Believe it or not, the average North American is exposed to about 300 advertisements a day. Personally, I believe it! The magazine in which I read that fact has more pages dedicated to advertisements than articles of interest to the reader. Shiny, slick, appealing print and pictures designed to highjack your concentration and kidnap your attention. Before you realize it, the Madison Avenue Pied Piper has led you into a world of exaggerated make believe, convincing you that you simply cannot live without a new digital camera, or an elegant diamond solitaire (a diamond is forever!) or a Dodge Ram Pickup to pull your new outboard, or a set of Firestone's finest…Or two dozen other double-page, full-colour missiles that explode in your mind with the messages, “Try me, you'll see” and “You deserve the very best.”
Such bombardments do a number on us. Some of the results are obvious. They stimulate our curiosity, they urge us to buy goods or services, they make us aware of what is available, they announce new products, and—of course—they shape our tastes, habits, and customs. That's all well and good, since it's intricately interwoven into our economy. After all, it's a multi-billion dollar business.
But there is a subliminal message that detonates deep down inside our heads—silently yet forcefully. Like shrapnel, thoughts are imbedded in the brain, conveying a damaging message if we're not careful. And what is that message? In a word, it is discontentment. It is dissatisfaction. It creates (if we let it) a restless drive for more…or better…or bigger. Three hundred times a day it chips away at the dam that supports one of the last reservoirs of inner peace known to man—CONTENTMENT. What a beautiful scene in the soul is Lake Contentment! Undisturbed by outside noises brought on by the jackhammers of exaggeration, those who enjoy the lake know what relaxation is all about. They know nothing of any winter of discontent—or spring or fall or summer, for that matter. Such an existence breeds security and happiness.
The Apostle Paul lived on that lake once he got his life squared away. He's the one, remember, who wrote:
And if we have food and covering,
with these we shall be content (1 Timothy 6:8).
That's a pretty simple list, huh? Something to eat and a place to live. Period. Just before he said that, he mentioned:
…we brought nothing into the world, so
we cannot take anything out of it either (v. 7).
Funny how our lives contradict that statement, isn't it? Often clawing, grabbing, hoarding, saving…seldom releasing, giving. The wealthy John D. Rockefeller was once asked, “How much does it take to satisfy a man?” With rare wisdom he answered, “A little bit more than he has.”
Does contentment mean I need to sell all my possessions and never buy anything new? Does it mean I cannot have nice things? No—it just means those nice things don't possess you. If all this seems suddenly appealing to you, a warning is in order. Becoming a contented person is a process, never an instant decision. The same man who mentioned being satisfied with food and covering earlier in his life admitted:
…I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need (Philippians 4:11-12).
Go back and reread those first three words. Now look at the extremes of his life: “humble means…prosperity…filled…hungry…having abundance…suffering need.” On the yo-yo of life, he had learned to relax and enjoy whatever circumstances came his way. Somehow he had taught himself the discipline of saying, “I don't need that” and “That isn't really essential.” And when things opened up, he had no anxiety encountering ‘the good life.’ Balanced as he was, Paul equally enjoyed hot dogs or a filet mignon…a vacation on the Riviera or under the bridge…a gold-covered, diamond-studded, velvet-cushioned chariot Seville or a dirty burro with a limp. How? His focus was right on target. He held every earthly ‘thing’ loosely. He refused to leave the lake in search of some shallow stream that was sure to dry up.
You can do that too. But it will take the grace of God and all the discipline you can muster. Like…300 times a day. But you can do it!
Believe it or not.
Swindoll, Charles R. adapted from Contentment, in Think it Over, n.d. Copyright © 2010, Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide.
By Chuck Swindoll
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