In my article a couple of issues ago, I wrote about the virtue of Christian contentment. Now I turn my attention to its paradoxical partner—Christian dissatisfaction. William Barcley once wrote, “The contented Christian is the most contented person in the world; yet he is also the most unsatisfied.”1 In this article I want to discuss what Christian dissatisfaction means, and why it is a good thing. Before we begin, let’s review what contentment means, and discover what dissatisfaction means.
Contentment is a chosen state of mind which is quiet, resting, and satisfied. Dissatisfaction, though also a state of mind, is otherwise opposite. It is a state of being discontent and uneasy, resulting from a desire for gratification, or a fulfillment of wishes or expectations. Contentment is a state of tranquil rest. Dissatisfaction is a state of restless longing. Though contentment and dissatisfaction are seemingly opposed to one another, the mature Christian is to maintain both simultaneously. We are to say with Paul: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content” (Phil. 4:11b, English Standard Version), even as we strain every muscle to obtain what we don’t yet have (Phil. 3). How is this possible?
Before we dismiss what appears a contraction, consider the many paradoxical parallels in Scripture. Christians are both sinner and saint, dead to sin and riddled with it (Rom. 6–7). Christ’s yoke is easy and the road to life is difficult (Matt. 11:30; 7:14). God is at once three and one (John 14:26; Deut. 6:4). So one more paradox ought not to surprise us or cause us to question the veracity of the Scripture. Contrarily, the better we understand the foundation for our contentment, the better we can understand why we must be dissatisfied.
As indicated in my last article, Paul teaches that the foundation for contentment is an experiential and doctrinal knowledge of God and his perfect sovereignty and goodness. It rests on the assurance that no matter the circumstance, our loving Savior ordained it, will see us through it, and ultimately use it to help bring us to glory. This foundation for contentment does not produce inactivity and complacency (the mindset that says, “God is doing everything so I can rest on my laurels”). Rather, it produces a restless discontent. Philippians 3 offers an apt illustration of what I mean.
Philippians 3:4–6 is Paul’s famous account of his credentials. He writes, “If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.” Paul was the Gandhi, the Mother Teresa, of Judaism. He was, by all worldly standards, a good and righteous person. If anyone had a place reserved in heaven, surely it was Paul. However, Paul declares in verses 7–9:
But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.
Paul’s declaration is significant. He claims that this impressive list of credentials is worth as much as excrement. They are no ticket into heaven. Only knowing Christ Jesus holds any value in this life and the life to come. For it is the only means by which we can hope to attain the resurrection from the dead, without which, everything we do (or don’t do) on earth is meaningless. As Paul’s experiential understanding of this reality grows, so does his contentment—and so too, his dissatisfaction. Paul’s conviction that knowing Christ is the highest, best good—the only thing worth living for—fuels his discontent. Consider Paul’s words in verses 12–14:
Not that I have already obtained this [the resurrection from the dead] or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Paul is fully assured that he belongs to Christ. He knows all his circumstances are perfectly ordered by God. He knows that any righteousness he has is of Christ. He is certain of his inevitable glorification (Rom. 8:29–30). This knowledge fills him with an unquenchable longing to know his Savior more fully and to follow him more closely. The more contented he is in his Savior, the more discontent with everything less. One author put it well:
as Saul rested in righteousness not his own, the surprising result was that his assurance became a stimulant, not a sedative, to his passion to follow God’s will and further God’s glory . . . these first tastes of grace only whet Paul’s appetite for the whole feast of fellowship with his Savior that he describes as ‘gaining Christ,’ ‘be[ing] found in Christ,’ and ‘knowing Christ Jesus my Lord’ (3:8–11).2
Paul has tasted morsels of the grace and fellowship and personal holiness that await him on the other side of glory, and he cannot now rest satisfied until he has the full feast. He’s tasted of the fruit of heaven, and now every other fruit tastes dry and bland. Nothing but Christ and full sinless fellowship with Christ will satisfy.
Before God captured Paul’s heart, he delighted in himself. He was satisfied with himself and his labors for the law. That self-satisfaction ended on the Damascus road. “Until Jesus’ return, Paul will not be whole, not complete. He still has gaps and lapses. He still finds his own heart divided between wanting to delight the Lord and wanting, even now, to satisfy himself. But Paul cannot be content with his divided heart.”3 The closer Paul grows to his Savior, the more he abhors and strives to be rid of the sin for which his Savior died.
Do we have hearts like Paul’s? Are we so sure of our eternal destiny that we make it our mission to prepare for it? “Does the goal of beholding God’s face and basking in his favor captivate [us]?”4 Or are we content with what the world has to offer? Is our highest aspiration a comfortable home, a good job, and well-behaved kids? Are we content with maintaining a general acquaintance with Christ? Do we attend church faithfully, read our Bible occasionally, and resist the less attractive temptations? In short, are we satisfied with this life, or do we yearn for the next?
Jesus warns us not to store up our treasures here on earth. Earthly things: praise of men, a good paycheck, health, youth all fade and rust (Matt. 6:19). If we find our contentment and satisfaction in these things, we will always be disappointed. While we must have the mind of Paul, wishing to stay here on earth to continue the Lord’s work, we must also have his mind that strives for heaven even as we are laboring here on earth (Phil. 1:21–24). For, as he says, “to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (v. 21). But how are we to simultaneously live and labor contentedly in this world, while yearning and striving for the next—never satisfied until we have entered into glory?
First, we must cultivate a heavenly-mindedness. From Abraham to David to Paul, God’s people have lived as pilgrims. Though they lived in lands, built houses, had families, they always knew here was only a temporary residence. Such knowledge allowed them to endure persecution with placid faces, resist the pleasures of sin, and face lions and even death with joy (see Heb. 11). They knew that the trials they endured here on earth were fitting them for glory (2 Cor. 4:17). So, they were contented to be used of God as instruments to point others to that eternal reality for as long as the Lord chose to keep them here on earth. This must characterize our thinking as well. We too must live like those on their way to heaven. Central to this is cultivating the longing to be with our Father in heaven.
How can we cultivate this longing for God that leads to heavenly- mindedness? First and foremost, we rest. We, like Paul, rest in the completed work of Christ on our behalf. We rest in our eternal security in him. Without this restful posture, “all our striving would be losing.” However, the more we grasp and rest in the reality of Christ’s completed work in us, the more we will overflow with gratitude. That gratitude will lead us to pray persistently for more love; more heavenly-mindedness. It will lead us to desire to spend time with God, listening to and reading his Word both privately and corporately. It will propel us to direct our “investment of aspiration, imagination, time, energy, and money toward the precious prize [Christ] that Paul pursues.”5
So, Paul was not crazy to call us both to a life of contentment and one of striving. How can we not, when we realize how much the Lord has done for us, be utterly content? How can we not, when we see all the Lord has promised us, strive with all our might to attain it? May God grant us grace to ever more—with hearts of gratitude—strive for heaven and him.
1 William Barcley, The Secret of Contentment (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R, 2010), 69.
2 Ibid., 205–6.
3 Ibid., 216.
4 Ibid., 217.
5 Ibid., 215.
Elisabeth Bloechl a member of Orthodox Presbyterian Church Hammond, is a house cleaner and aspiring writer in Griffith, IN.