In Philippians 4, Paul talks about how he learned a thing called contentment. He explains that contentment isn't something we're born with. It's an acquired skill. He emphasizes that he had learned contentment in every circumstance -- whether he was in severe need or facing abundance. Paul was equally content when he was hungry and when he was full. His sense of contentment did not fluctuate with worldly success or hardship. He was content in the limelight and in the shadows, whether he got the credit or watched another get the credit.
You know who I learned contentment from? His name was Paul Mittmann. Here's the backstory.
In the early 1980s, Becky and I had the great joy and privilege of studying at the University of Basel. This ancient and historic city is located on a bend of the Rhine River where Germany, France, and Switzerland meet.
Notable residents included Calvin, Erasmus, and Karl Barth. It was in this building -- the "Theological Seminar" -- where I spent most of my waking hours in those days, researching and writing my doctoral dissertation.
But life was much more than books. Bec and I had an unshakable goal when we moved to Basel, and that was to integrate as much as we possibly could into everyday Swiss life. Basel is a highly walkable city. It seemed to combine the amenities of a major city with the charms of a rural village.
We would often pop over to Germany for groceries or into France for baguettes. The city's amazing tram network made travel easy, though we almost always walked everywhere we went. Most of our close friends were not Americans but Swiss. This included the friends we made at the "Basel Baptist Church."
There is nothing quite like the warm relief in finding a home church. We were always greeted with genuine smiles and instantly felt a connection. Those were the days of Magnum PI on TV, and yours truly was, if you can believe it, said to be Tom Selleck's twin brother more than once. What a hoot.
Now in all honesty, none of this would have been possible without this man named Paul Mittmann.
Paul and I met in Anaheim, California, where he was pastoring a small German-speaking Lutheran Brethren Church. "Anaheim," of course, is a German word. Seems that after WWII, a number of German expats settled there. This included Paul and his wife Margaret.
Paul had served in the German army during the war. He'd seen combat in France, Italy, and, at the end of the war, Northern Germany, where he was captured by the American army in May of 1945. Upon his release, he and his wife lived (quite literally) under an overturned army truck in Schleswig-Holstein for a year before emigrating to the U.S.
Paul was the one who taught me how to read and speak German. In fact, being originally from East Prussia, he spoke what many would have described as impeccable High German. What a help he was! Learning German from a native speaker gives you a natural, intuitive grasp of pronunciation, diction, and everyday idioms that textbooks just can't reproduce. Plus, when yours truly was asked by his mentor to preach at his church, you have no choice but to accept his gracious invitation. This happened, as I recall, on five different occasions. What I scared? I was frightened to death. But speaking is undoubtedly the very best and most effective way to reach fluency because it forces you into active practice.
I remember the evening Becky and I invited Paul and Margaret to dine with us in our home in La Mirada. Becky pulled out all the stops, I tell you. She curated the atmosphere with background music and warm lighting. She prepared and served a delectable meal. And the dessert? Black Forest cake that she baked herself. As the meal drew to a close, I sort of nonchalantly leaned over and asked Paul, "So, what did you think of your meal?" His reply sort of surprised me. He thought for a minute and then said, "Well, I thought it was pretty good." Pretty good?? I thought it was fabulous. Then Paul added, "You know, after the war we were penniless for about a year. We had very little to eat. In fact, often Margaret would serve me "bread soup" for dinner. This was boiled water with a few bread crumbs tossed in. Of course, today we're enjoying the comforts of living in the U.S., where food is plentiful. But you know, I don't get too excited when I have plenty and when I have nothing. I'm content either way."
I was dumbfounded. Here was a man who seemed completely satisfied in any and all circumstances. Unlike me. The perks of living in the U.S. offer immense daily comfort. They can also breed a sense of entitlement. Our lifestyle shapes everything we do, from the way we shop and eat to the way we so easily develop a sense of discontentment. Yet Paul (both the apostle Paul and Paul Mittmann) had learned the "secret" to being completely satisfied in any circumstance. Contentment is not found in wealth or even health. It is a learned mindset that trusts in God' provision. It is having an attitude of satisfaction and is "great gain" (1 Tim.6:6-8). It is a life free from the love of stuff. It is finding strength in Jesus regardless of whether you have plenty or little.
Contentment and gratitude always seem to go hand in hand. Instead of focusing on what's missing, intentionally acknowledge all the good that is in your life. Keep a journal where you can highlight those small, everyday blessings God brings into your life. When the temptation to complain comes up, actively replace it with one thing you are grateful for.
I, for one, am forever grateful for a humble pastor named Paul Mittmann. Without his help and tutelage, I would have been severely handicapped when I began my studies in a German-speaking university. And without his life experiences, I may have never been exposed to such an unforgettable example of what godliness with contentment looks like. Praise be to God.