by Lindsay B. Ostby

“Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:11-13, NLT).

Surrounded by compound walls that separated us from the outside world, I hugged my toddler in full-tantrum, listened to laborious reading of my 6-year-old son and welcomed in missionary kids knocking on our windows, all while brainstorming means to mix the same three ingredients together for a new taste at dinner. Multiple times per week we would eat “sneaky peas,” a combination of white rice covering a dwindling quantity of remaining canned peas plus a dash of soy sauce. Enthusiasm waned for this meal after each stomach bug or bout of malaria, yet it was still what was available for dinner. Sometimes, the days felt longer than they were. Perhaps it was the greater than 110-degree heat with minimal relief at night, the security concerns on the other side of our concrete walls or the fact that we were all always a little bit hungry.

During an early morning run on our gravel airstrip, carefully dodging the grassy patches where vipers lurked, one seasoned missionary offered wise advice, “If you can learn to be content here, you can learn to be content anywhere.” Although I found encouragement from Paul’s passage in Philippians, sometimes I felt like it required special fortitude or a divine provision of strength. I learned we cannot see the Lord’s beauty simply by will. So, I pleaded with Jesus, “Help me see the secret to living in every situation.”

At about this time, I began painting to try and cultivate a hobby at home, and He used this to help me see in a different way. When I painted, I stopped focusing on what is so difficult and ugly, but instead I looked for what God was doing around me. I began to see the beauty that co-existed in a place with a completely different level of ever-present suffering than I had previously seen. I didn’t want to miss the beauty of what God might do, and this made all the difference: choosing to focus not on my small view of my life and its difficulties, but instead on Jesus and His majesty at work around me. Each time I embraced the challenge of painting something new, I was required to find His beauty in a new or unfamiliar setting. Allowing myself to discover painting contributed to developing a child-like faith, fun moments such as delivering birthday cards to other missionaries and created opportunities for fellowship with friends. Frequently, I found that everyone could enjoy painting, but that almost none had since childhood. I do not see painting as the answer, but I do wonder if metaphorically it may hint at how God may see us? Could it be that He encourages all of us to seek His beauty wherever we are in all circumstances through embracing child-like faith, but that we are often impeded by circumstances clouding our vision?

Paul did not paint, at least that we know of; however, if he did, from his place in prison when writing about contentment, I do imagine he would paint something far beyond the appearance of his Roman jail cell. Similarly, stopping to take a moment of awe not in my work, but in the recognition of God’s work I tried to reflect in painting, improved my perspective and thereby experience of contentment. Today, I thank God and even miss the time we had in a somewhat derelict compound with three young children, for it was there God first appeared to me and answered my prayer to learn the secret of contentment despite my circumstances.

Lindsay Ostby and her husband Stuart worked as healthcare missionaries in Niger with their three boys. They now reside in Rochester, Minnesota, where Lindsay works as a nurse and Stuart is in fellowship training. They dream of returning to the mission field. In the meantime, she is still painting and seeing the beauty of the Lord.