Maybe you think that contentment is just about being happy with the stuff you have. But it isn’t. March 11, 2009, holds special significance for me. On that day, my wife gave birth to our second child, a boy we named Ronin Joshua. Almost immediately after his birth, we knew that something was wrong. Not with the baby, but with my wife. I had never seen a person look more like a ghost. Even her lips were white. Before long, nurses were rushing in and I was being rushed out. I was confused. My mind was a fog. I watched as a crew of medical professionals began the process of moving her bed. They beckoned me to come with them.
As we walked, I heard phrases like, “emergency surgery,” and “stop the bleeding.” We reached a point where I could go no further and we had to say goodbye. I held Erin’s hand until distance separated us. Before her doctor left me, she ran through the possible outcomes of the surgery. Before the surgery could begin, I would have to sign liability papers. I listened, I signed, and then I was alone.
I did not know if I would see my wife alive again. As I paced the waiting room, I remember thinking over and again, “God, I cannot leave this hospital without my wife.” Thankfully, the surgery was successful. Then, after way too many blood bags were transfused into her body, Erin’s color came back. I honestly don’t remember much else from the time between saying “goodbye” and seeing her again. I remember the phrase I mentioned, but I do not remember anger. I don’t remember ever bargaining with God, blaming Him, or accusing Him. I simply made the same statement repeatedly. I was confused. My mind was a fog.
The next year we had our third child--and third boy. Four years after that, in December of 2014, we had a little girl. We named her Eden Joy. In the summer of 2016, we travelled to Kentucky to visit Erin’s family. Eden had found a rocking horse and was enjoying playing on it. Until she wasn’t. One second she was fine, and the next she began to convulse. She was having a seizure. I was confused. My mind was a fog. Our other children were screaming and crying and people were rushing to call 911. My wife had scooped Eden into her arms and kept saying, “Ron, do something!” I could do nothing.
Eventually, Eden stopped seizing, but also stopped breathing. Erin was in denial, but I could see Eden turning blue. Her lips were purple. And I could do nothing. I did not even pray. I just stood there while my daughter was dying in the arms of my wife. But Eden did not die. She and my wife were rushed to the hospital by ambulance, while my father-in-law drove me in his vehicle. I did not speak. I did not pray. I thought. I brooded. When we arrived at the hospital, I was allowed to be in the room with Erin and Eden. It turns out that Eden had pneumonia and a very high fever had caused the seizure.
We arrived back at the house around two in the morning, but I did not sleep much. For the next few days the events of that night were never far from my mind. There was something I needed to confess to my wife, but I did not know how. I barely had the courage to admit it to myself. But I knew it was true. The reason I would not, could not, pray on that night is that I knew that I would never forgive God if my daughter died. I remember thinking it while I was standing there. “God, if she dies, I will never forgive you.” I graduated from Bible college, I was a youth pastor, I taught at a Christian school, and I could not pray when my daughter was, for all I knew, dying before my eyes.
You may be wondering what any of this has to do with contentment. First Timothy 6:6 says, “But godliness with contentment is great gain.” Does this mean that it is possible to be godly without being content? I don’t know. But I do know that it is possible to appear godly without being content, and that form of godliness is of no gain at all when push comes to shove. You see, I was content with things the way they had been, but not with God alone. I was not content to trust in His sovereignty. My faith was not content in His plan. In the very next verses, Paul tells Timothy that we neither brought anything into the world nor can we take anything with us, so we should be content that our basic needs are met. I was not content. If God had taken my daughter, I would never have been content. And I let Him know that.
But Paul knew about both godliness and contentment. He wrote in Philippians 4:11-13, “Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Adam Clarke paraphrases Paul’s thoughts, “I am so satisfied with the wise providence and goodness of God, that I know whatever he determines is the best; and therefore I am perfectly contented that he should govern the world in that way which seems best to his godly wisdom.”
This is the biblical definition of contentment. To trust that the Judge of all the earth will do right (Genesis 18:25). To trust that God’s judgments are true and righteous altogether (Psalm 19:9). To believe that He works all things for good to those that love God according to His purpose (Romans 8:28). To have faith to cry out, “Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief,” when our world falls apart (Mark 9:24). And remember what Paul said in Philippians 4:11? He said that he learned contentment. This is encouraging to me. I failed miserably. I crumpled like a paper house in a hurricane. But I’d like to think I learned.
There’s an old song by Kutless called, “I’m Still Yours.” The first verse asks questions. “If You washed away my vanity, if You took away my words, if all my world was swept away, would You be enough for me?” I was forced to face the honest answer to those questions. The song ends like this: “Even if You take it all away, You'll never let me go. Take it all away, but I still know that I'm Yours. I'm still Yours.” This is contentment.
Sure, it’s contentment that is learned, maybe slowly, over periods of testing, but contentment all the same. Maybe you think that contentment just means being happy with the stuff you have. The biblical definition of contentment is being satisfied with God whether or not you have anything at all. And godliness with this kind of contentment is great gain indeed. If I am again faced with anything like what I’ve described above, I pray I am content enough to pray. I pray you are, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment