I was cleaning the basement at our two-room parochial school when the door banged open. With a great deal of effort, two young neighbor children were hauling armloads of baseball bats in from the playground.
“What a lot of bats,” I said above the noise of about a dozen, give or take, clanging into a box.
“Yes, and the boys want still more!” Evelyn exclaimed.
Why was I not surprised? Perhaps because one of the boys in grade 8 was my son, and I’d heard his opinion of why a certain bat, of a certain brand, would do so much to improve their game.
Or maybe it was because I knew how the-more-you-get-the-more-you-want syndrome worked. After all, I’d encountered it often enough in my own life. Not about bats, you may be sure, but about other things.
I wondered again why this should be so. Why do I still sometimes think I need one more thing to be truly satisfied? Why is it that no matter how much you have, something is still lacking? Why does anyone still think more wealth or more possessions of some sort would satisfy that internal restlessness?
It must be that we seek contentment in things while forgetting that contentment is inside us. People were created for worship, and instead of worshiping the God who can truly satisfy our longings, we often worship things. Things as temporal and handcrafted as the wood and stone idols of long ago.
No doubt we’ve all seen what can happen when things are given too much space in our lives. Those who spend their years in relentless pursuit of earthly treasures, always building bigger and ever seeking more, become unhappier all the while. They have an empty sort of life. There’s always one more baseball bat they don’t have.
At last I begin to understand that contentment is like joy, and “joy is not in things, it is in us,” as pastor and writer Charles Wagner has written.2 But it is also something that must be learned. Paul the apostle says, “For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content” (Philippians 4:11). Two verses later, he adds, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”
Notice that Paul doesn’t say, “I was born knowing how to be content in all things.” Rather, he says, “I have learned.” Is it too much to suppose that every one of us must learn contentment for ourselves too?
And when Paul adds, “I can do all things through Christ,” he minces no words. For Christ is the answer to all our longings, all our dissatisfied feelings. More baseball bats (of whatever sort) won’t make anyone any happier for any length of time.
But the joy of the risen Christ poured into our seeking hearts—that will bring lasting contentment and peace.
| Prayer | Reflection |
| The glitter and the glamour of things are so alluring, Lord. I have to be reminded again and again that only the things of eternal value truly satisfy. | Today, I resolve to stop seeking my happiness in things. How will I do this? |