CONTENTMENT is the attitude of gratefulness and peace
born out of trust and surrender to the will of God in every circumstance.

As I was browsing through the net last Saturday, I came across this story. During that time I was in an anxious mood. I was thinking about the very near future where I would fend for myself and eventually for my own family. But as I read the story I realized that I don't need a lot to be happy. Read on.

Philip Parham tells the story of a rich industrialist who was disturbed to find a fisherman sitting lazily beside his boat. "Why aren't you out there fishing?" he asked.

"Because I've caught enough fish for today," said the fisherman.
"Why don't you catch more fish than you need?' the rich man asked.
"What would I do with them?"

"You could earn more money," came the impatient reply, "and buy a better boat so you could go deeper and catch more fish. You could purchase nylon nets, catch even more fish, and make more money. Soon you'd have a fleet of boats and be rich like me."

The fisherman asked, "Then what would I do?"
"You could sit down and enjoy life," said the industrialist.
"What do you think I'm doing now?" the fisherman replied as he looked placidly out to sea.

Our Daily Bread, May 18, 1994.

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Contentment, at first, feels like sour graping for me.

"Ooh I really want an SLR camera. But I can't afford it right now. I do have a point and shoot. And besides I'd rather be the subject than the photographer."

Sour - graping, I tell you. It does make me feel better though; convincing myself that I don't really want something that I really want. But after sometime, sour - graping turns into a realization. A realization that says "I really do want that thing, but I can't afford it, so maybe later on, when I have the money and I still want it badly, then maybe I'd buy it."

Why so chatty with contentment? Well, living as me, I'd say I have been pretty much handed everything I needed and most of what I wanted. I have experienced living in luxury when I was young. But I have also experienced living in lack. I guess what I mean is that I have realized what really matters.

The desire for beautiful, shinny things is still there. But I have learned to suppress those desires to make way for things that are of more value.

At the risk sounding preachy, I'd like to post my favorite verse at the moment, " I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ. Phil 3:8"