The BIGGEST Secret to Being Content

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 The BIGGEST Secret to Being Content

The BIGGEST Secret to Being Content


Front porch says relax to me.

With a view—trees—space—


And I’m stuck with a 3 by 3 slab,

Facing apartment brick walls,

Grass that isn’t even mine—


And knowing the hole of an

Apartment behind me

Is musty—small—depressing.


So I sit on my 3 by 3,

My fresh air spot,

Mixed with smells from the neighbors—

In my own little corner

Of the world, so to speak,

Where my mind can unwind,

And I feel what I feel.

And tears fall free—at times—

I feel so deeply—


I don’t really like to cry

So much.

But I do.


And my red chairs

On my 3 by 3 slab

Are often a spot

Where I feel the difference…

Yes—I compare—

My front porch

To those of my friends.


I covet the life

I don’t have—

Here it is:


The root of my discontent.


I am not thankful for what I have

Because there is always

Something else to have.

How American of me!

To crave what’s being

Advertised to the hole in my soul—

How truly grotesque…


I say I am a follower of Christ—

I hear Him at night—

The conviction in my heart

About lies I believe

And what I’m not thankful for.

More tears…

Or just sleep.

Sleep is easy.


Then morning comes,

And I strive and fail






No matter what?

Is that even possible?


And then I read this1:

The same power that raised

Jesus Christ from the dead—

Can be working…




Could it be?

Have I found it?

The secret to being content?


It’s so simple, it’s scary.



More than scary—


It means that it’s not about me.

I can’t do anything

To fix what’s wrong with my heart.


It’s really—

And I’m not exaggerating—

The secret to everything.

The power of God,

Resurrection kind of power.

If it’s working in me…

How can I be





This is a problem.


I’ve got The Secret.


The same power

That raised Jesus Christ

From the dead—


And yet my 3 by 3 slab

Makes me sad.


The same power

That created the heavens

And the earth—


And my musty apartment

Puts my brain in a prison.


The same power

That put the Glorious Son

In the skin of a baby,

Knowing He would die

And be raised

And be seated again

At the Father’s right hand—


And I can’t see past

My petty anxiety

About my small life

And remember—


Turn your eyes upon Jesus,

Look full on His wonderful face,

And the things of earth will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.


There’s nothing for it

But to wake up again.

And claim Paul’s prayer2

As my own.


I wait—


To see Your power

Fixing my heart—my mind.


This is it.

This is how Paul had learned:

In any situation, to be content.3


The Secret.


There is nothing I can do

To grow a content heart

Within myself—

I have no power

To accomplish this goal.


I turn my eyes

                Upon Jesus…


1 Ephesians 1:19-20

2 Ephesians 1:15-21

3 Philippians 4:11

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