. More. I guess I just need a bit more time in art class.