Let
your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such
things as you have. For He Himself has said, “I will never leave
you nor forsake you.” So we may boldly say: “The LORD is my
helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?” (Hebrews 13:05-06,
NKJV).
The
root word in Greek for being content has a surprising etiology: it
comes from an emphatic action verb that conveys the idea of “raising
a barrier, behind which one is able to defend against, or ward off
threats, to keep possession of unfailing strength, and thus, to be
satisfied.”
First
and foremost then, the formula for contented godly living is founded
on security, rather than possessions. As Christians, this makes
absolute sense since our security is in an all-powerful, faithful,
eternal and good Person. It is NOT in anything we devise or achieve,
but in what we have been given
through Christ, which makes the barrier
raised around us impenetrable
and invulnerable. Therefore the rhetorical question that follows,
What can man do to
me? is
answered with a resounding and unshakeable, NOTHING.
Contented
living is a byproduct of faith. It is not an attitude of apathy or
indifference, as often mischaracterized by the modern world, and it
does not stem from material riches, but, paradoxically from poverty
of spirit. The engine that powers it is thankfulness engendered by
the humble realization of who and what we really are (miserable
sinners), in contrast to what we are destined for in following Christ
(inconceivable and utterly undeserved eternal blessing).
Too
frequently the concept of “miserable sinners” falls blithely from
our mouths as mere sounds signifying nothing. To be fully content,
again paradoxically, requires hard-bitten introspection, coming face
to face with what we were before Christ. This is not easy and the
difficulty largely results from two handicaps.
The
first, for those who came to Christ later in life, stems from the
pain of viewing our past actions in the full light of Christ's glory.
Even our most altruistic achievements were inevitably and ultimately
motivated by fallen human pride, and the more we understand the
Lord's purity and moral beauty, the uglier we become.
And
our worst behaviors, however dark and evil they may have been, take
on an unmitigated pall straight from the pit of Hell itself. We smell
of death and decay, an endless noxious bog of depravity, selfishness,
and murderous intent.
If
you think this hyperbole, take note of Jesus' Sermon on the mount,
where He condemns not only the outward actions but the inward intent,
and summarizes each and every one of us by saying, if
you being evil...
It
is not that our past life was utterly devoid of benign, or at least
morally neutral, misbehavior, it is that the heart behind every
action, word and thought was incurably and desperately
wicked.
Ironically,
one advantage for conversion late in life is that we fall into the
category of those
who are forgiven much, love much.
The
second difficulty arises for those who came to Christ earlier in
life, and, by so doing, were mercifully prevented from committing the
more obviously egregious sins. While equally hard-bitten
introspection is also required, the concrete and tangible data
points, the blood trail, so to speak, is harder to see. And the
temptation to a false sense of spiritual superiority is that much
greater.
This,
incidentally, is why legalism is deadly – it overlooks the root
cause, like a lovely house built upon shifting sands destined for
collapse. Christianity is as far from an outward facade of
righteousness as Heaven is from Hell. Without doubt, it is the inward
that matters most – the thoughts
and intent of the heart.
However
hard then, contentment can only come from accurate self-perception in
comparison to a doctrinally sound and correct view of our Savior.
With Christ as the standard, we are all, indeed, the most miserable
of sinners.
That
realization must then be followed by a full comprehension of these
facts: we are forgiven; and we have been made new.
Forgiveness
is sometimes easier to give than to receive, but for us to be truly
grateful we must first truly receive that which has been extended to
us by the death of Christ on the Cross. If we don't, we can neither
be content, nor can we fully rest in Him.
In
turn, this lack leads to anemic witness and a life energized by
either delusional pride, or enervated by the sense that we are not,
in fact, forgiven.
The
former leads to unforgiveness of others, and the second to
unforgiveness of ourselves. Neither outcome is what the Lord desires
for His children, hence the repeated New Testament exhortations to be
content.
Again,
contentment is not complacence or self-satisfaction. It is an active
gratitude for the strength and security that is forever ours through
Jesus.
It
is living based on the certainty that “The
LORD is my helper [companion, protector, reward]; I will not fear.
What can man do to me?”
Finally,
note again the emphasis on the absurdity of what mere man can do to
us in light of our security in the Lord. The mention of man
includes us, ourselves,
individually. If we are fully cognizant of the forgiveness we have
obtained through faith in Christ, we are fully immune to condemnation
from whatever the source; the world, Satan, and ourselves.
The
emphatic statement in Romans 8, There
is therefore now no condemnation most
assuredly, and perhaps especially, applies to self-condemnation.
Yes,
spiritual pride is a definite temptation, but so is false spiritual
poverty based on the lie that while Christ can and has forgiven all
others, there is something special about our evil that makes it
beyond His reach.
Beware,
for that is blasphemy of the highest order.
