Seed of contentment, harvest of peace

This essay was first published on The Daily BS on Feb. 8, 2025.

“A harvest of peace is produced by a seed of contentment.” – proverb

Years ago, my husband and I purchased a home in the country. After living on a tiny town lot the size of a potholder, we decided that it was time to move our growing family to a larger place complete with a big, red barn and a chicken coop.

“The boys need more dirt under ‘em,” I said. And so began the largest real estate transfer known to mankind, thanks to six sneakers that carried in mud and six paws that left smudges on doors and walls. As I laundered enough blue jeans to circle the equator thrice, I rejoiced in the freedom afforded by those three glorious acres. Campfires. Tents that stayed up all summer long, turning the grounds into a KOA. Trees to climb. All of it was sheer delight.

However, there was one thing that troubled me greatly. While the outdoors was wonderful, the house inside was not. The entire interior was in dire need of renovation, but money was scarce. At the time of the purchase, my husband was beginning his brand-new business, and we could not afford to make the desired upgrades. We just lived in what we had, and it was ugly.

How I struggled with discontentment during those years. An attitude of gratitude eluded me as I longed for what I could not have. As with many such things, it showed me something about myself that was unpleasant and in need of transformation. Thankfully, time and maturity have done their work, and it’s not as hard for me to live in gratitude and its helpful twin, contentment.

There are significant ways in which discontentment is a thief. Dwelling on what we desire, but do not have can blind us to what we do have. Like a thief, ingratitude steals in, taking our happiness, our peace, and our quality of life.

Discontentment pulls us out of the present moment with all its attendant gifts. We ruminate over where we aren’t and who we’re not, over all we’re missing in life. Such rumination throws open the door to the robber baron, Self-Pity. And self-pity, full blown, will rot the bones.

A chief ingredient in this toxic stew is comparison. When I was living in an ugly house, it was comparison that exacerbated my unhappiness. If I looked at the houses other people had, I felt it. It flamed like an LA brush fire, and my soul felt its searing heat.

Comparing ourselves to others has the same effect. Such comparison does one of two things—either we will feel superior, or we will feel inferior. Neither reaction is helpful. Judging ourselves to be superior sets us above others. Condemning ourselves as inferior places us below them, and connection becomes very hard from such unequal planes. Both superiority and inferiority inhibit relationships and siphon off our inner peace. We must find a better way.

When I find myself looking at someone else’s talent and opine, “I’m not her!” I have learned to say, “I am not her. But she’s not me, either.” This understanding has brought relief, and I see that there’s room for us both.

There is, upon reflection, one good use for discontentment. That “good use” is for positive change.

Early in our marriage, my husband worked at a factory. Day after day, he slogged along, miserable in the routine and monotony. He came to me one day and said, “If I don’t want to do this forever, I’m going to have to learn a new skill. I think I’ll look into college.” Thus began a brutal three years that involved a move out of state with our toddler son, leaving family behind. It was a punishing stretch of poverty and exhaustion.

Now, we know that it was one of the best things we ever did, and it began with a season of discontent. Instead of staying in the situation, gradually sliding into despair and bitterness, he chose to do something about it. Decades later, we are reaping the rewards of that decision.

Discontentment can drive us to real and lasting change. When the place we are in, whether vocational, emotional, mental, spiritual, or relational, becomes intolerable, it’s our invitation to grow. This is where we either choose to accept the known and continue to marinate in negativity, or we step into the unknown and take the risk. We can choose to change, and therein lies the path to contentment.

“True contentment,” Charles Spurgeon said, “is absolutely essential to happiness. There is a plant called selfishness, and if you pull it up by its roots, you will find that it grows in the soil of misery.”

He was right. The more I live for others over myself, the greater my happiness and contentment. When I regress and live for myself first, the larger the selfish plant will grow, and it bears a bitter fruit.

A soul that is truly happy shall be a shade and a shelter for those nearby. That one, accepting his own lot and outer condition, having first looked after his character and inner condition, shall be a source of light and hope to which others will gravitate. Contentment, then, is the end result, and the fruit of it is sweet.

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