Content

“We brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it; but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.” 1 Timothy 6:7-8

What a perfect morning here in Oak Park. Erika and I are are on the back deck, enjoying our coffee (we’re also both currently working on our laptops, but it’s a pleasant moment anyway). Torsten is in the yard playing catch by himself; the other two have yet to emerge for the day. Yesterday ended with a with a meeting of Grace’s Board of Spiritual Life (Elders), filled with faithful, honest conversation. Today I look forward to baptizing a young woman at her home and then presiding at Holy Communion for small group at Grace. It’s a sacramental day of grace!

Here in the present, thinking of my immediate past and imminent future, I am content. It is a moment in which there is enough.

I do not always feel this way, of course. Too often, the recent (or distant) past unsettles me; too often, the coming day worries me. Either way, I find myself thrown off kilter and unable to be present in the present. Unable to be content. While I can’t get inside anyone else’s head, I doubt that I am alone in this regard.

The New Testament passage from the Daily Texts, words written by Paul to Timothy, sets a lower bar for contentment: food and clothing. If we have the basics of human life, we ought to be content. These words are a reminder of what we really need, a call to not lose our contentment because something didn’t go our way. A warning not to let unfulfilled wants cloud our vision.

Still, the human heart wanders. Until, that is, we find ourselves in Christ. We brought nothing into this world; we’ll take nothing out of it. Contentment is found on the other side of death. This will, I imagine, by true in heaven where all our deepest needs are met as we find joy in the presence of our Creator. But it is true now, too. In Christ, our discontented lives have come to an end, crucified with him on Calvary’s cross. In Christ, we rise, knowing in faith that we have enough. Hearing a call to worry not about what we want, we can help our neighbor find what they actually need, be it food, clothing, or Jesus Christ himself.

I don’t know what your morning looks like. I hope it’s going well so far. But regardless of circumstance, may you trust in this moment that you have Christ, and he is always enough.

Be well, friends. You are loved.

God of abundance. you give to your people all that they need. Help us to care for one another, making sure no one is without food or clothing, shelter or love. Give peace in our hearts, Lord – peace for this moment, and the one after that. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Image: Torsten, just now, content to play catch by himself. Still in his pajamas.