The Art of Divine Contentment by Thomas Watson (Modern, Updated Translation)

Book Summary

The Art of Divine Contentment by Thomas Watson is a timeless exploration of the Christian virtue of contentment. Drawing from the Apostle Paul’s words in Philippians 4:11, “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content,” Watson delves into the art of finding peace and satisfaction in God regardless of life’s circumstances. This book is very similar to one of our favorite books, the Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment by Jeremiah Burroughs.

Key Themes

Watson identifies several key themes in his treatise on contentment. Central to his teaching is the idea that true contentment is not dependent on external conditions but is an inner state of peace rooted in trust in God’s providence. He emphasizes that whether in prosperity or adversity, believers can find contentment by recognizing God’s sovereignty and goodness.

For example, Watson explains that even in suffering, God is working for the believer’s ultimate good, and thus, they can rest in His wise and loving plan. He also warns against the dangers of discontent, which can lead to spiritual pitfalls such as complaining against God, envy of others, and a weakened faith. To counter these tendencies, Watson provides practical steps for cultivating contentment, including meditating on God’s promises, avoiding comparisons with others, and focusing on eternal rather than temporary things. These themes form the backbone of his argument, showing that contentment is both a duty and a blessing for the Christian.

Tone and Style

Watson’s writing is characterized by its warmth, pastoral care, and deep encouragement. He writes with a tone that is both authoritative and compassionate, blending theological depth with practical advice. His style is accessible, making complex spiritual concepts understandable to the average reader. Watson’s use of vivid illustrations and analogies—such as comparing a contented heart to a well-tuned instrument—helps to bring his points to life, making the book not only informative but also engaging and inspiring. His pastoral heart shines through as he gently guides readers toward a more contented and faith-filled life, offering both correction and comfort where needed.

In summary, this book offers timeless wisdom on finding peace and satisfaction in God. Watson teaches that contentment is a skill that must be learned through faith, not a natural trait, and that it is an expression of trust and gratitude toward God. By following Watson’s guidance, readers can learn to cultivate a contented heart, regardless of their circumstances, and experience the joy and peace that come from resting in God’s providence.

The Art of Divine Contentment

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Introduction

"I have learned to be content no matter what situation I'm in." - Phil 4:11.

These words are brought in as a way to anticipate and address an objection. The Apostle had previously laid out many serious and spiritual exhortations, including the advice to "be careful for nothing" (Phil. 4:6). This doesn't mean to exclude,

1. A sensible care. Because if someone doesn't provide for their own family, they have denied the faith and are worse than an unbeliever.

Nor, 2. A religious care. Because we must be diligent in making sure of our calling and election.

But 3. To exclude all anxious care about the outcomes and events of things; "Take no thought for your life, what you shall eat" (Matt. 6:25). In this sense, a Christian should care not to be overly worried. The Greek word for careful comes from a root that means to cut the heart in pieces, a soul-dividing care: be cautious of this. We are told to commit our way to the Lord: the Hebrew word is, roll your way upon the Lord. It's our job to cast our cares, and it's God's job to take care of them. By worrying too much, we take His work out of His hands.

Care, when it's excessive, either distrustful or distracting, is very disrespectful to God; it disregards His providence, as if He sits in heaven and doesn't care about what happens here on Earth, like a person who makes a clock and then leaves it to run on its own. Excessive worry takes our focus away from more important things; and usually, while we're busy thinking about how we'll live, we forget how to prepare for death. Care is like a spiritual disease that drains and weakens us; and for what benefit? We might more easily add to our troubles with worry than add to our comfort. God warns that it's a curse: "They shall eat their bread with carefulness" (Ezekiel 12:19); better to fast than eat that kind of bread. "Be careful for nothing" (Phil. 4:6).

Now, in case anyone says, "Paul, you're preaching to us about something you barely know yourself; have you learned not to worry?" The Apostle seems to subtly respond to that in the words of the text: "I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content."

A remarkable statement! A speech so valuable it should be engraved on our hearts and written in gold letters on the crowns and diadems of princes. The text divides itself into these two main parts.

• 1. The Scholar, Paul: I've learned.
• 2. The Lesson: To be content in every situation.

The first part of the Text, The Scholar, with the first Proposition

I begin with the first. I. The Scholar, and his proficiency; I have learned. Out of which I will briefly point out two things by way of explanation. 

1. The Apostle does not say, I have heard, that in every situation I should be content; but, I have learned. From this emerges doctrine #1: It's not enough for Christians to just hear about their duty; they must learn their duty.

Hearing and learning are different, just like eating and digesting are different. Saint Paul was someone who practiced what he learned. Christians hear a lot, but it's feared that they learn very little. In the parable, there were four types of ground, but only one was good ground. This is a symbol of the truth: many hearers, but few learners. 

There are two things that keep us from learning:

1. Ignoring what we hear. Christ is the Pearl of Great Price; if we don't appreciate this Pearl, we'll never understand its value or power. The Gospel is a unique mystery; it's sometimes called the Gospel of Grace and other times the Gospel of Glory, because it reflects God's glory like a clear glass. But if someone has learned to dismiss this mystery, they will find it difficult to follow it. If someone sees heavenly matters as secondary, and thinks that running a business or pursuing some political agenda is more important, this person is on the fast track to damnation and will struggle to learn the things that bring peace. Who will bother to learn something they think isn't worth learning?

2. Forgetting what we hear. If a student has their rules laid out in front of them and forgets them as quickly as they read them, they'll never learn. Aristotle calls memory the "scribe of the soul," and Bernard calls it the "stomach of the soul," because it has a retentive ability and turns heavenly food into blood and spirits. We have great memories for other things; we remember what's trivial. Cyrus could remember the name of every soldier in his huge army; we remember wrongs. This is like filling a precious cabinet with trash. But, as Jerome says, how easily do we forget the sacred truths of God? We tend to forget three things: our faults, our friends, and our instructions. Many Christians are like sieves; put a sieve in the water, and it's full, but take it out, and everything runs out. Similarly, while they're listening to a sermon, they remember something, but as soon as they leave the church, it's all forgotten. "Let these sayings," says Christ, "sink down into your ears;" in the original, it means to put these sayings into your ears. Like a person who would hide a jewel from being stolen locks it up safely in their chest, let them sink. The word must not only fall like dew that wets the leaf but like rain that soaks to the root of the tree and makes it fruitful. Oh, how often does Satan, that bird of the air, pick up the good seed that is sown!

Application

Let me challenge you to a serious test: Some of you have listened to a lot; you've lived forty, fifty, sixty years under the wonderful sound of the Gospel. What have you learned? You might have heard a thousand sermons and still not learned anything. Examine your consciences.

1. You've heard a lot about sin: are you just listening, or are you actually learning? How many sermons have you heard against greed, saying it's the root from which pride, idolatry, and treason grow? Someone calls it a major sin: it's a complex evil that intertwines with many other sins. There's hardly any sin that doesn't have greed as a main ingredient, yet are you like the two daughters of the leech, always crying, "Give, give"? How much have you heard against rash anger, that it's a short madness, a dry drunkenness; that it rests in the bosom of fools, and at the slightest provocation, do your spirits start to ignite? How much have you heard against swearing? It's Christ's clear command, "Swear not at all"; this sin, above all others, can be called the unfruitful work of darkness. It is neither sweetened with pleasure nor enriched with profit (the usual allure Satan uses to tempt with sin). Swearing is forbidden with a penalty. While the swearer shoots his oaths like flying arrows at God to pierce His glory, God shoots a flying roll of curses against him; and do you make your tongue a racket, using it to toss oaths like tennis balls? Do you amuse yourself with oaths like the Philistines did with Samson, which will eventually bring the house down on your head? Alas! How have they learned what sin is if they haven't yet learned to stop sinning? Does he know what a viper is if he plays with it?

2. You've heard a lot about Christ, but have you truly learned about Him? The Jews, as someone once said, carried Christ in their Bibles but not in their hearts. "Their sound went into all the earth" (Rom. 10:18). The prophets and apostles were like trumpets, spreading their message throughout the world. Yet, many thousands who heard the sound of these trumpets hadn't truly learned about Christ; "They have not all obeyed" (verse 16).

1. A person can know a lot about Christ, but still not truly learn from Him. Even demons knew who Christ was.

2. A person might talk about Jesus, but not truly understand Him, like Judas and the false apostles.

3. A person might claim to follow Christ, but not truly understand or embody His teachings. There are many who say they are Christians, but Christ will ultimately deny them.

Question: What does it mean to learn Christ?  

1. To learn Christ is to become like Christ. When the divine qualities of his holiness are imprinted on our hearts. "We all, with unveiled faces, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image" (2 Corinthians 3:18). There is a transformation that happens; a sinner looking at Christ's image in the mirror of the Gospel is changed into that image. No one has ever looked at Christ with a spiritual eye and not been completely changed. A true saint is like a divine landscape or picture, where all the rare beauties of Christ are vividly portrayed and brought to life. They have the same Spirit, the same judgment, the same will as Jesus Christ.

2. To learn Christ means to believe in him; My Lord, my God. It's when we don't just believe in God, but also trust in God; which is like personally applying Christ to ourselves, almost like spreading the healing medicine of his blood on our souls. If you've heard a lot about Christ but can't humbly say, My Jesus, don't be upset if I tell you, the Devil can recite the Creed just as well as you can.

3. To learn Christ means to live like Christ. When we have conversations about the Bible, our lives shine like bright diamonds in the Church of God and, in a way, mirror the life of Christ, just like a copy reflects the original. That's the first idea of the word.

Covering the Second Proposition

II. This word "learned" implies difficulty; it shows how hard it was for the Apostle to achieve contentment of mind. It didn't come naturally to St. Paul; he had to learn it. It cost him many prayers and tears, and it was taught to him by the Spirit.

Where Doctrine #2: Good things are hard to come by. The practice of religion isn't as easy as most people think. I've learned, says St. Paul. You don't need to teach someone to sin; it's natural and therefore easy, like water flowing from a spring. "It's an easy thing to be wicked; Hell will be taken without storm," but matters of religion must be learned. Cutting the flesh is easy, but pricking a vein without cutting an artery is hard. You don't need to learn the trade of sin, but the art of contentment requires dedicated effort; I have learned.

There are two important reasons why there needs to be so much study and practice:

1. Because spiritual things go against our natural instincts. Everything in religion is the opposite of what comes naturally to us. In religion, there are two main aspects: beliefs and actions, and both go against our natural instincts. 

[1.] Beliefs, or matters of faith. For example, the idea that a person can be justified by someone else's righteousness, or that you have to become foolish to become wise, or that you can save everything by losing everything—these concepts go against our natural instincts.

[2.] Actions, or matters of practice. For example, 

1. Self-denial: for someone to deny their own wisdom and recognize their blindness; to give up their own will and align it with God's will; to remove the things they hold dear, like plucking out the right eye, and to eliminate and crucify the sin that is most cherished and closest to the heart. For someone to be detached from the world and feel abundant even in the midst of scarcity; to take up the cross and follow Christ, not just in good times but also through suffering; to embrace religion even when it is stripped of all its honors and rewards—this goes against our natural instincts and therefore must be learned.

2. Self-examination. For someone to take apart their heart like a watch, to set up a spiritual investigation or a court of conscience, and examine their own soul; to use David's candle and lantern to search for sin; and even to judge and pass a sentence on themselves—this goes against our natural instincts and won't be easily achieved without learning.

3. Self-reformation. To see someone like Caleb, with a different spirit, acting against their own nature, with a changed heart and a life that now follows the path of religion—this is completely against our natural instincts and is as strange as seeing the earth fly upward or a ball rolling against its own bias. When a stone rises, it's not a natural motion but a forced one; the soul's movement towards heaven is a forced motion, and it must be learned. Flesh and blood are not naturally skilled in these things; nature cannot cast out nature any more than Satan can cast out Satan.

2. Because spiritual things are beyond nature: There are some things in nature that are hard to figure out, like the causes of things, which require study to understand. Aristotle, a great philosopher (some have called him an eagle fallen from the clouds), couldn't figure out the movement of the River Euripus and ended up throwing himself into it. So what about divine things, which are in a realm above nature and beyond all human investigation? Like the Trinity, the hypostatic union, the mystery of faith, believing against hope; only God's Spirit can enlighten us here. The Apostle refers to these as the deep things of God (1 Corinthians 2:10). The Gospel is full of treasures, but they are hidden from sense and reason. The angels in heaven are exploring these sacred depths (1 Peter 1:12).

Application

Let's ask the Spirit of God to teach us; we need to be taught by Him. The Eunuch could read, but he couldn't understand until Philip joined him in his chariot. God's Spirit needs to join us too; He must teach us, or we won't learn. "All your children shall be taught by the Lord" (Isaiah 54:13). A person might read the time on a sundial, but they can't know the time unless the sun shines on it; similarly, we can read the Bible, but we won't truly learn until God's Spirit shines into our hearts. Oh, let's ask for this blessed Spirit, as it's God's special privilege to teach. "I am the Lord your God, who teaches you to profit" (Isaiah 48:17). Ministers can tell us what we need to learn, but only God can truly teach us. We've lost both our hearing and sight, making us unfit to learn. Ever since Eve listened to the Serpent, we've been deaf; and since she looked at the tree of Knowledge, we've been blind. But when God comes to teach, He removes these barriers. We are naturally dead; who would try to teach a dead person? Yet, God takes on the task of making dead people understand mysteries! God is the ultimate Teacher. This is why the preached word affects people differently; two people might sit in the same pew, one is deeply moved, while the other is like a dead child at the breast, getting no nourishment. Why? Because the Spirit's heavenly breeze blows on one and not the other; one has God's anointing, which teaches him all things, the other does not. God's Spirit speaks sweetly but irresistibly. In that heavenly doxology, only those who were sealed on their foreheads could sing the new song; reprobates couldn't sing it. Those skilled in the mysteries of salvation must have the Spirit's seal upon them. Let's make this our prayer: "Lord, breathe your Spirit into your Word." And we have a promise that can motivate our prayer: "If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?" (Luke 11:13).

And that's about it for the first part of the text, The Scholar, which I meant to be just a brief explanation or summary.