Dealing with Discontentment

It was a bumper sticker, and spotting it, I was intrigued. It simply said, I want my dog’s life.

I glanced at the grinning mutt that was staring back at me through the rear window of the stickered car. Its tail was wagging, which apparently means it was feeling good, although there’s been no interview with a dog to actually confirm this theory.

Its tongue was lolling, the canine face fixed in that smile that dogs sport when they’re hot and their mouths are wide open.

That dog looked rather happy. For a moment, having its life seemed like an appealing idea.

Dogs have it pretty easy. They have no mortgage to worry about, they go to the bathroom pretty much wherever they please, and their main work is to bark at anyone who looks remotely like a burglar.

Dogs have no idea what a president, a prime minister, a coronavirus or a stock market crash looks like.

Having a dog’s life sounded rather attractive.

But then I thought again. These days, dogs usually exist on a diet of rather bland looking pellets. It must be irritating to have to sit, fetch and beg on command, and sleep in a wicker basket. And then there’s all that bottom sniffing that is routine doggy etiquette when meeting a fellow dog - that’s not appealing. It’s a dog’s life was a phrase birthed in the 16th century because, back then, dogs lived outside, were fed on scraps, and generally had short and fairly miserable lives.

As I pondered the aforementioned sticker, I wondered - do we waste time wishing that we had somebody else’s existence? We can spend our days regretting that we are not that other person who is richer, thinner, better-looking, smarter, or more successful. We devour magazines devoted to photographing and chronicling the lives of air-brushed celebrities. Are we fascinated with the well-heeled and famous because we’d just love a slice of the life that they have, which surely must be happier than our own? That craving can lead us into disaster, as we fritter our days away with ingratitude, longing for someone else’s wife, someone else’s life. Perhaps that’s why, when God had just ten things that He wanted to say to humanity, a strong warning about coveting ones neighbor’s stuff appeared on the list..

Dealing With Discontentment - It’s not just about materialism.

Recently, I’ve caught myself hankering for an earlier version of my own existence, back to when our children were young, when life seemed simpler. Nostalgia paints yesterday’s sky bluer, untamed day-dreaming tomorrow’s grass greener. Endless preoccupation with what was in the past, or with what might be possible in the future, steals our ability to be fully present in today. I was gripping hold of life so tightly, I was squeezing the life out of life.

Surely true success is found in being content, an attitude the Apostle Paul learned to embrace. He had a rougher life than most, and would never have made the pages of one of those glossy celeb-celebrating magazines. Everywhere Paul went there was a riot. Assassins pledged to kill him. He tasted deep despair. But somehow, he was content. By God, literally, I’d like to learn that lesson too. I’m asking the Lord to enroll me in the contentment academy today.

Perhaps here’s a step in the right direction, with this declaration: today, I don’t want to be Tom Cruise, Albert Einstein, Gandhi, or, if you don’t mind me saying so, you.  

I don’t want my dog’s life, my earlier life, or the impossibly suave George Clooney’s life.

Hold on.

Being Mr Clooney, just for a while, would be rather nice.

Oops. Back to school.

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