Content

"...I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances" (Philippians 4:11).

How much would be enough? What would make you content? So goes the classic question, the periodic poll. People at all incomes and life situations are asked such a question, and, surprisingly, the answer is always the same. What will make us content?

The richest man in American history, John D. Rockefeller, always responded the same way when asked how much money was enough. Always, Rockefeller said, the answer is, "A little bit more." Never content, despite having more than any other single American.

Just a little bit more.

How in the world did I grow up with only having 6 channels of television to watch? Because we were near a major market (Indianapolis), we were able, on our antenna, to receive ABC, NBC, CBS, PBS, and a little independent channel that showed a lot of re-runs. Because we were also near a minor market (Lafayette), we got a second CBS channel. Currently, the lowest rung on my DirecTV has 145+ channels, most of which I never watch. And they periodically call me, offering me more channels. How many channels are enough?

Just a little bit more.

Today, Apple is set to announce the next iPhone. Most likely called "iPhone 7," it will have several new features and abilities that will make me want to upgrade, to buy a new phone. There's nothing wrong with my year-old iPhone 6S, but Apple will still do everything they can to entice, to woo, to convince me that last year's model is never enough. That's their job, and I understand it. (I also know how this goes because we do this dance every year.) How many features do I need on my smartphone?

Just a few more.

Is a small drink enough when there are free refills? Then why do we order large?

Is a compact car able to get us from here to there? Then why do we upgrade to an SUV?

How big of a house do we need?

How many kitchen gadgets must we own?

Is that couch from ten years ago still good enough?

Just a little bit more, please.

We're discontented people. And then we hear the voice of the Apostle Paul, writing, from his jail cell, this "epistle of joy." This letter overflows with contentedness. At the end of the letter, he even says—twice!—that he has learned a secret, the secret of being content whatever life throws his way. Paul was not in a nice, comfortable prison with three square meals a day and cable television. He was in a hole in the ground, a place where he only received food if his friends supplied him. A Roman prison was no vacation. It was a hard, dark and damp life. And yet he has learned to be content.

How?

Why was Paul not writing, "If only I had a little more, better accommodations, a more comfortable mattress and better cell service"? Because he learned the secret—a secret he has told us elsewhere. "The secret is simply this: Christ in you! Yes, Christ in you bringing with him the hope of all glorious things to come" (Colossians 1:27, Phillips). With Christ living in him, Paul could and can endure anything. Even if he has a little bit (or a lot) less.