Sep
28
Don’t Read This Book
Filed Under Books, Christian Living
I just returned from vacation. I usually put a little bit of thought into what book I’m going to bring on vacation. This time I was trying to decide between finishing up Sin and Temptation by John Owen (ed. Taylor and Kapic) and beginning The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs. I figured that Sin and Temptation would be pretty heavy reading for vacation and I would rather have something more light and encouraging. Boy was I wrong.
I should have learned my lesson in college. I was a Chemistry major. When picking classes I learned early to take as few classes as possible that had required laboratory hours. For those English nerds majors out there, the lab work was in addition to the class work and usually entailed three to four hours in a lab followed by five to ten hours of producing a lab report. I hated labs almost as much as producing lab reports. That is probably one of the reasons I’m a pastor now and not a Chemist.
Imagine my surprise when I discovered on vacation that in the divine course registry of God, right beside The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, stood the words laboratory hours required. From the minute I read Burrough’s first page, I found myself in the school of Christ, the laboratory of God. I would close the book and immediately I was thrust into some new situation to test whether or not I was finding my contentment in Christ.
How did I do in this course? I failed miserably. I discovered, to my horror, that I am one of the least content people I know. This really was a significant shock. I mean, I read the Puritans, listen to John Piper sermons, and love the first question of the Westminster Shorter Catechism. I’m a minister! Of course I’m content in Christ. Nope, nope, and double nope.
What I am content with is my sin, my circumstances when they are comfortable, worldly joys, earthly pleasures, a Saturday when UVA wins a football game, and krispy kreme donuts.
Enter the gracious and sovereign hand of God into my vacation.
At each turn I found God ordained frustrations. I was frustrated at the long drive. I was frustrated when my children didn’t do what I wanted them to do. I was frustrated with bug bites. I was frustrated with sleeping in a bed that was not my own. I was frustrated when I the mini-van I was driving was rear-ended on my last day of vacation.
Each of those frustrations was a lesson in the school of Christ. Each of those frustrations challenged me to consider where I found my joy. Though I detested them at the moment, I now count each of those frustrations precious.
The reason I count them precious is because they brought my wife and me to the realization that we were living a life that staked its hope on future pleasant circumstances. We’d be happy when we arrived. We’d be happy when the major driving was done. We’d be happy when our boys adjusted to the new environment. We’d be happy when we got home. At each of those moments what I was really saying to God was, “God, what you’ve given me right now really isn’t that great but I have high hopes you’ll get it right in the near future. I’m not content with what I have but I might be content if you give me better.”
What a bratty child I am to my heavenly Father. What a denier of God’s sovereign grace I am. What a snubber of God’s love I am. What a rebellious son I am to my ring bearing, fattened calf killing God.
After this sweet prick of the heart, what my wife and I began to say to each other way, “This is as good as it gets.” It wasn’t a phrase stolen from a movie. It wasn’t even a resignation to difficult circumstances. It was our honest attempt to see whatever we were immediately experiencing as the exact blessing that we needed at that moment directly delivered from the infinitely loving hands of God. This was the first lesson that I learned about Christian contentment. Contentment is not found in favorable circumstances. Rather contentment is knowing that in any circumstance, God is most favorable toward me through his precious Son, the Lord Jesus Christ. This only makes sense at the Cross. The doors of God’s ultimate, infinite, and immutable love were opened wide upon me, of all people. And every minute of my life, every experience, every motor vehicle collision, is the very sweetest gift from precious savior and exactly what I need.
So, at all costs, don’t read Burroughs’s book. Unless you’re one of those people who actually believes that the rare jewel is worth finding. God was pleased to shine some of its radiant facets on my soul last week. I remain forever grateful, humbled, and longing for more.
Father, make me content in Christ alone.
Comments
Leave a Reply