Sermon notes from Pastor Bryan Loritts at One Community Church on learning contentment and finding sufficiency in Christ in every circumstance.
Contentment is satisfaction no matter what life throws at me. Whether I get the job or not, whether I get the promotion or not, I’m content.
Paul teaches us that our sufficiency is not anchored in ourselves. It is anchored in Christ.
Whatever happens to me, I’m good.
God, we declare your sufficiency. In you, we have and we are enough. Forgive me of my entitlement. Whatever happens to us, we’re good. Now teach us, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.
A woman serving on a short-term missions trip led worship in a community of people living with leprosy. On her last day, she invited song requests.
A woman who had lost her fingers, nose, and ears raised her hand and requested Count Your Blessings.
She had no fingers to count, yet she wanted to count her blessings. Hearing that story convicted me about the things I complain about. Whatever she had, I wanted it. That is contentment.
If only I had that apartment. If only I owned a home. If only I had a bigger home in that neighborhood.
I carried it into church planting: If only we could grow, have multiple services, stop raising outside support, or own our building.
If only I could get married. If only I could be single. If only I could have children. If only this child would leave my house.
We get the next thing, only to realize it does not scratch us where our souls itch. “If only” will never satisfy.
Paul founded the church in Philippi. When the Philippians heard that he was imprisoned in Rome, they collected an offering and sent it with Epaphroditus to encourage him.
Paul’s letter updates them on his circumstances and thanks them for their gift.
Paul appreciates their concern, but his contentment does not depend on their money. His relationship with them is not based on what they do or do not give him.
With or without the gift, he is good. He follows a Savior who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. God is his provider.
Paul’s contentment is not self-sufficiency. His sufficiency is not anchored in his credentials or his social network.
He connects contentment to the strength Christ supplies. His sufficiency rests in the One who bore his sins, was buried, and rose again.
As long as Christ is living, I’m good.
Christian contentment is a spirit of joyful submission to God in all circumstances.
It is not ultimately about what I buy or do not buy. That is self-discipline. Contentment has to do with my spirit, my heart.
This is not simply a sermon about staying off Amazon or putting something down. We can turn those rules into legalism. We need Christ to reach the heart we cannot change ourselves.
There is a relationship between your heart and your hands. Whatever has your heart has your hands.
That does not mean I can buy whatever I want without concern. I have been bought with a price, and belonging to Jesus should affect my actions.
But contentment begins with a disposition: I have Jesus. That is enough.
As a little boy, I went with my father when he preached. I sat on wooden pews in hot churches, wearing a little polyester suit and a clip-on tie.
I could be hungry. People could be talking, shouting, or moving around me. But I stayed locked in on my dad.
As long as my daddy was in my sightline, I was good. No matter what is happening in us or around us, can we say that as long as we have a vision of King Jesus, we’re good? That is contentment.
Paul says he has learned to be content. That means there was a time when he did not know contentment.
He was not born content, and neither were we. Our natural condition is discontentment.
Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.
Augustine
At the heart of sin is the claim that God is not enough and must be supplemented with something else.
Discontentment is a struggle we will face until Jesus calls us home.
I think of Aretha Franklin’s funeral, with its multiple outfits, matching shoes, and gold-plated casket. Your funeral probably will not look like that, but the illustration brings the struggle into view: our attachment to things can follow us all the way to the end of life.
Learning begins with curiosity. Interrogate your discontent.
Instead of finding security in Jesus, we can look for it in possessions, approval, or the zeros in our accounts. These become substitute saviors that ultimately fail us.
How often have we sat in a classroom, not understanding, but too embarrassed to raise a hand?
Asking a question admits that we do not have it figured out. Learning contentment requires the same humility.
Raise your hand and say, “I need help.”
All learning needs a great teacher. Ours is Jesus Christ.
Jesus invites us to learn from him and find rest for our souls. One of the things he can teach us is contentment.
Jesus did not live a life of luxury. He was born in a lowly manger, and he spoke of having nowhere to lay his head.
His life shows us that contentment does not depend on having an impressive home or comfortable circumstances.
Jesus was not raised in a glamorous city like Rome or Ephesus. He came from Nazareth, a place people questioned.
He did not attend prestigious private schools, yet his learning amazed people.
Jesus described his food as doing the will of the One who sent him.
He died at thirty-three, homeless, poor, and single, yet no one lived a more contented, satisfying life. He can teach us something about contentment.
Learning also means being around other people who are learning.
Our closest friends shape who we become. If you want to grow in contentment, spend time with people who share that desire.
Christian contentment is not just intellectual. It must be lived.
Paul knows what it means to be brought low. Sometimes life comes at you: there is too much month at the end of the money, or a routine physical becomes a biopsy and a cancer diagnosis.
Paul is not writing about contentment from a luxury hotel. He is writing from jail. Life has brought him low, and he can still say, “I’m good.”
Thomas Dorsey, the father of modern gospel music, suffered the devastating loss of his wife and infant child in 1932.
Out of that grief came Precious Lord, Take My Hand.
His story shows someone reaching for God in a season when life had brought him low.
In seasons of overwhelming opposition and death threats, Martin Luther King Jr. would call Mahalia Jackson and ask her to sing Precious Lord, Take My Hand.
When life brings us low, we need something bigger than our bank accounts and our social networks. We need God’s unchanging hand.
Paul also learned to be content when he had plenty.
Prosperity can be a greater threat to spiritual vitality than hardship. When we had little, God heard from us constantly. Once the money, house, and opportunities arrive, we can forget him.
My identity is not in either season. My identity is in Christ.
My grandfather remembered the way our community leaned into church and looked out for one another during Jim Crow.
His concern was that, as economic and educational opportunities opened, we stopped leaning into God and one another as we once had.
We must not forget where our help comes from. Our help comes from the Lord.
Contentment was already a major subject among the Stoic philosophers of Paul’s day.
Their approach was to diminish desire and will yourself into contentment: when something is lost or goes wrong, teach yourself to say, “I don’t care.”
But contentment is a matter of the heart, and I cannot change my own heart. Paul points to a different source: Christ, who strengthens him.
We often use this verse as a promise that Christ will help us accomplish a challenge or achieve a desired result.
But its primary application here is contentment. Christ strengthens Paul to live faithfully with plenty or with hunger, in abundance or in need.
The strength is not simply to get the outcome I want. It is to be content in Christ whatever the outcome.
Evander Holyfield wore Philippians 4:13 on his robe when he entered the ring against Mike Tyson.
The verse does not simply mean Christ will give him strength to win. If he wins the title and the money flows, he can remain content: he is not his title or his money. He belongs to Christ.
If he loses in humiliating fashion, the same is true. He is not his defeat. He belongs to Christ.
Jesus took on sin, Satan, and death. He was buried, but he rose with all power in his hands.
Because he got up, no matter what life throws at me, I will get up.
Whether I get the promotion or not, get the job or not, marry or not, have a child or not, Christ strengthens me.
Are you good?
People tell me they earned the degrees, made the money, and got everything they thought they wanted, yet still had no peace.
One of God’s greatest gifts can be allowing the frustration of checking every box without finding contentment. That frustration can drive us to the only One who can satisfy us: Christ.
There is nothing wrong with a beautiful car or a gated community. But those things cannot go with you when you die.
You may have pursued relationships, substances, possessions, or vacations and still found something missing.
Jesus invites you to come to him.
A man or a woman cannot provide the satisfaction your soul is searching for. Relationships are good gifts to enjoy, but the gifts are meant to point us to the Giver. His name is Jesus.
Dear God, thank you for my discontentment. Thank you for the frustration, because it has driven me here to you today.
I invite you to come into my life by the person and presence of your Holy Spirit. Make me new. Fulfill your promise to satisfy the deepest longings of my heart.
In Jesus’ name, I pray.