The life lesson in discontentment is always the same

“Lord, You are my portion and my cup of blessing. You hold my future.” – Psalm 16:5

In my family, fried shrimp is serious business. It is the dinner meal that elicits the highest expectations, and the only one I cook where ethical standards are demanded and held in high regard. What I’m saying is that we count them out. If you think about it, it makes perfect sense. You can’t just let people start piling something so precious out onto their plates willy-nilly. Everyone has to get the same amount, or people get upset. And no more shrimp is allotted for dad than for the youngest child. The only person who gets more than everyone else is the person who slaves over the Fry-Daddy cooking the things, because, well…what happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen.

I’ve been reading and rereading Psalm 16:5 for a couple of weeks now. Something about it has challenged me in ways I haven’t yet been able to express, but the words keep rolling around in my head. Now, when I hear the word, “portion,” I think of fried shrimp. But to David and all Hebrew people, phrases like, cup of blessing, boundary lines and inheritance (v.6) had always referred to the Promised Land. That land had been held up and set apart as the big prize, but David had learned that the land was only a picture of his true inheritance. When he wrote these words, he was either in the midst of crisis or had come through it; either way, he wasn’t talking about a ranch with his name on the gate or anything else from an earthly perspective that man counts as good. He had discovered that, no matter what happened in life, God was more than enough. Here’s why: God held his future. And when we believe and anticipate that future that God holds for us, then our desires and expectations for the present change.

Sometimes I get that mixed up. I don’t mean to do it, but I find myself limiting my future to my days on earth. It’s like I think I think that all the best stuff happens here, and so I mistake my portion for a thick slab of relationship, or a generous helping of success; a side of new circumstance, a tall glass of entertainment, or a basket of endless cash. And it never fills me up. Not for long, anyway. Every single time I try to fill my plate with something besides Him, I eventually find myself wanting something more.

That’s because all the best stuff doesn’t happen here. Not even close. The earth isn’t the prize.

The life lesson in discontentment is always the same – Jesus is enough. He is our portion, and regardless of our circumstances or our choices and pursuits, that will never change. Whether we allow Him to fill us up or not doesn’t make it any less true.

Whatever it is you’re searching for, Jesus stands right in front of you offering exactly what you need. He is your portion, and He is enough.

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