"I Shall Not Want" and Finding Contentment
“I am sick with wanting
And it’s evil how it’s got me
And every day is worse than the one before
The more I have the more I think
I’m almost where I need to be
If only I could get a little more
”
I was in a consignment store yesterday; the absolute last place I want to be the week after Christmas. The one consolation was the fact that I was not there to spend money. My daughter had dropped off some clothes to sell and I had offered to pick up the money she would be getting for them.
I was absentmindedly standing in line when I realized that for a line with only one lady ahead of me, it was taking a long time. What was going on? I stood there, six feet back on my required dot, and took in the scene. The customer was a well-dressed lovely looking woman in her fifties. She looked youthful with her long, impeccably curled hair and, equally, impeccable style. But her face looked a bit pained; brows furrowed and chewing on her lip. She was watching the cashier carefully fold and ring in each article of clothing. No wonder I had been standing there for an inordinate amount of time. Her pile was huge. And growing by the second.
My eyes were going back and forth between the gorgeous garments and the increasingly agitated woman, now subtly tapping her credit card on the counter. Finally, the cashier got the end, gave her the subtotal, and then asked, “did you still want this sweater as well?” To which the woman responded resignedly and with a heavy sigh, “Oh sure, what’s the difference at this point. Here’s my credit card.”
By the time the cashier asked the woman if she wanted to buy a bag for 10 cents, the customer was so irritated that she got passively aggressive with the cashier about the fact they charge for bags. Fair point, I suppose.
As I watched the woman take her massive stack of beautiful garments that, I was fairly sure at this point, she couldn’t afford, I felt a bit sad and also remembered so many times, some not that long ago when I bought things I couldn’t afford because they promised to make me so happy. Things. Make me happy. Maybe even change my life.
The deeper reason that I could identify with this woman is that for the past several months the Lord has been teaching me a lot about wanting and not wanting. It sounds simple and not as interesting as a fun pile of new clothes but, unlike anything I have ever purchased, the lessons I have been learning are proving to change my life.
Like many Christians, the 23rd Psalm has been a comfort and encouragement for many years. On nights when I can’t fall asleep due to fear or anxiety, I have recited it. “The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want…” I have heard sermons on this Psalm and meditated on it countless times. But it wasn’t until a few months ago that it woke me up to an area of my life that was causing a lot of grief.
I have always heard the second line of that Psalm, “I shall not want”, as a promise; The Lord is my Shepherd, therefore He will provide for me. And that is true. As I look back over my life I can say with certainty that He has cared for me completely and beautifully. But as I was lying in bed one night in October, gripped with anxiety as I ran through all the things I wanted to get done the next day and unsure how it would be possible, the thought came into my head, I shall NOT want. It was a forceful thought that came out of nowhere and felt far more like a directive than a promise. What? That lovely, comforting verse was actually a command?
I laid there and thought about it. The next day was not mine. It was ordained by the Lord and if He wanted me to get any of my “to do” list done, it was going to get done. I shall not want. I breathed a sigh of relief and fell asleep.
As the days passed I started playing a game of trying to catch myself every time I started a sentence with “I want…” It turns out my days were littered with those little words. “I want to get to the store.” “I want to go for a run.” “I want more time.” “I want new chairs for the living room.” “I want to clean the house before I have to pick up from the carpool.” “I want a new rain jacket.” “I want to be left alone to read for an hour.” I want. I want. I want.
I was a bit appalled by how much of my day was made up of what I wanted and how much my, very temporary, happiness was hinging on whether or not I got what I wanted. So the next part of the experiment; the part I will be practicing til the day I die is to ask the Lord what He wants. Father, what do you want for the day? How can I serve someone else? How can I bless others? Do I really need that rain jacket?
Of course, this can easily turn into semantics or asceticism wherein we continually deny ourselves in the hope of finding favour with God. We need to get things done and we do need to buy ourselves things. There is nothing wrong with dressing well or decorating our homes in a pleasing way. And spending quiet time alone reading can be essential. But where I had gone off the rails was wanting all these things more than my Good Shepherd. Trying to bypass knowing Christ to get to His gifts. I am finding that when I spend my days going to Him, first, for fulfillment the definition of what I want changes and I find myself less anxious, more content, and, honestly, happier. As it turns out, I definitely did not need the new rain jacket; I have 2 that work very well. The following is quote from Notes on a Nervous Planet by Matt Haig which I read recently:
“It is all right to want something- fame, the semblance of youth, 10,000 likes, hard abs, doughnuts- but wanting is also lacking. That is what “want” means. So we have to be careful of our wants and watch that they don’t cause too many holes inside us, otherwise happiness will drip through us like water through a leaky bucket. The moment we want is the moment we are dissatisfied. The more we want, the more we will drip away.”
The quote begins with the idea that wanting things is not necessarily bad but we do need to keep a tight rein on our wants. Wanting begets wanting and giving in to the wants leaves us feeling deprived or, as the author writes, with “holes inside us.”
As I begin to shift from “I want” to “thank you for all that I already have” I am beginning to see my bounty. Not only do I not need a rain jacket, I have an extra one to give away. Do you need a rain jacket? When I remember that my time and my life are not my own, I am far less stressed or irritated when I am interrupted or demands are placed on me.
I serve a God who loves to give good gifts to His children but often I have been pushing them aside to look for more. I am learning to live in peace, joy, and contentment when I believe that I shall not WANT and also that I shall NOT want.
