SERMON MANUSCRIPT 

Over these past three months, there have been a handful of topics with which I’ve wrestled. They came to mind often, prompting thought, discussion, and prayer. And I want to examine one of them together this morning—it’s the issue of discontentment. It’s not new, obviously, but for whatever reason, I see it everywhere lately. 

I’ve listened as people talk about wanting to have things they don’t, see things they haven’t, know things they can’t, or be things they aren’t. They seem uncomfortable, unsettled, unfulfilled, underwhelmed, unappreciated, under-utilized, and unsatisfied in life. (Even Christians!)

Sometimes, I notice, they look backward for relief, clinging to and dwelling on a past season when things “were as they should be.” They retreat into often-embellished memories of happier days, fuelling and justifying the discontentedness with the here and now.

Other times, they look forward, eyeing a certain goal, possession, or milestone as the final frontier to permanent joy. “I just need to graduate, find a spouse, start a family, own a home, save some money, lose some weight, see the world, start my business, and retire comfortably. Then I’ll be fulfilled!”

So, I started to notice the pervasiveness of discontentedness—its growth-paralyzing, joy-stifling, and gratitude-stealing ugliness—when the Holy Spirit asked, “Josiah, are you content? You’re seeing this particular sin out there but what about in here? How are you discerning godly ambition from fleshly ambition? Do you ever confuse ‘resting in the Lord’ with laziness? Are you satisfied with what God has given?”

So, I wrestled and prayed and thought. And the Lord let me sit in it for most of the summer until, by his providence and kindness, as I was nearing the end of my Bible reading plan, I came to Philippians 1 and the radiation for the cancer of discontentedness jumped off the page. 

And I want to share it with you today because I’m sure there’s more than a few of us here that have, are, or will battle discontentedness. Let’s fight it like Paul fought it.

The Problem: Discontentedness

The Apostle had reason to feel unsettled and unappreciated, to be discontent with his lot in life. Apparently, he wasn’t easy to look at or listen to. People said of him, “His letters are weighty and strong, but his personal presence is unimpressive and his speech contemptible” (2 Cor. 10:10). He lived pay check to pay check, often on the road, and often chased by enemies. 

Here, in Philippians, he’s writing from prison. He says so in verse 7, “in my imprisonment,” and in verse 13, “my imprisonment in the cause of Christ.” He’s in chains. I’ve been discontent for less than that.

But it actually gets worse for Paul because, while he’s been locked up, an anti-Paul club has been founded among some influential preachers, and they’ve been talking trash him. [1:15–17] Some were proclaiming Christ from love and in unity with Paul. Others though were filled with jealousy of him and were competing against him. 

Maybe they resented the amount of attention he was getting, the care he was receiving, or the crowds he was drawing. They did preached the gospel, but from a place of “selfish ambition,” wanting to have what Paul had—the notoriety, skill, and power. “What’s so great about Paul? We’re just as good. He’s funny looking, verbose, and talk about baggage! (Remember the whole hunting Christians thing?)” They sought to stir up trouble for Paul to make his jail time more bitter. They wanted to twist the knife that life had stuck in Paul’s side.

Have you ever known that someone didn’t like you? It’s not comfortable, is it? What about a group of people? How about a group of influential and vocal people? That’s Paul’s situation: famously imprisoned and publicly slandered by slick-talking brothers in Christ.

To me, this seems fertile soil for the weeds of discontentment. Would anyone fault him if he was confused at God’s working, offended at his “rewards for service,” or bitter at the “Return on Investment” he’s getting from these preachers who likely learned from him. “Lord, this isn’t turning out the way I envisioned. Other Christians aren’t enduring what I am, and it wasn’t always like this. If I could just go back to the council of Jerusalem or my time in Ephesus, that’d be nice. If you could just get me out of jail, like you have in the past, I’d be happy. If you could shut the mouths of those preachers like you shut the mouths of Daniel’s lions, I could sleep better.” 

But Paul doesn’t say anything like that. What does he say? “Yes, and I will rejoice!” He’s okay with the mocking and slander, with the chains and guards, with his thorn in the flesh and not-so-good looks. He’s content. So much so that he can rejoice despite all the reasons not to. 

Are you that joyful? Are you that content? Are you that at peace with your current circumstances—the good, the bad, and the ugly? Maybe you thought life would turn out differently than it has. Maybe you’re coming out from, in the middle of, or heading into a storm, one with waves that crash against your relationships, health, finances, or goals and knock you around and threaten to hold you under water. Can you say, “Yes [those are all happening] … and I will rejoice”?

That’s the goal. That’s contentment. That’s what Paul had. Why? Because he understood what you and I need to understand: that it’s not about us, it’s all about Christ. [1:18] He doesn’t ignore what’s happening but he celebrates anyway, because it’s not at all about him; it’s all about Jesus.

The Solution: Christ-Obsessiveness

You see, the problem is discontentedness. But the solution is Christ-obsessiveness. Paul can find joy in all situations because he knows that Christ transcends all situations and it’s all about his excellencies, his plan, his power, his reputation, his gospel, and his exaltation.

Christ-obsessiveness means living lives that are all about Christ. That’s the kind of life Paul lived and the kind of life we’re invited to live. Paul, though enduring hardship, could confidently say: [1:19–21]. Though in bondage, he knows Christ brings “deliverance.” Though needy, Christ offers “provision.” Though alone, Christ moves his people to pray. Though downtrodden, Christ gives “hope.” Though shamed by the world, Christ grants shamelessness. Though disheartened, Christ inspires “all boldness.” Though stifled by sin, Christ will “be exalted.” 

It’s all about Christ and when we have Christ we have all we need and Christ then invites us to give him all we are. Jesus says, “I gave my life that you may live eternally. Now give me your life that you may live abundantly, joyfully, productively, peacefully, contentedly.” Seems like a fair trade, doesn’t it?

Now, you may say, “Okay, I want to do that. I understand that it’s not about me; it’s about Christ. I want to live for him. But where do I start?” 

Great question. Paul actually shows us. [1:21–22a] Note that contentment doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means labour. It means work. But work at what and for whom? [1:24–26]

Did you catch it? Living for Christ means serving his bride. It’s not a stretch to understand that “to live is Christ” includes a life dedicated to that for which Christ died and for which he’s returning: his church. Paul can rejoice regardless of circumstances because his life is not focused on himself but on Jesus and his people. “With whatever days I have left and in whatever capacities the Lord gives, Philippians, I’ll endure for your sake, for your progress, and for your joy in the faith. I live to serve Christ by serving you and I want to come and see you again so that you may abound in proud confidence, ultimately, in Christ Jesus our Lord!”

Do we want to fight discontentedness? Then we need to be reminded often that our lives are not about us and what’s important to us. It’s about Christ and what’s important to him. Focus your time, energy, talents, possessions, education, prayers, and intellect on your brothers and sisters in Christ. Encourage, serve, pray, love, visit, help, and invest. Model for the next generation a sacrificial love for the local assembly, warts and all. As a professor of mine once told us, “Evidence of love is the response to a need, not the palpitations of a heart.” We love Christ by loving one another, labouring for the good of the church with intentionality and diligence.

I think you’d be hard pressed to find a more self-centred person than Josiah Boyd in his early twenties. It was all about me—my athletics, my education, my goals, my plans, my relationships, my preferences, my conveniences, my schedule, my, my, my, my. That is until the Lord slapped my upside the head, woke me up, and pointed out that there are other people in this world and that my Saviour died for the world. He led me to a little church where I encountered people who knew what I didn’t: that it’s not about us. They served me with grace, patience, compassion, encouragement, love, instruction, and time. They were living lives that were all about Christ, and doing so they showed a selfish young man the road to contentment, a road I’ve walked very imperfectly since. But it’s a road of Christ-obsessiveness.

Does that describe your life? Are you a self-focused disciple, worried as much about your life as you are the life Christ calls you to live? Or are you a Christ-focused disciple, one that is obsessed with his exaltation and the blessedness of those who belong to him?

Now, Christ-obsessiveness isn’t only marked by living lives that are all about Christ. It’s also about dying deaths that are all about Christ. Remember, Paul says, [1:21]. Or, “to die, is even better.” A life for Christ is great, but death in Christ eclipses its joy. As C. S. Lewis once wrote, “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” That’s true. We are sojourners, aliens, strangers wondering through a land to which we no longer belong. We belong with our Father.

And because Paul knows this, he’s conflicted about which he prefers. [1:22b–24] If the Lord grants him days, he’s going to serve Jesus his Saviour by serving those for whom his Saviour died. But if the Lord takes him home, he gets to be with the one he lived for. He gets to see the one he’s served. How is that not better? 

And it’s the same for you me. If we’re Christ-obsessive, we can “[long] to be clothed with our dwelling from heaven” (2 Cor. 5:2) knowing that “a day in [God’s] courts is better than a thousand elsewhere” (Ps. 84:10). “As the deer pants for water, so my soul longs for you, O God.”

Death, the ultimate purveyor of discontentment in this world, the ultimate shadow of fear, the ultimate monster in the closet, the ultimate joy-killer, and progress-stifler, is, for those who belong to Christ, the doorway to glory, the entryway to all our desires being eternally and perfectly satisfied. We don’t celebrate death—it is a curse, the enemy—but we can rejoice in what’s beyond it. And that brings contentment.

Paul didn’t have to make something of his life, bring purpose to his life, protect his life, guard his life, defend his life, justify his life, monetize his life, or extend his life. His life wasn’t about him. It was all about Christ. And he had all of Christ. What more could he need? It’s been wisely stated that, “the person who has [Christ] and everything else has no more than the person who has [Christ] only.”

May we be a Christ-obsessed group of believers, living lives that are all about Christ that we may die deaths that are all about Christ. May we be able to say, with Paul, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing” (2 Tim. 4:7–8).

It’s not about us. It’s about him. Let’s make our lives (and our deaths) about Christ! Let’s be a people, obsessed with our Saviour and all he’s graciously given to us, content in his power, provisions, and promises.

  

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