Revolutionary Contentment

. . . not a call to action, but a call to being.

Luke 3: John the Baptist is the talk of town and country. He not only speaks like Elijah, he dresses like Elijah, and his words, like those of that fire-breathing prophets, send shivers down your back. All that talk about baptism by fire, and winnowing forks and axes laid to the root of the tree—no wonder people are flocking to him. Big things are about to pop, and everybody wants in on the action. But when they get down to asking about that—What do we do?—what does he say?

To scribes and Pharisees: Stop being complacent.

To tax collectors: stop being greedy.

To soldiers: cut out the extortion; be satisfied with your pay.

To people generally: stop hoarding; share what you have.

. . . that’s it?

He’s preaching repentance, aiming to present “a people prepared” to Messiah. And Messiah is soon to bear down with the axe and the winnowing fork like an avenging angel. The fiery avenger is actually what John pictures, and I assume it’s exactly what he expects. The message he preaches is a way to clear the decks and purify the righteous, before the righteous suit up and get ready to spring into action when Messiah comes.

But when Messiah comes, he speaks pretty much the same message: be content. He was supposed to lead a revolution–where’s the fire? Where’s the day of the Lord that burns the arrogant to stubble? When do we get to tread down the wicked? (All predicted in Malachi 4:1-3) Why is he talking about lilies of the field and birds of the air?

It is a revolution, just not the kind anyone expected. Contentment itself is a radical departure from the way humans tend to operate—wasn’t it a large part of the original sin? Wanting to be like God is, by definition, dissatisfaction with being human. Jesus calls us back to Square One in the garden. But when we look around, the place is shabby and unkempt (and whose fault is that?)

It’s still a revolution: not a call to action, but a call to being.

The revolution begins not with fire, or swords, or pikestaffs, or guns. It begins with personal repentance and builds on personal renewal and will end in personal glory. Any number of persons doing it together (the church) is a revolution indeed.

Like everybody else, I have my plans, my own Pilgrim’s Progress, and barriers to that progress make me frustrated and short-tempered. I forget that the real Pilgrim’s Progress is inside of me. Square One (which I have to keep going back to) is contentment. I can truly progress only from that point.

It seems so passive. Revolutionary contentment sounds like an oxymoron. But it isn’t. It’s a radical reorienting of my natural compass. It’s getting myself into a stance where the Lord can do something with me.

I want to move.

I may not be able to.

If that’s the case, the Lord can do something with my willingness to stand still.