Content

“All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” —Blaise Pascal, Pensées

George Herbert, in a poem entitled “Content” wrote this:

Peace mutt’ring thoughts, and do not grudge to keep

                   Within the walls of your own breast:

Who cannot on his own bed sweetly sleep,

                   Can on anothers’ hardly rest.

Gad not abroad at ev’ry quest and call

                   Of an untrained hope or passion.

To court each place or fortune that doth fall,

                   Is wantonnesse in contemplation. 

I love the open road, “the dusty highway, the heath, the common, the hedgerows, the rolling downs! Camps, villages, towns, cities! Here to-day, up and off to somewhere else to-morrow! Travel, change, interest, excitement! The whole world before you, and a horizon that's always changing!” (The Wind in the Willows).

But, given my advanced age and decrepitude I must not “gad” about in this pandemic-stricken world, driven by the “quest and call of untaimed hope or passion.” That would be “wantoness,” an unwillingness to rest in God’s wisdom and love. I must learn to be content

Paul writes, “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 bu the one who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)

Paul borrowed the Greek word translated "content" 
in the text above from the Stoics. It suggests a quiet tranquility that endures despite the vicissitudes  of life. It’s a good word, one that can mark us as centers of peace in the midst of pandemics and other pandemonia. It comes from “the one who strengthens (us).”

Contentment, like every other virtue, comes from God. You have to ask for it all day long.

David Roper

7.16.20