Most people in the English speaking world have heard the phrase, "the winter of our discontent." Many even know that those words come from the opening line of Shakespeare’s play, Richard III. "Now is the winter of our discontent…." But I wonder how many of you know what comes next. "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York." That’s what I want to talk with you about on this bleak mid—winter day——how another Son, not of York, but of God, can transform the winter of your discontent into the glorious summer of contentment.
Now, I must say right up front that comparing the Son of God to the play Richard III is more than a bit of an insult to Jesus, because Richard III was one of the great scoundrels of English history, while Jesus is the Savior of the world. Shakespeare’s play dramatically recalls the murder, intrigue, and rebellion surrounding the English throne way back at the end of the 15th century, around the time Columbus sailed the blue to America. Richard wanted to be King of England and would let nothing stand in his way. His ruthless brutality did not bring a summer of contentment to the winter of England’s discontent. And he died in disgrace. The Son of God died in disgrace, too, but that was for our sins, not for his. And after his tragic death he rose in glorious triumph to live with us. And he really can transform the winter of our discontent into the glorious summer of contentment.
Perhaps you can’t imagine how that can happen. I mean how could anyone, even Jesus, make me content with winter in Michigan where I live? On a recent night, my mother called me from Denver, Colorado. That day in Michigan had begun with a foot of snow and sub—zero temperatures, but there were blue skies and bright sunshine all day. So all of us Michiganders said it was a beautiful day, because that’s about as good as it gets in Michigan in January. I asked my mom how the weather was in Denver. Blue skies and bright sunshine and 69 degrees, she said. Her new husband was planning to golf the next day. Here in Michigan it’s snow and cold and grey skies day after day after day, and golf is a distant memory or a fond hope. Some of my friends actually like winter in Michigan, but they are a mystery to me. How can anyone be content in the bleak mid—winter?
Of course, what I’m really talking about now is not the actual winter season, but the bleak mid—winter of your soul, those times when you feel cold inside, spiritually frozen, emotionally lifeless, and the restless winds of discontent rattle your desires like dried leaves still hanging on the old oak tree in January. You are caught in the winter of your discontent. Nothing is right. You wish things were different. You have none of that inner peace we call contentment. The summer of contentment is a distant memory for which you long with a bitter ache. The hymn writer expresses our longing for that lost time in life. "What peaceful hours I once enjoyed! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void the world can never fill." In Philippians 4, Paul can say that he knows how to be content whatever the circumstances of his life, but that is really hard to do. Indeed, it is perhaps the most difficult thing in life. How can you be content in the bleak mid—winter of your life?
Paul calls it a secret. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every circumstance." Paul had learned that secret precisely in the wintry times of his life. In 2 Corinthians 11 he summarizes his experience by comparing himself to what he calls "super—apostles" who were challenging his apostolic credentials. "I have been in prison more frequently (in fact, Paul was sitting in prison when he wrote our text in Philippians). I have been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. Five times I have received from the Jews the 40 lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day on the open sea, I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from the Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea…. I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked."
Life had been tough for Paul, and through all of that he had learned the secret of being content whatever the circumstances. He calls it a mystery in the Greek, something you investigate and probe and try to solve. Everyone in the world is trying to solve the mystery of contentment. They are searching for contentment in millions of ways, but I think you can boil them all down to three basic paths to peace. There is the Western way, the Eastern way, and the Christian way.
The Western path to contentment is to give in to your desires. Major social commentators on both the right and the left have lamented western society’s commitment to consumption——"conspicuous consumption," some have called it. But we don’t need experts to tell us this. All we need to do is watch TV. Our consumerist culture is driven by the advertising and entertainment industries that send the same message in a blizzard of ads and programs. "You will be content when you have what you want." Speaking of a successful businessman who hit the top and then dropped dead, Jesus said, "Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions." But the behavior of Western consumers says, "You will be content when your desires are satisfied, when you get what you want." Whether you get it by honest hard work and wise investing, or by dishonest schemes and outright crime, whether what you want is some thing or some person or some situation, the way to be content is to get what you want, to take care of your needs, to have whatever your heart desires. That is the self—centered, consumerist way to contentment so prevalent in the West. When you have what you want, you will be content.
It is a sad fact that many Western Christians live as though we believe that. But even though we seem as enthralled by the gospel of consumerism as any other self—centered Americans, we know in our heart of hearts that it doesn’t work. A few years ago we saw a case in point when Johnny Carson died. For three decades he made me and the rest of America laugh on the Tonight Show. He was funny, and that made him rich and famous, "an American institution," said one editorial. But, according to his friends, he was a most unhappy man. He had lived the American dream; he could buy anything his heart desired; and he was not content. An old Jewish proverb says, "Death and Destruction are never satisfied, and neither are the eyes of man" (Proverbs 27:20). The Western way to contentment is a dead end.
That’s why many in the West have turned to the East. If the Western way to peace is to say "Yes" to whatever your Self desires, the Eastern way is to say "No" to your Self and what it desires. A prime example of the Eastern way is the famous book, Siddharta. Written by Herman Hesse, Siddharta was one of the books that initiated the turn to the East in the counter—cultural 1960s. Siddharta was a high—born boy from India, a member of the Brahmin caste. He had everything—a sharp mind and an athletic body and a handsome face, a fine family who were delighted with him, the admiration of everyone in his village, all the luxuries of his time and place, and a deeply religious outlook on life. But he was not content. So he set off on a search for deep peace.
Here’s how Hesse describes that search. "Siddharta had one goal—to become empty, to become empty of thirst, desire, dreams, pleasure and sorrow—to let the Self die. No longer to be Self, to experience the peace of an emptied heart, to experience pure thought—that was his goal." He learned many ways of losing self. He traveled along the path of self—denial through voluntary suffering and conquering of pain, through hunger, thirst, and fatigue, and through meditation, emptying the mind of all images. And, writes Hesse, "He lost his Self a thousand times and for days on end he dwelt in non—being. But although the paths took him away from self, in the end they always led back to it."
The Eastern way of denying your desires, of saying no to your self, until you stop being a self with conflicting desires and join the vast unconscious All—that Eastern way to contentment is a hard way, but according the book it finally worked for Siddharta. It happened as he was sitting beside a quietly flowing river. "From that hour, Siddharta ceased to fight against his destiny. There shone in his face the serenity of knowledge, of one who is no longer confronted with conflict of desires, who has found salvation, who is in harmony with the stream of events, with the stream of life, full of sympathy and compassion, surrendering himself to the stream, belonging to the unity of all things."
Sounds fascinating, doesn’t it? Almost attractive. In fact, it attracts millions. But at what cost?! It requires the total denial of our God—given desires. It leads to the loss of our God—given identity as a separate Self in this world. And worst of all, it pays no attention to peace with God. There is no holy, loving, personal God in the Eastern way, just the stream, the great river of the all into which every human being falls as a single meaningless drop. The Eastern way to contentment offers the pearl of peace at the great price of leaving God out of the picture, which is exactly why so many secular Western people find it an attractive alternative to the Christian way to peace.
Because, of course, the Christian way to contentment is centered precisely on God, on the personal God who has become a human self, subject to all the needs and wants and desires of the human race. The Christian way to contentment is not the Western way that speaks an unqualified "Yes" to all the desires of Self; nor is the Eastern way that speaks an unqualified "No" to all the desires of Self. The Christian way is the straight and narrow way between the two. It is not about Self and desire; it is about the Savior and his desire to save us from sin so that we can be the Self God made us to be.
That’s the secret Paul had learned through all the good times and bad times of his life. It’s not about me; it’s not about what I want; it’s about Christ. No matter what, Christ is with me; indeed, he is in me. And "I can do all things in him who gives me strength." When Paul says "all things" there, he is not talking about things like becoming a great athlete, or making a fortune, or raising a perfect family, or achieving some other personal goal we might set for ourselves. He is talking about the hardest thing of all—being content no matter what the circumstances of my life. I can do that he says. I can do poverty. I can do plenty. I can do hunger. I can do thirst. I can do sickness. I can do cancer. I can do loss. I can do death. I can do all things, no matter what, because Christ is in me and he will give me the strength to do it.
Paul wasn’t always that content. He had to learn. It is possible, very possible to be a Christian, to have Christ in you, and yet not be content, because although Christ is in you, you aren’t very close to him. The secret of contentment is a personal relationship with the Son of God, Jesus Christ. And the closer you come to Christ, the more content you will be.
How do we come closer to Christ? In the same way we come closer to any other person. I grow closer to my wife as I spend time with her in conversation and in silence, as I serve her and accept her service to me, and ultimately as I surrender myself to her in sacrificial love that puts her ahead of me. Times of prayer and Bible reading, silent meditation on God’s Word and listening for the still small voice of Christ’s Spirit, serving him by taking care of his little brothers and sisters in my life, receiving his grace as I faithfully worship in church, and ultimately surrendering myself to him so that he is at the center of my life—all of this will bring us closer to the Son of God and his glorious summer of contentment.
When Christ is really central in your life, when he sits on the throne at the center of your Self, when he is your heart’s desire, then you will be content no matter what the circumstances, because he matters more than the circumstances. That’s what Paul was getting at when he said, "Whatever was to my profit I now consider loss, for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord…."
Now I know that sounds like the kind of thing Siddharta would say—the way to contentment is self—denial, suffering, the loss of all that I was and all that I want, the death of my Self. But there is this crucial difference, the thing that differentiates Christianity from all the other paths to peace in the world. The One to whom we surrender ourselves is the loving personal God who sacrificed his own Son to make our lives full in the deepest and highest sense of the word. That’s why Paul concludes all this talk about contentment with this wonderful promise for the bleak mid—winter. "My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus."
That’s how the Son of God transforms the winter of our discontent into the glorious summer of contentment. He assures us that the personal God at the center of the universe loves us more than we will ever know. By the sacrifice of his life Jesus shows us that God will do anything to meet our needs. So, no matter what the circumstances of our lives, God will supply what we need out of his glorious riches for the sake of Jesus Christ. Or as Psalm 37:4 puts it, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart."
Stan Mast
Stan Mast has been the Minister of Preaching at the LaGrave Avenue Christian Reformed Church in downtown Grand Rapids, MI for the last 18 years. He graduated from Calvin Theological Seminary in 1971 and has served four churches in the West and Midwest regions of the United States. He also served a 3 year stint as Coordinator of Field Education at Calvin Seminary. He has earned a BA degree from Calvin College and a Bachelor of Divinity and a Master of Theology from Calvin and a Doctor of Ministry from Denver Seminary. He is happily married to Sharon, a special education teacher, and they have two sons and four grandchildren. Stan is a voracious reader and works out regularly. He also calls himself a car nut and an “avid, but average” golfer.
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