Finding Contentment: A Bus Ride, Envy, and God's Provision
Envy does a good job of frustrating our faith.
My mother and I went to the air show a weekend ago, and the bus back to the park-n-ride was standing-room only. Thankfully, a young father offered my mother his seat. His little boy sat on his mother’s lap and distracted my mother from the gridlock of traffic that would extend the bus ride to a good 40 minutes.
The young family had to live in a trailer while he worked as a traveling nurse in Salisbury, which is a city nearby. Even with a housing stipend, they couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. I definitely know that feeling, being essentially chased out of Philadelphia because of the skyrocketing rent.
He remarked about the huge houses in West Ocean City. He echoed something I’ve been saying to myself for years.
“What do these people do? They can’t all be doctors and lawyers,” he said.
Indeed, there are people out there who aren’t concerned with money, who don’t live paycheck-to-paycheck. Their houses—most likely second houses if they’re near the beach—have more bedrooms than they possibly need. Perhaps they’re filled when they have houseguests.
“I always wonder what they do with all those rooms,” I said. “How big is their dining room table, and how often do they use it?”
As the bus ride ended, he said, “Well, if I suddenly come into money, you’re always welcome at my table.” What a sweet, sincere family. They deserve whatever fortune comes to them.
How easy envy comes. When I’m scraping by to make ends meet, I’m easily reminded of my lifestyle in Florida. It wasn’t lavish, but it’s certainly more than what I have now. I keep telling myself that I don’t need to do the things I used to do that cost money. But I always have to pause before taking out my credit card to do anything, wondering if I’ll have enough money to pay the vet bill.
John Climacus’s second chapter in the Ladder of Divine Ascent is concerned with detachment. The gremlin of envy will have us feeling sorry for ourselves, especially when we see how we’ve been deprived. Envy tempts us into believing that the worldly things will make us happy.
How easy envy comes.
We see the examples of non-believers who give graciously to charity and volunteer their time to humanitarian causes. They’re genuinely good people—they just don’t believe in God. Envy fills us with doubt about our path, whispering, “Look, they can have whatever they want and still be good people. You don’t need this renunciation or detachment crap.”
Envy also uses despair to have us doubt our calling. “You must not be very good at what you do because look at this person who’s been given everything for doing the same thing.”
Envy can team up with pride to create a false humility while belittling others. “They are too attached to their lives in the world. They could never understand true spiritual sacrifice.” Or we might showcase our poverty by telling others how privileged we are to be chosen. This is similar to what Jesus says in Matthew 6 about fasting.
What pride and envy reveal to us is our attachment to what others have. We don’t know the spiritual life of those who are rich. They might be completely detached from their wealth but grateful for what they have. Meanwhile, we look at them with envy and forget the gifts we’ve been given.
As much as I struggle financially, I know God gives me what I need. Yes, sometimes I get anxious about the forthcoming vet bill or insurance payment, but I haven’t missed a bill payment yet.
Jesus assures of this in His own words:
For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothing?
Look at the birds of the sky, that they do not sow, nor reap, nor gather crops into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more important than they? And which of you by worrying can add a single day to his life’s span? And why are you worried about clothing?
Notice how the lilies of the field grow; they do not labor nor do they spin thread for cloth, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.
But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear for clothing?’
For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be provided to you.
And if God provides me one day with a home with a large dining room table, you’re always welcome to sit at my table.