Choosing Contentment in a Culture of More

During my recent trip to Senegal, Africa, I learned an important lesson about knowing when you have enough.  

The culture in the villages where we were visiting and staying, when it came to meals, was like nothing I'd ever experienced before.  Meals were served in a giant bowl, filled with a mixture of a grain (rice, millet, and sometimes pasta), root vegetables, and a protein of some kind like beef, chicken, or fish in the middle.  

We were given a spoon, and then 4-5 of us would gather around the bowl to eat what we wanted from the section in front of us.  The meat would get divided up between us.  

Once you get past the fact that you are eating from the same bowl as everyone around it, it was not a strange thing at all, and pretty amazing in a communal kind of way.  But there was a twist.  

Whatever we didn't eat was then given to the children in the village for their meal. 

I also learned that, because of this custom, one of the major health issues among children in that region was anemia due to insufficient protein intake.  

With that in mind, it became difficult for us to eat like we did at home.  We were constantly mindful of how much less everything we ate meant for someone else.  Our usual measurements of having "enough to eat" went out the window. 

It made me think more deeply about my own consumption of food and also material things.  And I kept asking myself a question, "How much is enough?"  

We live in a culture that constantly whispers—and often shouts—that more is better. More choices. More upgrades. More possessions. More experiences. The messages are relentless: you are one purchase away from happiness, one improvement away from being complete. Yet beneath the noise, many of us sense a quiet ache. 

The abundance promised by endless consumption rarely delivers the contentment it advertises.

The ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus names this tension with striking clarity: 

“Nothing is sufficient for the person who finds sufficiency too little.”

His words expose a spiritual truth as much as a philosophical one. When we believe that enough will never be enough, no amount of accumulation can satisfy us. The problem is not what we possess; it is what we expect possessions to give us. When sufficiency feels too small, we begin asking created things to do what only God can do.

Scripture echoes this wisdom repeatedly. Jesus warns, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions” (Luke 12:15). He does not say possessions are inherently evil; he says they are insufficient foundations for a meaningful life. 

Later in the same chapter, Jesus points to the birds and the lilies, reminding us that God knows our needs and provides for them. The invitation is not to anxiety or deprivation, but to trust.

The apostle Paul offers a deeply countercultural confession: “I have learned to be content with whatever I have… I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty” (Philippians 4:11–12). Contentment, Paul says, is learned. It does not happen automatically. It grows as we practice gratitude, restraint, and awareness of God’s presence.

Pushing back against a culture of consumption means asking different questions. Not “What do I want?” but “What is enough?” Not “What will impress?” but “What will sustain?” It means noticing how often we eat, buy, or scroll not out of hunger, but out of boredom, stress, or loneliness. And it means gently choosing another way.

Hebrews reminds us, “Be content with what you have; for he has said, ‘I will never leave you or forsake you’” (Hebrews 13:5). The promise underneath sufficiency is presence. God is with us. God is enough. From that truth, generosity becomes possible—not because we have endless resources, but because we trust an endless God.

May we learn to live within our means, grateful for what we have, attentive to what we truly need, and open-handed with what we share. In doing so, we discover a quieter, deeper abundance: the freedom of sufficiency.

Prayer:
Gracious God, free us from the illusion that more will save us. Teach us to recognize what is enough, to live with gratitude, and to trust your faithful provision. Shape us into people who live simply and give generously. Amen.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where do you notice a pull toward “more” in your life right now?

2. What practices help you cultivate contentment and gratitude?

3. How might living with greater sufficiency create space for generosity?