Philippians 4:6-20 -- "Contentment"

In the name of the Father and of the † Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis — amyo-tro-phic — is a mouthful that we almost never hear. But you know what it is. You know it as Lou Gehrig’s Disease, a brutal disease to say the least, that causes the brain to lose control of the body’s muscles; especially by increasing and spreading muscular weakness and atrophy.

It’s one of the cruel ironies of history that a disease notorious for crippling people quickly and severely should strike someone as relentless as Lou Gehrig. Playing for the New York Yankees from 1923 until 1939, Gehrig was known as the “Iron Horse.” For nearly sixty years, he held the record of 2,130 consecutive games played, a record which was thought unbreakable until Cal Ripken did so in 1995. Gehrig was also the first athlete to have his number retired. It’s not surprising that he was beloved by player and fan alike because of his tenacity and drive to play day in and day out.

But what was most startling, most memorable, about Lou Gehrig was his farewell speech delivered to a packed crowd at Yankee Stadium when he retired prematurely due to the onslaught of ALS. He said: “Fans, for the past two weeks, you have been reading about the bad break I got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” Those words seem so foreign and unthinkable in our age when too many expect life to be delivered to them pristine and unblemished on a silver platter.

I suppose when we look back on this year 2020 it won’t be Lou Gehrig disease on our mind, but the coronavirus. And like many people in our day, we are apt to think, “I deserve better than this.” What a contrast to the words of Lou Gehrig in which we hear a man who is content in spite of the difficult lot he’s been dealt in life.

Contentment is Not Found in Strength.

How can someone be so content when their world seems to be crumbling around them? One can be stoic in the face of adversity. You know those people who never seem to let anything get to them. Nothing gets to them because they’ve shut themselves off from all things outside themselves. Just as they won’t let troubles get them down, they won’t let joy bring them elation. They’ve constructed a cold, empty life for themselves. In their attempt to protect themselves from the pain of turmoil, they’ve robbed themselves of life’s beauty and joy.

Perhaps you’ve taken this tactic before. You know that person who’s always getting on your nerves. You vow to yourself that you won’t react in the least to their callous remarks. In the process, you become cold, not only toward them but toward all others so that you refuse to accept a well-intended piece of advice. You even refuse to rejoice in the accomplishment of another because you won’t let someone else have that much place in your life. That’s not how you find contentment in the midst of dark times, unless you’re willing to ascribe to the heresy that God has created a bleak, ugly, and pointless world.

Others content themselves by finding somebody who’s worse off than they are, saying, “At least I’m not in his shoes.” That’s what I did in early on in life. While there is some wisdom in this, that’s not how you find contentment. A relentless search for someone who’s to be pitied more than you will leave you disheartened because your focus will be on life’s tragedies, rather than its beauty. And you’ll rob yourself of enjoying the company of some of the most remarkable people because you’ll have reduced them to objects of pity rather than unique persons created by God and loved by him so that they possess an abundance of his grace and beauty.

Contentment is Not Found in a Perfect Life.

St. Paul describes the true means to finding contentment. The fullness of what he’s teaching us becomes apparent when we know the conditions in which Paul writes. Philippians is one of Paul’s captivity letters. He’s in prison for the sake of the Gospel, which ought not surprise us since he spent roughly one quarter of his missionary career in prison. While none of us would want to be imprisoned, what Paul endured makes our prisons look like the Ritz-Carlton. Consider these words from historian John McRay:

Roman imprisonment was preceded by being stripped naked and then flogged—a humiliating, painful, and bloody ordeal. The bleeding wounds went untreated as prisoners sat in painful leg or wrist chains. Mutilated, bloodstained clothing was not replaced even in the cold of winter. Most cells were dark, especially the inner cells of a prison, like the one Paul and Silas inhabited in Philippi. Unbearable cold, lack of water, cramped quarters, and sickening stench from few toilets made sleeping difficult and waking hours miserable. . . . Because of the miserable conditions, many prisoners begged for a speedy death. Others simply committed suicide. (John McRay, “Stench, Pain, and Misery: Life in a Roman Prison,” Christian History 47 [1995]: 14)

As Paul writes our text to the Philippians, he’s in the most deplorable of places, that very sort of Roman prison. He’s done nothing to deserve such treatment. All he’s done is proclaim the love of God in Christ. He’s surrounded by those who are longing for death because of the conditions. But not Paul. Instead he says, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (vv 11–13).

“Plenty and hunger, abundance and need.” That’s the stark contrast between our situation and Paul’s. Tomorrow many of our homes will be filled with the scent of turkey and stuffing. And before the day is done, I’ll have enjoyed a feast with my beloved wife. Maybe I’ll take a photo with Tanya, around the dinner table with the Thanksgiving spread and then post it with the caption #LifeIsGood. Paul has none of that. But if he’d had social media, he would have posted a picture of himself in the squalor of a Roman prison with the caption #Content.

Contentment is Delivered to You by Christ.

How can Paul be content? The secret to Paul’s contentment is Christ. As long as your attention is focused on yourself or the storm going on around you, you will not find true contentment. This is what Luther called belly-button gazing, as you’re turned in on yourself. Staring at your navel will not lead to contentment. And eyes fixed on others will not bring you contentment because comparison is the death of contentment. Eyes fixed on the feast spread before you and your family this day will not bring contentment either.

But fixing your eyes on Christ will bring contentment even in the darkest times. Paul says he is content because “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (v 13). Paul doesn’t have delusions of grandeur, that Christ will make all his troubles disappear so his dank, cold prison cell will become an oasis. Paul anticipates ongoing suffering and even death at the hands of the enemies of Christ. Yet Paul knows that none of that can rob him of Christ. Paul can do all things through Christ who strengthens him so that no matter what he faces he will remain strong in Christ. Suffering cannot rob him of Christ. Death cannot even rob Paul of Christ. “I have received full payment, and more,” Paul says (v 18a). Paul is content in all circumstances because his contentment is grounded not in his circumstances, but in Christ. And so is yours.

This year 2020 will be remembered as the year of COVID, lockdowns, and being away from loved ones on Thanksgiving. For some, death has parted you from loved ones or family strife has robbed you of sharing tomorrow’s holiday meal. Yet contentment remains yours in Christ.

None of that can rob you of Christ. That doesn’t mean it’s easy—on this holiday or on any other day. Paul didn’t have it easy in prison and you don’t have it easy as you face the cross you bear. But you don’t bear it alone. Christ is with you to shoulder your burden. He has already carried your burden to his cross. And he has risen triumphant from the grave, victorious over your burden. So Christ strengthens you just as he strengthened Paul. “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

Christ’s strength is bound up in what he delivers to you. If you are without feasting tomorrow, Christ promises that the Day is coming when he will deliver an eternal feast to you. If you are feasting tomorrow, Christ promises that the coming feast dwarfs what you have on your dinner table tomorrow afternoon. A banquet table spread for all. That is contentment.

If death has separated you from someone you love, you are not alone, for Christ dwells with you. If division prevents you from sitting at table with parent, child, spouse, sibling, or friend, Christ comes to assure you that he has brought you peace with the Father. Sin divided you from the Father, but Christ has reconciled you to the Father by his cross. That is contentment.

And there’s more. The Day is coming when there will be a full and perfect reunion for all those who’ve lived and died with faith in Christ. The Day is coming when death will not separate us, for death will be destroyed. The Day is coming when all our divisions will be overcome by Christ as we are perfectly united with him, and so we will be perfectly united with one another.

Until that great Day, Christ sustains you, providing you with his perfect companionship, that you might not lose heart. “My God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (v 19). This is what Paul is talking about when he says, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” This is the secret to Paul’s contentment and yours as well.

Christ Brings You Contentment Because in Him You Have It All

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (v 7). Amen.