Midway along the journey of our life
I woke to find myself in a dark wood,
For I had wandered off from the straight path.

Here at the beginning of the Inferno, Dante is lost in what he calls “a bitter place” and a “wasteland.” He has no hope of getting out of the dark and into the light until a guide approaches him, the Roman poet Virgil. As the story continues, they must travel down through the icy core of hell and then up through the other side until, finally, Dante makes it to the light he seeks — to Paradise.

Like Dante, along the journey of our life, many of us have unexpectedly found ourselves in a dark wood, a bitter place — the wasteland of discontentment. Somewhere, somehow, we wandered off from the straight path. We remember a time when we felt more satisfied, more whole, more at rest. We felt less inclined to grumble, to compare, to covet. But now, in this barrenness of discontentment, our thirst for more never seems quenched. Our hunger for different circumstances never goes away. No matter how “good” life is, we still feel generally miserable. How did we get into this wasteland in the first place? And how can we ever get out?

Happiness That Holds

At first glance, cultivating contentment can seem like a light topic. We may simply think, Yay! I’m going to be a happier person! But contentment reaches much deeper than that.

In The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment, Puritan Jeremiah Burroughs describes contentment as a habit of heart that submits to and takes deep satisfaction in God’s wise and fatherly will in any condition. He bases this definition on the apostle Paul’s words in Philippians 4:11–13: “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. . . . I can do all things through [Christ] who strengthens me.” Both Paul and Burroughs recognize humanity’s diabolical ability to be discontent in any circumstance — in plenty or hunger, in abundance or need. The remedy they offer is not a change of circumstances, but a contentment that is built upon something far more stable than the changes and chances of this fleeting world.

When we talk about contentment, we’re not talking about picnics and puppies. We’re talking about real enemies and spiritual armor. True contentment isn’t light, like a helium balloon. It’s weighty, an anchor that holds us fast through storms and deep waters. Godly contentment doesn’t rise and fall with our circumstances; it stands on the faithfulness of God. It isn’t wishful thinking; it is faithful feeling and living, rooted in the all-sufficiency of Christ (Philippians 4:11–13).

And that means discontentment is worse than we may have realized.

Maker of Wastelands

In fact, discontentment goes back to the work of the devil himself. We wander into the wasteland of discontentment the same way Eve did, when a serpent slithered into paradise speaking lies and spreading doubt.

Surely, no woman had life as good as Eve did. She was the very first woman, made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). Along with Adam, she was blessed by God and given meaningful work to do: “be fruitful and multiply,” “fill the earth and subdue it,” and “have dominion” (Genesis 1:28–29). And God equipped her with everything she needed for the task: “every plant yielding seed and every tree with seed in its fruit” — all that was necessary for food and fruitfulness (Genesis 1:29–30). Everything God had made, everything God had blessed, everything God had given — everything was “very good” (Genesis 1:31). But a day came when it wasn’t good enough for Eve. Satan crept in and planted a lie that moved her restful heart to restlessness (Genesis 3:1–6).

Listening to the empty promise of more, Eve walked straight into Romans 1 and exchanged the truth of God for a lie. She exchanged satisfaction for craving, blessing for curse, life for death. She exchanged the garden for a wasteland.

“True contentment isn’t light, like a helium balloon. It’s weighty, an anchor that holds us fast through storms.”

Does this sound familiar, like we’ve been here before? No matter what we have, in our discontentment, we daughters of Eve always want more. God’s generous provision suddenly seems strangely insufficient, and we go searching for something else. Deep down in our discontented hearts, we think we are wiser than God, and we dare to tell him what is best for us. And like Eve, we return empty-handed every time. As the Puritan Thomas Watson said, “Oh, this devil of discontentment . . . whenever it possesses a person, [it] makes his heart a little hell!” (The Art of Divine Contentment, vi).

Discontentment makes a wasteland. A wasteland is a bleak, neglected place where nothing good grows. It is what happens when we fail to “tend and keep” the garden we’ve been given. We stand with clenched fists, demanding our own way instead of bearing fruit. Our hands and our hearts become barren.

‘Except If’ Obedience

What do we do when the “garden” of our circumstances is not what we asked for? Too often, we offer to God “except if” obedience. We’re patient and kind, except if the kids are up at night or we’re struggling to get out the door for school. We speak graciously, except if we’re stressed out. We rejoice in our trials, except if this is the second trial in one week. We do all things without grumbling, except if there is a real reason to complain. We trust God, except if we don’t understand what he’s doing.

Our “except if” obedience is really not obedience at all; it is the same rejection of God’s will that we see in Eve when she eats the fruit. We want to become like God by arranging our lives according to our own preferences instead of trusting and obeying God no matter what today holds. No matter what excuses we make for ourselves, at the heart of discontentment is our self-rule in competition with God’s rule. At odds with both our Creator and our circumstances, no wonder discontentment feels so miserable. The garden has become a wasteland.

Thankfully, in God’s economy, the wasteland can also become a garden. Streams flow in the desert (Isaiah 35:6), and those who trust the Lord are like green, fruitful trees even in heat and drought (Jeremiah 17:7–8). This is what happens when God’s will is done “on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). Earth, with all its chaos and confusion, becomes more like heaven when we contentedly get to work in the circumstances God has given us — however bleak they may seem.

Mother Mary Full of Faith

The skill and mystery and beauty of contentment is to want what we have been given, because we can do God’s will right where we are. Even the most difficult circumstances cannot ultimately prevent us from trusting God, rejoicing in God, and bearing fruit in faith, extending God’s garden in a wasteland world.

If our discontentment makes us like Eve, godly contentment makes us like Mary the mother of Jesus. Like a second Eve, she teaches us how to respond in faith to God’s revealed will. After receiving God’s word from Gabriel, she responds so simply: “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

Eve fell to the temptation to be like God, but Mary confesses she is a servant of God. Eve rejected what God had provided, but Mary accepts God’s will. Eve doubted God, but Mary takes God at his word. And God’s word bears fruit in her life.

Christian contentment makes us more than mere onlookers; it makes us participants in God’s kingdom. When we trust God like Mary did, we do the work of a gardener — we bear fruit! In God’s providence, our circumstances are not obstacles but opportunities to do his will right here, on earth as it is in heaven.

The Garden Virtue

In “The Contented Man,” G.K. Chesterton observes, “True contentment is a thing as active as agriculture. It is the power of getting out of any situation all that there is in it. It is arduous and it is rare.”

Contentment is not neutral, like a patch of bare soil with neither weeds nor fruit. True contentment allows us to roll up our sleeves, grab a spade, and get to work growing things.

One of the most beautiful fruits that grows in the garden of contentment is “no matter what” obedience. A contented woman is patient and kind no matter what’s going wrong. She rejoices in trials no matter how many there are. She trusts God no matter what. Her speech is filled with grace no matter what. She controls her thoughts and emotions no matter what. She gives thanks for these circumstances no matter what because she knows that these circumstances, even if not good in themselves, are working something very good for her. She has all she needs to do God’s will, right here in this house, in this neighborhood, in this family, in this suffering, in this joy. Let it be to her according to God’s word. She is content, and she bears fruit.

We are like gardeners, and our circumstances are our garden plot. Discontentment looks at that ground and sees only a wasteland. But godly contentment will gladly turn a wasteland into a fruitful garden — for God’s glory and for the life of the world.