But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. ~I Timothy 6:6-7
The script I’m currently rewriting grapples with the idea of contentment. What does it look like? Where does it come from? Is there such a thing as false contentment? And how do I answer these questions — all of which Scripture addresses directly — in a manner that doesn’t reek of “Christianese” to someone who wouldn’t touch a Bible if you handed it to them?
Immersing myself in this morass, I shouldn’t be surprised to find my own contentment under attack.
At the moment, I’m starting my dream work — being able to write full-time as my day job. I am married to a wonderful, creative man who gets as excited as I do by the dictionary.com word of the day. We’ve been practically given a beautiful house to live in for the next year.
–And yet, I find myself shot through multiple times a day with tiny, hot needles of irritation and envy for what I don’t have, for the things that don’t satisfy. It’s often the most inane, ridiculous situations: the friend who has her guest bathroom decorated perfectly, the woman at the grocery store who manages to get her hair to frame her face just right, the article by a writer who expresses a thought in clever, insightful way I wouldn’t have thought of.
All of which tells me: if I can’t embrace who God has made me to be and what He has given me in this moment, I will never be content. It won’t matter how many screenplays I sell, how brilliant my marriage is, or if we end up with a lovely little mountain cabin in the wilds of the Blue Ridge — I will find ways to take issue with it, to handcraft my own discontent.
So here’s to embracing the gift — the gifts — of the moment. To weaving a fabric of contentment, thread by thread, thought by thought. And to telling a story that just might encourage someone else to do the same.